The Case of the Haunted Cot

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

The park was modestly sized, with barely enough room for a play area for the younger kids and an open space for older ones to play football. But the kids seemed to be enjoying themselves, what few there were this early on a Saturday morning anyway. Miller looked around for the benches where the adults sat while their kids played. There were only a few, and they were all occupied by strangers chatting away, most of them paying their children little attention.

Miller strolled around the play area, suspecting there was at least one more bench out of view on the other side. He worried somebody might think him suspicious, wandering around a children’s play area with no kid of his own. In this day and age it seemed parents were constantly on the lookout for suspicious men. Miller knew Father Lenn had been on the receiving end of some cruel and unfounded insults for no reason other than his religious position.

There was indeed another bench, and at it sat Sophie Fullwood. Despite her obviously and strongly upset tone on the phone, Miller still felt pleased to see her. More than anything else, he was pleased to see her away from the flat again. He just hoped it wasn’t due to another argument.

From afar, it didn’t look good. She was staring off into the playground, her expression vacant. Miller suspected she wasn’t staring at anything in particular, that her thoughts and memories had taken her completely out of the present, but he couldn’t be certain as where she was staring remained out of his view.

‘Hey,’ he said, once he was within several feet of her. He sat down on the bench, not too close to her.

Until that moment, she hadn’t seen him, so his greeting made her jump. Her own greeting was a barely perceptible nod, then she went back to staring at the playground. None of the parents seemed to mind, or notice, a lone woman watching their children play. Maybe they naturally assumed her child was in there somewhere. Maybe that was exactly what Sophie was imagining, thought Miller as he followed Sophie’s gaze to a young girl swinging. She had long golden hair, and her face was a perfect representation of happiness.

Ah, to be made happy by seats on chains again.

Miller caught one of the other mums watching Sophie. She didn’t appear suspicious, but Miller could detect pity. They knew who Sophie was, or at least this one did.

‘How often do you come here?’ Miller asked.

‘Whenever I leave the flat I drop by.’

They both watched as the golden-haired girl flung herself out of the swing and landed on her feet. She laughed to herself, looking over to her mother for some admiration. The girl’s mother was too busy talking to another woman, and the little girl went back to the swing without losing a fraction of that smile.

‘Did you want to talk to me about something in particular?’ Miller asked.

Sophie nodded carefully.

‘I need your help,’ she said.

‘I’m trying to do everything I can for you.’

‘No, I know, but … we need to actually do something. Tonight. To help her.’

Miller studied Sophie’s face in the hope that it might give a clue as to where this had come from. Something had happened, that much was obvious, something that meant she was now in a rush.

‘What do you want me to do?’

Miller was watching Sophie when one of the children bellowed out a tremendous cry. What struck him was how unaffected Sophie was by the crying, at least outwardly. Considering everything that was happening, Miller expected it to upset her. She just kept staring into the park. Miller turned back to see the golden-haired girl now running over to her mother holding her grazed elbow. The girl pulled at her mother’s coat, but the mother only looked around long enough to tell her to go play. And she did, albeit reluctantly.

‘There are ways of talking to the dead, aren’t there?’ Sophie said.

‘They don’t always work, not for everyone.’

‘We need to find out how to save Tia. Something is keeping her there. Or someone.’

Miller stared at her questioningly. He needed to know what had prompted this.

‘I think there’s someone else in the flat,’ Sophie said. ‘If we can’t communicate with Tia to make her feel better, maybe we can communicate with him, see what he wants.’

‘But how do you know there’s somebody else?’

‘I can feel another presence,’ she said, taking a deep breath. ‘And it makes sense. Why else would a baby be stuck there crying? Somebody is doing this to her.’

‘But why?’ Miller asked.

‘We won’t know why unless we contact them!’

He needed to be careful not to question her so much she felt he no longer believed her. But he was finding it difficult not to ask questions, as all of this made so little sense to him. He remembered it also made little sense to Price and Keith. Sophie seemed to be the only person even coming close to understanding this, and she was looking to him for answers.

‘OK, OK,’ Miller said. ‘I might have somebody that can help.’

‘No.’

‘No?’ Miller repeated, altering the emphasis. ‘Sophie, if you want help in this area, we’re going to need —’

‘Please, just try it yourself. If it doesn’t work, we can bring in someone else. I just … I’d rather not include anybody else right now. Please, will you try?’