Haunt Water

by Leigh Selfman

  As I stand there, staring at my unringing phone, the PA comes out of the boat, holding a huge black bag garbage bag that's now stuffed to the gills with used paper towels. "The room's all yours," he says as he passes. "It looks like everyone else is gone - so have a good night."

  "Thanks. You too," I say, looking around at the now empty area. I sigh, realizing I should just get my chore over with. So I look again at the cursed boat, then call Trevor over and board.

  But as we do, I check my phone ringer once more, just be sure I’ll hear it when Gabriel calls.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Back in the now-cleaned up room, I feel a little better about things. Maybe it’s the fact that Gabriel texted. Or maybe all that blood, fake though it was, gave off a bad vibe – since now that the room is clean and gore-free, it definitely feels a whole lot brighter.

  Trevor, however, appears disappointed as he sniffs around the newly antiseptic walls and floor. I watch him for a few moments, then I sit down on the bed, trying to tune everything out so that I can connect to the "other side.” Closing my eyes, I listen to the silence, trying to clear my mind and allow any phantasmic vibes to come through.

  But nothing does.

  "Okay," I finally say out loud to the empty room. I feel like a bit of a fool but I’m used to that, so I continue. "Okay, so Duke, I don't know what you’re trying to tell me – if anything. But I really want to understand."

  I wait for a reply, but there is none. "Okay...well, I'm getting up and going to this side of the room. I hope that won't be the cause of any kind of crazy rocking or wall scratching or blood. If you have something to tell me, just say it nicely. Please."

  I look around and again there's no answer, which I take as a sign of agreement. Then I get up and go over to the spot where I found the old photo – the area where the nightstand is supposed to be.

  My sense is that ghost keeps exposing that wall for a reason. That he's trying to direct me to that spot. Though on the other hand, it might just be that he doesn’t like the décor. Determined to find out once and for all, I kneel down in the area where the nightstand was moved from, and I feel around. I start pushing on the wall with my hands.

  I knock here and press there and I’m not sure, but it does seem like in one particular area, there’s a little more ‘give' than in the others.

  But then again maybe I’m imagining it.

  I reach out and knock all along the wall, and when I get to that particular area, it does sound a little hollow. So I push hard on that part of the wall. Then I push even harder. The wood paneling in that spot pushes in, then, to my surprise, it springs back and opens out towards me.

  "Wow," I say, under my breath. Because I’ve just uncovered a hidden compartment behind the wall.

  “Wow,” I say again, excited that I’ve actually found something. I can’t wait to see what’s hidden in there, and am just about to reach around inside...when I feel a hand on the back of my neck.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  I turn but there's no one there.

  "Duke?" I call out. But there's no answer. “Is this what you wanted me to find? Because if it is…I found it!”

  Again there’s no answer so I quickly get up and grab my cellphone, searching it for the flashlight app. When I find it, I go back and shine it inside the dark cubby hole.

  I gasp when I see what appears to be a gun in there. But when I pull it out, I realize it's just an old flare gun.

  Okay – I have no idea why that would be hidden in this secret compartment but I put it aside and next, reach in to pull out what appears to be a brown lump. For a moment I fear it's a mouse but then I realize it's just an old wallet. I look at it closely. The outside of it is leather, brown and cracked and old, and when I open it up, I find money and as well as an old driver’s license and credit cards that belong to Mr. Hubert Baker Sr.

  Or 'belonged,' I should say.

  It gives me chill down my spine to realize this wallet must have been here since that awful trip all those years ago. My guess is that it was probably put here for safekeeping by Mr. Baker himself. And somehow, the thought fills me with a deep sadness.

  After staring at the driver’s license photo a few more moments, I put the wallet aside and pull a stack of passports bound with a rubber band out of the hole. I flip through them, one by one, and find a passport for each member of the Baker clan, as well as one for Anabella Klee.

  This seems to confirm my theory that Mr. Baker was using this secret compartment as a safe to store their valuables. Though if I’m right, it doesn’t explain what I find next - a sketchpad that's filled with old, yellowed drawings.

  I flip through it and see a bunch of drawings. There are some doodles on some of the pages as well – in the margins and along the edges – doodles that remind me of something, though at the moment, I'm too distracted to try to figure out exactly what.

  So I put the sketchbook aside, and look back into the secret compartment. And…bingo! I see what looks like a small stack of Polaroids.

  These immediately grab my attention, since my guess is that these are what Duke wanted me to find. Like the one I’d found behind the nightstand, these photos are quite old. I don't even need to look at the numbers on the back to confirm it – I can tell they were taken 15 year ago, since they’re all shots of the Baker family on that ill-fated cruise.

  I recognize Annabella in the top photo – since even though the girl in the picture is lot younger than the woman I met at the chocolate cafe - her face is still very much the same.

  She's posing on the deck of the boat with Wendy Baker, who I recognize from pictures I've seen online. And standing between the two teen-aged girls, smiling a cool, relaxed smile is Duke.

  He looks handsome and tan and blonde in pale blue jeans and a blue shirt with orange diamonds on it.

  I stare at the photo, fascinated. Unable to look away. I know it’s ridiculous, but it almost feels like if I look hard enough, I'll be able to find some clue…some reason to explain why he did what he did.

  But alas, there’s nothing there.

  So I look at the next photo – which is of the son, Hubert Baker. He's young and blonde and tan with bright blue eyes that are squinting towards the camera. His hands are in fists and he's pounding his thin chest like Tarzan as he jumps into the water.

  The next photo is of the entire Baker family along with Anabella. They’re all standing together on dry land in front of the Andrea Claire which is docked next to them. The parents, Mr. and Mrs. Baker, are both wearing bathing suits, shorts and big dark sunglasses. They have their arms around each other and are smiling and waving to the camera.

  In front of them stands Anabella and young Hugh who are waving as well, though Hugh is making a silly face. For a moment I wonder why Wendy isn’t in the shot, but then I realize that she’s probably taking the picture.

  It’s a tragic shot, obviously taken before they set out on their voyage. They all look so hopeful and happy, with no clue as to what's about to befall them.

  I could stare at it all day, but I force myself to move on to the last phot in the stack.

  This one is a shot of Wendy Baker, alone, making a funny face at whoever is taking the photo. I stare at it for a moment and notice it has some kind of dirt smudge on it, covering the upper left hand corner of the photo.

  I put it aside, with the others in the stack and as I stare at the pile, I shiver involuntarily. Seeing all these photos, which have probably been hidden inside that little hole since the killings occurred feels really strange. I can't help but wonder how they got into that hidden space in the first place.

  My first guess would be that it was Mr. Baker – like maybe he wanted to keep the photos somewhere safe and dry. And maybe it’s the same with the sketch pad. But then why put the flare gun in there?

  I frown and look at the photos again. Then I turn them and look at their flip-sides, which is when I notice that several of them have dark smudges on them…that look suspiciously li
ke blood!

  I gasp in horror and drop them to the floor, my heart pounding furiously. In fact, I’m so thrown by seeing the blood that it takes a moment before I notice that the boat has started swaying violently. I hold on to the floor and look around. But there’s nothing there.

  After a moment, the rocking stops.

  I take a deep breath and look again at the photos on the floor trying to figure it all out. The problem is, nothing about them makes sense. The fact that there's blood on the photos implies that someone hid them after the killings had already occurred. But who would do that? And why?

  And who else even knew about that secret hiding spot?

  If the dad was using it to store their valuables, it seems unlikely he'd tell anyone else about it, as that would defeat its purpose.

  The only thing that’s clear is that I have no clue what it means. I look around at the empty room. “Duke!” I call out. “You wanted me to find the rest of the photos, right? Is there something in them I'm supposed to be looking at?”

  No answer.

  I sigh and turn the photos back over, making sure not to touch them anywhere but on the edges. (And absolutely nowhere near the bloody smudges.) Then I look at them all again.

  First I look at the photo of Duke standing with the two girls, but I don't notice anything that stands out about it. I look at it more closely and notice that in the photo Duke is wearing a watch that looks an awful lot like the one Buck is wearing for the movie shoot.

  The one that Phil bought on eBay.

  Could that be significant?

  I have no idea.

  "Is it the watch?" I call out to the empty room.

  No response.

  I look at the other photos more closely and again see the one of the daughter, Wendy, looking in the mirror and making a funny face.

  I squint at it closely and it does appear that there's something in the background, just over her shoulder. But the smudge on the upper corner of the photo is covering it up and I’m hesitant to use my fingernail to wipe it off.

  Looking around, I get up and grab a tissue from my purse. I use it to scrape the smudge off the photo then look at the entire image carefully.

  In the mirror’s reflection, I can now see someone very clearly standing behind Wendy… aiming a flare-gun right at her back.

  “Oh my gosh,” I say aloud as I stare at the image. I can’t believe it. It’s her younger brother, Hugh. He's holding the flare-gun - and seems to be aiming it right at his sister.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  My jaw drops as I stare at the image in disbelief.

  For a moment, I try tell myself that it means nothing. That it's just a kid playing around with a cool weapon. That he's just pretending to aim it, and that he would never shoot his sister.

  And I might even believe myself, but for the expression on young Hugh’s face. It’s creepy beyond words.

  Wow.

  So that’s what Duke’s ghost was trying to tell me. That young Hugh Baker was the real killer, not him.

  Is it really possible? That for all these years, everyone had it wrong? I stare at the photo, shaking my head. I’m all but convinced I’m right, until I remember what the ghost said to me as he came at me with knife.

  I’m going to kill you.

  And he said the same thing to Annabella too.

  I have to kill you.

  Could they have been in on the murders together? Duke and Hugh?

  I sigh and put the photos down on the floor next to me. "None of it makes sense," I say under my breath. But just then...the boat starts moving violently. Sloshing uncontrollably with a lot of force.

  I fall backwards and the nightstand, which isn't nailed down comes sliding toward me.

  I crawl out of the way just in time to avoid getting smashed by it.

  Then it comes sliding back the other way. I scream and jump out of the way.

  "Stop!" I scream. "Please stop! I don't know what you want from me!"

  I'm cowering against the back wall when I hear a painful scraping sound coming from somewhere over my head. I look up to see and invisible hand is scraping letters into the wood...

  I…M G…O…I…N…G

  T…O

  K...I...

  I don't even need to see the rest.

  "I got it!” I scream. “To 'Kill you! I have to kill you!’”

  I'm trying to stand up but the movement of the boat is making it impossible.

  I crawl over to the bed and hold onto it, as I pull myself up. But the boat is sloshing so badly that I fall right back down. I land hard on my butt and bang my head against the edge of the bed.

  I sit there, rubbing my head and looking up at the wall, at the ghost's crazed scribblings.

  Strangely, instead of having written the words, 'KILL YOU' the ghost is scratching out the letters K...I...L...L H...U…

  Which is when it hits me.

  “Kill Hugh…” I say aloud, finally getting it. “Kill Hugh?”

  I’m going to Kill Hugh.

  "Is that what you were saying all along?" I call out as I continue to stare at the scratches. "That you had to kill Hugh?”

  All of a sudden, the motion cools down to a gentle sloshing.

  I can't believe it.

  But I finally understand.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  As I sit there, staring at the words on the wall, I finally put the pieces together and it all makes a kind of horrible sense. When Duke ran towards Anabella, holding the knife saying, "I’m sorry…I have to kill you," he was really telling her that he had to kill Hugh. Hugh, who was standing right behind her.

  He was trying to stab Hugh with the knife and only slashed Anabella by accident.

  Which means that Duke knew…he must’ve known by that point, that Hugh was dangerous. He must’ve known that he’d already killed his sister, Wendy. In fact, for all I know…Duke was the one taking Wendy’s photo when Hugh shot her with the flare-gun.

  I shake my head as the entire truth dawns on me. Duke must’ve been trying to save everyone by killing Hugh. The problem is, he wasn't able to. So when he when he saw that Hugh might get away with it, he hid the photos and the other evidence in that secret cubby hole, hoping that at some point, someone, somewhere would find them.

  I frown at the photos again, then I put them down and look at the other objects from the cubby hole. I pick up the flare gun and turn it over in my hands - there's a dark smudge on the side of it, which I now realize must be a bloody fingerprint.

  I put the flare gun back down, but as I do, I grow dizzy. I grab onto the wall as the room starts to spin around me - and all of a sudden, the room looks different. It’s the same room- only with different furniture and fittings. The walls are a different color, the furniture is in a slightly different arrangement. I hear the sound of someone screaming from outside the room.

  Then, with a bang of the door, Duke runs in towards me. He's injured and bleeding, breathing hard as he feels around the wall, urgently. "Where is it” he's muttering to himself as he feels along the wall. “I know it's here somewhere,".

  Finally, he finds the movable slats of wood and pushes them in, revealing the dark cubby hole behind the wall.

  He glances back as he hears a noise, then he quickly shoves the flare gun, the Polaroids and the sketch pad inside. Then he closes up the hole and hurries to wipe his bloody fingerprints off the wall. Just as he finishes, young Hugh Baker comes in.

  "Where's that stuff you took of mine?" Hugh glares at Duke. He looks around the room and sees a deep-sea-fishing spear. He grabs it and points it Duke. “Where is it?”

  "What stuff?" Duke’s hands are up in a gesture of surrender, he has a pained look on his face and blood dripping from his chest.

  "Don’t play dumb! I know you took it. It's my stuff! Where’s my sketchpad!"

  When Duke doesn’t answer, Hugh raises the spear and comes towards him. "C'mon, loser. You might as well tell me now. You're gonna die anyway. No one'll ever know what
really happened here. In fact, I’m going to blame the whole thing on you."

  Duke looks at him, holding his bloody wounded, chest as he tries to keep upright. "You're wrong about that, kid. One of these days. They'll find that sketchpad. They'll see who you are."

  Hugh looks even more enraged. Then a cold calm comes over him. "You know what? Forget it. I don't need to find it. I'm sinking this boat before I go. And all the evidence you think you have will disappear...along with all of you." He smirks at Duke, then he shoves the spear into his stomach and Duke falls down.

  I wake up with a gasp. I look around and everything’s back to normal. Taking a few quick breaths, I try to regain my bearings, then I immediately pick up the sketchpad and flip through it.

  All of the pages inside are old and yellowed. And they’re all covered with detailed drawings - mostly of faces. And hands. Disembodied, hands and eyes and things like that.

  Just the normal kind of sketches you’d see in someone’s sketchpad. Nothing that seems like it's any kind of evidence. But as I keep flipping through, I reach the back of the sketchpad...where the drawings start to get really creepy. Horrible sketches of mutilated bodies. All dead and bloody.

  I feel nauseous as I look at them. I'm about to close it up...when I notice that in the margins of many of the pages are those weird little scribbles and doodles. My eyes narrow as I stare at them – they remind me of something but I can't think of what. Something I saw recently...

  Then it hits me.

  The script! The one that Buck gave me - the one that had his and Phil's notes all over it.

  I quickly grab my purse and pull out the script that I retrieved from Tabloid Tony’s car. I find one of the little scribbles drawn into the margins and I hold it up to the sketchpad. They're the same.

  Which means Hugh Baker is…

  Buck Ames.

  Or is it Phil?

  Which one of them did the doodles?