ONE
The sonic boom of thunder rattled the huge, rusted cast-iron gates in front of her. Lauren Williams had stepped out of the small van to unlock them, but the sound made her screech and the key ring fell from her grasp, landing in a puddle of rainwater. The gloomy sky above the empty, much-neglected hotel flashed brilliant white as lightning streaked across it, illuminating the creepy building that she had the pleasure of patrolling on her nightly checks for the security company she worked for.
A nervous laugh escaped Lauren’s lips. Shaking the water from the keys, she could smell the ozone lingering in the air. It was heavy with the threat of rain that was about to soak her through in a matter of seconds if she didn’t get these bloody gates open. After two attempts the key slid into the lock and turned effortlessly. Lauren tugged the chain off and looped it around one of the gates, then slipping the open padlock through, she left it dangling, ready to lock the gates when she’d finished. Pushing them open wide enough to drive through, she then jumped back in the van and drove up to the main entrance.
There wasn’t a lot that scared Lauren. She loved the dark, had no issues being alone in the dark, but there was something about the boarded-up windows and overgrown driveway ofKeswick Manor Hotel that made her spine tingle. As far as she knew it wasn’t haunted; it was just old and unloved. And okay, it reminded her a little bit ofThe Shining, well maybe a lot. Thank God there wasn’t a maze out the front. She’d read that book far too young after stealing her older sister’s copy and scaring the crap out of herself. Parking as close to the entrance as was possible, she ran up the steps and opened the front door. There was no power inside of here, it had been turned off long ago, but she had her trusty torch. She stepped inside the building just as the heavy rain began to hammer against the roof of the van. It was torrential. The droplets were the size of marbles. She stared at the beauty of this overgrown pile that she often fantasised about buying if she won the lottery. She would turn it into her private home and bring it back to life, instead of this sad, neglected ruin.
Lauren turned on the torch and began her routine walk through the building. She could do it with her eyes closed, as she had been doing it every Wednesday to Sunday evening for the last two months. The sound of the rain as it lashed against the boards thrummed in her ears as she began to scan each of the downstairs rooms to make sure no squatters had taken up residence. Although if they had, she didn’t know if she’d have the heart to throw them out in this weather. It was not as if anyone was doing anything with the hotel at the moment; it was such a shame. The owner had died, not left a will and her two sons were going through probate and fighting it out between themselves. She knew what that was like, and it could go on for a while. The owner had lived here on her own for years until she’d been forced to go into a nursing home.
Lauren tried to imagine living in this building on her own with no one for company and the thought made her shudder; at least in her fantasy her boyfriend would live here with her.
On the first-floor corridor there were pictures of what the building had looked like in its heyday. There had been extravagant parties and events at the hotel over the years. During the eighties and early nineties, several famous people had stayed here when they needed to get away from it all. She always paused to look at each photograph, and recognised the glamorous Joan Collins, Rowan Atkinson and the cast of several comedy sitcoms,Only Fools and Horses,The Good Lifeand a whole host of others she had no clue about.
A door banged somewhere downstairs making every hair on the back of her neck prickle as an uneasy feeling of dread settled over her.
Lauren turned around, rushing back to the stairs to go and check it out. The rain was thundering against the tall windows at the top of the stairs; it was a draught, that’s all, she thought. Maybe she hadn’t closed the front door properly and a gust of wind had blown a door shut, maybe even the front door itself.
Lauren was conscious of every sound her movements made, and she wished she hadn’t paused at the gallery wall and just done her job. The truth was she hadn’t wanted to go back out in the storm – thunder scared her more than she’d care to admit. Her walkie-talkie burst into life, and she screeched for the second time in less than thirty minutes.
‘Yeah?’
‘Lauren, there’s a board come off the property at the old Mill House, can you check that out next and let me know if I need to call a joiner out?’Her boss, Mike, was the most laid-back guy she knew. He’d be sitting in the office right now, feet up, getting all of his paperwork done.
She released the breath she’d been holding. ‘Will do, just at Keswick Manor then I’ll go there next.’
‘Roger that.’
And just like that the conversation was over. Mike didn’t do polite conversation, well not over the radio, but he did like to gossip in the office. He was a good boss though, never moaned about anything and never asked her too many questions, which she respected him for because of her awful relationship with her sisters. She liked her privacy. She had kept both sisters at a distance after the death of their parents because at the time she couldn’t cope with the drama, but now Lydia was dead, murdered, and Lauren regretted that she’d never get to make it up to her. It was what had made her think of returning home to Rydal Falls.
As she reached the bottom of the stairs and shone the torch around, she caught a dark shadow move quickly at the end of the corridor and flinched.
Her feet were frozen to the floor.
She tried to tell herself it was the weather, the storm clouds passing through, but in all the months she had been coming here she had never seen anything like that.
‘Hey, I saw you. If you’re down there, you’re trespassing. I’ll count to five for you to show yourself and tell me why you’re here.’ She wanted to give a squatter the chance to state their case. ‘Or you can just leave. Your choice, but like I said I’m only counting to five.’
She lifted the radio to speak into it. Her hands were trembling. She sounded a lot tougher than she felt right at this moment. ‘Hey, Mike, I think there’s someone here.’ A burst of static erupted from the radio so loud she jumped and dropped it. It shattered on the ground in an explosion of black plastic shards, and the battery flew across the room.
‘Shit, shit, shit.’
Lauren felt the air leave her lungs as her heart began to race so fast, she was panicking and couldn’t take enough air in to replenish it. She patted her pocket to make sure her phone wasthere and she hadn’t left it in the van. Comforted by the feel of it she let out a long breath and bent down to retrieve the radio.
She heard the footsteps as they began to run down the corridor – a tall dark figure was running straight at her.
Could she make it to the front entrance? No. Turning, she bounded up the stairs. She had to find somewhere to hide and phone the police.Don’t turn around, do not turn around, keep running,the voice was screaming inside of her head. She pumped her legs as fast as they would go and could feel her calves burning as she reached the top step.
Then she ran down the corridor, looking for a room with a door she could close. They would have to start checking the rooms to find her, and the police would be on the way by then. Darting into a room halfway along she tried to push the door closed as quietly as possible; her breathing was so heavy she thought that it was pointless trying to hide anyway. Pulling her phone out of her pocket she dialled 999 and whispered, ‘Police.’ She was standing in front of the door, ready to put all her weight against it if they tried to come in.
If she’d looked back, she would have noticed the connecting door to the next bedroom, but she didn’t. As she frantically began to whisper her location to the operator, she felt a chill run the full length of her spine and knew without a doubt of uncertainty that whoever had chased her was now standing directly behind her.
Before she could scream the sharp blade of the butcher’s knife punctured her neck with brutal force. In blinding pain, she felt the hot spray of blood as it gushed from the arterial wound. Lifting her hands to try and stop the flow, she felt the warm, sticky blood seeping through her fingers as she collapsed to her knees, dropping the phone. She heard the sickening crunch as they stamped on it.
Darkness came quick and fast.
She didn’t try to look at her attacker because she knew it was pointless. She toppled to the side, her eyes glazing over. She thought about her sisters, then – the only family she had left – and realised she loved them more than anything, even though they hadn’t spoken for months after a stupid argument over their parents’ estate. Lydia had been killed eight weeks ago, and she hoped she was waiting for her; it would be nice to see her again and tell her she was sorry that she hadn’t been there for her when she needed her most, because Lauren was scared now. She didn’t want to die on her own.
As her heart took its final beats, she was six years old again, on a picnic blanket at the beach with Lynsey, and Lydia, the warm sun on her face as she licked the drips from the ice-cream cone clutched between her sandy fingers, listening to the soothing sound of the waves lapping at the pebbles in front of her.
