by Helen Phifer
From the bestselling author of The Ghost House
Sophie was afraid of the man in the shadows. He terrified her. But he would always disappear when someone else came. One day in June 1984, she didn’t escape.
He took her.
When a young woman is found draped over a gravestone in a chilling murder, police officer Annie Graham experiences a familiar sense of dread. The terror isn’t over - a new killer is out there, and her senses tell her there is something eerily different about this case.
When she spots the little girl standing outside her window, she knows that the past is about to catch up with all of them. But can she help right the wrongs of thirty years ago, and uncover the chilling secrets lurking in the shadows…?
Also available by Helen Phifer
The Ghost House
The Secrets of the Shadows
Helen Phifer
www.CarinaUK.com
HELEN PHIFER
lives in a small town called Barrow-in-Furness with her husband and five children and has done since she was born. It gets some bad press but really is a lovely place to live. Surrounded by coastline and not far from the Lake District where she likes to spend at least one of her days off from work. She has always loved writing and reading and loves reading books which make the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Unable to find enough scary stories to read she decided to write her own.
You can contact follow Helen on her blog at http://helenphiferblog.wordpress.com, her website at www.helenphifer.co.uk and on Twitter, @helenphifer1.
For Mum & Dad, thank you for everything
Contents
Cover
Blurb
Book List
Title Page
Author Bio
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Endpages
Copyright
Prologue
June 30th 1984
Six year old Sean Black didn’t like this house, it smelled funny and all the furniture was dark and old. He didn’t like the man who walked around wearing the long, black dress either. He knew that he was a priest because his mum had told him that he was, she also told him that they had to live in the presbytery next to the church but he didn’t know exactly what that meant. They had their own house two doors down from this one, it was much smaller with three bedrooms and a tiny garden but it was big enough to play in with his A-Team action figures. He wanted to go and dig out B A Baracus from underneath the rose bush in the front garden where he had buried him last week, before he got eaten by worms or went mouldy. His mum wouldn’t let him, he had asked her this morning when he had finished his bowl of Snap Crackle and Pop. She had gone mad with him when he said he wanted to go and get his toys and would she take him, so there wasn’t much choice. He was going to come up with a plan of his own – ust like Hannibal always did – and go on a rescue mission. He would wait until his mum had a bath. She always spent hours in there and wouldn’t notice that he had sneaked out of the door. He just hoped that the priest wasn’t an enemy working for the other side and wouldn’t drop him in it. His mum had been acting strange all week now and yesterday she wouldn’t let him go to his sister Sophie’s funeral. Instead she made him stay here, in this big smelly house with the woman the priest called his ‘housekeeper’. he liked her because she baked nice cakes and would let him eat as many as he wanted when his mum wasn’t looking.
Sean went upstairs to the room which had become his until he could go back to his own, with the Masters of the Universe and A-Team posters. The room had a big wooden cross on the wall and the only thing to read was a thick, black book which had ‘Bible’ written in gold on the front. Sean had looked inside and then closed it again; the writing was so small it would take him forever to try and read it. He slumped onto the bed, it was boring here. At least when Sophie was alive he’d had her to play with, well until she got poorly he did. It started a couple of weeks ago but a few days ago she got really poorly, saying words that he had never heard of and that were nothing like the French words they sometimes learnt in school. He didn’t understand what was going on but he knew it was something bad. Sophie had been screaming the day she died, really screaming, as if the priest and their mum were hurting her. It was so loud that he had crept from this bedroom to see if he could help her but her bedroom door was locked. He had looked through the keyhole to see his sister on her bed with the man in the dress standing over her with a book like the one next to his bed. He was throwing water onto Sophie. Sean had watched as the priest had bent down and placed a wooden cross onto her forehead. He stared in horror as the cross burnt into her skin; the sizzling sound made him feel sick and he pushed himself away from the door. He thought he was going to puke all over the polished wooden floor.
Telling himself to be brave he went back to look through the keyhole again to see Sophie thrashing around. She looked angry and hurt, then her eyes rolled to the back of her head until he could only see the whites of them. It was then that she began to choke. The priest was trying to lift her head and his mum was watching. Sean didn’t understand why she didn’t rush to help Sophie. He watched as his sister’s face turned blue and just like that the noise stopped. It was over and Sophie was dead. The scream which came from his mum was far worse than seeing Sophie lying perfectly still, frozen in time. Sean scrambled to his feet and ran towards his room. Clutching a plastic toy to his chest he fell to the floor and crawled under the bed where he curled up in a ball and cried himself to sleep. He stayed there, hidden from sight, until the priest came looking for him hours later. Father John had tried to talk him out but Sean didn’t want to leave his hiding place. The priest reached under to pull him out and Sean sank his teeth into his hand. There was a loud shout and a few bad words but then the priest had laid flat on the floor so he could see Sean’s face. ‘Come on son, you can’t stay there all day. Let’s go and get you something to eat.’
Sean shook his head, curling himself up even tighter. ‘I want to see my mum, where is she?’
‘She’s fast asleep at the moment; the doctor has been to visit Sophie and your mum. He had to give her some medicine.’
‘What about Sophie, did he give her some medicine?’
‘No, there is no medicine that will make your sister better I’m very sorry to say.’
‘I want to go and see Sophie then?’
‘Are you sure? Sophie’s soul has left this earth and gone to a much better place. All that’s left is her body.’
Sean nodded; he needed to see if Sophie’s face was still blue and if she had the mark of the cross burnt into her forehead. He crawled out a
nd stood up. Father John reached out and took hold of his hand; as brave as Sean felt he still grasped it and held tight. They walked to Sophie’s room and Father John pulled a key from his pocket. Unlocking it he turned to Sean, ‘You’re sure?’
Sean nodded and stepped forward, pushing the door open as he did so. His legs were shaking and he knew he had to be brave now, just like B A, so he held his head up and stepped into the room, which was much colder than the rest of the house. He walked across to the bed; Sophie looked as if she was asleep. Her long, platinum blonde hair was spread out on her pillow. Her blue eyes were closed and her face was a funny white colour but it definitely wasn’t blue. Her forehead didn’t have a big mark on it and she looked like one of the dolls she played with all the time. Her lips were still pink and in her hand she had a cross and a bible. Sean pulled his spare Hannibal action figure from his trouser pocket and reached out to tuck it behind her fingers. He touched them and snatched his hand back – they were so cold. Reaching out he tried again and this time he managed to tuck it behind her hands, shuddering as he did so. Then he ran away from Sophie, the priest and the end of his childhood to the empty room, where he scrambled back under the bed.
***
Sean wandered along the dark passage until he reached the bathroom then pressed his ear against the door. He could hear his mum splashing in the water. Good, she would be in there for ages, she had the same long, blonde hair as Sophie and it took her forever to wash it. He crept along to the huge, oak staircase with the world’s smallest carpet and ran down. So light on his feet the treads didn’t creak once, he looked around the hallway – there was no sign of the housekeeper or the priest. He strode across to the front door as if he was allowed to be going outside and turned the handle. The door opened and he screwed up his eyes against the harsh sunlight. He grinned. Playing outside was his favourite, he hated being cooped up inside – especially in this house. Sean wanted to go home more than anything; he looked across the huge lawn over to the church. The door was shut, so if the priest was in there he wouldn’t notice Sean sneaking out. The street was empty; he stepped out of the doorway and ran down the steps and across the lawn to the low wall which surrounded the front garden. He was on a mission now, it was important. He had to save B A’s life, the A-Team couldn’t survive with just the three of them, it had to be all four. He stopped outside his house and reached out to touch the gate; the metal was cold even though it was bathed in sunlight. He opened the gate, took three steps forward and then fell to his knees in front of the rose bush, where he began to dig in the soil with his fingers. Soon he felt the hard plastic of the figure he’d buried last week and smiled – he’d done it and saved the day. He stood up and went back out of the gate, closing it behind him. A shadow passed over the upstairs window, catching his eye. Lifting his head he put his small hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the burning sun, then looked up and squealed to see Sophie standing at the window staring down at him. He frantically waved his hand and grinned at her but before she could wave back a darker, much taller figure stepped behind her and pulled her away from the window.
Sean ran back to tell his mum that Sophie was in their house, he’d seen her and they could go home now. He ran into the presbytery and up the stairs to the bathroom where he hammered on the door. ‘Mum, Mum. You don’t have to be sad now, Sophie’s okay. I saw her looking out of your bedroom window. We can go home now.’
There was no sound of splashing water like there had been earlier, there was no sound apart from the steady drip of a tap which hadn’t been turned off. Sean took hold of the door knob, twisting it until it turned and the door opened wide. That was when all the normal thoughts that a six year old boy should be thinking left him. He walked closer to the bath which contained his mother’s lifeless body in a pool of bright red water. His stomach clenched and the voice in his head told him to run but he carried on until he was close enough to reach out and touch her. Pushing her shoulder, her head lolled to the side and her glassy, open, dead eyes stared through him. Sean looked down into the bath and saw her arms and it was then that he opened his mouth and began to scream.
Chapter 1
Annie Graham downed the tequila then shuddered. She hated the stuff it but you got you drunk fast. Jake – fellow police officer and best friend – whose house they were in, laughed at the grimace on her face. ‘You are such a girl, you know that don’t you?’
She squeezed her eyes shut. ‘Yes I’m a total girl and I’m not ashamed of it either, this stuff is bloody awful. I don’t understand how you could even begin to actually enjoy it.’
Jake spluttered, managing to spit his tequila all over the black marble of the breakfast bar. ‘Because I quite like the taste now I’ve got used to it and it does the job in half the time of six cans of lager. One more and then we’ll be brave enough to go ghost hunting.’
Annie giggled. ‘I’ve had enough of that to last me a lifetime thank you. After discovering I could see ghosts in a haunted house and being stalked by a serial killer six months ago I’m quite happy not to go ghost hunting. I can’t believe you want to drag me to a cemetery when we’re drunk. You’ll be screaming at every shadow you see and then what actually happens if we do see something?’
‘You’re a wimp. I’m not going to be the one screaming and anyway don’t you want to see if you can still see dead people or if it was all just a figment of your twisted imagination?’ He managed to dodge the piece of chewed up lime that she threw at his head. ‘Sorry.’
Annie began to laugh so hard that she slid off the stool. ‘I’m drunk and I don’t think going to the cemetery in this state is going to be too productive. What if someone reports us and we end up getting arrested, there have been loads of metal thefts up there this month. Can you imagine the gossip that would spread around the station if we got caught in there?’ Tears were rolling down her cheeks, smudging her mascara and leaving black trails.
Jake bent down; putting both of his hands under her armpits he dragged her up from the floor. ‘Nah bollocks, we’ll just tell them the truth. That we were ghost hunting.’
‘Your call, but if you insist – who am I to argue?’
He shrugged his huge shoulders and took hold of her hand. ‘What the hell, come on if we get caught we’ll say we were looking for vampires. I want to go now before I chicken out, I’ve always wanted to do this but never had anyone drunk or stupid enough to go with.’
They looked each other in the eye and nodded. Jake helped her into her coat and wrapped her scarf around her neck. His fingers brushed her thick, black curls, which had grown back and now covered the scar that had once been on show. She looked so much happier and healthier now she didn’t have Mike in her life. He bent down and planted a big, wet kiss on her forehead and held her close. Annie wrapped her arms around him and whispered. ‘Don’t you go getting all soft on me Jake, I’m okay now and I’ve never been happier. Everything that happened six months ago is done, life is getting better.’
Jake squeezed his friend even tighter. ‘I’m not; I just hate what happened to you.’ They pulled apart; Jake took hold of her hand and dragged her to the front door. ‘Come on, there’s no time like the present and besides your dream man Will might turn up soon and you know what a spoilsport he is. He’d never let you loose in a cemetery with your track record.’
They left the house holding hands and began the short walk to the cemetery gates.
‘How are we going to get in if they’re locked?’ Annie asked.
‘Sometimes you amaze me, you can climb walls can’t you? I’ll give you a bunk up if you can’t get those short legs up high enough.’
She slapped his hand in a half-hearted gesture; Jake squeezed her’s back, a silent apology. Annie couldn’t walk straight; her legs were wobbling as they approached the tall, black, cast iron gates which loomed in the distance. Behind them was a blanket of pitch black which made her heart beat faster.
***
Will shivered. He hated cemeter
ies when the sun was shining and he could see everything around him, but to be here in the dark with no moonlight gave him the creeps. It didn’t help that he was sitting in a car with Twit and Twat, the two specials who were very nice blokes but far too keen to get a piece of the action. They couldn’t sit still and were talking utter crap. Every time a shout came over the radio the one sitting next to him would sit up, his body taut and his fists clenched, raring to get going. Will smiled to himself, at least he was getting a bit of fun out of it by torturing the pair of them; they needed to learn that police work wasn’t all rescuing damsels in distress and blue light jobs. As bored as he was he really hoped that nothing would happen tonight with these two in tow because it was all bound to go tits up in a big way. Two of his best detectives Stu and Laura were hiding behind some mausoleum near to the Crematorium. He would rather have been with one of those two but after the head injury and broken knee cap he got whilst trying to save Annie six months ago and the fact that it was freezing he’d decided to pull rank for once and sit in the car.
He switched off from the two chattering voices and began to think about Annie. He was parked not too far away from her husband Mike’s grave. He looked out of the side window and squinted; he could just make out the hilly mound of soil. Will would have loved to have given him what he deserved, but the town’s first serial killer had beaten him to it. He had to admit that Annie was by far the best thing that had happened to him and he loved her more than he’d loved anyone, but he was still afraid of committing and, to be honest, she was still a mess. He hated the nightmares she had almost every night. She would brush them off as if nothing was wrong but he had seen her pale face and eyes wide in horror as she crept out of the bed and into the bathroom. The first time he’d heard her stifling her sobs it had broken his heart and he had lain there dithering about whether to go and comfort her or give her some space. He opted to stay where he was, feeling useless. When she had finally come back to bed he’d turned and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight and stroking her hair until her breathing slowed and she fell back asleep. Tonight he’d left her at Jake and Alex’s house; if his grave robbers didn’t turn up he might go round for a coffee and see what they were up to.