The Haunting of Emily Stone Page 4

  “You put on some very theatrical and imaginative illusions,” he told her, “but they were lies.”

  “The first few times -”

  “No-one believes you,” he continued, taking his foot out of the way of the door. “No-one will ever believe you. You'll go down in history as a pair of liars, and I'll go down in history as a fool. At first I wasn't sure which of us was worse off, but now I think -”

  “Piss off,” Joyce said firmly, slamming the door shut so hard that the glass pane rattled. A moment later, she could be heard shouting at Emily, telling her to go to her room.

  As rain continued to pour down, Robert stayed in front of the door for a moment, before turning and walking away. By the time he got to his car on the corner of the street, and despite the umbrella, he was soaked. He fumbled in his pockets for his keys, before glancing back one final time at the house. Whereas twenty-four hours ago he'd still been filled with excitement at the prospect of continuing his work with the Stones, now he felt broken inside. Some part of him had died when he'd realized that the haunting of Emily Stone was a hoax.

  “I'm done,” he whispered. “I'm not wasting any more of my time on this bullshit.”

  Chapter Ten

  Today

  Deep down, beneath the soil, the bones of a murdered woman waited to be found. Her head was tilted back a little and her mouth had been open when she died. The roots of a cherry tree had begun to grow between her ribs.

  ***

  “Mummy! Mummy!”

  “I'm coming!”

  Fumbling in the darkness, she almost fell off the bed and then almost tripped over a pair of shoes she'd left on the floor. Reaching the door, she pulled it open and ran out in her nightgown before heading into Lizzie's room. As soon as she turned on the light, she saw that the place was a mess. Lizzie's bookshelf had been pushed over, and her curtains had been torn down, and Lizzie herself was sitting on the bed with tears running down her eyes.

  “What is it?” Emily asked, hurrying over and sitting next to her. She ran her hands through the little girl's hair as she gave her a hug. “Did you have a nightmare?”

  Lizzie shook her head.

  “Then...” Pausing, Emily looked back across the room, half-expecting to see something. She knew the answer to the next question, but she had to ask it anyway, even though she could feel a sense of fear in her chest. “What happened, sweetie?”

  “There was someone in here,” Lizzie whimpered, putting her arms around her mother's waist and squeezing tight.

  Hearing movement in the main bedroom, Emily leaned down and kissed the top of Lizzie's head.

  “I didn't do it,” Lizzie added.

  “I know, sweetie, I know.”

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Didn't you hear it?” Lizzie asked, looking up at her. “It's really angry. Mummy, I don't want to sleep in here anymore. Can I sleep in with you?”

  “I -” Emily paused for a moment. “You just had a bad dream.”

  “It wasn't a dream.”

  “It was,” she continued, “I promise, it was.” She glanced across the room again, just to make sure there was nothing. “There's nothing here.”

  “There was a minute ago,” Lizzie continued. “There was a voice, it said it had climbed up to reach me -”

  “Come on,” Emily replied, “you're just -” She stopped suddenly. “What did you say?”

  “I'm scared,” Lizzie whispered.

  “I know, but what did you just -”

  Before she could finish, she heard footsteps on the landing, and she turned just in time to see Karl stepping into the doorway, rubbing the back of his head. He'd already managed to slip back into the clothes he'd shed so enthusiastically a few hours earlier, and he was clearly starting to sober up.

  “She had another nightmare,” Emily told him.

  “It wasn't a nightmare,” Lizzie whispered, eying Karl suspiciously.

  “These are becoming a bit of a habit, aren't they?” Karl replied, still not quite awake. “What've you been up to in here, Lizzie? Looks like a bomb's gone off.”

  “He doesn't believe me,” Lizzie continued, turning to look up at her mother. “Do you believe me?”

  “I believe you had a nightmare,” Emily replied, her voice trembling a little as she glanced over at Karl. She was trying to stay calm, even though she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. “I think -”

  “I might head home,” he said, with an awkward smile. “Gotta be up early, n'all. They want me on-site at eight.”

  “It's only three in the morning,” Emily pointed out.

  “Yeah, but...” He paused. “You know I don't mind kipping here, but... Now I'm awake, I might as well get home. Don't worry, I'll get dressed and see myself out. I'll give you a call in the next few days, check how you're getting on. Maybe we can hit the pub again on Friday, if you can find someone to watch the little princess.”

  “Wait -”

  She watched as he headed away from the door, and a moment later she heard him gathering his things in the next bedroom. Karl always ran whenever there was a hint of Lizzie causing trouble, and she already knew deep down that he wasn't the kind of man who'd ever take on a single mother, not in any serious kind of way. She knew she had to end it with him, for Lizzie's sake if not her own.

  “I'm sorry I woke you up,” Lizzie whispered, laying her head against her mother's chest. “I tried to be brave. I spent ages waiting before I made a noise but this time I heard...”

  Emily waited for her to continue. “You heard what, sweetie?”

  “A voice.”

  “A -” Pausing, she felt a shiver pass through her body. She sat back, so she could see her daughter's face properly. “What kind of voice did you hear, Lizzie?”

  “An angry one.”

  “What was it saying?”

  “I don't know. I couldn't hear it very well, but...” She paused. “It sounded like an angry monster. Like a woman who was really mad at me.” She looked across the room, her eyes filled with fear as she waited to see if one of the shadows might suddenly come to life. “She was really here. Mummy, I swear I'm not making it up, there's a woman who comes into my room at night and she does all these -”

  “No,” Emily said firmly.

  “Mummy, the -”

  “No!” She paused, realizing she'd been a little too harsh. “There's no woman,” she added finally, feeling a little flustered. “You mustn't talk about things like that.”

  “She's real,” Lizzie whispered, with tears in her eyes.

  “You've just got an overactive imagination,” Emily told her. “That's all it is. I was the same when I was little. It's a good thing, but you need to learn to tell the difference between fantasy and reality.”

  “You don't believe me,” Lizzie whimpered. “I knew you wouldn't. You never do.”

  “It's okay,” Emily replied, spotting a dark patch on Lizzie's neck. Pulling the little girl's shirt aside, she saw a faint graze, and she knew instantly that there'd soon be another bruise. Too many more of those, and people would start talking. If they weren't already. “Did you hurt yourself?”

  “One of the books hit me when it flew off the shelf.”

  “When you pulled them off, you mean.”

  Lizzie shook her head. “Mummy, the woman -”

  “Stop it!” Emily shouted, finally losing her temper. “For God's sake, just -” Stopping herself just in time, she saw that Lizzie was starting to weep. Pulling her closer, she held her tight. “I'm sorry. Mummy shouldn't have snapped like that. I'm sorry, baby, really.”

  “It's okay,” Lizzie whispered.

  “It's not okay,” Emily said, still holding her tight. “None of this is okay.” She kissed the top of the girl's head again. “It hasn't been okay for a very long time.”

  ***

  “It's not sometimes,” Karl replied, keeping his voice down as they stood at the front door a little while later, “i
t's every bloody night. I can't remember the last time I stayed over and she didn't end up doing something weird. Must be at least a fortnight.”

  “She's going through a very difficult time,” Emily told him. “I told you, the divorce was rough on her, and even though I tried to shield her from the worst of it, she definitely picked up on some of the negative energy. She's always asking where her father is, she doesn't understand why he moved so far away.”

  “So that's why she's waking up every night, shouting about a woman in her bedroom?”

  Leaning through to look toward the kitchen, Emily saw that Lizzie was still at the kitchen table, eating a middle-of-the-night bowl of cereal.

  “Have you thought about getting some help for her?” Karl asked finally.

  She turned to him. “Like what?”

  “Like a bloody psychiatrist. Someone who can fix her.”

  “She doesn't need fixing!”

  “Fine, but whatever's wrong with her -”

  “There's nothing wrong with my daughter!” she hissed, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Lizzie couldn't hear, before turning back to him. “Don't ever say that again!”

  “Sure there isn't,” he replied, lighting a cigarette as he stepped out into the night air. “Every kid screams in the middle of the night and claims to have seen a ghost in her bedroom. Does she know about you, Em?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “About your past. She's, what, twelve now? That's the same age you were, isn't it? Does she know the whole sad story about the haunting of Emily Stone?”

  “There's no reason why she ever has to find out.”

  “Unless some kids've been telling her at school. You can't keep it hidden forever. I bet you their parents have told them, so it's only a matter of time before she starts hearing whispers. Maybe she's already found out and she thinks it's funny to prank you?”

  “She's not that kind of girl.”

  “Mummy's little angel, eh?”

  “I'm tired,” she replied, starting to find him intensely irritating. “I'll be in touch.”

  Swinging the door shut before he could annoy her any further, she made her way wearily to the kitchen and then stopped for a moment so she could watch Lizzie eating. For a moment, she found herself actually considering the possibility – however ridiculous it seemed – that there really might have been something in her daughter's bedroom. She told herself that the idea was ridiculous, that she was just over-reacting, but in the back of her mind there was a faint doubt. After a few seconds, Lizzie glanced over at her and offered the faintest of smiles.

  “You should go to bed soon,” Emily told her.

  “Can I sleep in with you tonight?”

  She nodded.

  “Thank you. Can I also stay home from school tomorrow?”

  She shook her head.

  “Mummy, please -”

  “You have to go,” Emily told her. “I've got two job interviews during the day, and...” She paused for a moment, running through a crazy notion in the back of her mind, before dismissing the whole thing. She knew she had to just focus on looking after Lizzy, and on hoping that the night terrors would soon pass, because that was all they were: night terrors. “It'll be okay. I promise.”

  “I don't have to sleep in my room again, do I? Not ever?”

  “Not for now,” Emily replied, forcing a smile. “Come on, let's get to bed. You'll be okay as long as you're in with me. I'd never let anything happen to you. I just...” She paused. “You haven't heard anything, have you? Any stories at school?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like...” Another pause. “Forget it. I'm tired and -” Hearing a faint creaking sound from upstairs, she glanced at the ceiling before telling herself that, for Lizzie's sake, she had to stay strong. “Come on. Let's go brush our teeth again.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Kids today,” he muttered, taking a drag on his cigarette as he watched students making their way across the university's main lawn. “This university would be such a nice place if it wasn't for all the bloody students.”

  ***

  “You'll have to forgive my friend,” Douglas said, glancing at the fresh-faced first years who'd gathered around his workbench. “He's become something of a skeptic in recent years. Almost a misanthrope, one might say.”

  “And you'll have to forgive my friend,” replied Doctor Robert Slocombe, as he picked up and examined a coil generator. “He still believes in ghosts, ghouls and things that go bump in the night. In other words, childish things that he should have put away long ago. In fact, some might say -”

  He winced as Douglas suddenly hit two pieces of metal together.

  “Sorry, old man,” Douglas said with a smile. “Got a bit of a hangover, have you?”

  “All the best men do.”

  “Despite his lack of belief,” Douglas continued, turning to the students, “Doctor Slocombe persists in hanging around this lab like a bad smell. Sometimes I think he actually enjoys debunking every idea I'm working on.”

  “Oh, I do,” Robert replied. “Truly.”

  Some of the students began to smile nervously.

  “I can't believe the university still lets you do this stuff,” Robert continued, making his way over to join them. “Aren't they worried about it bringing down the tone of the place? This is supposed to be a serious university that supports serious research, and here you are, inducting another set of volunteers who've got nothing better to do with their lunchtimes than pretend all this crap is actual science.”

  “The faculty tolerates us,” Douglas muttered. “They certainly don't encourage anything.” Turning to the students, he sighed. “Many moons ago, Doctor Slocombe and I, along with Doctor Jenna Riseborough, started the Paranormal Investigative Unit as a project that would allow us to look into reports of unexplained, possibly supernatural activity in the region. In fact, you might be surprised to learn that our arch-skeptic Doctor Slocombe was once a very keen member of the group, keener than the rest of us. He was the guiding force of our early work.”

  “Until I saw the light,” Robert said with a faint smile.

  “Until he had a rather unfortunate experience,” Douglas added.

  “What happened?” one of the students asked.

  “How old are you?” Robert replied, turning to her.

  “Twenty.”

  “God, you make me feel ancient,” he continued. “Well, let's just say that a few years before you were even born, I was disabused of my notions concerning such things. I realized that chasing ghosts was no way for a man to go about his life, and I moved on to more respectable endeavors. Drinking, frequenting dark boozers, that sort of thing.”

  “Have you guys ever heard of the Emily Stone case?” Douglas asked. He waited for one of the students to reply, but they all stared back at him blankly and finally he sighed. “Jesus, and you claim to be interested in this kind of thing? The Emily Stone case, people!”

  Again, no-one bit.

  “Leave it be,” Robert muttered. “It's in the past.”

  “The Emily Stone case,” Douglas continued, “was big news twenty-four years ago. It was on the front pages of several national papers, people were even talking about it on TV.”

  “Wait,” one of the students said after a moment, “you mean that big hoax?”

  “That big hoax,” Robert said with a faint smile. “Got it in one.”

  “So that was you?” another of the students asked. “Seriously?”

  “Until the Emily Stone case,” Douglas continued, “Doctor Robert Slocombe was a passionate supporter of the work we do here. After the Emily Stone case, not so much. He joined the other side and became an arch-skeptic.”

  “I took a more realistic view,” Robert replied.

  “You gave up,” Douglas retorted.

  “But the Emily Stone thing was a hoax, wasn't it?” another student asked. “I think I remember reading about it once and it was pretty much debunked, right? It was all shown
to be a lie. All the photos were staged, and the kid had some homemade voice changing thing shoved down her throat.”

  “Exactly,” Robert said. “It was a lie, like every other so-called haunting.”

  “Some of us dusted ourselves down and carried on with the work,” Douglas continued. “We put our bruised egos aside and focused on the fact that it's the work that matters.”

  “And some of us realized we were chasing shadows,” Robert retorted, “and that there were better uses for our time.” He reached past Douglas and picked up another piece of equipment, examining it for a moment before setting it down and turning to the students. “I hate to break this to you, kids, but there's no such things as ghosts. I used to be just like you, but one day I realized that in the cold light of day, all the evidence was tainted by my own desire to believe. Once I lost that desire, I saw it for what it was. Lies, hoaxes and mistakes. In other words, bullshit.”

  “You don't think there's even a chance?” one of the students asked.

  “Not a hope in hell,” he replied. “Trust me, this whole thing is a fool's game. The Emily Stone case helped me to see the light. The only people who claim to believe in that kind of crap are idiots and liars.” He turned to Douglas. “Or hopeless romantics.”

  “Thanks,” Douglas muttered, rolling his eyes as he got back to work.

  “What happened to her?” asked one of the students.

  “Who?” Robert turned to him. “Emily Stone?” He paused. “I honestly don't know. I don't care, either. Wherever she is and whatever she's doing, I just hope she's moved past all that ghost crap.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “I have experience working checkouts,” Emily continued, sitting in the manager's office the following morning, “so it wouldn't be a problem for me to get up to speed with whatever system you use. I'm a quick learner and I'm very motivated to learn new skills. Whatever you throw at me, I can...”