Was it possible that there could be a child somewhere in or around Thorn Tree who was carrying a disease, spreading it through the town’s children? A long shot, but at this point any lead was better than sitting in his office filling out paperwork.
The road gradually widened and ended at a bitumen driveway leading up to a large two-storey farmhouse. Harness had visited many rural properties and noted that the Chapels’ had all the usual fixtures: rainwater tank, satellite dish and a couple of large workshops. The house itself was surprisingly picturesque with a traditional steep corrugated roof and a wraparound veranda held up with red chamfered posts and decorated with wrought iron lacework, also painted red.
Harness parked behind an orange Hyundai four-wheel drive. He doubted orange was Rodney’s colour, so he guessed the car belonged to Lisa. Continuing his survey of the property, he exited the car and walked to the house. There was an old-fashioned bell hanging next to the front door; he rang it and waited. Almost instantly, as if she’d been standing nearby waiting, Annabel swung the door open.
“Hi, Annabel. Is your mum or dad around?”
Annabel nodded, her nose wrinkled as a smile lit up her face, but before she could speak, Lisa Chapel appeared in the hallway.
“Sergeant Gibson, is everything all right?” She held a tea towel, her brow furrowed with worry.
“Yes. Everything’s fine. I just wanted to have a follow-up conversation with you and your husband. Is he here?”
“Yes, he’s outside in the shed. Come through to the kitchen.”
Harness stepped over the threshold and followed Annabel and Lisa. She gestured for him to sit at the table and then turned to her daughter.
“Annabel, go out and ask your dad to come inside.”
“Okay.” The little girl glanced at Harness and darted for the back door.
“Wait.” Her mother stopped her. “When you’ve done that, I want you to go and check on the chooks. Give them some fresh water and see if there are any more eggs.”
Annabel looked disappointed, but nodded and left.
Harness remained standing during the exchange, noticing the faint smell of apples and cinnamon in the air. When Lisa turned to him, she was smiling. Her eyes flicked to the thirty-eight Police Special on his belt and the smile faded. Harness couldn’t blame the woman for being unnerved. City people, country people, it made no difference – most felt uneasy at the sight of a handgun in their homes. For some reason it didn’t bother them as much when officers were on the street, but walk into someone’s house and suddenly it became all too real.
Harness took a seat at the table, being sure to position himself so that he faced the back door. He wanted a few minutes alone with the woman before her husband arrived; facing the door would allow him to spot Rodney as he approached the house.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Lisa began filling the kettle at the sink.
He’d had too much coffee already, but it looked like the woman wanted to be doing something. “Yes. Thanks. White, no sugar.”
“I’m a bit surprised to see you. Constable Attwell was out here earlier. He spent quite a while looking around and I kind of thought if he found anything he would’ve told us.” She kept her back to Harness as she spoke, busying herself with the coffee.
Harness got straight to business. “I had the feeling you were holding something back this morning.”
“What?” She sounded surprised by his question. Her shoulders stiffened but she didn’t turn around.
“When you and Rodney came to see me, you talked about a little girl, but I had a feeling you weren’t telling me everything.” He stopped talking and gave her time to respond.
Harness watched Lisa’s back. She stopped filling the cups and turned around. For a moment, she merely stared at him as though looking for something. Harness could see the woman wrestling with something, perhaps trying to decide if she should confide in him.
“Mrs. Chapel, another child died today.” He spoke flatly, letting the words sink in, watching the pain register on her face. He didn’t like what he was doing, but if shocking her into telling him what he needed to know would help save another child from dying, he was more than prepared to do it.
“Call me Lisa,” she said almost absentmindedly as she came over to the table. They sat opposite each other, Lisa looking down at her hands and Harness waiting for her to speak.
“It’s Annabel. She’s... I don’t know, a little bit special.” She hesitated and looked up at him, seeming almost embarrassed as she continued. “She’s special in a good way. Sensitive. Ever since she was very little she’s sort of known things. You know, like if someone is upset or even what they are thinking before they say it. That sort of thing.” She stopped and looked at Harness, waiting for him to respond. Not sure how to react to what she was saying, he nodded. It seemed to be enough for her to continue.
“Rodney and I don’t really talk about it. It’s just a part of Annabel – who she is. I suppose we’re so used to it, we hardly even notice. If she tells us that her friend’s mother is worried that she might have a baby in her tummy, we just accept that she’s right.” She paused and laughed before adding, “She told me today that you wanted to kiss Maggie Hawkbetter, but you were sad about someone named Molly.”
Harness felt himself blushing with both shock and embarrassment. He’d never told anyone in the town about his daughter; maybe his feelings for Maggie were more obvious than he realised, but how would she know his daughter’s name?
“How did you know about Molly?” The question came out too quickly.
Lisa blinked, but held his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just trying to make you understand.”
“Understand what?’ He could hear the anger in his voice and immediately regretted it. It was out of character for him to lose control in an interview, but hearing Molly’s name mentioned so unexpectedly caught him off balance. Lisa was staring at him now, arms wrapped around her body. He’d frightened her.
“Look, I’m sorry, Lisa.” He made his voice calm. “You didn’t upset me. I’m just… surprised. I know you’re trying to help. Just tell me what you know about the little girl.”
Before she could answer, the back door opened and Rodney walked in. He looked at his wife and then at Harness.
“What’s going on?” He planted his hands on his hips. “Why’s my wife upset?”
Lisa stood and put her hand on her husband’s arm, but Rodney’s gaze locked on Harness.
“Rodney, it’s okay.” She spoke with unexpected force, making both men turn and look at her. “I’m telling him about Annabel.” She gave her husband a pointed look. Rodney looked like he wanted to protest but nodded and sat down across from Harness.
“Mr. Chapel, you came to me this morning. You asked for my help. For that to happen, you need to tell me everything.” Harness spoke calmly, but at the same time making it clear that he was in charge. He waited for the man to respond.
He sighed and nodded. “Call me Rodney.”
For the next ten minutes Rodney and Lisa told Harness everything they knew about the little girl. This time they included the things their daughter had told them about the girl being a monster. By the time they finished, three things were clear: One, they both believed their daughter was telling them the truth. Two, they were afraid for their child, and three, Harness was convinced that the mysterious little girl was connected to the sudden deaths.
It was almost dark when Lisa went to check on Annabel, leaving Harness and Rodney alone in the kitchen.
“I’ll need to talk to Annabel.”
“Why? We’ve told you everything.” Rodney was understandably alarmed.
“Look, Rodney, I understand your reservations, but I’ve got six dead children in town and I need to know anything that might help stop a seventh from dying.”
“Jesus, Gibson. She’s only eight. I don’t want her anymore frightened than she already is.”
Harness held up his hand
s. “I won’t frighten her, but I need to ask her a few questions.” When Rodney didn’t respond, Harness continued, “A four-year-old boy died in his mother’s arms today and I couldn’t do anything but watch.” His voice shook with emotion. “I can’t stop what’s happening if I don’t have all the facts.”
“Okay, okay, but I’ll have to check with Lisa.”
Moments later, Lisa returned with Annabel. She held the back door open for her daughter, who was using her T-shirt as a makeshift basket to carry eggs.
“You were right, Mum. There were three more eggs in there when I checked.” Annabel struggled to put the eggs on the table, not quick enough to stop one rolling off the edge. Harness reached out and caught it halfway between table and floor.
“Whoa. Good catch.” Annabel laughed.
“Thanks.” Harness held the egg between his fingers for her to see. “I used to play cricket.”
“My dad’s good at cricket too, you should play with him.” She gave him a shy smile.
“Maybe I will,” Harness answered, smiling back.
“Okay. Go and wash your hands and then you can watch TV until dinnertime.” Lisa put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders and moved her daughter towards the kitchen door. Harness waited for Annabel to leave the room.
“I want to ask Annabel a few questions.” He braced himself for an argument, but to his surprise, Lisa nodded.
Chapter Nineteen
The light was dying, washing the blue out of the sky and coating the school in dreary grey. Mike got out of his car and hurried up the steps to his office, noticing a row of silent crows perched on the gutters above the entrance. He unlocked the main door to what passed for an administration building in a town as small as Thorn Tree and punched numbers into the alarm pad as the door swung closed behind him.
The air inside the building carried a hint of something earthy. “Damn. Fucking leaky roof.”
The budget was tight enough without having to fork out more money to fix the old roof, but from the smell of things, something was mouldering in the office. Mike rubbed his temples. The tingling behind his eye was turning into a pulsing. If he didn’t calm down, he’d be seeing spots. Once he had the thumb drive in his hand, the edges would smooth out and he’d be back to normal.
Just thinking about the images contained on the tiny miracle of modern technology made his penis twitch with anticipation. Without thinking, he rubbed his crotch, feeling the hardness growing beneath the fabric. Could he risk turning on the computer in his office and taking a quick look? Mike licked his lips. The school was empty, there’d be no one to disturb him.
Temptation burned his skin like a heat rash, leaving him almost powerless to resist. “Just this once.” The words came out in a rush of air.
With the decision made, the pressure behind his eyes eased. Mike moved towards his office, passing the reinforced glass door leading to the junior classrooms. A flash of movement caught his eye and brought him to an abrupt halt.
“Fuck.” He puffed out an angry breath.
Schools were like a magnet for bored kids. Kids whose parents didn’t give a damn where they went or how much damage they caused. He clamped his teeth together and headed for the door.
Turning the latch, Mike flung the door open and stepped through to the covered bitumen area. Amongst a set of bench seats and tables he noticed more birds. Large black creatures, almost invisible in the dusk light, danced between the lunch tables, unperturbed by his presence. The odour, rotten and mildewed, was stronger here, almost sickening. He hesitated, torn between finding something to throw at the birds or hunting down the kid he’d seen through the door.
A giggle, girlish and faint, echoed through the empty school, the sound carried on a sudden gust of wind. Forgetting the birds, Mike stalked along the cement walkway leading to the classrooms. He could be in his office right now, feeling the heat and excitement wash over him. A few minutes, not much to ask. Out of the question now, all because some brainless girl wanted to hang around the school.
“Un fucking believable.”
Wasn’t it enough that he spent every working day wading through the shit storm of school life? Another giggle, this time accompanied by a scrape. Mike stopped, head cocked to the side. He’d heard that sound a million times over the years. A school chair gouging a classroom floor. The little bitch is in one of the classrooms.
Anger bubbled up in his throat; like sour bile it filled his mouth. With no one around to witness his actions, he’d give the girl the fright of her life. Maybe a couple of sharp smacks thrown in for good measure. Oh no, Sergeant Gibson, I merely held the child until you arrived. Yes, I would like to press charges. Mike nodded, but then another thought occurred to him, one so tantalising he slowed his pace and let his mouth drop open. She be so scared, she’d agree to anything.
The scenario running in his mind shifted, taking on images that were much more satisfying. He saw himself standing over the girl, her eyes cervine with fear. I won’t call the police this time, but first you have to show me how sorry you are. Show me… His thoughts came to an abrupt halt as the sound of drumming rang out from the Year Three room. Mike smiled. He was going to enjoy this.
The classroom door stood ajar. Mike made a clicking sound with his tongue. How many times had he reminded Angela to lock the classroom when she left? The silly old cow was barely capable of dressing herself, let alone looking after a class of eight-year-olds. Lucky he came along when he did. If things went well, he’d be more than happy to forgive the teacher’s forgetfulness.
Fingers resting on the handle, Mike inched the door open. He planned on surprising the girl, blocking the exit. If she tried to push past him, all the better. The room was a spider’s web of shadows. The door creaked and swung inwards, letting out a blast of air. The smell hit him before he noticed the faint glow of the screen.
Mike sucked in a sharp breath, the stench of rot caught in the back of his throat. He grabbed for the door handle, meaning to steady himself, and slipped forward, almost losing his balance. It was only then that he realised the Smartboard was on, shedding eerie coloured light across the first few rows of desks.
The girl sat in the second row, her back to the door. Bathed in the reflection of the images on the screen, her skin appeared multicoloured, like a shifting rainbow. Barely taking in the child’s appearance, Mike’s attention fixed on the screen and the photos displayed there. His private collection, stark and huge on the big screen. The images running like a slideshow of flat-eyed children forced into obscene poses.
“How? How…” Mike clamped a hand over his mouth and stumbled forward.
It was then that he noticed the girl’s hair, tangled wisps barely covering an oversized head. Her arm unfolded like a bat’s wing, thin fingers ending in sharp curved nails. The nails drew a line along the desk to her right, gouging tracks through the hardened plastic as if it were as soft as butter.
Mike’s heart gave a painful jolt, almost sending him to his knees. The door slammed behind him as a gust of wind slapped his back. “Holy Christ.” His voice sounded small and childish as the wind whistled around the room, throwing up papers and books as if the class itself were caught in a cyclone.
Drumming filled his head, jarring his brain with rhythmic pulsing. Mike backpedalled, but his legs were rubbery and unresponsive. The thing in the chair – it wasn’t a girl but something inhuman – turned its head. Mike shrieked, a high-pitched sound heavy with fear and revulsion. His heart gave another jolt, this one more painful. He clutched his chest, desperate to get to the door and out of the school before the thing turned around, some part of him knowing if he saw the creature’s face, he’d be lost.
Hand reaching around desperate for purchase, his back thumped the door. The thing’s head moved, craning at an unnatural angle and all the while the photos slipped from one frame to the next.
“Please. No…Please.” Mike’s throat constricted with terror and pain as another jolt squeezed his chest.
&nbs
p; Its face, when it came into view, was every nightmare come to life. Skull-like features, dark sockets with eyes burning like twin orbs of hell. Mike lost control of his bladder, barely noticing the warm liquid trickling down his leg and staining the front of his suit pants.
The creature unfurled itself from the chair with jerky, disjointed movements. Like a puppet it came forward, slowly at first, but then in a blur of shudders it was almost upon him. Mike screamed, his fingers finally latching on to the door handle and pushing down.
The girl-creature’s jaw unhinged, revealing a nest of sharp yellowed teeth; it roared into Mike’s face. A spray of spittle hit him as the rancid breath worked its way down his throat. The thing’s breath took on a life of its own, filling his head with whispers. Something tore at his arm as he fell backwards out of the classroom.
His back hit the cement, elbow connecting with the ground with an audible crack. Mike cycled his legs, pushing himself across the walkway, sliding on his butt, trying to put as much distance between himself and the creature as possible. Not waiting to see if the thing followed, he scrambled to his feet and ran.
When he reached the undercover lunch area, the light was almost non-existent, turning the tables into dark, hulking shapes. He was sweating now, heat burning his skin while chills racked his bones. He had to get to the admin building, lock himself in and call for help.
The door was barely visible. Why hadn’t he turned on the lights? Only a few more steps and he’d be safe. Mike’s heart gave another jolt, this one more like a contraction that seized his entire chest. A stab of pain in the back of his neck was followed by tearing at his skin. Clattering, like a million teeth snapping the air. Above the whispering in his mind, a flutter of wings, the smell, oh God, the smell. Beaks stabbed at his face and neck, pulling his flesh. Mike batted at the birds, grabbing a fistful of feathers, but still the attack continued.
The Stone Flowers Page 13