The Haunting of Emily Stone

by Amy Cross

  “No!” Lizzie shouted, letting go of the handle and taking a step back.

  “No?” the woman asked, with a faint smile.

  “Stop! Don't do that!”

  “Do what?” The woman looked at the crack as it began to spread, filling the square of glass with tributary after tributary. “I'm not making this crack happen, Lizzie. You are, by trying to hold back the inevitable.”

  Taking another step away from the door, Lizzie shook her head.

  “Just a little further,” the woman replied with a smile, as a piece of glass began to come loose from the window. “Just a few more seconds...”

  “No!” Lizzie shouted, as the glass shattered.

  ***

  “What the -”

  Realizing his phone was ringing, Robert sat back on his bar stool and fumbled through his pockets for a moment, before finally seeing that Catherine Maloney from the care home was trying to get through to him. He considered not answering, since he was onto his fifth whiskey of the night, but finally he tapped the screen to accept the call.

  “It's almost one in the morning,” he told her. “If -”

  “I need you to come back,” she stammered, her voice filled with panic, with the sound of sirens in the background. “We have a serious problem here.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “We've checked every camera,” Catherine explained as she led Robert along the corridor, “every exit, every window, every possible way out of the building, but we can't figure out how she got away.”

  “And no-one heard anything?”

  “Not until the glass broke. Fiona, the woman who was supposed to be on the night desk, had gone to one of the storage rooms to check on a sound she heard. By the time she realized something was wrong, it was too late and she reached the room after... Well, after whatever happened, had happened.”

  “You said someone was supposed to be on the desk at all times,” Robert replied.

  “They are, but she was only gone for -”

  “At all times,” he said firmly. “What the hell kind of place are you running here?”

  Rounding the corner, he saw a couple of police officers up ahead, examining the door to Lizzie's room.

  “And her mother -” Robert began.

  “That's where it gets complicated,” Catherine replied. “It seems Emily Stone was released a couple of hours ago, but not in time to get here and snatch Lizzie. The whole thing looks like a huge coincidence.”

  As they reached the door, Robert saw that the glass panel was broken, with pieces of glass having been scattered into the room, covering the floor. He took a step forward, past the nearest police officer, and looked over at the bed in the far corner, where just a few hours earlier Lizzie had been settled down for the night.

  “We take security very seriously,” Catherine continued after a moment. “Nothing like this has ever happened before. I'd just left for the night, I was one my way home when I got the call. As I said, we have cameras at all the exits.”

  “But not on all the wards?”

  “All the stairwells. The elevators. There's literally no way to get out of here without being seen.”

  “Then maybe she's still here,” he replied. “Could she be hiding?”

  “I don't see how, but we've already got people searching the building.”

  “There's no blood,” he pointed out, taking a step forward and looking down at the glass on the floor. “Whatever broke the window, it was strong enough to send glass almost to the opposite wall. That's a pretty powerful force, and wherever Emily would have been standing, you'd think it might have hit her.” Heading to the bed, he saw a few small pieces of glass glinting on the sheets. “Nothing about this makes sense. Why didn't she hit the alarm on the wall?”

  “That's what we're wondering too,” Catherine replied. “None of the children in the other rooms heard anything until the glass broke.”

  “You had one job to do,” he muttered, looking down at the glass all around his feet. “You were supposed to keep her safe.” After a moment, he turned to Catherine. “You said they released Emily Stone. Where is she now?”

  ***

  Unfastening his seat-belt, Robert stepped out of the car and onto the cold, dark street. Light rain was already starting to fall, which seemed somewhat appropriate since it had also been raining twenty-four years earlier, on his previous visit to the house. He'd tried to forget that moment in the intervening years, but now he had to admit that the memories were strong, that he remembered every detail.

  As he reached the garden gate, he looked at the house and saw her.

  Emily Stone was standing on the front step, staring straight at him.

  ***

  “What do you mean, gone?” Emily asked, following him inside. “Gone where?”

  “I told you everything I know,” he replied, switching on the light in the hallway before looking back at her. “Don't worry, the police are already on it.”

  “I have to go after her,” she replied, turning to head back out.

  “Are you insane?” he asked, grabbing her arm and looking down at the chunky monitor attached to her ankle. “If you so much as go to the garden gate during your curfew hours, that thing'll go off.”

  “I don't care,” she told him, trying to get free of his grasp, “I have to find Lizzie!”

  “They'll pick you up in a police car before you get anywhere,” he replied, still holding her back. “Don't be an idiot, Emily. Be smart and stay here for a moment while we figure something out. Come on, I know you're not a complete fool, despite everything your mother persuaded you to do.”

  “Let go!” she shouted.

  “Emily -”

  “I swear,” she continued, trying to prize his fingers away from her arm, “if you don't let me go and find my daughter, I'll -”

  “What?” he asked. “You'll force your way out and end up in another police cell? How will you be able to help her then?” Letting go of her arm, he took a step back. “Fine. Off you go. Be a complete idiot yet again.”

  Turning, she hurried to the door, before stopping suddenly. After a moment, she turned to him. “Why are you here?

  “I -” Pausing, he realized the truth: he was trying to prove to Jenna that he still cared about something. “I thought I might be able to help,” he lied. “The police said you wanted me to see your daughter, so I did that, despite my extremely strong reservations.”

  “You saw Lizzie?”

  He nodded.

  She stepped toward him. “How was she?”

  “Frightened.

  “And her face?”

  Mostly healed.”

  “Did she asked about me?”

  He shook his head.

  “It's back,” she continued. “I know you probably think I'm a liar, and I understand that, I mean, I was a liar, all those years ago. But I'm not interested in having endless conversations going back and forth about whether or not there's anything in this house. There is, it's real, and the fact that my mother was a lunatic twenty-four years ago doesn't change a goddamn thing. If you can't accept that, then...” She paused, struggling to find the right words. “If you can't accept that, then it's your turn to fuck off. Thanks for the email, by the way.”

  “I should call someone,” he replied, searching through his pockets for his phone. “She'll know what to do.”

  “Lizzie knows things,” Emily continued, “things that I know, but that I didn't tell her. The thing in this house told her the same things it told me.”

  “Let's not get ahead of ourselves,” he replied.

  “My daughter is missing,” she snapped. “Are you here to help or not?”

  “I...” He paused. “I really think I need to make a phone call.”

  “Enjoy that,” she replied, turning and heading back to the front door.

  “Stop!” he shouted, hurrying after her. She'd already reached the gate by the time he caught her and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her back. “You really can't h
elp Lizzie from the inside of a police cell!”

  “I can't help her from here, either!” she pointed out. Looking up at the house for a moment, she seemed lost for words. “I can't stay in this house,” she added finally, “not after everything it took from me.”

  “There's nothing in there,” he replied. “You have to move past the lies your mother made you tell!”

  “You don't believe me?” she asked. “Fine, then help me. Whether I'm right or wrong, it doesn't really matter, does it? The only thing that matters is finding Lizzie, because I swear to you, I would give my life to make sure that my daughter is okay.”

  “Is there anyone you can think of who might have taken her?”

  “Only -” Still staring at the house for a moment, she stepped past him and looked up at the dark windows. “It doesn't want her,” she said finally. “It wants me. That's what it's using her for.”

  “You've been living here all these years, haven't you?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Then if it wanted you, wouldn't it have taken you by now? Assuming there's anything in there at all.”

  “It told me once that time doesn't work the same way in its world as in ours,” she replied, taking a few more steps toward the house. “Maybe it blinks, or turns away for a moment, and twenty years have passed for us. It told me so many things about the dead place, I can barely even remember it all.”

  “The Myrkia,” he replied.

  She turned to him.

  “Most of the things you told me back then,” he continued, “come from an obscure old book called the Myrkia. The whole thing reads like the delusional rant of some crackpot with too much time on his hands. Your mother must have somehow ended up with a copy and then she fed you all that bullshit in an attempt to give you a story to tell.”

  “She didn't tell me,” Emily replied. “It did! The thing in the house!”

  He shook his head.

  “What do I have to do to make you believe me?” she asked.

  “How about you go back in time twenty-four years,” he replied, “and don't lie to me for six months about ghosts and monsters.”

  “My mother -”

  “Was a mad old bat who wanted to exploit you for money,” he continued, “I get that, but don't you think there's at least a chance that she got into your mind and now you can't remember what really happened and what was part of the lie? I'm not blaming you, Emily. I'm saying that your head got permanently messed up.” He sighed. “Only someone with some form of mental illness would believe in this kind of crap.”

  “I thought you believed? Maybe not in this case, but in ghosts in general.”

  “Not for a long time.”

  “Because of me?”

  He paused. “Because of you,” he said finally. “And because of the rest of it. A lot of people have gone looking for absolute, irrefutable proof that ghosts exist, and how many of them have actually found proof? None. Not one of them, not ever. Don't you think it's about time we just admit that there's nothing out there? I mean, what are the odds that after thousands of years of human history, proof of the paranormal is going to be found in a grubby little council house in the north of England?”

  “Then where's my daughter?” she asked, with tears in her eyes. “Right now, I'm praying that you're right, because at least then it's possible that she escaped from that care home and she's on her way back to me. She's smart enough, you know. She could do that. But if I'm right, and if this thing is real, then I don't know what might have taken her, or what it's doing to her, or if I'll ever see her again, or even if -”

  Before she could finish, there was a loud bump from the house.

  “Lizzie!” Emily shouted, rushing back inside.

  “Wait!” Hurrying after her, Robert reached the hallway just in time to see that she was heading upstairs. He waited for a moment, listening as Emily rushed from room to room, and then he watched as she made her way back down to the hallway.

  “You heard that noise,” she said as she reached him, her voice trembling with fear. “Don't try to tell me it was the house settling.”

  “It could have been any one of a hundred things,” he pointed out. “You're in an agitated state and you're liable to misinterpret the slightest sound as something more sinister.”

  “Then stay tonight,” she replied. “I have no choice, I have this monitor on my ankle and, besides, I have to stay here and wait in case Lizzie comes back. I have to spent every night in the house that gave me all these nightmares as a child, but you? You can decide for yourself. You can walk away again.” Spotting flashing blue lights outside, she saw that a police car had pulled up.

  “I guess they're here to tell you that Lizzie's missing,” Robert said. “I doubt it'll make any difference to your curfew hours.”

  “Then stay,” she said firmly. “Help me, please.”

  ***

  “Of course I'm staying,” he said a short while later, sitting in the kitchen as he talked to Jenna on the phone. He could hear Emily with the police in the next room. “I have to stay.”

  “I'm proud of you,” Jenna replied, on the other end of the line. “You're doing the right thing.”

  “You really think so?”

  “What's up, Rob? Do you need my validation for every decision you make now?”

  “No,” he replied, as if it was the most ridiculous idea he'd ever heard, “I just... This isn't going the way I expected.”

  “Finding it hard to disprove everything she says?”

  “The little girl vanished,” he continued. “Barring some kind of major security lapse at the care home, it's like Lizzie Stone just disappeared in the blink of an eye. I also...”

  He paused, trying to work out how to explain the other things that had happened.

  “You also what?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he muttered. “I think I'm losing my mind, that's all.”

  “Have you seen something?”

  “It's more complicated than that.”

  “Do you know what's worse than someone blindly believing what they see?” she asked. “Someone refusing to believe what they see despite all the evidence. You need to be more objective, Rob. Come at this properly, without prejudices on either side.”

  “I know,” he replied, “I just... I don't suppose you fancy a trip up here, do you?”

  “Me?” she asked, sounding shocked.

  “It'd save my phone bill.”

  “You don't need me there.”

  “Actually...” He paused, realizing that he was perhaps pushing a little too hard. “No, I'm fine,” he added, “I just thought you might be interested, that's all.”

  “I think this is good for you,” she told him.

  “Maybe,” he muttered. “I just want to help them find the little girl and then get out of here. You should have seen the room at the care home, Jenna. The window in the door was reinforced, there's no way anything should have been able to shatter it like that.”

  “But you don't believe in paranormal activity anymore,” she pointed out, “so there must be another explanation. Or are you starting to open your mind to the possibilities once more, Doctor Slocombe? Should I tell Doug to put some champagne on ice?”

  “It's just...” He paused for a moment, as he realized the police were leaving. “She's very convincing, that's all. I expected Emily Stone to have grown up and become this gibbering wreck, but she actually comes across very well. Smart, sane, caring... If I didn't know her history, I'd probably believe her myself.”

  “Sounds like you're on the verge of that already,” Jenna replied. “Don't be afraid to change your mind, Rob. Remember when you told me that? It was right when we first met, and you said the most important thing for any academic, any scientist, is the ability to change your mind when you're presented with something new. You changed your mind once, in a big way. It's okay to do it again.”

  “Maybe next time I call you, I'll be telling you ghosts are real and I'm convinced I'm about to
get proof.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Like the old days,” he added.

  She laughed.

  He smiled.

  “I should go,” she said after a moment. “It's barely five in the morning, you know. You're lucky I picked up the goddamn phone.”

  “You love me too much not to,” he replied, before realizing with a flash of cold panic what he'd just said. “I...” He paused, hoping against hope that she hadn't heard.

  “I really should go,” she said finally. Her tone of voice had changed; she sounded stiffer now, as if she'd closed herself off again.

  “That was just a slip of the tongue, Jenna -”

  “I know.”

  “It was just...” He paused again. “I got caught up in the moment, probably because we were talking about the things we used to talk about when we...” Yet another pause. “I didn't mean it.”

  “I know,” she replied. “Good night, Rob. Keep me posted about your progress. It's good to hear that you actually care about something again.”

  He opened his mouth to tell her about his plans, but a moment later he heard a click as the call ended. Putting the phone down, he leaned back and took a deep breath, replaying that terrible faux pas over and over again, and cringing a little more each time.

  “D'oh,” he muttered finally, leaning forward and putting his head in his hands.

  “Problems?” a voice asked suddenly.

  Looking over at the door, he saw that Emily Stone was watching him.

  “Nothing I can't handle,” he replied, hauling himself up and heading over to her. “Definitely nothing in the grand scheme of things.”

  “The police didn't say anything useful,” she continued, with tears in her eyes. “Just that they're doing their best to find Lizzie, that they're confident she'll show up soon, and that I'm still not allowed to break my curfew. They didn't tell me half the things you did, so it's pretty obvious they're trying to keep me in the dark.”