Ten Missing Children

by Antony J Woodward

  He heard Allen shuffle back down the stairs.

  He was suddenly alone in a missing child’s bedroom.

  Was this? It suddenly occurred to him that this might just be one of the eight children’s rooms. Now he understood the brevity of emotion haunting the parents.

  The colourful furniture took on a different tone, morphing before his eyes from happy smiles to sad and forced grins.

  He took a seat on the floor and closed his eyes.

  He pushed his thoughts away and let his mind open.

  “You’ll not find anything…” Frank had manifested and was sitting on his grandson’s bed.

  “Why?”

  “If I can’t find him, you can’t…” was the answer. He was probably right. He was a spirit, the laws of the physical realm didn’t apply to him.

  “What happened here?” He probed. He was aware there was no trauma in the room. Violent trauma, or any significant emotional happening, tended to stain rooms. He was usually able to tap into this energy but there was nothing in this room. Not a thing.

  “Someone took him…”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t know…” Frank confessed frustrated at his lack of answers.

  “Is this one of the eight?”

  “I don’t know…” Frank shrugged. Terry wasn’t sure how much attention Frank paid to the world at large, but it was worth a shot asking. “someone snuck in the house, trained, efficient, like a solider-” Terry halted the ghost with a lift of his hand.

  Terry didn’t need details, he already knew them. He had heard Matt’s harrowing recounting of the crime scenes.

  “Will you find him? Is that why you‘re here?”

  “My husband’s working on it…”

  “But will you help?”

  “Of course I will, if I can…” Terry promised.

  “Kid…” Frank leant forward and placed a hand on Terry’s shoulder. It was a peculiar phantom sensation, he could feel the press of the ghost’s hand but he knew it didn’t actually exist. It was his mind conjuring up the sensation. “You’re a good man, thank you…”

  Terry smiled and nodded.

  -----------------------------------------

  Terry couldn’t shake the sadness off. It had clung to him all day like a bad smell. He took a deep breath and poured himself a second glass of red wine. It was a Friday night and he reckoned he’d earned it. Upstairs the girls were arguing about something but Terry ignored it. Unless one of them came downstairs they could sort it out themselves. He was idly watching the TV again. He glanced at the clock. 8:35pm, too early to go to bed. He couldn’t deny he felt disappointed by that fact. He took a large gulp of wine.

  He wasn’t sure he could handle another night of watching brain-dissolving TV. He’d peruse the Blu-ray collection. Hopefully something happy, to lift his spirit a little.

  There was a yelp upstairs but nobody came charging down.

  “Might wanna pour a second glass and put the lasagne in the microwave,”

  Terry jumped.

  Spirits on the whole were pretty polite with mediums, consciously mindful of personal space and not suddenly manifesting out of thin air. Then there was Jim.

  Terry turned his attention to the ghost sat next to him.

  “Can’t you learn to knock?”

  Jim smiled but didn’t respond. He was Matt’s father. He was also something of a joker. Terry had heard many a stories about Jim’s pranks when Matt was a child. It was something he tried to continue in his ghostly form. If anything was missing in the house, then it was pretty likely that Jim was involved. TV remote in the washing machine? Jim. All the cutlery swapped around in the drawer? Jim. He was a ghost who had far too much time on his hands.

  Terry rose from the sofa and padded into the kitchen. He placed Matt’s tea in the microwave and collected a second glass of wine.

  “I didn’t reckon much to that new book,” Jim pointed to the paperback in the corner of the room, “And of course she dies in the end…”

  “Thanks Jim, spoiler alert!”

  “I’m just saving you reading the rest of it…”

  “Well I was enjoying reading it,” Terry sighed.

  The front door unlocked and Matt stepped inside.

  “Hey baby!” He greeted warmly. Terry placed his second glass of wine on the coffee table and went to him.

  They kissed, Matt wrapping his arms his lover as he did so. He then burrowed his head in Terry’s shoulder. “Good god, what a day…” he sighed.

  Terry squeezed him tight. He had forgotten how much he’d missed his smell. He took a greedy lungful of it.

  “Well, lasagne reheat and a glass of wine sound good?”

  “Sounds spot on babe,”

  “Well, go get changed and give those girls of ours a kiss goodnight. They’ve missed you,” Terry cupped Matt’s chin and just bathed in his attention.

  Matt smiled. His eyes were bloodshot and the lack of sleep was plastered all over his face.

  He pecked Terry on the lips and then headed up the stairs.

  “Gym bag!” Terry reminded as he began to head towards the kitchen once more. Matt had to turn back halfway up the stairs and pick up his gym bag that he’d deposited at his shoes.

  “God, its enough to make you sick…” Frank began making a balking noise.

  “Shut up Jim,” Terry shut him down.

  “You know he’s going to ask you to consult don’t you…?”

  “Well I do now, Jim you really need to stop with the spoilers,”

  “Why? I’m just giving you the heads up…”

  “Life’s not bad with a little mystery…”

  “I think my son has enough mystery don’t you…”

  Terry had to agree.

  “So, any reason you popped by? Other than to spoil my book and tell me my husband is about to ask me to consult with the police department?”

  “Actually, I was hoping you’d buy the new Tom Clancy novel…”

  Terry removed the lasagne and fixed an incredulous look on his dead father-in-law.

  “Do they not have these things in the ‘better place’?”

  Jim guffawed and threw his arms up. “Terry, it’s all harps and clouds. It’s dull as sin,”

  Terry wasn’t wholly convinced he was telling the truth. He also noted the choice use of words.

  “I’ll think about it…” He suspected that Jim just liked to hang around with his family. He would never admit it but he obviously wished he’d lived long enough to see his son grow into the fine man he’d become. Terry would often catch him watching his grandchildren playing, like he yearned to step across the border and connect with them. This Tom Clancy novel was both a running joke and a reason for him to keep returning.

  “Oh and tell Denise she looked mighty fine the other night…”

  “C’mon Jim, you know she doesn’t believe in my gift,”

  “You should tell her that Cheryl’s having an affair,”

  “WHAT?!” Terry deposited the hot plate on the coffee table with a startled slam.

  “I’m joking, I’m joking…”

  “You can’t say shit like that!” Terry hissed. He didn’t need Jim putting seeds of doubt in his mind.

  “What!?” Jim shrugged with an expressive bow of his arms.

  Terry poured Matt a glass of wine. He gave Jim a withering glare.

  “Sure you should be drinking? You know it makes you frisky…”

  Terry’s eyes rolled. It was one thing to have a ghost playing pranks and making jokes and then another thing for them to make a remark about your sex life. It was one of modern life’s great questions: did ghosts watch you have sex? The answer was pretty much no, yet Terry had experienced a peeping tom a few years ago. He’d been pretty freaked out when he spotted a woman stood in the corner of the room watching him and Matt go at it.

  It had put a dampener on the mood for sure.

  “Haven’t you got somewhere else to haunt?” Terry sig
hed.

  “Nope… I’m settling in for the night,”

  “If only I was an exorcist…”

  “Oh Babe, what did I do to deserve you?” Matt slipped off the stairs and took in the sight of his husband, the reheated lasagne and a waiting glass of wine. He’d changed into a white vest top and grey jogging bottoms. He hadn’t showered, he would no doubt do that before bed.

  “Must have been a very good boy in a previous life,” Terry winked.

  “Oh please… Get a room!”

  Terry gave Jim a sideways disapproving look.

  “Hmm… Good to be home,” Matt whispered as he slipped up against Terry.

  “Long day? Any progress?”

  “Nope, not a thing…” Matt took a swig of wine.

  “Brace yourself…”

  “We’ve still got nothing. Not a single clue. The captain wants to know if you’ll come on board and do some consulting…?” Matt finished his question with a greedy mouthful of food.

  “BINGO! Didn‘t I tell you…?”

  “Sure, of course I’ll help,” Terry placed a hand on Matt’s thigh. He squeezed reassuringly, “we’ll figure it out.” He didn’t like how his tone sounded a little desperate to please.

  “The chief wants us in Monday morning…”

  “Weekend off?”

  “Yeah… I need to clear my head,” Matt sighed. That was Matt-code for ‘been sent home and told to take a break’.

  “What we going to do?”

  “Well I thought we might do something Sunday…?”

  It was hyperbole and Terry knew it. Matt wouldn’t be able to relax enough to go out on a family outing. Matt would instead chew himself up over the case, and spend majority of the weekend locked in the garage on his gym equipment.

  “Oh oh, better tell Denise… She’s going ice skating…”

  “Can’t do Sunday, your mother is taking the girls ice skating…” Terry noticed Matt’s eyes briefly flickered with relief.

  “So we have Sunday to ourselves?” Matt enquired with a cheeky arch of an eyebrow.

  That too was hyperbole, there wouldn’t be any sexy time and Terry knew it.

  “Why don’t you ask him about the dog?”

  “Jim… I’d really like it if you buggered off now…” Terry told Jim psychically.

  “Nada, I hear this Big Brother lark is good…”

  Terry’s eyes rolled and he almost groaned. It seemed Jim was settling in for the whole night.

  “I saw the Baxters today,” Terry took a swig of his wine.

  Matt’s first look was confusion and then he realised who Terry was referring to.

  “What?”

  “They booked me, I didn’t know they were one of the parents…”

  “…And? Did you learn anything?” There was an excited desperation rising in Matt.

  “Nothing. The room was cold,” that was Terry-code for no psychic trail.

  Matt sighed, his brief flicker of excitement exiting him quickly.

  “Ask him about the dog…”

  “Did I miss anything while I was away…?” The lasagne was demolished. He flopped back onto the sofa with his glass. He snaked an arm around Terry.

  “I had an interesting conversation with Christine’s new teacher…”

  “New teacher?”

  “Yeah, Mrs Roberts is off on sick,”

  “ASK HIM ABOUT THE DOG!”

  Terry turned and laid himself against Matt.

  “Oh no, I quite liked her…” Matt sounded genuinely disappointed. Which was surprising considering he may have met the woman twice. Once was at parent’s evening.

  “Well this new teacher got a little worried about Christine’s painting…”

  “Painting?”

  “Yeah…” Terry laughed to himself a little, the whole story was kinda funny, “She painted a picture of us, as a family, only she put Lisa in a cell…”

  “In a cell?”

  “Well that’s apparently what a five year old thinks rehab looks like…”

  Matt laughed softly. His face brightened up a little and his handsomeness rose over his tiredness.

  “Good god…”

  “…I saved the picture, it’s on the fridge. The teacher was worried there was ‘difficulties’ happening at home…”

  “I bet she got pretty embarrassed when you explained…”

  “Yeah she did, bless her,”

  “Typical Christine…” Matt laughed.

  “Are you gonna tell him about the dog?”

  “I’ll look at it in the morning,” Matt promised.

  He leant down and kissed the top of Terry’s head.

  “I love you Mr Logan…”

  “I love you too Mr Detective,”

  “Sorry I got dragged into this mess… Sorry I have been busy…”

  “It’s okay, I understand…” He felt the topic of the dog rise to his throat but it wouldn’t come out. It wasn’t even okay! Damn, why was that his default answer? Why couldn’t he just tell Matt he felt lonely when he wasn’t around and he wanted a dog, something to fill the lonely evening hours.

  “I’m sorry,” Matt repeated.

  It was part of the price he paid for his career. Matt’s job was very well paid, it comfortably supported his family and left room to save for the girl’s future. The cost of that was his family time. He had missed the occasional special event due to work, but he mostly got it right. It was a difficult balance. He was grateful that Terry was patient and understanding enough.

  “Shall we watch some crap on the TV?” Matt suggested.

  Terry didn’t really care. For the first time since leaving the Baxter’s house he felt warm. He felt secure and loved in Matt’s arms. It was nice to have him home.

  He shuffled further back into his arms. It seemed Jim had finally grown bored and disappeared to wherever it was he went to.

  The warmth of the wine flushed over him and he began to feel sleepy. He decided that he would capitalise on that feeling, rather than be struck with insomnia and idle thoughts.

  “I’m going to go to bed,” he announced. It had been a long day and he was going to seize his sleepiness before his recurring insomnia reared its ugly head.

  “I’ll be up in a bit, I’m just gonna unwind a bit…” Matt met Terry’s lips mid way. Their kiss was deep, a meeting of passion that had long been left unfed. Then with a cheeky smack on Terry’s ass, he let his husband come up for breath.

  Terry smirked and padded off to bed, leaving Matt to his car-crash TV and his half finished glass of wine.

  CHAPTER FOUR:

  It was a prop in every single police themed production. The board of victims. Usually smiling portraits pinned onto a giant map. On occasion there’d be yards of string connecting the portraits. In the one before Terry there wasn’t any string. There was however eight faces smiling at him. Eight harrowing captures of smiling children cropped out of family photographs. Eight children who were missing.

  Terry took a sip of Matt’s coffee and winced. He didn’t even like coffee, he just needed to do something with his hands while he stood in front of the board. There was maybe a special term for it, the board, but if there was Terry didn’t know it. Behind him the police station bustled, various detectives and police officers were going about their business. Half the department had been involved in the briefing ten minutes earlier. There was plenty of work to be done. Terry turned away from the board. He was disappointed he felt no particular pull, no psychic tug in any direction. It meant he was going to have to do it the old fashioned way, start at the top and work his way down the list. The only family he wouldn’t have to visit would be the fifth; the Baxters. It had been unsettling to finally see a picture of the missing son Kaden. Now he had a face to that palpable misery the parents were enduring.

  Terry took the nearest seat. He had chosen to remain in the conference room, he needed to stay out of the all encompassing mass outside on the main floor.

  Matt was with the captain, al
ong with his fellow detectives. Majority of the detective team were involved in this case, unsurprisingly considering how high profile it had become. There was to be a TV appeal in a couple of hours, Matt had been asked to go on camera and update the media on the status of the case. Terry suspected he was being groomed right now, told what particular spin he was to put on it. He couldn’t quite go out in front of the camera and tell them the truth; they had diddlysquat.

  Terry was left to his own devices for the day. And he had all day too, Denise had offered to pick up the kids.

  Terry took the folder from the desk, he glanced at the box of paperwork he’d been given too. In it was all the case notes and details of every crime scene. Should Terry want to know the information.

  It looked heavy and Terry wasn’t particularly excited to lug it back to the car. He’d leave it for Matt but he wasn’t convinced he’d remember it. His memory was pretty awful at times. Just like his daughter. If a job needed doing it was better to do it yourself than rely on their awful memories…

  He turned his attention back to the board. He wished he could feel something regarding the case, it all felt cold… It was disconcerting. Every other case he’d ‘consulted’ on had given him some psychic trail to follow. This time, nothing…

  The few times he’d been employed by the Manchester police force before, it had been quite exciting. He got to follow curious psychic trails and let the real detectives figure out how to tie it all together. On paper he was just a consultant, his job description read something like a “second set of eyes”. It was a pretty way to completely avoid the acknowledgement they were utilising Terry’s medium abilities. Detectives worked on cold hard facts and hunches, not some psychic’s claims. You knew the department was desperate when they brought in the ‘consultants’.

  Terry put Matt’s coffee down, telling himself to just put it down before he took another sip.

  “Terry?” A female appeared in the doorway and shrieked in delight. She threw her arms up and practically squealed with excitement!

  Nancy was her name and she too was a consultant. She exactly what you’d picture if someone said the word medium. She had greying whispy hair, hair that refused to be pulled back into the clip upon her head. Her face was wrinkled, her eyes bright and sharp. She tended to wear earthy-coloured dresses and had countless mystical necklaces draped across her chest. Today’s look of a mud coloured dress, thick black boots, and an aubergine cardigan was finished with dream catcher earrings.