The Haunting of Maddy Clare (19 page)

“You’ll break the padlock on the door in daylight?”

It was Matthew who answered. “Padlocks aren’t a problem.”

I stood up and paced the room, unable to stay still. “You saw those crows last night. They were uncanny.”

“It was quite fascinating. I wonder if there are any bird experts in the area who can help us.”

“Alistair!” I could have screamed in frustration.

“They are
birds
, Sarah.”

I stared at him helplessly and he leaned toward me, his elbows on his knees. “This brings me to something else,” he said.

“What is it?”

“Sarah, I hired you to replace Matthew. Now Matthew has returned, and it seems to me I’ve not given you the option of going back to London if you wish. Do you wish it?”

I opened my mouth, dumbfounded. “Are you—?” I stuttered. “Do you wish me gone?”

“No, no, of course not. But this assignment has been upsetting for you. The encounters with Maddy, having your room ransacked—I just thought you might have a wish to put all of it at the back of you for good. Perhaps you don’t want to say it, so I should offer you the opportunity. Matthew and I can make do now that he’s back, if we have to. What do you think?”

I looked at Matthew. Had this been his idea? Did he still hold a grudge against me, even after last night? But Matthew’s dark eyes gave nothing away.

I thought of going back to London, of my damp flat and the oppressive heat and the noise of the city, and most of all my lonely, routine life. I could not go back to that, not now, perhaps not ever. And there was no chance on this earth that these men were going to encounter Maddy without me along to help.

“I would like to stay,” I said.

Alistair blinked, as if that was not the answer he was expecting. Then a grin broke across his face, so handsome and so genuine it gave my heart a squeeze.

“Well, that’s good, then!” he said. “Don’t you think so, Matthew?”

Behind me, Matthew only gave a low grunt.

Alistair rolled his eyes at me. “Such manners on a gentleman. Let’s get the equipment together and we’ll go.”

“Alistair,” I tried again, “I have to say I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“You must stop worrying so, Sarah,” he said to me. “Everything will be fine.”

We left the inn and crossed the narrow road, taking the now-familiar path across the fields and through the small cluster of trees. Alistair strode ahead, confident and eager. Matthew, to my surprise, let himself drop back to walk level with me.

As soon as I saw what he was doing, I felt myself blushing, and I hated myself for it. Could I think of nothing else but what had happened last night?

But Matthew made no mention of it. Instead, he said in a low voice that Alistair would not hear: “I think you should know something. When I came down this morning, I found Alistair outside, talking to Evangeline. She was walking her dog.”

I took this in and said nothing.

“I don’t know how long they had been talking,” he continued, “but I believe it was a long conversation. It’s affected his mood all morning.”

“I take it it was not an interview about Maddy,” I said.

“No. No, I don’t think so.”

So, they had spoken to each other, and had perhaps even come to an agreement—an agreement that suited Alistair very well. I should have been shocked that Alistair would have a tête-à-tête with a married woman, for all to see and gossip about, for a long length
of time. But I could not find it in myself to be shocked anymore. And if he’d found some happiness in having a conversation that was years overdue, I couldn’t find it in my heart to begrudge him it.

It made depressing sense. Ahead of us, Alistair was still walking as if his feet were not quite touching ground. And it explained why he had made the offer to send me back to London, for that had almost certainly been Evangeline Barry’s idea. Likely couched in terms of concern, wondering if perhaps I were secretly yearning to leave and unable to ask. Alistair had taken the suggestion at face value, of course, as a man infatuated will do. But Evangeline had been making her move. She had been trying to get rid of me.

It even explained this sudden resolve to go to the barn. Alistair wanted to wrap up this business, perhaps to look better in Evangeline’s eyes. And so he plunged ahead, the valiant knight who will fix all. And all for a woman already married. I thought of her calm obedience to her husband the day before, and the languid, condescending wave she had given me, and I hoped he was not on the road to disaster—though I very much thought he might be.

“Oh, Alistair,” I sighed.

I turned to see Matthew looking at me, and I would have given anything, all I owned or would ever own, to read what I saw in his eyes. But as always, Matthew remained a mystery to me.

I turned away as we crested the small rise, approaching the place we had been the night before, photographing the barn.

“I thought you had a torch for him,” Matthew said softly, next to me. “For Alistair.”

Ahead of us, Alistair stopped and turned. “Hurry, slowpokes!” he shouted. I saw the barn become visible over his shoulder as we drew closer. Before I could answer Matthew, the words dried in my throat with fear.

The barn was covered in crows, just like last night. They nestled everywhere, along the roof, in the eaves, the sills of the windows. A low gabbling reached us, the sound of their bird chatter. There was motion as they flitted through the surrounding trees. In daylight, the scene looked different—less terrifying perhaps, but somehow sickening. It did not make it any better, to see the weak morning sunlight glancing off their oily wings.

Alistair had turned again and was approaching the building. I made myself put one foot before the other, following him, following Matthew, who had set out ahead of me at a brisk pace, despite the heavy suitcase he carried.

“It looks like the padlock won’t be a problem,” said Alistair as we got close. I could see the lock lying on the ground. It had not been opened and dropped, or even forced. It was in pieces, the body in one place, the heavy arm twisted and lying nearly a foot away. As if it had exploded.

“I see we’re welcome,” said Matthew.

“Wonderful,” said Alistair. “In we go.”

O
nce inside the barn, both men went to work. Alistair set up his camera, and Matthew righted a dusty, overturned crate to use as a table for the wire recorder. It was something I had not thought of, having put the recorder on the packed-earth floor of the barn when I had used it earlier.

All was quiet, at first. A few early-summer flies buzzed, and the morning sunlight, already filtered by the gray clouds outside, came weakly through the streaked windows. Alistair looked at the chaos of the barn—ropes and rotted blankets strewn about, dry and dirty straw in the corners, large pieces of equipment and old boxes smashed as if flung against the walls—and gave a low whistle. “Interesting,” he said, bending to his camera, now mounted on a tripod, and taking a few photographs of the scene. “Unless Mrs. Clare is harboring a circus strong man at Falmouth House, it looks like classic poltergeist activity to me.”

“This is no poltergeist,” said Matthew from behind me.

Alistair’s brow creased as he took another photograph. “It’s
certainly stronger than any poltergeist I’ve ever seen. I’ll grant that.”

“What is a poltergeist?” I asked, feeling stupid.

“It’s a ghost of sorts,” said Matthew. He turned the knobs on the recording machine and watched in satisfaction as the reels turned, then shut them off again. “Yet without a personality. Not exactly a ghost.”

“I don’t follow,” I said.

Alistair snorted. “What my learned assistant is trying to express is that a poltergeist is a spirit, but it manifests itself in uncanny bursts of energy. Often they’re mischievous—breaking crockery, slamming doors, that sort of thing. There is a theory about poltergeists that is rather fascinating—that unlike ghosts, they actually manifest through the energies of the living. So say, perhaps, if you are under great stress, Sarah—then the poltergeist in your house will be more active than if you are calm.”

I tucked my hair behind my ears. I did not know where to look; I felt that Maddy would appear at any moment, and I did not know from what direction. My skin was prickling with sweat. “That sounds horrible,” I said.

“Yet fascinating.” Alistair grinned at me.
He’s having fun,
I thought. “Don’t you think, Matthew?”

I turned to see that Matthew had stilled, the recorder apparently forgotten. He was looking upward to the rafters, a strange look on his face, as if a memory or a thought had come over him suddenly, taking him deep inside himself. He raised a hand, wiped it over his forehead as if he was in some sort of pain. “I fucking hate barns,” he growled.

The grin left Alistair’s face and he turned back to his camera.
I was wondering what had just passed between them when I heard the sound.

It was the light sound of bare feet, behind me—the brush of the heel against the dirt floor, the slap-slap of the base of the toes. Someone running, toward me from behind and, before I could turn, past me and into the gloom. A cold chill brushed my neck. I saw nothing move.

I turned on my heel, staring, and turned again. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” said Alistair, suddenly alert.

And there it was again, the quick brush of footsteps, from another direction this time, toward me and past. Again I felt the cold breath of icy air on my neck. I turned, realizing my throat was closing and it was becoming hard to breathe.

“There,” I said. “Did you hear it?”

“I heard nothing,” said Alistair.

“There was something.” This from Matthew. “I saw it.”

Alistair turned to him, his hand on the camera. “What did you see? Where?”

“I’m not certain,” said Matthew. “It was—”

A long, low creak came from overhead, a groaning coming from the rafters. The sound was centered above where Alistair stood. I was covered in sweat now; I felt trickles run between my shoulder blades, felt my dress begin to stick to my skin. I struggled to breathe. The groan came again, like something heavy dragging on the wooden beams overhead.

I looked up and saw nothing. But Matthew was staring, too, and the look on his face was truly horrible, shocked and pale. “Jesus God,” he said, his voice nearly breathless.

“For God’s sake!” Alistair cried. “What is it! I can’t see it! Is she here?”

Cold breath on my neck, the low gurgle. Right behind me. My head pounded. There was no mistaking it. “She’s here,” I managed. Maddy, playing games.

Alistair was staring wild-eyed, his gaze darting everywhere, trying to catch what we were seeing. Matthew was still staring upward, transfixed in horror. I heard the footsteps again,
flap-flap-flap
, this time running past me, toward Alistair himself.

Matthew looked away from the ceiling, followed something across the room. “Alistair, look out!”

“I don’t—” Alistair stopped, and a queer look came across his face, distracted, unfocused. He cocked his head. “Wait…. Do you hear that?”

Despite the sweat running down my skin, I felt a chill in my spine. For the footsteps had stopped, and so had the creaking. The barn was silent.

I exchanged a glance with Matthew, shook my head. I heard nothing. I could tell from his expression that he did not either.

“Alistair?” he said.

Alistair raised an impatient hand, as when telling someone to be quiet for a moment. “There,” he said, his voice trailing and vague. “There. Do you hear it? Music. Where— Matthew, start the recorder.”

Matthew turned to the recorder and twisted the dials. “Damn it.” He plugged in his headphones and put them on, reluctantly. “I don’t know, Alistair. All I hear is—” He ripped the headphones off again, pain on his face. “Feedback.”

“Feedback? No. No, not at all.” A strange look was settling
over Alistair, as if he were hearing something far away, an expression that frightened me. “It’s music,” he said.

Something broke through my terror, through the difficulty I felt moving, thinking. I ran to Alistair and grabbed his arm. “Alistair, come with me. Let’s go.”