The Dark Corners Box Set

by Robert Scott-Norton

  He must have come here earlier when I was reading. Broken in maybe, or more likely lifted the key from reception when Mr Melbourne wasn’t looking. And once inside, he didn’t waste any time in letting you go forwards so he could sneak out behind you and lock the door.

  But the door didn’t have a second lock on it. There was just the familiar Yale style lock they had at home. There was no way to lock that from the outside in such a way that would prevent her getting out.

  “Why did you go outside if you weren’t trying to lock me in?”

  “I heard a noise. Someone talking. I thought it might have been Dad. I just came to the door to look but someone shoved me outside and then the door closed.”

  “Bullshit. You are in such deep shit. I’m telling Dad.”

  “Lisa. You need to get out.” His voice had changed. The bravado kid who thought he knew everything had been replaced with the scared kid who woke up in the middle of the night terrified about the voice at the end of his bed. The one that would tell him to go back to sleep. The same one that had been with him since they were little.

  She tried the door latch again, but it refused to budge.

  There are other doors, she thought. I’ll go out through one of those. No problem. And when I do get out, I’m going straight to Dad to tell him what a jerk you are.

  No. Even better. She’d merely have to threaten telling Dad. That threat would keep her brother in her pocket for a few days at least. Maybe give her enough time to finish her book without him picking on her until they got back home.

  “Lisa,” Phil’s voice came from the other side of the door. He must have his face pushed up against the wood. “Lisa, are you there?”

  “Of course I am, idiot.”

  “I saw the curtains move in the upstairs window. There’s someone in there with you.”

  Her blood ran cold, a shiver ripped across her shoulders and down her back. “Don’t mess with me,” she hissed.

  “I’m serious.”

  And then she heard the creak of floorboards above her head. She stared at the ceiling, tracking the noise. It came from above and to her left. She twisted her neck and dared the noise to come again. It did soon enough, and she could follow its progress as weight shifted on the floorboards, moving from her left to directly overhead. She glanced at the staircase.

  They’re coming downstairs.

  Her heart thundered in her small chest, impossibly fast, making her head dizzy with the increased oxygen flow. She needed to move. Move or hide.

  The door banged behind her again, and she forgave her brother for thinking ill of him. He was as scared as she was.

  Move, she told herself. Move now and move quickly. Move before whoever it is upstairs comes downstairs and finds you.

  What if there wasn’t just the one person in the house? What if there were others downstairs? They’d not been quiet when they came into the house. Anyone would have heard them. And what kind of people hang around in old run-down houses, anyway? Lisa understood that some people liked to use drugs, or sniff glue, and they needed privacy to do that. A nice house out here in the woods gave them all the privacy they could want.

  She forced her legs into action and with the lightest movements, she crept along the hallway, her back to the internal door, keeping her eyes on the staircase, her ears attuned to the slightest noise from above, her eyes expecting to see a shape appear around the turn in the stairs.

  The noise continued overhead. Not air currents. Footsteps.

  Lisa pushed open the internal door and entered a lounge dining room. There was still furniture in here. Old and covered in dust, but besides that, it looked nothing like she’d imagined. Someone could come in and tidy this place up and it would be almost habitable. Wallpaper was peeling and she could see dark patches of mould and damp. That would explain the musty smell that was so rich in her throat.

  The light was dim. This window had been boarded up outside and the curtains had been drawn inside, filling the room with shadows and irregular shapes she didn’t have time to process. Lisa darted to the only other door in the room and found herself in the kitchen. Breathing a sigh of relief, she saw the kitchen had its own door to the outside, and she ran for it.

  The door was locked.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  She ran her hands around the lock, hoping to find something obvious that she’d missed. No, she’d missed nothing. The door took a key and there was no key in the lock. Without it, she’d have to break it down to get out.

  Hide.

  That was the only option she had left. From the kitchen, she couldn’t hear any movement from upstairs.

  That’s because they’re on their way down to meet you.

  She glanced at the door back to the living space. Where could she hide in there? And how long for? Was Phil still trying to make his way inside? Or had he run to get Dad? Dad would be angry, but he’d be more angry at whoever was in the house threatening his kids.

  You’re the intruder, remember that. You’ve broken into their space and you expect them to be nice to you.

  A creak on the floorboards. That was close. That came from the hallway.

  No time to find another hiding place.

  She flung herself under the kitchen table. Her heart fluttered in another surge of panic and she almost lost it then, figuring it might be best to plead forgiveness from the stranger. What was the worst they would do? Shout at them? Take them by the hand and deliver her back to her dad who would then shout at her? That wouldn’t be so bad. She’d had plenty of dad shouting.

  But you know this won’t end like that. Whoever was in this house heard you and Phil approach the house, then they heard you enter and talk in the hallway. Only then did they come and see what was happening. And why haven’t they said a word? Not even a shout out to scare you away. That isn’t normal. That’s damn creepy.

  Lisa thought she might cry, but she bit her lip and closed her eyes and tried to still her heart from pounding so stupidly loudly in her chest. If she could last a few minutes without being found, dad would turn up and get her out, or maybe the person hunting her—

  Oh, that’s dark even for you. Is that what this person is doing? Hunting you?

  —would just give up and go back upstairs thinking the intruder had already left.

  She held her breath as best as she could and tried to block out the sounds of the approaching footsteps shuffling across the lino like a monster.

  The sound stopped.

  Lisa thought she felt a trickle of air disturb her hair. Almost a breath. She opened her eyes. The tablecloth had been lifted and she could see a pair of legs, the hem of a black skirt, and two pale fingers holding the tablecloth tight against the underneath of the table.

  She was frozen. Her blood had turned to ice and all thoughts of escape had left her. Dad would not get here in time to save her from this. Phil wouldn’t get the door open. This thing had hunted her and had her trapped.

  Her mouth opened in a silent scream as the body shifted, legs bending as the figure lowered itself awkwardly, a movement that seemed to take an ungodly age and looked uncomfortable and unnatural.

  And the lower features of a face appeared, a thin grey chin, too thin, too pale. Then the rest of the face appeared all at once, and it stuck itself under the table so it appeared directly in front of Lisa’s own.

  Lisa screamed.

  42

  Judy pulled Lisa aside, back into the undergrowth where they couldn’t be seen from the house, or at least, she didn’t think they could be seen from the house. The figure, she hadn’t been able to determine whether it was a man or a woman, had been standing in one of the upstairs rooms. The cracked window was partially boarded, but she’d definitely seen a pale face staring out through the gaps.

  “What did you see?” Lisa asked.

  Judy’s heart was thundering as she told her.

  “Are you sure? Was it Dad?”

  “I don’t know. It might have been.” Judy realised she wa
s keeping her voice low. In the quiet of these woods, their voices would easily travel and be heard through broken windows.

  “Why are we hiding?”

  Judy looked at Lisa, the thought catching up with her. It had seemed the right thing to do, an instinctual response to the face she’d seen, the fear, yes that’s what had driven her to hide, a fear of the stranger in the house.

  Whatever Matt and Adrian were up to, it was something they wanted to keep hidden. How bad could it be?

  Judy brushed aside a small branch and checked the first-floor window again. There was no sign of a face this time.

  She stood and Lisa followed her to the front door. Lisa hesitated and Judy let her linger behind. She was prepared to do this on her own if she had to. All she had to do was tap into that anger she felt towards Adrian. It was there now, a little dagger of rage nestling in her chest.

  “Hello?” she called out as she pushed the front door open. The door was unlocked, the paint flaking off in huge strips like a giant had scratched at the surface in an attempt to break in. A smell like ancient sewers struck her in the face and she staggered back, caught by Lisa. But as quickly as the gross smell hit her nostrils, it was gone again, leaving only the damp musty smell she’d accustomed to old property.

  Brushing a strand of hair away from her face, she stepped further into the hallway, keeping a wary eye on the staircase leading to the upstairs.

  Lisa was behind her now and she reached for Judy’s hand, taking it and gripping tightly. “Keep an eye behind us,” Judy said. “I don’t want anyone surprising us.”

  Lisa nodded and together the women entered the lounge. A huge brown sofa, its heavy-duty fabric long-since threadbare and destroyed by mice, took up the far wall, opposite the windows. Dirty slats of grey light broke through the gaps in the boarded window, catching the dancing motes of dust they’d disturbed by their entrance. Angels and demons circling each other.

  A small gas fire was still attached to the wall, and Judy hoped they had cut the gas supply off as the pipework looked bent and unsafe. The place stunk of mouse droppings and urine and she wondered whether anyone else had been in this building recently. Could it be home to local homeless people? Somehow she doubted it. Whilst it afforded some shelter from the elements, it was too rundown for anyone to seriously consider living here. And besides, there was no sign of any belongings, no bags of clothes or food.

  She turned to look in the kitchen and saw that Lisa had frozen in the doorway, looking back to the front door.

  “What’s wrong?” Judy hissed and came to stand beside her.

  The front door was closed. And Lisa was shaking.

  “She was there. I saw her. She closed it.”

  “Who?”

  “The ghost from my house. The woman from my dreams.”

  “What do you mean, from your dreams?”

  Judy walked past Lisa and tried the front door. It refused to budge. She noted the broken Yale lock, the metal latch flopping in its housing. It had been a long time since that had worked, and there were no other locks on the door. Yet it was refusing to open.

  Lisa needed some encouragement to come back into the hallway. “There’s nothing here. Whatever you saw has gone.” For now, she wanted to add, but didn’t. Judy didn’t doubt that Lisa had seen the ghost again, and it bothered her that it wanted them both here.

  But what was the connection with this house? Why had she seen it here? Was it just following them?

  “What aren’t you telling me, Lisa? Why did you say the woman from your dreams?”

  A floorboard creaked overhead. Judy’s head snapped back as she sought the location of the disturbance. Someone was up there. She knew she’d seen someone. She took a step towards the staircase, realised that Lisa wasn’t moving, then went to take her by the hand to lead her upstairs.

  As they rounded the turn on the staircase, Judy could see her way up to the first-floor landing. There were four doors, all open, and the signs of decay were just as clear up here. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of more unpleasantness. Mice again. Or worse.

  She thought the creak must have come from the room above the lounge. The one where you saw the face from the window.

  Yes, there had been no mistake. She’d seen someone.

  As she pushed open the door and stepped inside the room she saw Adrian, leaning against a wall like he’d been waiting for them. And by his feet, the dead body of Matt Hodgson, the blood from an ugly wound on his neck pooling around him, seeping into the carpet.

  Judy froze. Her body refused to move despite her mind commanding her to get out of there immediately. She quickly took in the bed with no bedding, the peeling wallpaper and the black mould perimeter around the ceiling, but her eyes fixed on the wooden cot beside the bed. There was something inside the cot, two somethings, and Judy swallowed as she forced her legs to move closer.

  Adrian approached Lisa, taking her hands in his. He was shaking his head in admonishment.

  “Why did you have to come here? You shouldn’t have come.”

  “Dad, I don’t—” Lisa was glancing down at the body, then up into her dad’s face, looking for an explanation that she could be happy with. It wasn’t forthcoming. Judy didn’t think either of them would be able to look at Adrian in the same way again. His face was that of a stranger. Somebody else walking around in a second-hand body.

  Adrian glanced at the body. “I didn’t do that, oh my god, surely you don’t think I could have done that.”

  “Then how? You’re the only one here.”

  Except, Judy didn’t think that was true. There were more than the three of them here. The others just hadn’t shown themselves yet.

  Judy reached the cot and looked down inside. A thin cot mattress lined the bottom. There were no sheets and the mattress had been nibbled away over the years by mice. Inside, were two teddy bears, brown bodies and striped limbs; one with pink stripes, one with blue. Without ever seeing the bear that Lisa had described from her house, she knew that she was looking at it now.

  “What happened, Adrian?”

  Adrian noted her for the first time. “I have you to thank for bringing my daughter into this. Ever since that night at the restaurant you’ve been interfering. What’s wrong with you? Is your life so empty now that my son’s gone that you keep feeling the need to poke your nose where it’s not wanted?”

  “Lisa asked for my help. I couldn’t turn her down.”

  “She asked for your help in finding her birth mother. It wasn’t a shopping trip, for Christ’s sake. You didn’t think that people wouldn’t get hurt.”

  “I certainly didn’t think anyone would get murdered.” Judy had seen dead bodies before, and recently too. She didn’t think it was a thing that she would ever get used to.

  “How did he die?” Lisa asked.

  “His throat has been slit,” Judy replied, then to Adrian, “Why did you do it? I don’t understand.”

  Adrian held his hands up. There was blood on them. As he moved around the room, the broken light caught the shadows on his trousers and revealed the dark patches with just that tinge of red. “I didn’t kill him.”

  “You’re the one standing there with blood all over you.”

  “I tried to save him. He was trying to blackmail me, but I never wanted him dead.”

  Blackmail? What did he possibly have to blackmail him about?

  Judy had her suspicions, and like Adrian had alluded to, it all came down to the night at the restaurant, and Lisa’s determination to find her birth mother.

  “We should go. The police need to be involved.”

  Mention of the police set Adrian’s eyes ablaze. “No! You can’t involve the police.”

  “But you’ve killed a man.”

  “I didn’t kill him,” he spat. “I didn’t do it.” And he strode towards Judy, his bloodied hands reaching out for her. She turned and was ready to run from the house. But as she turned, she saw that there was a likelihood that Adrian had been tellin
g the truth.

  There was another figure blocking the doorway. The ghost she’d seen in Lisa’s house, the same ghost she’d seen in her own house.

  Judy froze, Adrian stood behind her, his hands gripping her arms. And she could feel his panic coursing through her.

  “She did it,” he said. “Sarah killed him.”

  “Sarah?” Lisa said, her voice wavering, “how do you know that’s her name? That’s the same woman I’ve been seeing in my dreams, in my house. She’s following me.”

  “Sarah likes to keep an eye on us, on her… family.”

  Judy stared at the ghost. Even in this light, now that the ghost wasn’t moving, it was possible to get a much better look at her face, and there was something familiar about her. Something turned over in her stomach, like that first terrible dip of the roller coaster as all you can see is the track below you and the wind tearing at your hair and you know that you are headed for certain doom.

  And she knew what Adrian was going to say before he said it.

  “I’m so sorry, Lisa, but Sarah was your mother.”

  43

  “What are you are talking about, Dad?”

  No one had taken their eyes from the ghost blocking the doorway. Judy wondered if they would be able to get out of the room without interference, but judging by how hostile it had been at Lisa’s house, she guessed they were here to stay. There was no escaping this entity.

  This entity’s name is Sarah. And she’s Lisa’s birth mother.

  Things were falling into place. Ever since the night at the restaurant, hadn’t Sarah been there, watching, helping them uncover the truth?

  No, it didn’t feel like she was helping them at all. There was anger emanating from this entity, clouding the room.

  “Lisa, you said there were two people who attacked your cat and locked you out of the house.”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s more than one of them. This is more than just Sarah.”