“Where am I?” Robert asked.
“An old house. Mine, as a matter of fact,” the man replied.
Robert looked around. It had no roof.
“What are you?”
“You might call me a ghost, but that would be the cause of primitive superstition interfering with your culture.”
“Oh I see.”
“I doubt it.”
“…Who are you?”
The man looked at him. He looked so incredibly old, older than anyone Robert had seen. He moved as if he were younger than Robert though, with a childlike enthusiasm for life. If he was alive that is.
“I was once a nobleman… a man of honour!” he said proudly.
“And…your dead now?”
“Goodness, is everyone this slow these days?”
The old man looked at him as if he was the odd one.
“What was your name?” Robert asked him, getting used to the idea of a ghost.
“Lord Henry Hunter III of the Scarlet Clan,” he exclaimed, in the most immodest way possible.
“And how’d you die?”
“That’s really not important! Now then, to business…”
Robert felt uneasy. He was being dragged into something he only even vaguely believed was possible. Henry seemed to notice.
“Culture shock?” He asked him.
“Something like that,” Robert mumbled.
“Perhaps someone else can explain it better…”
A familiar man suddenly appeared next to Henry in a melodramatic flash of smoke.
“Ah, Robert! Nice to see you again,” said Archa Smith.
Jamie then phoned Robert, but he wasn’t in. Jamie looked outside again. Mary wasn’t anywhere. A police car pulled up in the driveway, and a very formal looking policeman got out.
“I’m officer John Wilson,” he said to Jamie. “Someone’s missing?”
“Yes, my friend, Mary!” he cried.
“When did you last see her?” Wilson asked.
“Just ten minutes, ago!” Jamie replied. “We were upstairs, and the doorbell rang, so she went down to see who it was. I then heard her scream and when I came down she was gone!”
“Not good. Do you know anyone that could have taken her?”
“Not that I-…” he began. Then he realised.
“What is it?”
“Come and see!”
Jamie ran upstairs, with Wilson following him. Jamie opened the safe and grabbed the letter. Only there wasn’t a letter inside. Where the letter had been there was now a pile of ash!
“Well?” Wilson asked.
“It was here!” Jamie mumbled.
“There was a letter here that said…” Jamie hesitated.
“Yes?” Wilson demanded.
“It explained how her grandparents went missing!”
“Her Grandparents…wait, Archa and Rae Smith?”
Wilson looked at him angrily.
“Why didn’t you tell us!” he shouted.
“We were about to!” Jamie cried, getting angry. “It was in that safe you police were unable to open, which was pretty pathetic on your part I’d like to add!”
“How dare you…” Wilson said.
“And aren’t there meant to be two policemen on every mission?” Jamie said, quieting down.
“It…I…It’s not relevant! I’ll call in for backup! The whole of Shetland shall be searched; we cannot have another disappearance!” Wilson yelled, jumping up.
He pulled out one of those fancy police phones and started talking into it. He sounded confident, but not entirely sure what he was doing. Jamie didn’t trust him.
“Does Mary have any family?” He asked.
“Um, her Dad her brother and uncle, who lives here.”
“Right, I’ll need to contact them.”
He talked into the phone some more.
“Right…now…what did the letter say?”
Jamie told him everything he could remember, which wasn’t much, as he was too scared, but it seemed to be enough.
“A secret organisation…?”
“In control of the wind farm?”
“And they took Mary’s Grandparents?”
Jamie thought that would happen.
“Wait a second, what’s your name?” Wilson suddenly remembered. Most policemen would have asked that earlier.
“Jamie McDuggen,” Jamie replied.
“Hey, are you the son of Ernie McDuggen, who went missing a while ago?”
“Yes,” Jamie said. “And I was thinking, maybe these people took him as well!”
“Of course not, it’s silly! You don’t really expect me to believe that do you?”
Jamie took a deep breath. He’d have to do it differently.
“No, I made it up, sorry,” He lied.
© Copyright 2016 Mathew Nicolson. All rights reserved.
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