Page 22 of One Last Whisper

“Don’t be bloody ridiculous, Jacob. Do your damned job. Stop trying to find ghosts where there are none. Talk to them if you wish. But you’re wasting your time. I’ve told you already. No one here murdered Sarah Collingswood.”

He storms from the room, and Inspector Hargreaves smiles slightly. I can tell that he believes he’s achieved some sort of victory, though what that victory might be, I’m not sure.

“Thank you, Miss Wilcox,” he says. “That will be all.”

I incline my head, then walk from the room. As I proceed upstairs, I hear him call Franny into the kitchen.

I reflect on what Lord Edmund says to the Inspector. Stop trying to find ghosts where there are none.

But there are ghosts here, Lord Edmund. And they cry out for justice.

CHAPTER TEN

“Help me! Help me, Mary!”

“Where are you, Annie?”

“Help me!”

I sob and run to my sister's room. She's not there. The room is thrashed. Annie's model horses are shattered on the ground, and her fifth-grade school picture is on the floor, the frame broken, the print torn. My stomach turns when I see the holes burned into the eye sockets.

“Mary!”

“Annie! Tell me where you are!”

I wish I could scream for help from my parents, but they won't help me. Father helps before, but he's lost his heart now. He's given up on us, on Mother, and on Annie and me. As for Mother? She's almost certainly the reason for Annie's screams.

I recall the flat look in Mother’s eyes when she coaxes Annie to burn her hands on the stove. I remember the sneer she wears when she holds Annie’s head underwater. I remember the way her lips pull back from her teeth when she attacks us with the letter opener.

That was the last time Father saved us. I don’t know why, but I am sure now that he would let her kill us if it happened again.

“Mary! Please help me!”

“Where are you?”

Tears stream down my face as I rush to the bathroom. The bathroom is empty, but my stomach turns when I see a bloody handprint on the mirror.

Oh God.“Annie!”

A shriek fills my ears, and I return one of my own as I sprint downstairs. The living room is also thrashed. Father’sgrandfather clock is fallen and exploded, springs and gears everywhere scattered among the glass.

The kitchen is empty, too, and when I touch the stove in an absurd urge to satisfy my morbid curiosity, I find it cold. Damn it, where is she?

“Mary! Help me!Help me!”

I run outside and rush around my house, but I see no sign of her anywhere. I hear her voice on the wind calling for help, but I can’t tell which direction it’s coming from. It flows around me, swirling with the rain that pours down, soaking my face and drenching my clothing.

“Mary! Help me, Mary! She’s going to kill me! Help me! MARY, HELP ME!”

“Where are you!”I shout, the effort tearing my throat.

I sink to my knees and sob, chest heaving as I gasp and retch with fright.

***

I sit bolt upright, and once more, I feel a curse bubbling up. This time, I don’t stifle it.

“Fuck! God damn it! Bloodyshit!”

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