The Third Skull (Book one - The Discovery): A Paranormal Mystery Thriller

by Andrew Stafford

“Sorry, I really need to get on,” interrupted Kieran as he opened the front door.

  Finn got the hint and left.

  Kieran closed the door as Linda came downstairs.

  “So you didn’t tell him everything?” asked Linda with a solemn expression.

  “No, not everything……….. But I’m sure he’ll find out in due course.”

  Chapter 12

  A telephone rang in the study. The old man of the house made his way along the wood clad corridor, cursing as he walked.

  “I’m coming God dammit, don’t be so impatient.”

  He grabbed the phone from its cradle and growled as he spoke.

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “Mr. Butler it’s me, I have news.”

  “Okay, it’d better be good Mr. Tempest.”

  “I think we’ve found our man.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I think so sir.”

  “I don’t want to hear you say ‘think so’, I need to know for sure.”

  “Sorry sir, but I need to find out one more thing.”

  “What?”

  “The final connection sir, I need to check the final link.”

  “Is that it? The final link. Is that all that needs to be confirmed?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay, and don’t forget, you can’t ask him, he will need to tell you.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good. Don’t call me again until it’s done.”

  Gabriel Butler ended the call and looked out from the window. He was a patient man, but seventy-one years was a long time to wait. But if what he’d been told was true, then he wouldn’t be waiting much longer.

  Chapter 13

  December

  It had been a glorious summer and a mild autumn, but winter crept up almost unannounced and now the nights had become long and days were bitter.

  Finn cranked the thermostat up a notch, returned to the settee and cuddled with Sophie.

  Jack slept in his cot, safe and warm in his baby grow. Rosie was in the kitchen with her colouring book at the dining table.

  “It’s seven o'clock. One of us has to break the news to her soon,” said Finn as he glanced at the clock.

  “Let her have ten more minutes, she’s happy,” replied Sophie.

  A few minutes later Rosie ran into the lounge excitedly waving her colouring book in her parents’ faces.

  “Look mummy, do you like what I’ve done?”

  “That’s wonderful darling, aren’t you clever!”

  Sophie passed the book to Finn.

  Finn looked at the quality of her colouring. She’d barely gone beyond the lines. Normally crayon would be everywhere and her choice of colours were debatable. Red elephants, blue grass, yellow sea. But tonight’s offering was excellent for a four year old.

  “Wow Rosie, that’s clever. Your colouring is really good.”

  Rosie sat next to her parents and looked pleased with herself.

  “It’s time for bed,” said Finn with a down turned mouth.

  “Can I do one more picture………. please?”

  “Sorry Rosie, it’s late, and if you don’t go to bed now there won’t be enough time for a story.”

  Rosie huffed and crossed her arms.

  “But please……….”

  Finn shook his head.

  “Give mummy a kiss and a cuddle and I’ll get you ready.”

  After kisses and cuddles and cleaning of teeth, Finn was reading a bedtime story. Rosie was under her sheets as snug as a bug and holding on to Amy, her favourite pink teddy bear.

  He read the last page and closed the book.

  “Daddy, can I tell you something?”

  Finn nodded.

  “You know my colouring was really good tonight, and it was nice and tidy?”

  “It was brilliant Rosie, you’re getting good at colouring.”

  “But daddy, can I tell you how I did it so nice and tidy?”

  “Go on, tell me how you did it so nice and tidy.”

  “The man helped me.”

  Finn smiled and brushed her hair away from her eyes.

  “Which man was that darling?”

  “The man in the kitchen.”

  “That’s nice Rosie. Do you have a name for your friend in the kitchen?”

  “No, I asked him, but he didn’t say. He held my hand when I was colouring and made sure I didn’t go over the lines.”

  Finn’s face changed from one of amused to one of concern.

  He remembered how exact her colouring had been. It was completely different to what she’d done earlier that day.

  “Did the man speak?”

  “He had a funny voice, I couldn’t understand him. He held onto my hand. It hurt when he held it too tight. I told him to let go.”

  Finn frowned.

  “Look daddy, my arm’s still sore.”

  She pulled her arm out from under the sheet and showed him her wrist.

  He held her hand and looked at her wrist. It was red.

  “Does it still hurt?”

  “A little, it’s getting better now.”

  “Show me your other arm.”

  She pulled her other arm from beneath the sheet. Finn compared both wrists. Her left one was unmarked.

  “He made me do a drawing, but it wasn’t very good.”

  “In your colouring book?”

  “Yes. I didn’t show it to you because it was rubbish,” giggled Rosie.

  “What did the man look like?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Didn’t you see his face?”

  Rosie shook her head.

  “Daddy, I’m getting tired and want to go to sleep.”

  “Rosie, why didn’t you see what he looked like.”

  “Because he had paper over his face.”

  “Paper, what do you mean paper?”

  “He had paper over his face, so I didn't see what he looked like.”

  Finn thought about what his daughter had just told him.

  “Was it newspaper, or drawing paper? What sort of paper was it?”

  “Daddy, I want to go to sleep now, I’m too tired.”

  “Concentrate Rosie, what kind of paper?”

  “I'm not sure, but it was like a sweetie bag, like the one from the corner shop when you let me choose my favourite sweets and the man in the shop puts them in a little white paper bag. It was that kind of paper, but really big.”

  Finn shuddered. “Rosie, are you saying that the man had a big paper bag over his face?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m tired and want to go to sleep.”

  Finn tucked her in again and kissed her on the head. After closing her door he stood outside her room and thought about their conversation. He shook his head and tiptoed downstairs, mindful not to wake Jack.

  Sophie looked up as Finn entered the lounge.

  “You were a long time.”

  Finn didn’t answer. He picked up Rosie’s colouring book and thumbed through. Every page of colouring was random, which was what he’d been used to seeing from his daughter. He turned to the page she’d been colouring that evening and compared it to what she’d done yesterday. There was no doubt about it, they were different.

  He flipped through the book until he came to a page on which were two circular shapes drawn with red crayon.

  The picture in the colouring book was of a tree in a field. Surrounding the tree were cows, chickens and pigs. Rosie had coloured nothing in. She’d only drawn the two circular patterns. Beneath each pattern was a tick.

  Sophie watched as her husband flipped through the colouring book. He looked perplexed.

  “Are you okay?”

  Finn took no notice of his wife and went back to Rosie’s room with the colouring book.

  “Rosie, wake up.”

  She opened her eyes and smiled.

  “I wasn’t really asleep,” she giggled.

  Finn opened the colouring book to the page with the tw
o red patterns and flattened it out on her bed.

  “Is this the drawing you were telling me about?”

  Rosie nodded.

  “Why did you tick them?”

  “I didn’t, the man with paper on his face ticked them?”

  He tucked her back under her sheets, kissed her and left the room.

  Sophie heard him coming down the stairs. He didn’t tiptoe as he normally did when the children were in bed. Instead he thundered down. He flung open the lounge door and stared at Sophie.

  “I think someone’s been in the house. Someone was in the kitchen with Rosie earlier.”

  Sophie frowned. “Why?”

  “Because Rosie told me. At first I thought she'd made it up, now I’m not so sure.”

  Finn went to the kitchen. He pushed the door, but something was stopping it from opening. He tried again. Sophie stepped out from the lounge and stood behind him.

  “Damned thing’s jammed. It must be the cold making the wood expand,” said Finn.

  He pushed his shoulder against the door and it swung open. He switched on the light and saw it was empty. He walked to the back door and tried the handle.

  “It’s locked.”

  “Rosie must have been imagining him. She’s probably created him in her head as someone to play with,” said Sophie.

  “Most children who have imaginary friends create children, or nice things like rabbits.”

  Finn pulled out a chair and gestured to Sophie to sit down. She sat at the kitchen table while he went to the lounge and returned with Rosie’s colouring book.

  He explained the conversation he’d had with his daughter and showed her the two red patterns Rosie had drawn.

  Sophie shook her head.

  “Finn, don’t worry about it, she’s created this man in her head. It’s her imagination. She’s a four year old girl, it’s what they do.”

  “I know, I know, but it’s her description, she said he had a paper bag……. it's just because it sounds like……. well you understand what I’m saying.”

  Sophie shook her head.

  “What?”

  “Never mind.”

  “I’m going back to the lounge,” said Sophie as she stood up.

  She left Finn to consider the strange events of the evening. His daughter’s description of the man she’d seen in the kitchen bothered him. She’d said he’d had paper stuck to his face, like a big sweet bag.

  He couldn’t help thinking of that hideous day last December when he’d seen the body of the man who’d jumped in front of the train. The man whose head he’d found. The head in the bag.

  Finn sat bolt upright in his chair. That was last December, he thought as he pulled his mobile from his pocket.

  He searched his contacts and found the number he was looking for as he walked back to the lounge.

  “Who are you calling?” asked Sophie.

  Finn didn’t answer, he was waiting for his call to be answered.

  “Hi Sally, it’s Finn.”

  “Hi mate how are you doing?”

  Finn found it difficult to hear her, it sounded as if she was in a busy bar or a restaurant.

  “I’m okay. I won’t keep you long, it sounds like you’re having fun.”

  “Yeah, we’re having a great evening.”

  “I need to ask you a quick question. Remember that horrible train journey at the end of last year?”

  “Of course I do. How could I ever forget?”

  “Can you remember the date it happened?”

  “Are you joking with me?” said Sally. Finn sensed an uneasy tone in her voice.

  “I’m not joking, I know it was December, but I can’t recall which day. I think I must have blocked it from my mind.”

  “You really don’t know, do you?”

  Finn grunted and shook his head at his phone.

  “It was a year ago Finn, a year ago today.”

  Finn shuddered. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes I’m sure. I will never forget, not for the rest of my days.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it happened on Luke’s twelfth birthday. We’re out together now in Pizza Hut celebrating his thirteenth. That’s why I'll never forget. It was December fourteenth two thousand and four.”

  Finn said nothing. He dropped the phone to the floor.

  Sophie could hear Sally’s voice crackling over the phone as it lay on the carpet.

  “Finn, Finn. Is everything okay?”

  Chapter 14

  Heather lay in her bed deep in thought. She’d told nobody what happened in the graveyard last August, the day she’d visited Sophie in the maternity hospital. The memory of hearing the name echoing around the walls of the old church haunted her. She recalled it with crystal clarity.

  ‘Charles Samuel Nash’.

  She didn't know who Charles Nash was, but was sure he had a connection with the church at the bottom of St. Michaels Hill.

  Another memory had returned from when she was young. Over the past few months she recalled memories of visiting her great grandmother Elizabeth in hospital during her final hours.

  Being a devout Christian, Elizabeth had not been scared of dying. In fact, she’d embraced the knowledge that she would pass through a door and enter the Kingdom of Heaven. Elizabeth had a strong connection with those who’d passed over. She took comfort knowing that those to whom she'd been close and who'd passed before her were now in a place in which their souls continued to exist in happiness. Elizabeth had a reputation of being someone different to most. Many people knew of her gift of speaking with the dead, and friends and neighbours turned to her for assurance that their loved ones who’d passed away had found peace and contentment.

  Elizabeth knew that Heather inherited the same gift which skipped two generations. Neither her daughter, nor her granddaughter showed any signs of sharing her abilities.

  Elizabeth was extremely ill the last time she’d talked to Heather. Heather saw her a few hours before she’d died. Elizabeth needed to tell her of the gift she’d inherited.

  Heather remembered sitting with her parents and sister at Elizabeth’s bedside in Frenchay Hospital. Heather was only seven and the sight of her great grandmother with tubes attached to keep her alive scared her. Elizabeth was weak, but had enough strength to beckon Heather to move closer. Elizabeth gestured to Heather to come close enough for her to whisper in her ear. Heather was scared and nervously climbed upon the bed to listen to her great grandmother.

  Elizabeth’s feeble voice was barely above a whisper and Heather couldn't hear Elizabeth's words. Heather shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. Elizabeth beckoned her to move even closer, and whispered a second time. As she spoke she ran her finger over a small silver cross which hung from her neck. This time Heather heard Elizabeth’s words and was scared by what she’d been told. She climbed from the bed, sat down and shivered as an icy chill made the soft hairs on her arms stand on end.

  At the time what Elizabeth said meant nothing to her, but as she grew older and discovered more about Elizabeth she’d understood her great grandmother’s final words.

  Eighteen years later, Heather could still recall what she’d said.

  “Heather, you are blessed with the veil of tears. Learn to use your gift wisely.”

  What is the veil of tears? She didn't understand. She’d asked her parents and grandparents what it meant, but no one wanted to discuss it. Whatever it was embarrassed her family, and became taboo and wasn't mentioned again.

  Many years later Heather talked with families of those who’d known of Elizabeth’s gift and things made sense. Heather had been told of stories of the 'crazy lady' who spoke with the dead. She’d been ridiculed by many. Elizabeth was considered a medium, clairvoyant, and psychic and in the nineteenth century little was known of clairvoyants, which was why she wasn’t taken seriously.

  In the eighteen years since her great grandmother died, Heather had no contact with the dead. But since the happening in the graveyard
one or two things occurred.

  In September she saw a vision of her boyfriend Mark, who’d been Finn’s best friend. Mark had died in a climbing accident the year before. They had only dated for a few weeks, but had become very close. Heather insisted that Mark shouldn't go on the climbing holiday because she had a bad feeling. She'd woken in the early hours one humid September morning. Her sheets repeatedly came away from her bed and ended up on the floor as if someone was pulling at them. She got up to remake it and saw Mark sitting in the chair in the corner of her room. Mark said nothing, he only looked at her and smiled. Heather froze. And then she heard his voice. His mouth didn’t move, he continued to look at her and smile.

  “You were right. I should have listened to you Heather, and I should never have attempted to climb that mountain. But I want you to know I'm happy, but I would be happier with you.”

  It wasn’t a dream, it definitely happened. Mark had spoken to her.

  The following week, a similar thing happened. Again, she was awoken by something tugging at her bedsheets and this time it wasn’t Mark, it was Elizabeth. She looked young, radiant and beautiful and nothing like Heather remembered her when she’d been alive. Just as when she saw Mark, her mouth didn’t move, but her words rang as clear as a bell.

  “Heather, you have been blessed with the veil of tears. Only a few have been chosen. Good is on your side. Believe in good, always believe in good.”

  Heather had been frightened when she’d seen Mark, but seeing Elizabeth made everything okay. Things made sense and the veil of tears didn’t sound so worrying.

  Heather had been chosen, and had been born with the gift of the veil of tears. The power invested in her was greater than the power given to Elizabeth. Skipping two generations made the strength of her yet unrefined skills immense.

  Heather had been selected for a purpose. She’d been put on the earth because she’d been chosen for a task. A task so important it would affect the future of mankind.

  Chapter 15

  Finn had not slept well. He was sure he’d not had a wink of sleep. Sophie assured him he’d been sleeping for at least two hours. His snoring had kept her awake since four thirty.