by Amy Cross
“Shut the hell up!”
“Jane, you're the one who wanted to do this in the first place,” Sally continued. “You brought the board, you -”
“Screw the board!” Jane yelled, storming back to the table and grabbing the spirit board. “Do you know what I think about this homemade piece of crap? Really? Do you know my honest opinion about this whole sorry, miserable night that we've been enduring, and about this cheap, shoddy piece of garbage board made by one of Bradley's dumbass friends?”
With that, she slammed the board against the side of the table. When that failed to cause any damage, she bent it against her knee, and she was slowly able to tear it apart until finally she threw the two halves to the floor, where they landed near Sally's feet. And then, for good measure, Jane took one of the pieces and hurled it across the room, sending it bouncing off the far wall until it ricocheted off the bar and landed next to the cellar door.
“That's what I think about the stupid board!” Jane snarled, as she fumbled in her bag for more cigarettes. “You guys really need to learn when to recognize that something's a joke. It's kinda pathetic the way you bought into the idea of ghosts so easily, you're not -”
Before she could finish, the tape recorder fell from her bag and hit the floor.
“What's that doing here?” Sally asked, stepping closer. “It's running. Has it been going the whole time?”
“You don't get it,” Jane muttered, crouching down and grabbing the recorder, quickly putting it back into her bag. “Damn it, this whole thing is a mess. At the start of the evening it all seemed so simple, I had a perfect plan and I knew exactly how to put it into action. Of course, real life always shows up and ruins things, doesn't it? If Kevin thinks he's getting his money back, though, he can sing for it. I did everything I promised, and I don't offer refunds.”
“Kevin?” Sally said, shocked to hear that name, as Jane hurried to the door.
Sally turned to her.
“You mean Kevin, as in my ex-husband?”
Stopping at the door, Jane hesitated for a moment before slowly turning to her.
“You don't know my ex-husband,” Sally continued. “You can't. I mean, it's impossible, he's never even been to Crowford.”
“Yeah, well,” Jane replied, “there's such a thing as telephones. And for your information, he's onto you, okay? He's got people crawling around, trying to nail you down, and...”
Her voice trailed off for a moment, and then she took a step back.
“Forget it,” she added. “I don't need this drama in my life. Good luck, Sally. I hope you're really happy. I don't know how you possibly can be, not after what you did, but I don't want anything to do with this anymore. I've got enough craziness in my life already, without dealing with a bunch of other people who can't get their shit together.” She paused. “Don't try to call me, okay? I was never your friend, not really, I only got close to you because someone paid me to, and I wouldn't expect you to ever forgive me for that. I'm sorry, but this is goodbye.”
With that, she stormed out of the pub, letting the door slam shut behind her.
Chapter Fifteen
“So that was intense,” Matt said a couple of minutes later, as he set the two pieces of the broken spirit board on the table. “I don't know Jane very well, but I never had her down as someone who'd fly off the handle like that.”
He headed over to the fireplace and tossed another log onto the dying flames.
“It's like she completely lost her mind,” he added.
Barely listening to a word he was saying, Sally sat at the table and stared at the tape recorder. She'd switched it off, but she couldn't help thinking about the fact that it had been in Jane's bag the whole time. After arriving in Crowford, she'd struggled to make friends until Jane had shown up at the pub one night. They'd quickly become pretty close, but now Sally was starting to realize that the whole thing had been a sham.
Not only that, but her ex had been involved too.
“So what do you reckon spooked her so much?” Matt asked as he headed to the back door and looked out at the garden. He watched for a moment, before turning to Sally again. “We both saw something tonight, right? What do we do next? I mean, this is all pretty wacky, right? I don't know about you, but I didn't expect to see an actual ghost. Maybe a few hints of something, maybe something a little spooky, but I really didn't think I'd see a ghost just... standing there. And I definitely didn't think one would actually try to attack me.”
He furrowed his brow for a moment.
“Is it possible that we imagined it all?” he asked. “Joint hallucinations are a thing, aren't they? What if we got ourselves all riled up so much, we conjured it up in our heads?”
He waited, but after a few seconds he realized that Sally was completely zoned out.
“Hey,” he continued, stepping over to her and putting a hand on her shoulder, “if you -”
“He's not going to appear to me,” she said suddenly, interrupting him.
“What do you mean?”
“My son,” she added, still staring at the tape recorder. “I've been fooling myself this whole time, but the truth is, he's never going to let me see him again. Not after...”
Her voice trailed off.
For a moment, in her mind's eye, she thought back to the night she and Tommy had arrived in Crowford. She'd gone down to fetch some more items from the car, and when she'd returned she'd found Tommy writhing in agony on the bed. As tears filled her eyes, she remembered how he'd begged her to end the pain, and how she'd tried giving him the usual medication. Something about the long journey had seemed to wear him down more than usual, and even the pills had done nothing to help. He'd begun to shake violently, and he'd coughed up so much blood.
“Mummy, please,” she remembered him crying, “I don't want it to hurt anymore!”
“Everything's going to be fine,” she'd replied. “Trust me, sweetheart. Mummy's right here with you. Mummy's not going anywhere.”
“I want it to stop!” he'd sobbed, clutching his belly. “Why won't it stop?”
“Sally?” Matt said cautiously, taking a seat opposite her. “We should probably think about calling this a night. I don't know about you, but I've seen enough to give me some pretty harsh nightmares, and if there's a chance that there are some actual ghosts here, then -”
“I killed him,” she whispered.
“I'm sorry?”
A tear ran down her cheek, followed by another.
“I brought him to Crowford because I knew he was going to die,” she explained, “but I thought he had a few more weeks at least. Then, on the night we arrived, he was in so much pain, he said it was like his insides were burning. The doctors had warned me that it'd get like that, and that the medication would only do so much. I sat there and I looked at him and I realized that the rest of his short little life was going to be nothing but suffering and agony. And I couldn't bear that.”
“I don't...”
Matt's voice trailed off as he began to understand what she meant.
“I don't know why the coroner didn't say anything,” she continued. “Maybe he didn't catch it, or maybe he did but he didn't want to believe it, or maybe he thought that I did the right thing, but...” She finally managed to look Matt in the eye. “You've never had kids, so you can't possibly imagine what it's like to see your own son dying in agony right in front of you.”
“No,” he replied, “I suppose I can't.”
“He had a month left at the absolute maximum,” she told him. “More likely it would have been a couple of weeks. And they would have been hell for him. No mother could watch their son go through something like that. In some way, I think as soon as I took him away from the hospital, I knew how it was going to have to end. So I took the...”
For a moment, she couldn't get the words out.
“Sally,” Matt said after a moment, “maybe -”
“I took the pillow,” she said, as her voice trembled with sorrow, “and I t
ried to make it as quick and painless as possible.”
They sat in silence for a moment, as Sally thought back to that awful moment, and as Matt finally realized the truth about Tommy's death.
“I don't know how Kevin came to suspect it,” she continued. “I guess he just figured that I'm that kind of person. I murdered my own son.”
“No,” Matt replied, reaching over and taking hold of her hands, “you didn't murder him. You wanted to make sure that he didn't suffer anymore, you wanted to protect him.”
“Do you really believe that?” she asked through gritted teeth. “Would you have done the same thing if it had been your child?”
“I don't know what -”
“Would you?” she snapped. “Tell me honestly, would you have done what I did?”
Matt considered the question for a moment.
“No,” he said finally, pulling his hands back across the table. “No, I don't think I would. I mean, I don't think I could, but that doesn't mean that you're wrong. Maybe it just takes extra strength to be able to step up and...”
Again, his voice trailed off.
“There's nothing left,” Sally continued. “I've tried over and over again to tell myself that I did the merciful thing, but deep down I know that I'm a monster. I brought Tommy to Crowford because I wanted a chance to have his ghost around, and then I did something that guarantees he won't ever want to see me again. Even if his ghost happened to be here, there's no way he'd be willing to talk to me or to listen to me. He must hate me.”
Matt tried to think of something to say that might make her feel better, but he found that he was unable to come up with any words. He felt hopelessly out of his depth, as if he couldn't even begin to imagine what it must have been like for Sally as she watched her son die.
“It's okay,” Sally said, “I get it. You're shocked. And you don't have to worry about wondering whether or not to tell anyone, because I think it's time I did that myself. I've been a coward. I just need to go to the police and tell them everything. I have absolutely no idea what'll happen to me, but I'll take it. And do you know the worst thing?”
She paused.
“I'd do it again,” she added. “God forbid, but if I was in that situation again, watching my poor boy die in such extreme agony, I'd do whatever it took to end his suffering as quickly as possible.”
Reaching up, she wiped away another tear.
“Okay,” she said, “I think that's probably enough of that for one night. Why don't we try to -”
Suddenly a loud thud rang out, banging against the floor of the room directly above the bar area. Sally and Matt both looked up, just as they heard a second, even louder thud that caused the ceiling to shudder slightly.
“What the hell's going on up there?” Matt asked.
“I don't know,” Sally replied, “but -”
Suddenly they both heard a scream, and Sally immediately got to her feet.
“It's her,” she stammered, thinking back to the little girl she'd seen earlier. “That's Alice!”
As that name let her lips, they both heard another thud, this time as something or someone slammed a door upstairs. Sally turned and looked at Matt, and then she raced through to the hallway.
“Where are you going?” Matt called out, before getting up and hurrying after her. “Sally, wait!”
Chapter Sixteen
“Annie?” Sally called out as soon as she reached the top of the stairs, just as the banging sounds stopped. “Annie, where are you?”
She waited, and a moment later she heard Matt hurrying up after her.
“What the hell's going on?” he asked, before spotting the scratched message on the wall. “Wait, was that always there?”
“It appeared earlier, while I was up here,” she said cautiously, turning and looking at the various doors, waiting for even the slightest hint of the little girl's location. “She's terrified of someone finding her, and I don't think it takes much to figure out who.”
“And we're talking about ghosts, right?”
She turned to him.
“I just wanted to make sure that we're on the same page,” he added, looking a little pale as he began to realize the truth. “I guess messing with that spirit board really opened up a can of worms, huh? Do you think maybe the smart move would be to go back downstairs and, I don't know, get out of here?”
Before she could finish, Sally realized someone was sobbing in one of the bedrooms. Heading over to the door that led into Jerry's room, she stopped just as the sobs came to an abrupt halt.
“In here,” she said, with fear in her voice. “She's in here.”
Matt looked over his shoulder, back down the stairs, before making his way over to join her.
“I don't mean to pull rank,” he said, “but I'm pretty sure I met Mrs. Weaver down in the cellar, and she didn't seem to be in a very good mood. I'd really rather not meet her again.”
“Did she mention Annie at all?”
“She asked me where she's been hiding.”
Sally turned to him.
“This doesn't make a whole lot of sense,” he continued. “Mildred Weaver died more than half a century ago, right? And I think it's fair to say that little Annie must have died around that time too. Are you really suggesting that they've been engaged in some ghostly game of hide-and-seek ever since?”
“I'm not suggesting anything,” she replied, before turning to look into the room again as the sobbing sound returned. “I'm just seeing what I'm seeing, and hearing what I'm hearing.”
“And Tommy -”
“This isn't about Tommy right now,” she added, interrupting him. “This is about Annie.”
She stepped into the room and looked around. Although the sobs continued, she realized that it was difficult to pin them down to an exact spot. As she made her way around the bed, however, she began to feel as if the little girl might be hiding under the desk that stood over by the window.
“Hey, Annie,” she said, hoping to keep from scaring the girl. “Annie Ashton, right? Is that your name?”
“If she's here,” Matt said, “then why have we only just noticed?”
“It's like you pointed out,” Sally replied. “We messed with the spirit board. Either we brought the ghosts here, or they were always here and we just never saw them until now.”
Reaching the desk, she crouched down and looked at the small space beyond the chair. There was just enough room for a child to fit, and Sally couldn't help imagining a poor, sobbing girl curled up tight into a ball, desperately trying to keep from being seen.
“Annie?” she whispered. “I saw you earlier. I mean, I think I did. Can I see you again? Is that allowed?”
As he watched Sally, Matt suddenly became aware of a sound coming from somewhere nearby. He stepped back out onto the landing and looked down the stairs, just as one of the boards near the bottom let out a slow, distinctive creak.
“Uh, Sally?” he said cautiously. “I don't mean to worry you, but I think there's a slight chance that someone's coming up to join us. And whoever they are, I can't exactly see them.”
He waited for her to reply, but she was busy trying to coax Annie out of hiding.
“Sally?” he called out, as he heard a creaking sound coming from another, higher step, “I've got a really bad feeling about this. I hate to rush you, but I think Mrs. Weaver might be on her way.”
Another board groaned, and this time the banister shook slightly, as if a dead, unseen hand was gripping its side as a figure slowly made its way up toward the pub's top floor.
Instinctively, Matt took a step back.
“Sally, I really think we need to do something about this,” he continued, watching the empty staircase but convinced that a figure remained just out of sight. Remembering the terrifying sensation of having a dead hand on his throat, he took another step back. “Sally, I'm not joking, someone's coming! I can hear -”
Before he was able to finish, he felt a rush of cold air reach the top of th
e stairs. Taking yet another step back, he flinched as he waited for the woman to appear again; instead, he felt the cold air move past, brushing against him as if an invisible figure was making its way over to the door.
“Sally, she's coming your way! I don't know what to do!”
“Annie,” Sally said, still crouching next to the desk, desperately trying to stay as calm as possible, “I need -”
Behind her, the door bumped against the wall, as if it had just been knocked by someone. Sally looked over for a moment, before turning back to the desk.
“Annie, I get that you're scared,” she continued, “and I really don't blame you right now, okay? To tell the truth, I'm kinda scared too and -”
Suddenly the chair scraped to one side, almost hitting her in the face, as Sally heard a bumping sound. She turned and listened as the sound scrambled away and around to the far side of the bed, almost as if the little girl was trying to find somewhere else to hide.
“Annie?” she said cautiously. “What -”
In that moment, she felt a patch of cold air brush against her face. She looked up, but she saw no sign of anyone, even as she realized that a figure was slowly walking past. Although she wanted to call out, for a few seconds Sally was completely frozen by fear, convinced that at any moment she'd spot the ghostly figure of Mildred Weaver.
“What's happening in there?” Matt asked, stopping in the doorway. “Sally, where is she?”
“She's under the bed,” she replied, listening to the continued sobbing sound. “I don't know exactly what's happening, but I think -”
The girl screamed again, just as something bumped against the bed's other side.
“Leave her alone!” Sally called out, before she could stop herself. She looked up at the spot where she assumed Mildred Weaver must be standing. “Do you hear me?” she continued, not really knowing what else she could try. “Leave her alone and -”
Suddenly a book flew off the nightstand and slammed into the side of Sally's face. Letting out a pained gasp, she turned away as the book fell to the floor; when she reached up and touched the side of her face, she realized that the book had hit her with enough force to cut her cheek.