Voices (Whisper Trilogy Book 3) (26 page)

There was no fear when Melody arrived back in Oakwell. All she felt was a neutral sense of foreboding, heightened by the desolation of the town. She wasn’t sure if she could go through with what she intended to do. She had gone on a tour of sorts, revisiting places, which until that point, had only lived in memories long buried. She’d stopped by the boarded-up Old Oak tavern, remembering her last real day of happiness before everything started to unravel. Her intention was to head to the grounds of the hotel next, the place where Hope House once stood. She didn’t quite feel ready to face that yet, so walked the streets instead, leaving her car parked on the edge of town, enjoying the cool air as day faded into night. She found herself at Mrs. Briggs’ home. Like everywhere else, it was an abandoned relic, the once pristine garden overgrown and the walls of the house covered in old graffiti.

Devil’s mother
was sprayed across the wall and front door, along with several pentagrams and other lewd scrawls. The graffiti, she supposed, was apt. After all, this was the home of the woman who’d given birth to the man who became Donovan. Giving no consideration to any danger it might put her in, Melody opened the gate, the wood scraping along the path on its loose and broken hinges, and up to the front door, or more accurately, the space where the front door should have been. At some point in the past, someone – perhaps a souvenir hunter or someone anxious to see inside the home of the woman who had spawned the devil – had broken the door off, and it lay in the garden, covered in dirt and moss, the grass growing around and over it, its paint cracked and faded. Melody looked into the darkened home. The hallway beyond, with its stench of mildew and rot, should have made her turn and run, but instead, knowing the end of her existence had already been decided by fate, she stepped inside, letting the shadows envelop her. She walked into the sitting room, which appeared enormous now it was free of the clutter that had occupied it the last time she was there. She knew Annie Briggs had met her end in this room, and hesitated, trying to get some sense of her, anything left over that might have survived the years of decay. She entered the room, stepping over broken bottles. Like outside, graffiti covered the walls, and evidence of life existed. Empty beer bottles and the blackened remains of a fire scarred the floorboards. She crossed to the fireplace, finding the memories somehow fitting to present themselves now she was back in Oakwell. They belonged here. She ran a finger lightly across the mantel.

“I knew you would come here.”

She didn’t turn to face the wet, hissing voice of Henry Marshall. Nor did she react. She sensed him in the doorway, blocking her escape route, and yet she felt no fear.

“I have as much right to be here as you have,” she said.

“They know you’re here,” Henry said, his voice a low growl. “You know what that means.”

“I know what it means. I know this is going to end tonight,” she replied, keeping calm and crossing to the broken window, staring out into the street. Henry entered the room, closing the distance to stand behind her.

“You’re not afraid anymore,” he said, his breath hot on her neck.

“No. Things have changed.”

“I could kill you. They want me to do it. I could reach out right now and you wouldn’t be able to stop it,” he said, his broken mouth making his voice sound strange.

“I know.”

“You knew I’d be here. Why did you come to find me?”

“I know you want my son. I came here to give myself in his place. He’s been through enough.”

She sensed him fidget, and flinched as his foot nudged a bottle, sending it spinning across the floorboards. “You don’t get to choose,” he whispered. “They don’t want you.”

She hadn’t expected that response, and for the first time, felt a little fearful, but she refused to show it. Somehow, she resisted the temptation to try and flee or even to face Henry. Instead, she continued staring out at the moonlit street.

“Death doesn’t scare me anymore. Or this place. What you did to me has already broken me. I started this. I was the one who convinced Steve to move out here. If you’re here to take revenge for the Gogoku, then take it out on me.”

“They never wanted you,” Henry replied, the simplicity of his words making her shudder. “They want the boy. He’s coming here. When he does, I’ll be waiting.”

“He’s stronger than you think,” she said, not even convincing herself. Henry snorted a laugh, his foul breath tickling the hair against her neck.

“He’s just a boy.”

She half turned her head, seeing him as a shadowy mass at the periphery of her vision. “And what happens when he gets here?”

He laid a bloody, filthy hand on her shoulder. This time she couldn’t help but flinch. “You will witness it. They want you to see him suffer before you die.”

She nodded, looking out into the street again. “Then I’d better come with you.”

“I expected more fight from you.”

“Isn’t this what you want? This place has already taken everything from me. What’s the point in fighting?”

She sensed his smile as he reached around her, arms over her chest, hands on her body, face beside hers. She wanted to scream or fight, but knew that was what they wanted. Instead, she stood there, lips pursed as she tried to resist. His hands moved over her clothes, then reached into her open jacket, pulling out the knife inside it.

“I was saving that to give to you later in person. I think I owe you it,” Melody said.

Henry grunted and tossed the knife into the corner, then released her and stood up straight.

“We should go. They’re waiting.” He led her out of the house, one hand on her shoulder. She didn’t fight or resist, even when they walked off the road and into the dense darkness of Oakwell forest.

CHAPTER 33

They neared Oakwell, the atmosphere in the car tense. Emma was driving, Isaac in the passenger seat. Truman and Mrs. Alma were in the back.

“You okay?” Emma asked, glancing across at Isaac. “You’ve been really quiet since back at the house.”

“You sense them don’t you?” Mrs. Alma said from behind him. “Waiting for you.”

He didn’t answer, but continued to stare out of the window at the trees flashing past his field of view.

“Hey, there’s someone up ahead,” Emma said, easing her foot onto the brake. In front of them, just beyond the broken and faded sign which proclaimed they had entered Oakwell, were two cars parked on the edge of the road. A blue Nissan with the hood open, and a tan colored car parked in front. The respective drivers were standing by the roadside, and upon seeing them approach, waved them down.

“Keep driving,” Truman said from the back.

“We can’t just leave them, especially out here.”

“Why would anyone else even be out here?”

“They might be lost.”

“Come on, surely you don’t believe that?” Truman said.

“Too often in the past I’ve let bad things happen by not helping when I could. I promised myself I wouldn’t do it again. Now just be quiet while I see if they’re okay.”

She pulled up ahead of the stranded vehicles, the glow of the brake lights throwing the figures into a deep red hue. One of them jogged to the window, waiting for her to wind it down, as the other looked on.

“Thanks for stopping,” he said, flashing a broad grin.

“Is everything okay?” Emma asked.

“All good. Engine trouble. Damn thing broke down on me.”

“What are you doing out here?” Truman asked, watching the man carefully.

“Well, as embarrassing as it is to say, I’m lost. I know what you’re thinking. Who the hell can get lost nowadays in the age of satnav, right? The irony is, I actually have one of those things. My wife got me it for Christmas. It’s in a drawer in the kitchen. Still, I’ve always been a map kind of guy so—”

“Where were you heading?” Emma asked, feeling her senses bristle. Something felt off about the entire situation, and she was starting to wish she’d sided with Truman and kept driving.

“We were just passing through,” the man said, his broad grin faltering for a second. “What about you?”

“Same,” Emma said, unable to shake her uneasiness.

“You know, it’s not safe out here. Did you hear about the escape?”

“What escape?” Emma said, hating the way the man’s gaze was so piercing, so invasive.

“Some lunatic. He broke out of a secure facility not too far from here. I was getting worried being out here on my own.”

“No, we haven’t heard anything.” Emma said.

The man shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll hear about it in the news. As you can imagine, it’s not a comfortable feeling being exposed out here alone.”

“Creasefield is some way away from here,” Emma said, wanting to be on her way. “You’ll be fine. Do you want us to make a call for you?”

“No,” the man said, his grin still firmly in place below that all-seeing gaze. “I have a phone.”

“So… why don’t you call for help?” Truman asked.

“I did. I was just waving you down to warn you about the escapee, that’s all.”

“Thanks, we appreciate it,” Emma said as she started to wind up the window.

“Just one more thing,” the man said, putting a hand on the glass to stop Emma. “How did you know?”

“Know what?” Emma said, growing agitated.

“That it was Creasefield the escape came from.”

“It’s the nearest place. Just a guess.”

“Not really,” the man said, the grin oozing from his face. “Ringwood is closer, and bigger. Then there’s Elmshaw before you’d even consider Creasefield.”

“I thought you were lost,” Truman said from the back of the car. “You seem to know a lot about the area for someone who says they don’t know where they are.”

“Caught me,” the man said, showing them a flash of white teeth. “I guess I’m not a good liar.”

“Well, it was nice to meet you. Good luck getting home. We need to be going,” Emma said, slipping the car into gear.

“I wouldn’t,” the man said, the grin once again fading. “I might have a gun in my jacket.”

“And we might call the police,” Emma fired back, nowhere near as convincing as she had hoped to sound.

“I’ll save you the trouble. I am the police. Detective Petrov,” he said, flashing his I.D. “And I’ve been waiting for you to show up for almost an hour.”

“I’m sorry, I think you have us mistaken for—”

“No,” Petrov said, swapping I.D for gun. “I know exactly who I have here. You’re Emma Barrett. The kid beside you is Isaac Samson, who I was planning on speaking to back at the site of the car crash before you chose to leave the scene. As you can imagine, I would really, really like to know why you felt the need to kidnap a ten year old boy.”

“We didn’t kidnap him, we were helping him,” Emma said, glancing at the steering wheel, then at the road ahead. Petrov saw her and leaned close, the smell of spearmint gum drifting into the car.

“Now, you might be tempted to do something foolish and make a break for it, which is all well and good. Just know there are a dozen officers in patrol cars waiting just inside town. There’s another roadblock being assembled as we speak a half mile behind you. There’s nowhere to go. I’m sure you all appreciate how much trouble you’re in. My advice is to cooperate and do as I say. If you do, then you have my word I’ll do everything I can to prevent any punishment coming from this.” The lie came easily, and he delivered it with conviction to minimize the chance of them driving away. Until more help arrived, it was just him and Kimmel, who shouldn’t even have been there at all.

“Please, Officer—”

“Detective.”

“Please, Detective, we need to go. I know you have a job to do, but we have something to do here, something you wouldn’t understand.”

“My wife tells me I’m an understanding guy. Try me.”

“Trust me, you wouldn’t understand this.”

“Well, either you tell me now and we can do this nicely, or I arrest you all, drag you down to the station and you tell me there. Either way, I’ll find out what’s going on here.”

“Detective, please—”

“Okay. Let’s do it your way. Everyone out of the car. Right now.”

“Please…”

“Young lady, don’t make me ask you again. I’m a good man and I like to think of myself as fair. The downside is, I don’t have a hell of a lot of patience, and I
really
don’t like to repeat myself. I could forgive you for not knowing that before. Now, however, there is no excuse. For the last time, get out of the car.”

Emma shut off the ignition and sighed.

“Good choice. Keys please.”

Emma handed them over, and Petrov put the gun back into the holster under his jacket. “You two in the front, get out. And before you get any ideas, don’t do something stupid like running. Got it?”

They both nodded.

“Alright, then let’s do this. You two in the back, stay where you are for now.”

Emma and Isaac exited the car and stood in the middle of the road with Petrov, his steely eyes probing and assessing.

“Okay, follow me,” he instructed, leading them toward his car.

“What’s going on?” Kimmel said, approaching Petrov.

“Work. These two are involved in what’s happening out here.”