Mary woke up, feeling groggy. She must have been drugged; she couldn’t remember anything, apart from being grabbed by someone when opening the door, and dragged away very quickly. She’d grazed her elbow, and her nose must have been bleeding at some point.
She didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t want to know where she was. She could feel her wrists were handcuffed, and she was tied to a chair. Her mouth wasn’t gagged however.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she opened her eyes. She immediately wished she hadn’t.
“You know if you were older I could arrest you for deliberate misleading! But as you’re young I’ll let you off the hook this once,” Wilson said.
“Thank you, I don’t know why I did it,” Jamie continued to lie. “Now can we just get a search started please!”
Wilson looked into his eyes from his own grey, cold eyes.
“Were you and her…close?” He asked Jamie in a tone he didn’t like.
“We were friends…”
He leapt up suddenly and ran down the stairs, grabbing the phone. He was yelling things to himself, such as “It’s getting out of hand…more policemen… Shetland’s awful…” Jamie followed him down and he was talking on the phone very quickly to someone.
“The whole of Shetland is going to be searched!” he cried. “This is the seventh missing person this year and it’s getting out of hand. All planes shall be cancelled and no boats will depart!” Wilson yelled.
“Wow…” Jamie said, stunned. It must be getting urgent.
“And that’s the second person missing TODAY!” Wilson continued.
“Today?” Jamie cried in disbelief.
“Incredible, isn’t it?”
“More like disastrous!”
Jamie spontaneously ran out the door. He didn’t know why, and never did, but he still did it. He just kept running until he couldn’t any more. Wilson had tried to follow him, but gave up and returned to the house.
Jamie got all the way to Bixter before he stopped and started thinking. Had he hoped he’d find Mary or something? It had been stupid, and he might get accused of being a guilty suspect (why hadn’t he been properly questioned, anyway?).
He turned, and decided to walk back…
Robert couldn’t believe his eyes. His grandfather, his grandfather who had died, was standing in front of him. The idea of ghosts hadn’t properly sunk in until then.
“I’m going mad then…” he mumbled.
“No, of course not,” Archa said, smiling.
“So, let me get this straight, you guys are ghosts that died, and are haunting me?”
“We’re not haunting you!”
“We merely… need you,” Henry said quietly.
Robert understandably took a step back.
“Er, you’d better leave this to me Henry, I know him better than you do,” Archa said to Henry. He turned to Robert.
“What we want you to do is entirely your choice Robert.”
“So rude…” Henry muttered.
“Well?” Robert demanded, sounding more confident than he felt. If fear could be measured his would have gone off the scale.
“Maybe it would be better if you read this…” Archa said, getting out a piece of paper. “I regret making you have to do this…”
“What is it?” Robert asked.
“Remember that secret safe I told you about?”
“This is what was inside,” Archa explained. “It was burnt, earlier today, so it “died” and came to me. Now read, everything shall make sense.”
Robert read it.
“So…that’s how you died?”
“Yep, not exactly gracefully,” Archa said. “They grabbed me and knocked me out in the middle of the night. Your Grandmother tried to fight them but they killed her then and there.”
Robert was disgusted. He then felt anxious.
“But what do you want me to do!” he screamed, louder than intended.
“He looks like he has a temper, that one,” Henry said, just to remind them he was there.
“Like I said it’s your choice…”
“Granddad… Is it dangerous, what you want me to do?”
© Copyright 2016 Mathew Nicolson. All rights reserved.
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