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

by Andrew Stafford

  He lay in the bath and tried to pinpoint when the changes had happened. He looked at his finger and admired the gold ring he’d not taken off for months. The two red patterns fascinated him ever since he’d spotted the thing in the mysterious antique shop the previous year. He felt there was some kind of connection between the ring and the new Finn Maynard.

  The warmth of the water and the flicker of the candle made him drowsy. Through half opened eyes he watched the flame as it danced and shimmied. The flicker grew until it became a bright flame. Finn slid into an upright position as the flame increased. He got out of the bath and slipped a dressing gown over his wet body. He grabbed the candle which was now burning ferociously and was about to throw it into the bath to extinguish it, when everything changed.

  The candle had become a burning torch and in the corner he could see a young woman slumped against the wall. She looked terrified. Finn was calm. What he saw didn’t worry him. He moved towards the girl and knelt in front of her. The girl looked at him with an air of confidence despite her obvious fear. And then she spoke in a wavering but assured voice.

  “They’re not your children.”

  He cocked his head to one side and tried to comprehend what was happening when a booming man’s voice came from behind him.

  “This will be my final time of asking. Think before you answer. What have you done with my children?”

  Finn turned around, but there was no one there. He turned back. The girl’s face reflected a look of true terror mixed with hard gritted determination.

  “I won’t tell you. They’re somewhere you’ll never know. I may be young, but I’m not stupid. I know your secret and I know you’re not their father.”

  Finn stood up and opened his mouth to speak, and as he did, a voice came from within which was beyond his control and reverberated around the bathroom.

  “You know nothing!”

  It was the same booming voice he'd heard seconds earlier.

  “I know enough to make sure you never see those children again,” replied the woman.

  The door flew open and Finn turned to see Sophie standing in the doorway with a thunderous expression across her face.

  “Finn, what the bloody hell are you doing? It’s gone midnight and you’re waking the children.”

  Finn was confused. His dressing gown was loosely thrown over his wet body and in his hand was the candle. He looked to the girl, but she wasn’t there.

  Jack cried in his room.

  “I don’t know what’s happening to you, but you’re wrenching this family apart.”

  He put the candle down and followed her to Jack’s room.

  “What did you hear?” asked Finn.

  “You, waking the children! Now get out of my way, Jack needs me.”

  “Seriously, what did you hear?”

  “It’s late Finn, I haven’t time for this stupid game.”

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him. Sophie stared at him and saw a look of confusion.

  “I’m not playing a game, something happened and I need to know what you heard.”

  She broke free of his grip and rubbed her arm.

  “Don’t you ever lay a finger on me again.”

  “I need to know what I said.”

  Sophie sighed.

  “You said I’ve done something with Rosie and Jack.”

  “I didn’t say that,” snapped Finn.

  “No? Well then to whom were you referring when I heard you shout ‘What have you done with my children’?”

  He found it difficult to work out what the hell was happening.

  “You said ‘this will be my final time of asking. Think before you answer. What have you done with my children?’ Who the hell were you talking to? There’s no one else here,” said Sophie in an angry whisper.

  He stood in silence and thought about what she’d just said. ‘What have you done with my children?’

  Eventually he spoke.

  “I wasn’t talking to you.”

  “No? Well who were you talking to?”

  He stared into the distance and considered what happened.

  “I think I was speaking to Alice.”

  “Alice?”

  “Her name is Alice Donaldson.”

  Sophie was having a hard time dealing with her husband’s strange behaviour and had become less tolerant of his ways.

  “Finn, please tell me who Alice Donaldson is, and don’t lie.”

  He turned to her, and she saw sincerity in his face.

  “Alice Donaldson? I’ve absolutely no idea.”

  Chapter 31

  In the well

  “Please come with me, she’ll be there soon.”

  “Can’t I stay? I feel safe here.”

  “But Rosie would love to see you……., she’s nice.”

  “You can go, I’ll stay here. But don’t be long.”

  “I won’t, I’ll just say hello and play for a little bit.”

  “William? Can you ask Rosie if I can have another toy?”

  Chapter 32

  Breakfast at the Maynard’s’ was clouded with the familiar air of awkwardness which Sophie had come to expect over the past six months. She glanced at Finn who hugged his mug of tea. The scar on his cheek had healed well and she couldn’t help feeling more attracted to him. More so than she’d ever done since she’d known him. At the same time as being attracted to him physically she was repelled by him emotionally. He’d become an arrogant, self-centred bastard who seemed to care for no one other than himself.

  “Have you worked out who the mysterious Alice is?”

  Finn looked up from his mug.

  “Pardon?”

  “Alice, last night in the bathroom? Have you worked out who she is?”

  He vaguely shook his head and looked at his alienated wife.

  “They weren’t her children.”

  “No? Well I guess that makes everything okay then,” replied Sophie sarcastically taking her cereal bowl to the sink.

  She rinsed the dish and looked at the back garden. She wondered why no flowers and plants thrived there, or in the front garden. Everything everywhere was dead, other than that ugly hawthorn tree.

  “Kieran and Linda have gone,” said Sophie, placing the bowl on the side to dry.

  “Gone where?”

  “I don’t know. I overheard Ruth talking with their next door neighbour. They took off unannounced. Apparently they left most of their things.”

  Finn was going to speak but Sophie interrupted him.

  “What's that?” she said as she walked across the kitchen sniffing the air.

  “What?”

  Just as he spoke he picked up the faint scent.

  “A damp smell, where’s it coming from?” asked Finn.

  “I’m not sure, but I’ve smelt it before.”

  The door flew open and Rosie entered the kitchen.

  “Jack’s awake, he’s crying.”

  “Okay darling, I’ll see him in a minute,” said her mother.

  “It’s getting stronger,” said Finn.

  He was right. It was an odour that Sophie had noticed before. She was trying to think where she’d been last time she’d smelt it.

  “It’s William,” shouted Rosie as she ran across the kitchen.

  Finn looked up.

  “It’s her imaginary friend,” whispered Sophie.

  Finn nodded and viewed his daughter with interest as she happily chatted to thin air.

  Rosie smiled at William.

  “You’ve got your bedclothes on again.”

  “I’m always wearing them.”

  William looked around the kitchen.

  “Who’s that man?” asked William whilst pointing at Finn.

  “Oh, that’s my daddy.”

  “He looks like my father. He’s got a scar like that on his face.”

  “Come and say ‘hello’,” said Rosie and walked towards her father.

  William was nervous and stayed where he was.
>
  “Come on silly, he won’t hurt you,” pleaded Rosie.

  “He looks too much like my father. He might shout like mine does.”

  “Okay, stay where you are.”

  “Your mother looks nice.”

  Rosie smiled. “I love my mummy……. Shall we draw a picture?”

  Finn and Sophie watched Rosie grab her drawing pad and pencils and make space on the kitchen table.

  William stood alongside Rosie as she turned to a clean page in her book.

  “Why don’t you draw my sister cuddling the pink bear you gave her?”

  Rosie smiled and worked on the picture as William described Louisa.

  Suddenly it occurred to Sophie where she’d smelled it before. It had been where she was now. In the kitchen.

  She thought back to her conversation with Heather. She’d mentioned the same thing when she’d seen the vision of her great grandmother, Elizabeth.

  Sophie contemplated what Heather said and Finn was in a world of thought.

  He became agitated and stood up.

  “Rosie, is your friend William the same boy who helped you draw the picture with the burning building?”

  Rosie nodded and worked on her drawing of Louisa.

  “And he’s the little boy who had a nanny called Alice?”

  She nodded again.

  William looked concerned.

  “Why is he asking so many questions? And how does he know Alice?”

  “I told him about Alice. I showed him the picture we did. You remember, the one with the burning building.”

  Finn and Sophie listened to Rosie’s side of the conversation.

  Rosie's conversation bothered Sophie. It didn’t sound like a normal conversation a child would have with a made up friend, it was as if there really was someone talking with her.

  Finn pondered over last night in the bathroom, and the vision of the mysterious girl. Why did he think she was called Alice? The name Alice was so familiar to him. He remembered how the name had struck a chord when Rosie had told him of the three characters in the picture she’d drawn with the burning building and the well.

  William, Louisa and Alice he thought to himself.

  Sophie was busy piecing together the significance of what Heather had told her of the visions of Elizabeth and the odour. She was linking it to what was happening with Rosie and her imaginary friend William.

  Finn strolled over to his daughter.

  He lowered himself to her level as she worked on her picture.

  “Who are you drawing?”

  “It’s William’s sister, do you think it’s good?”

  Finn didn’t comment, he wasn’t interested in how good Rosie could draw.

  “Is William’s sister called Louisa?”

  Rosie nodded and continued with her picture.

  “William and Louisa were taken care of by a lady called Alice weren’t they?”

  She nodded again.

  William noticed the ring on Finn’s finger and became nervy.

  “Rosie, I must go, I need to look after Louisa.”

  “William, don’t go, I haven’t finished my drawing for you.”

  “Make him stay!” exclaimed Finn in a raised voice.

  “I can’t daddy……. William, my daddy says he wants you to stay.”

  William took a step back and Finn looked into space trying to locate where William could be.

  Sophie watched cautiously, she was intrigued as to why Finn had become so interested in someone who was part of their daughter’s imagination.

  “I can’t see your friend. Where is he?”

  “He’s stood next to me silly, why can’t you see him?”

  “Because I can’t,” snapped Finn. “Is he on your left or your right?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is he on the side you hold your pencil?”

  She nodded.

  William backed away as Finn moved to the other side of Rosie. William nervously watched Finn trying to work out where he stood. It reminded him of playing ‘blind man’s bluff’ with Alice and Louisa, but a far more sinister version. Finn scared him.

  Finn raised his arm and waived his hand through the air. His hand made contact with the space occupied by William. The ring on his middle finger passed through William’s head.

  As Finn waved his hand he noticed the surrounding temperature was warmer than anywhere else in the kitchen.

  William was frightened when Finn’s hand passed through his head space.

  He waved his hand again, this time a little faster. The warmth increased and as it did, a faint image of a small boy appeared.

  Finn fleetingly stopped when he saw the eerie vision.

  He continued to wave his hand, this time with more urgency and haste. William appeared again. The faster Finn moved his hand, the clearer William became.

  Sophie watched with her hand over her mouth. “My God,” she whispered into her palm.

  “What are you doing daddy? You’re hurting my friend.”

  Finn took half a pace closer to the vision and waved his hand frantically as if he was fanning the embers of a dying fire. The more he waved his hand the clearer William became.

  Sophie looked in amazement at the image of the little boy standing in her kitchen. He wore dour cotton bedclothes and appeared to be four or five years old. The expression his face reflected was one of fear peppered with the emotion of sadness. His hair was blond and thick, and he reminded her of a character from a Dickens’ book.

  Finn’s arm ached, he slowed the waving motion and William faded. He dropped his arm to his side and William disappeared from view.

  When Finn had been laboriously waving his hand, William had been rooted to the spot, but as soon as Finn stopped, William stepped back and occupied a different space in the kitchen.

  “I need to go,” said William.

  “You’ve scared him away daddy, that’s not nice.”

  Finn ignored Rosie. He turned to Sophie whose face was ashen.

  “Did you see that?”

  Sophie nodded without saying a word.

  She knelt to her daughter’s level and held her hand. Rosie felt her mother’s hand shake.

  “Did daddy and I see William, the boy who helps you draw?”

  Rosie nodded. “Yes and daddy scared him away.”

  “And he knows Alice?” added Finn.

  She didn’t answer, instead she scowled at her father.

  “Rosie, please could you go to your bedroom and play!”

  “I don’t want to, can I stay here?”

  Jack cried again in his room.

  “Come up and see Jack with me, and after that please play in your room for five minutes while I talk with daddy?”

  “Go with your mother,” said Finn with a stern look.

  His look was enough to warn her not to argue and she went upstairs, trailing behind her mother.

  Finn was alone in the lounge. All was quiet other than the sound of Sophie talking to Jack upstairs.

  Part of Finn was staggered beyond belief by what he’d seen, but another part of him accepted what happened without question.

  He turned to his daughter’s drawing books and found the picture with the burning building and the children in the well.

  He scrutinised the picture and tried to work out what it meant. Now he was sure that William was more than an imaginary friend the drawing took on a different meaning.

  He recalled what Rosie said when she’d explained the drawing.

  In the top left was the house where William and Louisa lived. In the lower middle section was a sketch of William and Louisa being pushed in a barrow by Alice while she was chased by dogs. In the top right section were two children in a well who were William and Louisa. The bottom right was a blazing building in which Alice appeared to be burning alive. Near the well was a hawthorn tree. Rosie said it was the same tree which grew in their garden, the tree which Rosie liked to call Bread and Cheese.

  Out of the flames wer
e the patterns. He looked at his ring and then back to Rosie's drawing.

  The hairs on his neck stood on end as the significance of the drawing dawned on him. His hands shook as he held it in his grip. The sketch was a montage of the death of William and his sister who ended up being dumped in a well. But why the hawthorn tree? The same hawthorn he could see from the window of the lounge, less than thirty feet away. And the patterns? She knew of the patterns on the ring. But it wasn’t Rosie who knew, it had been William. Something William said to her made her draw those patterns.

  He cast his mind back to the picture she drew when she’d said the man with paper stuck to his face visited her. The same patterns were on that picture.

  At last he understood what was happening. And as he did, his whole body became a shuddering mass of fear. His daughter was connecting with things he didn’t understand.

  Over the past few months Finn Maynard had changed. His confidence had soared. He’d become more dynamic and was making lifestyle choices he never would have made before. But now, as he sat gripping his daughter’s drawing, he felt scared and lost. He needed someone to whom he could turn for guidance. He needed help.

  Over his shoulder he heard a voice. The same booming voice he’d heard in the bathroom.

  “Maynard you little shit. For once in your life be a man. Face what’s happening. Because if you’re scared now, just wait for what we’ve got in store for you.”

  Chapter 33

  The black 1964 Rolls Royce Silver Cloud purred as it slowly made its way along Whitcombe Fields Road.

  Ruth Jackson twitched behind her net curtain as the car pulled into Kieran Tempest’s driveway. She squinted her eyes to see who was driving. The classic car waited with the engine running for five minutes. Ruth was distraught with curiosity.

  A distinguished looking man in his early seventies wearing a Panama hat got out and walked to the boot. He popped it open and took out three cardboard boxes. One by one he laid them by the front door. He reached across the back seat of the car and removed a large grocery bag. Ruth strained and made out a box of tea bags and a carton of milk protruding from the bag. He carried it to the house, rummaged in his pockets and pulled out a set of keys, with which he opened the door.