The Third Skull (Book Two - The Revelation): A Paranormal Mystery Thriller

by Andrew Stafford

  Ruth smiled and lit the room.

  Now it was Butler who blushed.

  “Tell me Gabriel. What brings you to Whitcombe Fields Road?”

  “I’m in between properties and I needed a place to stay until I find somewhere new. You see, I’m downsizing,” lied Butler. “I’d heard that this place had become available as a short lease, so I took it,” he added.

  “Did you know the people who lived here before?”

  “No. I understand they were a married couple. I was told their names, but I don’t remember.”

  “They’d lived in the road for years, and one day they just left,” said Ruth.

  “Is that a fact? Well, as I said, I’m just leasing the house for a short time, and then I’ll be gone.”

  “That’s a shame. It’s nice having you in the street. You add a touch of class.”

  Butler smiled and took a sip of wine.

  “So tell me about you,” asked Butler.

  “There’s not very much to tell. My husband and I moved into this road just after we married. It’s the only house I’ve owned.”

  “Did you buy your house when it was new?”

  “Yes. My husband and I are the only ones to live in it.”

  “You’ve been here a long time. I expect you’ve seen many people come and go.”

  Ruth detected a slight edge to his voice. She wondered whether he referred to the suicides in 11a.

  “There have been a few over the years.”

  Butler had to be careful around women. He knew somewhere nearby Alice Donaldson would keep a watchful eye on things. Like Alexander Drake had done with Finn, her spirit would have infiltrated another woman, as it had done many times over the past two hundred years.

  He needed to be cautious. That ‘goody two shoes bitch’ Donaldson would be ready to stop what he, Drake and the others had been preparing for what seemed an eternity. He had to be vigilant as he was so close to bringing together the three elements needed to make their vision become a reality.

  “Would you like another glass of wine?” asked Butler with a smile which could charm its way into any woman’s heart.

  Ruth passed her glass and smiled.

  “What line of business were you in?” asked Ruth.

  “Oh, many things over the years. I’ve been lucky enough to be successful in business and now I can afford a few of the finer things life offers.”

  “Like six months in Whitcombe Fields Road,” joked Ruth.

  She saw a look in his eye that told her she’d said the wrong thing.

  “Well, let’s just say my money is tied up in other things, and I made a sensible economic decision to rent somewhere like this,” said Butler gesturing to the house.

  Ruth became nervous as she geared herself up to ask the question which had been on her mind. After all, it was the reason she'd knocked on his door.

  “Gabriel, would you mind if I asked you another question?

  “Be my guest.”

  “This morning I heard you and Finn talking.”

  Butler raised an eyebrow and Ruth paused. The look in his eye made her edgy. She touched the stem of her wine glass and continued.

  “I heard you and Finn talking about digging for two hundred-year-old skeletons, and I'm curious……. well, more intrigued, to know what you were looking for.”

  Butler smiled. His old charm had returned, and it put her at ease.

  “You’re intrigued and I completely understand. You have every right to ask what’s happening in your neighbour’s house.”

  He emptied the last of the wine into Ruth’s glass and continued.

  “One of the many careers I’ve had, and one which remains a passion in my years of retirement is archaeology.”

  “You were an archaeologist?”

  “That’s right. Many years ago I studied archaeology at university and after graduating it became my career and I loved it. But things changed. I became involved in business and archaeology took a back seat for far too long. Now I’m retired I have spare time on my hands, and it’s something I’ve become interested in doing again.”

  Ruth became captivated.

  “But why this road?”

  “Ruth, can you keep a secret?”

  She nodded

  “There is a legend which says two hundred years ago, two children were murdered. Their bodies were dumped somewhere on farmland in this area and have never been found.”

  “Farmland, here?”

  “Yes, farmland. Are you aware why this road is called Whitcombe Fields?”

  Ruth shook her head.

  “James Whitcombe owned a huge farm, as did his family before him, and this road used to be Whitcombe’s farm land. It had been a huge field for thousands of years, until recent times when it was sold, developed and turned into what we have here today.”

  “Wow! I didn’t know that,” replied Ruth.

  “So why are you so interested in finding the children’s skeletons?” she added.

  “They were family.”

  “Family? Wow!”

  “That’s right,” replied Butler. He looked to the ceiling and appeared to be counting.

  “They were my great, great, great auntie and uncle.”

  “They were brother and sister? That’s so sad. How old were they?”

  “They died on their fifth birthday.”

  “They were twins? That’s awful.”

  Butler didn’t answer.

  “I can see why you are so interested in finding them.”

  “So Ruth, I thought it'd be nice to give them a proper burial, providing Finn can find them.”

  “Why is Finn searching, why aren’t you digging, or using a team of professionals?”

  “That’s a very good question.” Butler was becoming irritated by her questions.

  Could this be Alice Donaldson? he thought to himself.

  “After years of research I’ve identified that the best place to search for their bodies is beneath Finn’s house. I approached him and asked whether I could excavate beneath his home. As you can imagine, he wasn’t happy. I offered him an awful lot of money for the inconvenience and he agreed on the condition that if anyone would dig beneath his house it must be him.”

  “But why?”

  Butler shrugged his shoulders.

  Ruth accepted Butler’s story and was pleased that she had found out what was going on.

  The wine had made her a little drunk, and it wasn’t even one o'clock in the afternoon.

  “Ruth, your cooking is amazing, and I would love to do this again.”

  Ruth blushed. She’d blushed a lot since being with Gabriel Butler and was falling for his charms.

  “Would you like more wine? I’ve another bottle in the fridge?”

  “No thank you Gabriel, I’d better not.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Butler, with a look which made it difficult for her to refuse.

  “Oh okay, maybe a small glass……. and no more.”

  Butler smiled and went to get another bottle.

  For the first time in years Ruth was excited. Something about Butler was alluring. Just being with him made her feel forty years younger. She felt as silly as a teenager. She hoped he felt the same towards her.

  Ruth moved to the settee and Butler walked in with a new bottle of wine. He sat next to her and poured her a glass.

  “Woah! That’s too much,” giggled Ruth.

  Butler leaned closer and passed her the glass. His expensive aftershave smelt wonderful. He looked and smelt fantastic. Just sitting next him made her tremble with excitement.

  She placed her glass on the floor and kissed him on the side of his face.

  “Ruth!” said Butler with a smile.

  She kissed him again. And again.

  Butler did nothing. He sat alongside her and sipped his wine while Ruth continued to kiss his face and neck.

  “Perhaps we should go upstairs?” said Butler.

  Ruth didn’t answer. She was unbuttoning his s
hirt which caused him to spill wine on his chest.

  She ripped open his shirt and kissed his chest, tasting the white wine as it trickled down.

  Butler sat motionless with no expression on his face.

  He stood up, walked to the hall and climbed the stairs. Ruth eagerly followed. He opened the door to what had been Kieran and Linda’s bedroom and before it was fully open, Ruth pushed passed him and took off her dress.

  She lay on the bed with her arms outstretched. Butler obliged and walked over to her.

  Twenty minutes later Ruth lay still. She was exhausted. She couldn’t recall sex ever being so good. Not from her husband or any of the men she’d met before him. Her whole body shook.

  Butler looked at her from the side.

  Gabriel Butler didn’t care for her. He didn’t even find her particularly attractive. He did what he did because he needed to be close to her. Close enough to learn what was going on within her. He needed to know whether deep inside of Ruth was the life-force of Alice Donaldson.

  Butler was confused. He couldn’t make her out.

  As the euphoria passed, Ruth lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. Suddenly, from nowhere a thought struck her. Something he’d said earlier made little sense.

  “Gabriel, may I ask you something?”

  Butler nodded.

  “The two children you’re looking for, you said they’re your relations.”

  “That’s right, like I said I’m their great, great, great nephew, on their father’s side.”

  “And when you find them you want to bury them properly.”

  “Yes, once DNA proves we’re related I will.”

  Ruth lay in silence and recalled what Butler had said to Finn.

  “But why do you only need their skulls?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You told Finn that you only wanted the children’s skulls and not the whole skeletons. Why would you say that if you’d told me you wanted the children to have a proper burial?”

  “Oh Ruth, my dear Ruth, or perhaps I should say Alice?”

  She looked at him in puzzlement.

  “Alice, who’s Alice?”

  “I wish I could say I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, but to be honest, I’m not.”

  Ruth didn't understand. Confusion turned to terror as Butler grabbed a pillow and pushed it over her face. He climbed on top of her and pinned her down with his large frame.

  She struggled and kicked. The more she struggled, the harder Butler pushed on the pillow. Her muffled cries became quieter and her struggling ceased.

  At sixty two years old, Ruth Ella Jackson was dead.

  Butler lay on his back and sighed.

  Butler was certain Alice Donaldson would be back soon, but hopefully not before he had the skulls of William and Louisa Drake, and equally important, the skull of Mathias Morris.

  He smiled, closed his eyes and listened to the dull and distant thud – thud – thud – thud, coming from Finn Maynard's kitchen.

  Chapter 58

  It was a minute after two when Heather and Sophie arrived at the house.

  Sophie had only been away for a few days, but her road seemed different, as though she’d not been there for years.

  She passed Ruth’s house, and half expected to find her twitching from behind her curtains and keeping a close eye on what was happening in the road. She was relieved that she wasn’t there.

  She put the key in the lock and expected Finn to have deadlocked the thing from the inside so was surprised when it swung open.

  The door opened and she retched at the stale stench of sweat and unwashed clothes. There was another odour, although not as strong, the smell of soil.

  Finn had been breaking through the concrete and had smashed through to the hardcore just before two o'clock. His arms and back ached, and his hands blistered. Wearily he’d made his way upstairs and dropped to the bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

  The sisters entered the house. Heather almost tripped over Finn’s suitcase which had been there since the aborted trip to the States. Sophie frowned when she saw a pile of wooden planks near the kitchen door. The lounge was a complete mess. Dishes strewn over the floor and a pile of clothes in the corner. The dining room was in a similar state of disarray.

  There was no sign of Finn.

  “Maybe he’s out?” whispered Heather.

  “Maybe. I’ll check upstairs,” said Sophie.

  She quietly made her way upstairs while Heather snooped around downstairs looking for any clues as to what he’d been doing.

  She walked back to the hall and to the kitchen. The door was ajar. She pushed it open to be met by the huge hole in the floor.

  “What the fuck is this?”

  Most of the floorboards had been removed. She tiptoed to the hole and peered in. The concrete beneath the floor had been smashed and removed. The back door was open and rubble was discarded in the garden.

  She turned and ran to the bottom of the stairs.

  “Sophie, Sophie come here.”

  Sophie stopped just as she was about to open the bedroom door.

  “What is it?”

  “The kitchen, it’s smashed up.”

  Sophie hurried down the stairs to the kitchen. She held her hand over her mouth when she saw the state of the floor.

  “What in God’s name is he doing?”

  Heather shook her head.

  Sophie couldn’t believe what she saw. Instead of floorboards there was a three feet deep and six feet wide hole.

  She jumped down to the edge of the hole and knocked over a large black bucket which Finn had been using to clear the rubble.

  “Hand me a torch, there should be one in that drawer,” said Sophie pointing to the corner of the kitchen.

  Heather tossed her the small Maglite.

  She climbed into the hole which came up to her waist. Crouching she shone the light.

  “What there?” asked Heather.

  “Nothing, it’s just a huge hole. What the fucking hell is he doing?”

  Heather offered her hand and helped Sophie out. She rubbed dust from her trousers and sleeves.

  “He’s gone bloody insane,” said Sophie.

  “What are you doing here?”

  The sisters turned around and saw Finn. He looked awful.

  “Finn!” shouted Sophie.

  She ran to him and threw her arms around him. He didn’t move or speak. He just stood in the doorway staring at the hole.

  “We’re so worried about you. What’s happening?”

  Finn pushed past Sophie and stood over the hole.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m digging a hole.”

  Finn spoke with a lifeless and monosyllabic voice.

  “But why, what are you digging for?”

  “I’m decorating the kitchen,” he replied with a false smile which made him look insane.

  “Finn, please stop. Tell me what’s happening to you.”

  “Nothing’s happening. So please fuck off so I can carry on with my work.”

  Tears rolled down Sophie’s cheeks.

  Finn bent forward, picked up the pickaxe and raised it above his head.

  “Leave her alone!” shouted Heather.

  “Don’t be so stupid woman. I'll not hurt anyone.”

  He jumped into the hole and continued breaking up hardcore.

  “Come on, let’s leave him to it. There’s nothing we can do, and I don’t trust him with that pickaxe,” said Heather.

  “Finn, speak to me,” pleaded Sophie.

  He stopped, looked his wife in the eye and demanded that she left the house.

  “Sophie, we have to get out. We need to get help.”

  She pulled her sister’s arm and Sophie backed out of the kitchen.

  The two of them stood in the front garden. Heather did her best to console Sophie whose head was in her hands.

  “What’s happening in there?” said Heather.

 
; Sophie wiped her eyes and stood in silence. She cast her mind back to the picture Rosie drew with Alice in the burning building and the other awful things.

  “I know what he’s doing,” said Sophie.

  Heather looked at her sister and waited for her to speak.

  “He’s digging for the bodies,……….. the bodies of William and Louisa Drake.”

  Chapter 59

  Finn deadlocked the front door and returned to the kitchen refreshed after a brief rest.

  He took the pickaxe, jumped into the hole, held it above his head and brought it down with a thud onto the hardcore.

  The instant the pick contacted the ground a surge of electricity raced through his body. He shuddered and dropped the pick.

  He bent forward, grabbed it and held it over his head for a second time. A spark glinted as it cracked through a lump of hardcore, splitting it in two. Again, a surge of power. This time he wasn’t surprised. The shock left him reinvigorated and stronger than before.

  He swung the pick again, and again. Each time he broke through the hardcore he felt sharper and more focussed on what he had to achieve.

  He stopped to catch his breath. In the space of a few minutes he’d reduced several large lumps of rock into tiny fragments.

  After he’d composed himself he grabbed the pickaxe and was ready to start again.

  The pick came crashing down on the rock and everything around him changed.

  He was no longer in the hole, but in the cellar illuminated by candles. In the middle of the room stood the circular table covered with a blue velvet cloth. Patterns adorned the cloth which matched the two on his ring.

  On the table lay two wooden boxes, on which were cushions. On each of the cushions lay an infant’s skull. On the back of the skulls were circular patterns which were slightly different. He looked at the ring on his finger. The light from the candles reflected in the rubies and gold. Although the light was dim he could see the patterns were identical to those on the skulls.

  Beneath the table was another wooden box which also had a cushion on it.

  Finn put his hand out to touch a skull, but before his finger made contact he found himself back in the kitchen and up to his waist in the hole. He dropped the pick and, with his hand, shielded his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the back door.