The Case of the Haunted Cot

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Sophie Fullwood lay awake in bed. She felt tired — she always did — but sleep refused to take her. Although she had her back to his, Sophie could hear Keith sleeping. How could he sleep so easily? After everything that was happening, and after their huge argument earlier, how did he simply nod off? In truth she was jealous of the ability. What she wouldn’t give to retreat into a dream for a while.

Far off she could hear the static of the radio from the living room. Every door was open between here and there, and she’d turned the volume up as much as she’d dared. She wanted to try and avoid the neighbours complaining about the noise, in case she ended up having to explain to them why she was listening to static so loudly. She didn’t want any of them involved, and she certainly didn’t want to risk ending up locked away in a loony-bin. Besides, she was recording everything and would play back those tapes tomorrow to double check for anything she might have missed.

Forget it. Put it out of your mind. Go to sleep.

Closing her eyes tight, pressing her head against the pillow, Sophie tried to will herself to sleep. But sleep refused to listen.

The beginning signs of sleep, just small hints of its approach, were creeping in when something changed in the room. It was subtle; at first it was nothing more than a feeling that the room had somehow altered. Whatever it was, it was enough to make her afraid to open her eyes.

The chill was the first specific change she could put a name to. While her face and hands were the only parts of her body exposed, she felt the sudden chill all over.

She was being watched. This was just a feeling too, but it was so specific and so strong that Sophie could have pinpointed exactly where in the room the watcher was. Whatever, whoever, it was, they were standing at the foot of the bed. Sophie reached behind herself and pressed her hand against Keith’s back, hard. He rolled away from her an inch, then fell back, all without even nearly waking.

Tia.

The name came into her mind without warning, as if she’d needed a reminder. Whatever the presence in the room, it wasn’t Tia; she would have warmed the room, filled Sophie with love and joy, not cold chills and dread. But whatever it was, it had to have something to do with Tia.

Sophie had to look.

Her eyes crept open. Darkness, with only vague outlines. She was looking off to the side of the bed, rather than at the bottom where she felt the presence; she would allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness before turning. They did, but not enough for those objects outlined to become distinct. All the while Sophie could hear the heavy breathing of Keith asleep; she was afraid to call out to him.

Swivelling in the bed, she stared down the end, staring exactly where she felt the presence was.

And there he stood. Still at first, his arms at his side, dressed in black, his hair past shoulder length and covering the edges of his face. And while it was too dark to make out any of his features, she could sense the sadistic smile.

Who are you?

She wanted to speak the words, shout them even, but she could only think them. But the dead don’t need to listen with their ears, and they don’t need to speak with their words. She felt the smile widen, and she saw his arms moving up to his chest. He was sending her a message, but all she could tell was that he wanted her to fear him.

His arms moved into a cradling position, and from nowhere he was now holding something wrapped in a black blanket. It wriggled. Even in the darkness, where she could make out so little, Sophie instantly recognised the tiny arm that came reaching out of the cradled bundle.

Tia.

She felt that sadistic smile again, and felt a little more of the message. The smile split apart, becoming a silent laugh. Sophie reached out for Keith under the covers, shaking him vigorously, but too afraid to take her eyes away from the man. When shaking didn’t work she prodded his side like a murderer stabbing a victim, as violently as she could, but he didn’t wake, didn’t even stir, as if he was…

Sophie was about ready to scream out, but the man raised a hand and pressed a finger against his lips.

Shhhhhhhh…

The room stayed silent; she heard it in her mind, and she obeyed. Whoever — whatever — this man was, he was in control, and Sophie would do whatever she had to for him to release her baby. Please, please God don’t let him hurt my baby.

The man silently swivelled on the spot and started for the door. Sophie told her body to follow, but it was so consumed with dread that it didn’t receive the message, not until the man had gone through the open doorway and disappeared from sight. At that point, her dread remained but the focus changed. If he left now, she might not get to see Tia ever again.

Sophie shot out of the bed and flung herself with the force of an explosion from the room. She saw nothing of him in the hallway, so she didn’t slow. Seeing nothing in the kitchen, she also flew through there, until arriving in the living room.

They had to be in here; this was where it had started.

But there was nothing. Not even any clue as to who or what she’d seen. Sophie was left with nothing more than a pounding headache, as if her mind was pushing against her skull, about to burst through. On top of that she was nauseous. She had no idea an encounter with an evil spirit could produce such physical symptoms. But none of that mattered. The only thing she had to be worried about was Tia.

It all came up then. Her regrets, her fears, her anger, it all rose to the surface like lava. Sophie collapsed to the floor. She screamed. There was more anger than fear in the scream, and it served as her own message back to the man in black. She knew his message now, and it was an obvious and simple one.

I have your daughter. She’s mine now.

But Sophie had an equally simple message, and she trusted the spirit to interpret it from the scream.

I won’t stop until I get her back.