Room 9 and Other Ghost Stories

by Amy Cross

  ***

  A few minutes later, once Michael had hurried back to work, Sheriff Gorman sat alone in a booth at the diner, staring down at a cup of coffee he didn't want to drink and a sandwich he didn't want to eat. He kept replaying Michael's pleas over and over in his mind, trying to imagine the torment of a father whose daughter had died in such horrific circumstances, but something didn't quite seem to sit right: he felt as if there was a snag in the back of his thoughts, something his subconscious mind had noticed but which he hadn't quite understood fully.

  “You trying to make it levitate?” a voice called out.

  Looking over at the counter, Gorman saw that Eileen was smiling at him as she wiped some glasses clean.

  “The way you were staring at that cup,” she continued, “it's like you're trying to make it hover using the power of your mind. Now, of all the people in Vantage, you're the only one I think might actually have a chance to do something like that. You've always had a kind of intense look about you, Ben. Still...”

  “I'm just thinking about a few things,” he replied, unable to muster more than a faint smile.

  “I heard there was a break-in at your office,” she said. “Is that true?”

  Gorman paused, annoyed that news had begun to leak.

  “I didn't mean to embarrass you,” she continued, “it's just... I heard from Jill Shephard, who heard from Monica at the hardware store, who heard from Shep, Elizabeth's nephew, and... Well, you know how it is.”

  “There was a small disturbance,” Gorman admitted.

  “At the Sheriff's office? Jesus, you'd think if there was one place in the whole town where no-one could get in, it'd be that place. I mean, what kind of idiot would ever try to break into a building that's guaranteed to be crawling with cops? Then again, I guess the criminals we get around Vantage probably aren't the smartest. Probably trying to get into any drugs or firearms you might have confiscated. Did they actually steal anything?”

  “No,” he replied uneasily. “No, they... Nothing.”

  “Idiots,” she continued. “Still, makes you think. Must be pretty tough for you, having something like that happen right in your own backyard. Don't worry, though, I won't gossip about it. Maybe it's best if you keep it close to your chest, huh?”

  “Chance'd be a fine thing,” Gorman muttered.

  Looking back down at his coffee, he began to replay the conversation with Michael again, trying to work out why he felt so uneasy. He understood that the man was worried about the disc being watched by other people, that he didn't want his daughter's horrific final moments to end up being shared around the world, but his desperation seemed tinged with something else, as if he was scared for himself. There were several possibilities, none of which Gorman particularly liked, but he couldn't help wondering if he'd somehow managed to miss something obvious.

  “Ricky Baggard wasn't one of the three men,” a voice whispered in his ear.

  “What?” he asked, turning and finding that there was no-one next to him. He glanced at the counter and saw that Eileen was busy at the other end of the diner, while the radio was playing low in the background.

  He waited.

  Outside, the rain had intensified again, and the overcast sky made the whole scene seemed strangely washed out and blue. Beads of rain were running down the window, and some kind of faint electric light was flashing in the glass, casting grainy shapes in a kind of hypnotic, rhythmic motion.

  “They killed Ricky because he came to help me,” the voice whispered suddenly. “He's the only person in my whole life who ever actually tried.”

  Turning, Gorman looked around at the next booth, but there was no-one. He got to his feet and took a step back, convinced that there had to be someone nearby.

  “You okay there?” Eileen called over to him.

  “Was anyone else in here just now?” he asked.

  “You what?”

  “Was anyone else in here?” he asked again, trying not to panic. “Did someone...” He turned and looked toward the bathroom.

  “Just you and me, sweetheart,” she replied. “Why? What's making you so jumpy?”

  “Nothing, just...”

  Glancing at the window again, he watched as a lorry sped past, and seconds later he realized that there was a figure standing on the far side of the parking lot, watching him. A cold shiver passed through his body as he stared at the figure and saw that it was the same person he'd spotted a couple of times already. She was standing over by the line of trees that ran to the side of the diner, and it was clear that she was staring straight at him, almost as if she was waiting for something. Behind her, the trees – just like the apple tree in his garden – seemed to be starting to curl and dip their branches back into the soil, almost as if they'd given up on growing tall.

  And still the girl stood before them.

  Waiting for him.

  “Rose,” he whispered.

  “What was that?” Eileen asked.

  Without replying, Gorman grabbed his hat and his cane and hurried to the door. As he made his way outside and down the steps, he saw that the figure was still watching, so he began to limp across the parking lot, determined to reach her before she had a chance to -

  “Don't come any closer,” she whispered in his ear.

  He kept moving.

  “Don't come any closer!” her voice shouted.

  Stopping, he felt a sharp pain in his hip. The figure was still on the other side of the parking lot, too far away to make out much detail, but he could see that it was Rose. She was even wearing the same clothes she'd had on the last time he saw her, when he and Michael were moving her body from the barn and getting ready to put her in the ground. Those moments felt so surreal now, almost as if they'd happened to someone else.

  “It's not right,” she whispered. “You know what he did to me, and he got away with it. He always got away with everything.”

  “No,” Gorman replied, keeping his voice low as rain fell all around. “You can't be -”

  “Ricky just wanted to help me,” she continued. “There were three men, but Ricky wasn't one of them. Ricky was good, he cared about me and he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He wasn't the one who was working with the Everham brothers, and anyway they were just hired hands who wanted to join in. You know who was really in charge. You know who drove me there every night and did those things to me.”

  “What are you?” he asked. “How can you be -”

  “It's time,” she added. “I'm bringing up all the things you helped to bury. You just need to watch and listen.”

  “Listen to what?”

  “Don't you hear it?” she continued. “It's all around, in the rain. I know you can hear it if you listen hard enough. You can see it, too. It has to be seen.”

  “I don't know what you're -”

  Before he could finish, he realized that once again there was another noise mixed in with the constant hiss of the rain, and the click from before had returned. Standing completely still, he slowly began to hear a sobbing voice emerging through the hiss, as if the sound was weaving its way between the falling raindrops as it reached his ears.

  “Please don't do this,” Rose was whimpering, her voice distorted by fear and pain. “Turn the cameras off. Please, I want to stop! You promised me it was going to end! You're going too far this time! Daddy, please!”

  “Who's doing this?” Gorman shouted, turning to look back across the parking lot. “Show yourself! You're not in trouble, I understand you just want to put things right, but this isn't the way to do it! Let's talk about the -”

  Suddenly he noticed something flickering on the rain-battered window of the diner: a moving image being played out in ghostly form across the glass. Leaning heavily on his cane, Gorman took a few steps forward as he realized that the video from the disc was somehow being projected, its light dancing across the rain drops that covered the window, although when he looked toward the road he couldn't see any way that the image was b
eing run. It was as if the video was appearing spontaneously, out of nowhere.

  “What did you think?” Rose's voice whispered. “That if you hid it away, somehow it wouldn't really exist? I know you were trying to do the right thing, but you can't hide something like this. Not forever. I understand why you did it, but you shouldn't even have tried.”

  Turning back to the window, he felt his heart skip a beat as he saw the horrific image of Rose Hillard tied naked to a wooden chair, her body torn and bleeding as a figure moved past the camera. Rose's eyes were open and filled with fear, and she was staring at the camera as if she desperately hoped that someone might still come and save her. As the shadow of a man fell across her body, she began to tremble violently, and her lips moved as if she was begging for him to stop. Tears ran from her eyes and there was thick mucus in her nostrils, while blood was caked in a pair of ragged wounds on either side of her mouth.

  “He always kept his face out of shot,” Rose's voice whispered directly into Gorman's ear. “Look at the way he moves, though. That's not Ricky. It's someone older, someone a little stockier. Someone who had a small beer-gut.”

  “Who is it?” Gorman asked, unable to stop watching the image as the camera zoomed in on the girl's terrified face. He wanted to turn away, to never see another frame of this video again, but he couldn't even blink.

  “You know who it is.”

  “I...”

  “You already heard me say his name. You just can't admit that it's true. You're blocking the realization because you don't want to admit that he fooled you.”

  “No, I...”

  He paused, watching as the video showed Rose screaming with fear, her features contorted as she cried out in agony. He remembered seeing this part before; it was from near the end, just before the section where she died.

  “He got away with it,” she continued, her voice sounding soft and calm. “He played the part so well, and you never even considered the possibility that he could have done something so horrific, so totally evil, to someone he was supposed to love and protect.”

  “No,” Gorman replied, feeling a tightening sensation in his chest. “No, you're -”

  “This wasn't even the first time,” she told him. “I was seventeen when I died, but he'd been doing these things to me since before I can even remember. Once or twice a month, he'd take me there, and we'd spend an hour. It was like our time together, and my mother thought we were at the park. At first I thought she didn't have a clue, but eventually I realized... She's not a stupid woman. She didn't even need to bury the truth. She was just able to ignore it.”

  Gorman shook his head, even as tears gathered in his eyes.

  “I grew up thinking it was okay,” she continued. “It's weird, but I grew up thinking every little girl had to do this with her Daddy, and told us it was a little secret we had to keep from everyone else. By the time I realized it was wrong, I was so deep in it all that I couldn't even think of a way out. When you've done something all your life, it almost feels right, even if you know it's wrong. Besides, I was always scared that if I stopped pleasing him, he'd go and do the same thing to other people. I felt like I was protecting everyone else by focusing all of his evil on me. I thought I could take it.”

  “No man could do that to his child,” Gorman said firmly, his voice trembling with rage.

  “This man could.”

  “No, it's just not -”

  “Do you have children?”

  “I... June and I never... We always felt that we...” He paused. “We always had reasons not to start a family. Besides, she always said the people of this town were my children.”

  “That's pretty messed up,” the voice whispered, “when you actually think about it.”

  He watched the faint video image as it continued to play on the windows of the diner, showing a hand grabbing the girl's hair and forcing her head back as she sobbed with fear. After a moment, another hand came into shot, this time holding what appeared to be some kind of metal clamp connected to a set of battery cables.

  “What kind of man does this to his daughter?” Rose's voice whispered. “Can you even comprehend the evil in his heart? I know you don't want to believe that this is possible, but he did this to me. He said he was protecting me from the evils of the world, by keeping me close. All of this was taking place right here in Vantage, in the town where nothing bad ever happens.”

  Gorman continued to watch for a moment, until the image began to fade and finally the only thing on the windows was the relentless rain.

  “I cannot conceive of such a man,” he said finally. “I cannot even believe that he could exist.”

  He waited, before turning and finding that there was no sign of Rose. She wasn't standing behind him, and she wasn't over on the other side of the parking lot. Turning back to look at the diner, he saw that Eileen was inside, clearing away his cup and plate. After a moment, she glanced out at him and waved with a happy smile.

  Slowly, Gorman turned and began to limp toward his car. There was a sickening, tightening sensation in the pit of his stomach, something he'd never felt before. As he reached the car he had to stop and take a breath, before finally he turned and began vomiting. Kneeling down on the rain-soaked asphalt, he continued to vomit until there was nothing left to bring up, and then he just carried on dry-heaving as tears ran down his face. Suddenly he felt something crawling at the back of his throat, and he started coughing again. Several black beetles fell from his mouth and landed on the tarmac before righting themselves and scurrying away through the puddles. Gorman watched them with a sense of mounting shock, convinced that somehow he must be hallucinating.

  Finally, once he had enough strength to get back to his feet, he turned and looked across the parking lot, and he saw that Rose had returned. She was still standing over by the trees, watching him and waiting for him to do what he should have done five years earlier.

  VIII

  Five years ago

  “Jesus Christ!” Michael stammered as he stumbled through the mud, with Sheriff Gorman just a few paces further back. “I can't even... I can't... I can't...”

  Stopping by the metal door, he leaned against the side of the barn and took a series of slow deep breaths.

  “Wait here,” Gorman said firmly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I'm going to go in alone.”

  “You can't,” Michael replied, turning to him. “You can't go in, no-one can. It'll destroy you, and she... I don't want anyone to see my little princess when she's like that.”

  “I have to see what happened,” Gorman told him. “I want you to wait right here, and I'm going to take a look. When I come out, you can tell me exactly what you saw and how things went down after you arrived, okay?” He waited for a reply. “This is going to get sorted, Michael. We're going to do the right thing here. I always make sure that things are right in the end.”

  Turning, he stepped through the door and immediately stopped as he saw the horror inside the barn. Ricky Baggard's dead body was just a few feet away, with a knife lodged in his chest, while the bodies of Luke and Scott Everham were a little further off, both of them having been stabbed several times. There were smeared blood trails leading toward Luke's corpse, as if he'd tried to drag himself to safety after being injured, and his dead eyes were staring up with glassy intensity.

  “Jesus Christ,” Gorman muttered, stepping over Ricky's body as he saw the mess in the center of the room.

  And then he stopped.

  And his heart broke.

  Rose's dead body was tied naked to a small wooden chair. There was blood everywhere, covering her flesh and spreading out across the concrete floor, while a set of thick metal cables ran from clips on her body over to some kind of generator. There were cameras arranged on tripods, while large lights burned bright on nearby stands. Various other items were laid out on a bench, including bloodied saws and hammers, as if someone had gone to great lengths to assemble an arsenal of torture equipment. A couple of Rose's teeth had
been left next to a pair of pliers.

  Unable to believe what he was seeing, Gorman kept well away from Rose as he moved around her, but finally he saw her dead eyes staring down at the floor. There were still tears on her face.

  “She was already dead when I got here,” Michael said, having followed him inside. “I... I don't really know what happened next, but I kind of... I lost it. I grabbed a knife from the side and I just went crazy on the sick bastards who did this to my little princess. I killed Ricky first, and then Scott Everham, and then Luke tried to make a run for it but this red mist descended and all I could do was go after him and make him pay for what happened to Rose, I...”

  His voice trailed off as he stared at the girl's body.

  “And then you used Ricky's phone to call my office?” Gorman asked.

  Michael nodded.

  “Why did you use his phone and not your own?”

  “I don't know, I... I guess it fell from his pocket and I saw it and I wasn't thinking straight. I called, but when Elizabeth answered I dropped the phone and... I just couldn't say anything. I couldn't tell her what had happened, I just hoped that you'd be able to trace the call and find me. I knew you were the man I needed, Ben. I'm so glad you're here.”

  “And these cameras?” Gorman asked. “Were they running when you arrived?”

  “No, they were off. I think, whatever sick things they were doing here, they'd just finished. I just wish I'd got here sooner, maybe I could have...”

  Gorman stepped closer to Rose and reached out to her, pressing two fingers against the side of her neck in order to make absolutely certain that she was dead. It was just a formality.

  “What kind of person could do this to her?” Michael asked. “I think I'm in shock, I'm not thinking straight. My poor sweet little girl.”

  “Have you touched anything?” Gorman asked, looking around at the rest of the crime scene. “Is this more or less how you found it?”