Page 75 of Their Little Ghost

“It looks like there was only one person in the car,” a voice says over the radio. “We’ll have to wait for dental to get a true identification.”

Although Gilsmear’s wife was screwing their gardener, I’m pleased she wasn’t in the accident. Although, I’m sure the guys didn’t care about collateral damage.

“The plates match Gilsmear’s,” someone confirms.

Blackwell puffs out his chest proudly, and I fight the urge to say, ‘I told you so’.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say as we come to a stop.

“No problem, kid,” he says, more chipper than before.

He doesn’t waste any time in driving away, eager to return to the action.

Despite my aching, I have an added spring in my step as I let myself into the house. Although, that quickly disappears when I remember that hidden cameras are probably watching. There’s no point searching for them if they’ll only put them up again. Wherever I go, I’m watched.

The clock chimes, and I notice the door to my father’s office is ajar. Usually, he keeps it locked, but he must have forgotten in his haste to leave. After a quick dash upstairs to change into a clean pair of clothes, I return to check I didn’t imagine it.

Nope, the door is definitely open. I tiptoe down the hall, even though no one is around, and nudge it gingerly open the rest of the way. Gilsmear’s accident will delay my parents’ return, and I might not get another chance to look for evidence like this…

Driven by a new sense of purpose, I cross the threshold into my father’s secret realm. Academic books fill the shelves on the walls, along with many framed certificates documenting his achievements. Was there even a time when he really wanted to help people, or did he always have a twisted agenda? I’d like to think positively, but I’m not so sure…

I scurry to his foreboding desk. It’s neatly organized. Pens are lined up in a row from smallest to largest, and unread mail sits next to his computer. Where does he keep his secrets? He won’t leave them out for anyone to stumble upon…

I sit in his chair and start with the desk drawers. They’re clutter-free, only containing stationery and envelopes. Nothing screams ‘I run experiments on people’ and, more importantly, there’s nothing related to Sarah.

I sigh.What am I supposed to be looking for?

Next, I search the filing cabinets. There are three of them, alongside a locked medicine cabinet. The files contain neatly divided sections, everything from bills to insurance, but nothing to do with Sunnycrest.

Come on, there has to be something.

I slump down at his desk. Most fathers have photographs of their family on display, but he only has one photograph of himself shaking hands with the mayor from when the asylum opened. In it, he’s being presented with a giant check.

I wiggle his computer mouse and the screen blinks to life, prompting me to type a password. I try everything obvious, birthdays, names, anything I can think of, but nothing. This is useless! What am I expecting to find? In movies, people hide things behind paintings. In a last desperate attempt, I check behind each framed certificate, searching for a hidden safe buried in the wall, but there’s only plasterboard.

I don’t know whether I’m more disappointed or relieved to find nothing.

Suddenly, a floorboard creaks down the hall. I quickly fumble to put the frame back onto a nail, but it slips from my fingers and lands with a crash. The glass shatters, sending shards flying.

Heavy footsteps grow closer. I expect Aiden, Lex, or Eli to join me. Instead, my father looms in the doorway, looking angrier than I’ve ever seen him.

“Dad—”

He doesn’t let me finish my sentence.

“What are you doing?” he explodes. Spit sprays from his mouth like a dragon shooting flames. “What are you looking for?”

“Nothing,” I stammer, fear striking me to the core, “I was just?—”

I’ve always been afraid of his angry outbursts, but after seeing what he’s truly capable of, my bottom lip quivers in sheer terror. He shouldn’t be back so early. Even if there was no accident, he usually stays at the asylum for hours post-event.

“Can you imagine my surprise when I got an alert to say that an intruder entered my office?” he blasts.

I didn’t realize he’d set up surveillance equipment, although it shouldn’t surprise me. He’s paranoid and fiercely protective over his space, and now I understand why.

“I—”

“I’ve had it with you!” he shouts, striking me across the face so hard that I tumble to my knees.

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