The Case of the Haunted Cot

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Miller actually arrived a little after six-thirty, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the car. He stared at the block of flats looming over him, covered in colourful graffiti at the bottom, then turning to its natural cracked grey walls where it proved too tall for the artists to reach. He was trying to work out from memory which windows belonged to the Fullwoods. He had a rough idea, but he couldn’t be certain.

He’d spent the entire day thinking all this over, planning everything he could plan. He’d only contacted the dead himself on a few occasions. The first when he was a teenager looking to scare his friends, and it had indeed been the most active and frightening of all the times he tried. And while it was different each time, one thing remained the same: it was unclear. It was unclear what the dead wanted, sometimes unclear what they said. Most of the time this didn’t really matter, there were no lasting consequences. But here…

She needs to come to terms with her baby’s death.

As much as it angered him, Miller couldn’t help but dwell on Price’s words.Which was all very well him saying that, but how did anybody come to terms with such things? Besides, Miller failed to see how he could possibly make things any worse for Sophie. The only reason he was here was because she had nothing to lose.

Yet that failed to make him feel better. Miller couldn’t get over this ominous feeling; the large dark clouds hovering above and the fading light probably didn’t help. He wondered what Price would make of that feeling. Did he acknowledge forebodings when he felt them? Did he ever experience any signs?

You know what you’re doing is wrong.

He actually heard Price’s voice say that. He’d only known him a few days and already he knew him well enough to guess his words. And they would be Price’s, not his, because Miller didn’t know what was going to happen here, he didn’t know how much he would actually be able to help, but he did know that this was the right thing to do. Because whether it was Sophie or Tia, one or both needed his help here, and he was ready to provide it. Which was more than could be said of Price.

With a little more resolve, although no more confidence, Miller exited his car and made his way to the Fullwoods’ home. Whatever faced that family tonight, they would not face it alone.

***

***

Price continually watched the clock out of the corner of his eyes. He knew he shouldn’t let panic set in, because once it did it would make him blind to any potential answers. And there were answers here, there had to be.

The notes on the people living in the four flats surrounding the Fullwoods’ home were laid out on his living room floor.  Miller had been methodical in his note-taking, Price had to give him that. He’d made sure to give each resident of the Fullwoods’ tower block their own separate page or pages, with their names and/or physical descriptions at the top of the page. And one of those people had to have a baby.

But how to find them. He knew from experience the answer was staring him straight in the face. He could feel it in the back of his mind, his subconscious poking him to the tune of I know something you don’t know.

Getting down on his hands and knees, Price started the search for the umpteenth time, but not before glancing up at the clock again.

Seven o’clock.

He was running out of time.

And so was Sophie.

***

***

Miller followed Sophie straight into the living room. He could sense her trepidation, just as she could sense his, or so he imagined. The dining table had been cleared of the clutter that previously occupied it, and in its place stood a solitary large candle. While most movie séances tended to be dimly-lit candlelight affairs, Miller found it more of a mood setter for humans rather than ghosts. If the dead wanted to make contact, Miller doubted a bulb would stand in their way. But Sophie had already lit it, and Miller couldn’t see any harm either, except perhaps the danger of stubbing his toe in the dark.