The Hill - Carla’s Story (Book Two): A Paranormal Murder Mystery Thriller. (Book Two)

by Andrew M Stafford

  “He’s dead isn’t he daddy?”

  Terry was taken aback by what she said and didn’t know how to reply.

  “How do you know that?” asked Anne.

  “I just do, I’ve known for a long time.”

  Terry and Anne looked at each other with a puzzled look.

  Liz was becoming tired and closed her eyes.

  Dr Edison walked over to Liz’s bed.

  “Let her rest now. It doesn’t take much to tire her.”

  Terry nodded.

  “Just wait there and be with her. She’ll probably be awake again in an hour or so.”

  “She told me that she knew that Ben Walker was dead, how could she possibly know?”

  Dr Edison shrugged his shoulders.

  “She’s probably a little delirious and making no sense. Don’t worry, her mind will eventually clear. We just need to give her time.”

  Terry and Anne went for a walk around the hospital grounds hand in hand. Anne turned to her husband and threw her arms around him and sobbed uncontrollably onto his shoulder.

  “Our daughter’s back, she’s with us again, I can’t believe it,” said Anne, her voice was muffled by her husband’s shoulder as he held her close and rubbed his hand across her back.

  Terry didn’t feel as ecstatic as Anne. It was the best news that he could have hoped for, but the words that Ben said, which had come from Liz, still haunted him. He recalled them in his mind.

  Ben, when it’s time, meet me at the hill………..and don’t be late.

  Terry had been concerned about Liz’s wellbeing, not only because she’d been in a coma for almost three years, it was also because of the gut feeling he’d had when he’d been convinced that Campbell Broderick was a threat to her.

  Now he understood that Campbell had no malicious intentions towards Liz, but he was still troubled. He was certain that there was something or someone lurking in the shadows, who would drag his daughter into the supernatural abyss of the Bronze Age burial mound in Badock’s Wood.

  Terry Mason was frightened of no man, but the hill scared the daylights out of him because it was something he didn’t understand or have any control over.

  He considered contacting Maria Jameson to beg that her son be hypnotised one more time so he could speak with Ben Walker and find out what he meant by those words.

  Even if Maria granted another hypnotherapy session it would have yielded no useful information, as Ben Walker had no idea of the meaning of the words he’d heard from Liz. They meant nothing to him and he had hoped that Markland could have shed some light on their meaning.

  “I think we should call Markland. We need to keep him up to date on Liz,” said Anne.

  Terry hadn’t spoken to Garraway since the last time they were together on Friday at Judd’s place.

  “I don’t want him talking to her, I’d prefer it if we leave it to Matthews to interview her. I’m worried that Garraway would upset her.”

  “You’re right, but I think we have a duty to let him know, after all he’s been through.”

  Terry agreed. Anne was right. It would be unfair not to keep him updated on this significant step forward in the whole series of events which surrounded the hill.

  Terry called Garraway and huffed as his phone diverted to voicemail.

  “Hi Markland, its Terry Mason. This is just a quick call to update you on our daughter……. as you know, Liz has woken. She’s not saying much just yet, and doesn’t seem to remember anything about the attack. I understand Matthews will be in to interview her in the next few days, when she’s had a chance to come to terms with what she’s been through, so…….what I’m trying to say, with all due respect, is that we think it’s best that Matthews speaks to her and not you, at least for the time being……….oh and one more thing, she seems to know that Ben is dead, she said she’s known for a long time, I just thought you should know. Ring me when you get this message.”

  Terry slipped his phone back into his pocket and smiled at Anne. They hugged again and this time it was Terry who was crying. Tears of joy, tears of confusion and tears of concern.

  The mid-morning sun warmed them as they stood in the gardens of the hospital, holding each other tightly.

  “Soon Liz will feel the sun on her face again,” said Anne as she nuzzled into her husband. He kissed her on the neck and held her close.

  “Let’s go back to the ward, she may be waking soon,” said Terry.

  Anne nodded and they walked slowly back to see Liz.

  When they returned she was still sleeping.

  “Is she OK?” asked Anne.

  Nurse Taylor nodded.

  Terry and Anne looked as their daughter’s eyes twitched beneath her closed lids.

  “She’s dreaming,” said the nurse.

  Her parents hadn’t seen this happen when she was in the coma.

  “I wonder what she’s dreaming?” said Anne.

  Terry shook his head. In his mind the words Ben Walker had said kept going around his head.

  ‘Ben, when it’s time, meet me at the hill………..and don’t be late’

  His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of his phone. It was Garraway returning his call. Terry stepped out of the ward to take the call.

  “Thanks for calling me, how is she?” asked Garraway.

  “She’s sleeping at the moment, Anne and I are waiting for her to wake up…..she’s dreaming right now. I was just wondering what could be going through her mind.”

  Garraway instantly sensed concern in Terry’s voice. He knew that he was still worried about his daughter. Not because he was concerned about her recovery after the coma, he could tell by the tone of his voice that something else was bothering him.

  “I’ve listened to your voicemail and appreciate you don’t want me speaking with Liz just yet and I understand that Matthews should be the one to interview her when she’s ready and not me.”

  “Thank you for understanding,” said Terry, “I’m worried that if you start telling her about all the crazy things that have been happening it might upset her.”

  “Between you and me, after Ian Lester’s story is printed tomorrow, I really believe things will begin to move forward and we won’t need to rely upon Liz for evidence.”

  Terry told him he’d keep him updated on any developments and ended the call.

  Terry made his way back to Liz’s hospital bed to find her awake. The nurses were propping her up with pillows which were supporting her head.

  She smiled when she saw her father. Anne was wiping tears from her eyes.

  “How are you?” asked Terry.

  “Much the same as when you asked me earlier,” replied Liz quietly and with a weak smile.

  She turned to face Anne.

  “So tell me mum, what has been happening since I’ve been away?”

  Anne and Terry filled Liz in on what had been happening with the Mason family over the last couple of years. They told her about cousins who’d had babies. Liz was sad to hear that her great grandmother had passed away, but was pleased to hear she’d made it to one hundred and one.

  Liz suddenly stopped talking and raised her hand and pushed it against her head. Her face screwed up as she winced with pain.

  “What’s the matter?” asked her mother with concern.

  “Oooh, it’s OK, it’s gone now.”

  “What has?”

  “I just had a sharp pain in my head, it’s gone away now.”

  “Terry, call the nurse” said Anne sounding urgent.

  He stood up to find the nurse.

  “No mum, I’m fine, it’s probably nothing…….remember I’ve been out of it for almost three years, I’m bound to have a few niggles.”

  Terry sat back down.

  “You’re probably right, but let us know if it happens again.”

  Liz nodded and smiled weakly again.

  “Have any more memories returned…….memories of being in the woods with Ben?” asked Terry.

  L
iz shook her head and then looked at her father.

  “I can’t remember a thing……….what happened dad?”

  Terry turned to Anne who slowly nodded.

  “She needs to know,” said Anne.

  Terry held Liz’s hand and moved closer.

  “That evening you were in the woods with Ben…….you were……it seems you were both attacked.”

  Liz said nothing as she gazed beyond her father and towards the ceiling.

  “Do you not remember?”

  She shook her head.

  “I do remember we were messing around on a hill and we kissed…….we kissed at the bottom of a hill.”

  “That’s right, you and Ben kissed each other.”

  Anne shot a glance and Terry realised he was saying too much. There was no way he could have known about the kiss, unless he’d been told by someone who was there, and that person was Ben.

  “How did you know we kissed?” asked Liz curiously.

  Terry struggled to find a believable answer, but thinking on his feet he told her that her lipstick had been found on Ben’s clothing. Liz wasn’t convinced.

  She looked at her father and saw how he’d aged since she’d last seen him. His hair was receding and turning grey. He looked about a stone lighter and his faced was lined. She couldn’t imagine what the past few years must have been like for her parents. Then her thoughts turned to Ben.

  Terry was surprised when Liz didn’t seem shaken when he’d told her that she’d been attacked and he wondered about something she’d said earlier that morning.

  “Liz, what did you mean when you said that you knew Ben was dead? You told me you’d known for a long time. What did you mean by that?”

  She turned away from him and didn’t speak.

  Anne shot a second glance at him and shook her head.

  Liz looked back towards him and then to her mother.

  “Ben was killed in the attack, wasn’t he?”

  They both nodded and saw tears well in her eyes.

  “They don’t know who did it do they? I mean, the police, they’ve never caught anyone.”

  Anne shook her head.

  “How did you know?”

  “I don’t know, just a feeling.”

  Terry was about to ask another question when Dr Edison walked in.

  “Try not to get Liz to speak too much just yet, she’s very tired. Remember she’s only been awake for just over a day.”

  Terry and Anne sat up and instinctively edged away from Liz.

  “It’s OK, you won’t break her,” laughed the doctor, “just don’t ask her too many things right now. There’ll be plenty of time for that over the next few weeks.”

  Terry stood up and took Dr Edison to one side.

  “The police want to speak with her, when is that likely to happen?”

  “Not for a number of days, her memory should soon begin to return, but I’m concerned that too much attention won’t do her any good right now.”

  “Liz just had shooting pains in her head, is that normal?”

  “It’s probably fine, but we’ll run some tests later. Don’t forget, when she was attacked she suffered traumatic brain injury, she may have headaches for a long time, in some cases they may continue for years…….but don’t worry about that now.”

  Dr Edison explained what would be happening over the next few weeks.

  “There’s a fair bit of work to be done, but with your support and the support of the team here at the hospital I’m confident she’ll make a good recovery.”

  Terry sat back down with Liz and Anne, and made the most of the time he had with the two ladies that meant the most to him. Despite what the doctor had just told him, he had nagging doubts about the immediate future for his daughter. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, he had a feeling from deep within his gut that something wasn’t right.

  Chapter one hundred and twenty nine

  Saltford, near Bristol

  11.35am

  Monday 18th June

  Beverly Turner sat in her favourite chair and let out a well-earned sigh. She’d had a busy morning getting her eight year old twin daughters to school and her four year old son to nursery. She’d just returned from the supermarket after completing the weekly shop. The groceries had been put away and now it was time to sit down and take a breath.

  Sometimes she was envious of her husband, who in her eyes, had a cushy desk job and spent the day drinking milky coffee whilst watching his computer crunch numbers. She, on the other hand, ran the house by moving at the pace of a whirlwind just to keep on top of everything.

  But now there was a bit of me time for Beverly. She attempted to turn on the television and catch the news channel.

  “Bloody thing,” she said to herself as she struggled with the remote. No matter how hard she prodded the buttons on the thing, the television wouldn’t come on. She got up and walked over to it, flipped down the little plastic cover on the side of the TV and pressed the buttons which were hidden underneath. But still the thing would not switch on.

  “Bollocks,” she muttered as she sat back down.

  The thing had been on the blink for the past week and she’d been onto her husband to get a new one since Friday. “Give it a few more days, and I’ll get it looked at,” he’d told her. But now the thing had packed up altogether.

  She reached under the settee and pulled out the laptop. The kids used it more than she did and she was disgusted because the keyboard was covered in their dirty finger prints. There was what looked like dry yoghurt stains over the screen and something horrible was making the spacebar stick to the ‘B’ key. She grabbed a damp cloth and cleaned the thing before turning it on.

  She’d had a busy weekend and hadn’t caught site of the news since Saturday evening and she was desperate to know what was going on in the world and more importantly to her, the world close to home.

  She brought up the Bristol Post website. She’d stopped buying newspapers a long time ago, and now relied upon the television or the internet to tell her what was happening in the world.

  She trawled through some of the headlines and ended up finding a fairly mundane report about the top ten richest women in the world. She half read it and moved on to the next stories.

  She read a sad story of a man who had been killed by a forklift truck, which had happened on an industrial estate less than a mile from where her husband worked.

  Another story caught her eye.

  Police discover £350,000 worth of cannabis plants being grown in the Bristol area.

  And then she saw a story with a headline that made no sense.

  Two year old boy recalls death of man who died at the time of his birth

  By Ian Lester

  She reread it and wondered what on earth it could mean.

  ‘Two year old boy recalls death of man who died at the time of his birth’

  Beverly read the story twice and found it hard to comprehend what the report was describing. It seemed to be saying that a two year old, when being treated for a condition, of which she’d never heard, by hypnotherapy had started talking as an adult who’d been murdered at the time the little boy had been born.

  She glanced at the picture of the girl that the police were looking for and then hovered her mouse over the link to open the video clip.

  She sat on her settee with the laptop propped on her knees as she watched the video of Christopher Jameson under hypnosis speaking as the deceased Ben Walker.

  Christopher’s face had been pixelated so he could not be recognised. All the videos made by Tom Judd had been cleverly edited together so they ran seamlessly from one into the other, with a date and time fade in, which indicated when the hypnotherapy sessions had taken place.

  In the bottom right hand corner of the video was a static image of the girl Garraway had dreamt of. The image remained in place during the entire eleven minutes of video footage.

  After the clip had finished Beverly sat motionless holding the lapt
op in place on her knees. She replayed the clip and listened carefully to the boy’s voice.

  There’s no way that’s a little boy talking she thought.

  It was the sort of thing the media would do as an April Fools gag. She slumped into the settee and cast her mind back. She could definitely recall a story of a man killed in Badock’s Wood. She opened a new tab on her browser and searched the internet for the murder of Ben Walker. It came up immediately showing a link to Garraway’s press conference. She watched the conference and Terry Mason’s heartfelt appeal for information from the public. She watched DCI Garraway as he spoke in his calm and commanding Scottish accent.

  “Shit, this must be the real deal,” she said under her breath.

  Beverly returned to the on-line news story and watched the video a third time. Each time she watched it the impact of the video was greater than before. She glanced at her watch and realised she’d been watching the clip and reading the story for almost forty five minutes. It was time to get moving. She had loads of things to be getting on with before she picked her son up from nursery at two o’clock.

  Before she closed the lid on her laptop she saw two little icons below the story allowing it to be shared on Facebook and Twitter. She clicked one, shared it on her Facebook page and then closed the computer and got on with the rest of her day.

  Beverly wasn’t the only person to have been astounded as she watched the video. At roughly the same time she’d been watching it, another three and half thousand people in the West Country alone had also seen it, with just over half of them sharing it on Facebook. Add to that, the twenty nine thousand people who would also buy the Bristol Post newspaper that day, and the large percentage of those who would go on-line to watch the clip and then share it on Facebook and Twitter.

  Within seven and a half hours of being available on the internet, the eleven minute twenty seven second video of Christopher Jameson under hypnosis and talking the words of the deceased Ben Walker had been viewed over one and a quarter million times.

  It had gone viral.

  Chapter one hundred and thirty