The Lake House is the fourth chilling thriller in the best selling 'Annie Graham' series by Helen Phifer, author of The Ghost House, The Secrets of the Shadows and The Forgotten Cottage.

Elderly Martha Beckett is a prisoner in her own home, and has been ever since her older brother disappeared at just nine years old. He went to hide in the cellar and never came back. And now Martha has sworn to protect anyone else from the evils lurking just below her floorboards. But whatever it is, has woken up – and is hungry again…

When she calls the police for help, Annie Graham is the first to respond. Now Annie Ashworth, she is happily married to fellow police officer Will, with a gorgeous home and a job she loves. But then she hears the news – serial killer Henry Smith has escaped from his mental hospital and is on the run. So when a severed head lands at her colleague Jake’s feet – they can only assume that Henry is back to his old tricks. Last time he nearly killed Annie, and this time she’ll bet he wants to finish the job.

So Annie now has two monsters to track down, before they kill again. And time is running out…

Also by Helen Phifer:

The Ghost House

The Secrets of the Shadows

The Forgotten Cottage

The Lake House

Helen Phifer

Copyright

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2015

Copyright © Helen Phifer 2015

Helen Phifer asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © June 2015 ISBN: 9781474033411

Version date: 2018-06-27

HELEN PHIFER

lives in a small town called Barrow-in-Furness with her husband and five children. She has lived in the same town since she was born. It gets some bad press but really is a lovely place to live, surrounded by coastline and not far from the Lake District, where she likes to spend at least one of her days off from work. She has always loved writing and reading and loves reading books that make the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Unable to find enough scary stories to read, she decided to write her own.

You can contact or follow Helen on her blog at helenphiferblog.wordpress.com, her website at www.helenphifer.co.uk and on Twitter, @helenphifer1.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank all my amazing readers, family and friends. Without your support, Annie, Will and Jake would not be on their fourth adventure. I’d also like to thank Emma Kierzek, the most talented tattoo artist in the North West for her amazing tattoos and the inspiration last time we met. Once more I’m for ever indebted to my editor, the fabulous Lucy Gilmour, and the rest of the HQ Digital team for all their support, hard work and talent. You guys make being a writer so much easier. Last but not least I’d like to thank my family for being there when the going gets tough. I couldn’t do this without them.

Helen xx

Dedication

For my children Jessica, Joshua, Jerusha, Jaimea & Jeorgia

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Book List

Title Page

Copyright

Author Bio

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Epilogue

Extract

Endpages

About the Publisher

Prologue

June 1919

The fairground filled the middle of the huge, open park. Its lights were blazing so bright that the girls had to squint to take in the sight before them. The darkness surrounding the fair was a stark contrast; the air felt much heavier where the shadows fell across the acres of trees and shrubs. Once they got close enough to bask in the warmth of the light, they were drawn inside the gates with no hesitation, their excitement taking over. Laughter filled the air along with the smell of candyfloss and hot dogs. Agnes’s stomach rumbled. It was so loud that Eleanor giggled. There were so many people walking around smiling and chattering. Eleanor had never seen anything like it. When her sister, Agnes, had first suggested they visit the fairground she had frowned and said no, but now, as she looked around at the brightly lit stalls, sideshow tents and carousels, she was smiling. They walked around arm in arm so as not to get separated in the crowds. The rides were busy and Agnes rhymed off which rides they were going to queue for. She pointed to the Ghost Train and Eleanor shook her head. Definitely not. They approached a red velvet tent where a man who looked not much older than them was shouting.

‘Roll up, roll up. I dare you to come and see the monsters and strange creatures that haunt your dreams. Never in your life would you expect to see them in the flesh, with your very own two eyes. Come inside and see the bearded lady, the world’s strongest man; or how about the real, living mermaid who was captured by none other than a shipwrecked sailor who clung on to her for dear life after his ship crashed into the rocks? Come and see the one, the only Windigo, all the way from the plains of North America. It is the most feared monster of all, half man, half demon – the only one in the whole world in captivity. Even the Indian chiefs won’t look him in the eye. Are you brave enough to?’

The two girls looked at each other and giggled. ‘Should we go inside?’

‘No, we should not. It’s just a shameless trick to take our money. There is no such thing as a mermaid or a Windigo.’

He stepped closer, towering over them with his top hat. His black cloak billowing behind him, he bent towards them and whispered, ‘How can you be sure until you’ve taken a look? If you don’t believe that it’s real then I will give your money back. Now that’s surely an offer two pretty ladies like you can’t refuse?’

‘I don’t know. I suppose it is.’

‘Come on, Agnes, I want to go and see the animals, not some scary monsters.’

He looked at them both. ‘Yes, you are scared, but you, my little flower, look as if your interest is piqued.’

‘Come on, Eleanor, if we don’t believe it we can have our money back. Please. You know how much I love to be scared.’

The slightly older girl rolled her eyes at her sister, and opened her purse. She handed over the money to the man who took it from her, then bowed.

‘Take it from me, you will not be disappointed, but if you are then I’ll be here with your money.’

Agnes pushed her arm through her sister’s, pulling her towards the deep red velvet curtain.

Eleanor didn’t want to go inside the tent. Her heart was racing and her mind was telling her to get away from there as fast as she could, but Agnes pulled her through the gap in the curtains and they were inside the gloomy tent. It was hard to see after the bright lights from seconds ago and it took some adjusting before they could make out the glass display cases and cages that were lined up around the sides of the tent. Agnes stepped forward but Eleanor stayed where she was, finding the air much thicker in here than it had been outside. It was warm and she felt a trickle of perspiration form on her brow and start to roll down her forehead into her eye, making it sting. She began to blink.

From somewhere inside the tent, which now felt as if it had tripled in size, she heard her sister’s voice as she gasped. Eleanor felt the room swim and shook her head to clear it. Now was not a good time to faint. She felt her legs begin to give way and she stumbled, catching herself against one of the glass display cases. She looked at the thing that was inside and froze. It was staring right at her. She screamed. It was tall and very gaunt. It looked like a man but she knew that it wasn’t. The whole thing was grey from head to foot with a larger than average head, which had thick, black tufts of hair sticking out from it in patches. Her eyes frozen to the creature, she looked down at where its hands should have been and gasped, crossing herself. Instead of fingers there were long, black, sharp claws.

Eleanor felt as if she was suffocating and couldn’t breathe. She needed to get outside into the fresh air before she fainted, but she couldn’t tear herself away from the thing inside the case. It had long, pointed teeth and blood-red lips. She could imagine them biting into her soft, warm flesh and ripping her throat out.

All of a sudden there was a succession of loud popping sounds and the crowds that had been laughing outside the tent now began to scream. A loud whooshing noise and an immense heat enveloped the tent. A hand grabbed hers and Agnes screamed into her ear, ‘We have to get out of here. The whole place is on fire.’

Eleanor couldn’t move; the terror that had taken over her body wouldn’t let her. A hand slapped her face, breaking the gaze between her and whatever monster was inside the case. She came to her senses and let Agnes lead her to the back of the tent where there was a dimly illuminated exit. She turned to take one last look at the beast inside the glass case and felt her blood turn to ice. Its eyes, which had moments ago been cold and dead, were now glowing red. Then she was pulled through the curtains out into the fresh air.

People were screaming and running, trying to get away from the rides and tents that were now all beginning to glow red and orange as the flames took hold. All but a few of the bright bulbs had exploded and there were people running around in the dark amongst the thick clouds of black smoke that now filled the air, not knowing where to go or what to do. Both girls looked at each other. If they ran to the crowd they would get crushed, trampled in the panic or, even worse, not be able to escape and burn to death. The man in the top hat appeared, his handsome face now covered in soot.

‘Follow me if you want to get out of here alive.’

He pulled off his hat. Without it he looked like any normal boy his age. He grabbed hold of Eleanor, who was clutching on to Agnes, and dragged her in the opposite direction from the entrance to the fair.

‘We’ll never get out of there alive. Come on, there’s an exit a bit further up for us carnies to use.’ Neither of them was about to argue with him because the heat from the flames was getting intense. Screams of panic were now turning into screams of pain and the sound was horrific. Eleanor turned and saw a woman whose skirts had caught fire. She made to run and help her but the man dragged her back.

‘It’s too late; you can’t help her. We need to get out.’

Agnes nodded and pulled her sister’s arm as hard as she could, then all three of them continued running until he stopped and made a sharp left. Within seconds they were out of the confined walls of the fairground. It was only after they were a good distance away that they stopped to catch their breath. Fire engines were on their way and the whole fairground in front of them was in flames. The screams could be heard even above the fierce crackling and popping as the fire took hold, and Eleanor began to pray for the people inside. Agnes looked across at the man.

‘Shouldn’t we be going in to help get people out?’

‘No, we should not. We would be crushed or get caught in the fire. I’m afraid it’s hopeless.’

Agnes glared at him. ‘But we might be able to help!’

‘Or you might die. What would you prefer?’

Eleanor reached out for his hand. ‘Thank you; you’ve saved our lives. I’m Eleanor Sloane and this ungrateful wretch is my sister, Agnes.’

He took hold of her hand. ‘You’re very welcome. James Beckett at your service, and that sideshow you were very much enjoying was mine. I hunted far and wide to find those exhibits.’

The fire engines began to appear and they watched as the last throngs of people were led from the gates. The men began to form up to take it in turns to try and fight the fire.

‘You ladies should stay here or go home, but I better go and help them.’

‘Thank you; we live at 3 Park Place if you need anything. We would be more than glad to help. It’s the least we could do.’

Eleanor watched as he jogged towards the men who were lining up, passing buckets of water along to each other. He was nice even if he did work in a fairground. Her father would be furious with them. With her especially for letting Agnes talk her into bringing her here, but she had a feeling that tonight had been worth the days of anger that were to come. She grabbed her sister’s arm, dragging her away from the burning wreckage in front of them.

‘Come now; we best get home before Mother begins to worry where we are.’ As they turned to leave she stole one last glance at James, who had thrown his cape to the floor and had pushed the sleeves of his soot-stained white shirt up to his elbows, showing off his muscular forearms. As if he knew she was looking he glanced in their direction. His eyes meeting hers, he performed a small bow. Eleanor giggled and her sister looked at her.

‘Please tell me you don’t find that man attractive. He works in a freak show of all places.’

‘It’s none of your business who I find attractive and he doesn’t just work in a freak show, as you so rudely put it; he owns the whole thing. So he’s a businessman and he is a lot more attractive than that beastly old man, Thornton, who Father keeps inviting round for dinner.’

Agnes looked over at the blackened tent they had been inside not fifteen minutes ago. ‘He was a businessman. There’s nothing left now.’

‘Come on, let’s go home…’

They set off, walking the short distance to their home, which overlooked the park. The four-storey town house came into view, every window brightly lit. Eleanor could make out the figure of her mother in one of them and her father in another. ‘They are either waiting for us to come home or have been watching the fire.’

Agnes stared at her sister. ‘Let’s not tell them where we’ve been. We can say we went for a stroll.’

Eleanor began to laugh so much that her eyes watered. ‘Agnes, I have no idea if I look like you but you are covered in black soot and smell as if you’ve been standing too close to one of Arthur’s bonfires.’

Agnes for the first time looked at Eleanor and also began to laugh. ‘Oh my, I think we are in a lot of trouble because you look like the chimney sweep. How did we get so dirty?’

They both began to giggle as the front door opened and the tall figure of their father blocked out the light. A yelp or a scream, Eleanor wasn’t quite sure what it was, filled the air as their mother pushed their father to one side and ran down the steps.

‘Oh my goodness, I’ve never been so worried. Look at the state of you two. Where have you been?’

She pulled them both close, hugging them, and they hugged her back.

‘Sorry, Mother, we went to see the fair.’

Their mother pulled away from them both. ‘Well, what matters now is that you’re both safe and home in one piece. Come inside. You smell terrible. A hot bath and your nightdresses on before we talk about any of this terrible business.’

She led them by the hand up the steps to the house. Their father nodded at them both.

‘Do what your mother said and then we’ll talk about your fraternising with those people without our permission.’

Eleanor turned her head to look at him, catching the sigh that escaped his lips as his shoulders relaxed. He wasn’t as angry as she’d thought. She said a prayer for all the people back at the fairground and for James, because she wanted to see him again.

1 September 1929

The workmen had almost finished building the large house on the edge of Lake Windermere and were relieved it was almost over. The slate and limestone house was impressive. Although not as large as some of the homes along this stretch of the lake, it was still a sight to behold. It was the cellar that the builders didn’t like; there was a real sense of desolation down there. There was a problem with the drains, from which a terrible stench was emanating, and they had drawn matches to see who was going down to put it right. They had argued and bickered amongst themselves for the last thirty minutes. Not one of them was brave enough to admit that for some unknown reason they were terrified to go down there now daylight was fading fast.

In the end it had been Fred and Billy who had agreed to do it for an extra two hours’ pay. The family hadn’t moved in yet but last week there had been a delivery of packing boxes and crates, which had been stored in the cellar. They would be moving in in the next few days but they wouldn’t be able to if the house still smelt this bad. Fred and Billy had laughed and joked to their friends to send a search party out to look for them if they weren’t at the pub by eight o’clock. As they’d stood watching the others drive away a silence had descended. Neither of them particularly wanted to go back inside to work now the others had left, especially not in the cellar.

It had been Fred who had gone back in first. ‘The quicker we get it done, the quicker we’ll be out of here and home for tea.’

Billy watched him. A gut feeling that something wasn’t quite right made his feet reluctant to follow his friend, who was ten years older and probably a lot wiser than him. He had to force himself to go inside. They took the handheld lamps so they could at least see what they would be doing down there. With the house just being built the cellar was one big space with some shelves lining one wall, ready to store anything else that was surplus to requirements upstairs out of the way. Fred led the way with Billy close behind and they walked across the space until they found the corner where the drain that led into the sewerage pipe was. There was an awful smell, so Billy had tied his handkerchief around his nose. Fred laughed at him.

‘You great soft bugger, what’s the matter with you?’

They reached the drain and it took the pair of them to lift the heavy-duty cover from it, both of them putting their hands through the gaps in the bars and pulling at the same time. Billy bent his knees, gripped the iron cover and then let out a scream so high-pitched that if you’d asked Fred what it sounded like he would have said a girl who’d just had a spider run across her hand. Billy leapt back from the hole in the ground and Fred did the same, as if he had no idea why but seemed to think it was a good idea.

‘Jesus Christ, Billy, what are you trying to do – give me a bloody heart attack? What’s the matter with you, lad?’

‘Something touched my hand, Fred. It brushed against my fingers and it felt freezing cold.’

Fred started to laugh. He looked at his friend’s face, which was almost glowing it was so white, and he really began to chuckle.

‘You’re an idiot. What did you think it was? Someone trying to hold your hand from the sewers?’

‘I don’t know what the hell it was, Fred, but I’m telling you now, something touched me.’

Fred wiped at his hands with his sleeve and tried to stop laughing, but the harder he tried the harder it was to stop.

‘It will have been a water rat. This place is right next to the lake. There’s bound to be all sorts of vermin running around down there. Must have took a liking to you, young Billy. You should be grateful it didn’t decide to take your finger off and eat it for its tea.’

Billy shuddered; he didn’t like rats or mice.

‘Now stop behaving like your Emma and let’s get this done. The quicker we see what’s causing the blockage and move it the faster we can go home and still get paid.’

Billy nodded his head and stepped forward. He didn’t want to put his hand down there but he didn’t have any choice. If whatever it was that had brushed against his hand was a rat it was a bloody big one. On the count of three they heaved the drain cover off and dropped it onto the floor.

‘Now get down on your hands and knees and take a look down into that hole; see what might be causing the blockage.’

Billy shook his head. ‘You stick your head down there. What if it’s waiting for one of us?’

Fred rolled his eyes at Billy and took the lamp he’d put down onto the floor. He hovered over the hole. The smell was bad. Fred mumbled that he had no doubt some animal had got trapped down there and died. He didn’t want to go fishing around in the drains and have to move some rotting animal corpse but he did want to go home and put his feet up, so he knelt down to take a closer look.

Billy, who was ready to run should anything dark and hairy come up through the hole, watched Fred with an expression of horror etched onto his face. Fred leant right down and peered into the blackness then let out a scream and jumped back.

‘What was it? What did you see?’

‘I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. I think it was a rat but it was massive. It moved too fast to be sure but there’s something at the bottom that’s going to need shifting. Whatever it is stinks and must be causing the smell.’

‘How are we going to shift it? I’m not going down if there’s a huge rat running around. Christ, it’s probably looking for its tea and if there’s one there will be hundreds more. Just put the cover back over and tell them we couldn’t find anything.’

‘Some hero you are, Billy. You’re scared of your own shadow. It won’t be interested in me or you when it’s got something else to eat. Go upstairs and get one of the empty sacks. I’ll go down and put the sack over it and scoop it up, then you can take it off me and pull me back out. It will take five minutes at the most and then we can get out of here.’

Billy looked at Fred with fresh admiration and then turned and ran. It was almost dark now and what little daylight was left was dirty grey, streaked with black. He grabbed a sack and heard a muffled shout from the cellar; Billy ran as fast as his legs would let him. Where was Fred? He shone his lantern around but the vast room was empty as far as he could see.

‘Fred, stop mucking around. Where are you?’

But there was no reply. He knew that his friend couldn’t have gone upstairs without Billy bumping into him and he felt a ball of dread lodge in the back of his throat. What if he’d fallen down into that hole and was stuck in the drains? He ran across to the black hole, which seemed to have doubled in size since the last time he’d looked into it a couple of minutes ago.

Fred’s lantern was on the floor and Billy called his friend again. A muffled grunt from inside the hole made Billy force himself to kneel down and look inside. He couldn’t see Fred, but he could see whatever it was that Fred had been talking about at the bottom of the hole. Billy leant closer. The thing was moving ever so slowly but it was definitely moving. He opened his mouth to shout to Fred again and was pulled down into the hole by something with sharp nails that scraped against his skin, making him shiver in disgust. He was so shocked that he couldn’t speak. As he was falling he hit his head on a large rock that was jutting out of the wall, and just before he lost consciousness he saw a face in front of him unlike any he’d ever seen before, one that was ghostly grey with two huge red eyes and a mouthful of sharp, pointed teeth.

Chapter One

‘I can’t hear you. Speak up. It’s too windy.’ Police Constable Jake Simpson was talking into the radio clipped on to his body armour to his best friend and colleague, Annie Graham. He refused to call her by her married name, Ashworth, because she’d always be Annie Graham to him. She was near to the side of Lake Windermere looking for a missing sixty-year-old man who had last been seen pottering around near some of the rowing boats that were for hire. A gust of wind took Jake’s police helmet clean off his head and blew it along at some speed until it reached the corner of one of the boathouses then disappeared underneath it.

‘Shit, I’ll call you back. My helmet’s just blown away.’

He didn’t hear Annie’s giggling as he ended the call and jogged across to find it. He bent down to reach underneath. He’d never hear the last of this if he didn’t get it back. He rarely wore the damn thing but this morning they’d had an email from the inspector telling them to make sure they were dressed appropriately at all times and not to let standards slip. It was all right for her – tucked up in her cosy office doing the crossword. She should try to keep her hat on in a gale-force wind and see how much she was arsed about standards then.

Jake’s fingers brushed against something that he assumed was his hat. He wasn’t really paying attention because he was too busy looking to see how many of the Japanese tourists on the steamboat that had just docked at Bowness pier were actually watching him and taking photos. He grabbed it and yanked it towards him. When he pulled it out and saw what he was holding in his hands he actually threw it onto the shingled path and screamed – really screamed. Which in turn made the tourists who were now all watching him lift their cameras and begin to photograph the perfectly preserved, severed head in front of him. Not only was Jake not wearing his helmet as he became the most photographed policeman in the Lake District, he was also swearing profusely and jumping up and down while rubbing his hands against his trouser legs.

He shouted down his radio to the control room for assistance and wondered how the hell a woman’s head had got under there and where the rest of her body was. Annie came running across from the other side of the pier towards him to see what was wrong and stopped in front of the head. Her mouth fell open and she looked from the head that was lying on its side on the ground back up to Jake.

‘Oh my God, where on earth did you find that?’ She tilted her head and stared. ‘Isn’t that the woman who went missing in Barrow a couple of months ago?’

He shrugged and pointed to the gap underneath the boathouse. ‘How would I know that?’

‘Well, you would if you bothered to read the bulletins the Intelligence Unit send out now and again instead of pressing delete every time.’

‘Jesus Christ, Annie, remind me what it was that you said? Come and work with me in Bowness, Jake. It’s lovely in the summer and ever so quiet in the winter. You won’t know you’re born. It’s all ice creams and summer fetes.’

Annie’s cheeks turned pink. ‘Well, it is most of the time. You’re not blaming this one on me; it’s all your fault. Is the rest of her body under there?’

‘I haven’t looked yet, boss. Oh my God, I dragged it out thinking it was my hat. Do you want to do the honours? And what the hell do we do with that? Everyone’s looking.’

Annie slid her torch out of her body armour and shone it underneath the building. She could see Jake’s helmet, which she reached under and grabbed, but there was no sign of a body. She turned around and looked at the size of the head; it wasn’t as big as Jake’s.

‘Should I cover her with your helmet?’

‘Piss off. I have to wear that!’

‘Stop being so dramatic. You can get another one. We can’t just leave her on show for the tourists to stare at; it’s not right or dignified.’

She bent down and placed the helmet on top of the head and Jake cringed.

‘If I get bollocked for not wearing my hat it’s all your fault.’

‘It’s always my fault so it won’t make a difference. Have you notified control?’

‘Yes, CID are on their way, along with CSI and the chief super, and now, thanks to you, when the circus gets here I haven’t got a hat.’

‘I’m doing you a favour. Stop complaining. Anyway, my darling husband, Will, is the on-call detective sergeant tonight so it will be him, and he was going to his dad’s for tea so he won’t take long. At least I hope he won’t.’

‘It’s just like the good old days when you, me and Will were the crime-busting, serial-killer-investigating task force back in Barrow before that evil, murdering bastard Henry Smith came along and ruined everything. Only most of the time they weren’t actually that good. I wonder who is duty CSI. If it’s Debs then we’re all back together. But I have to tell you I have a bad feeling about this, a really bad feeling.’

Annie didn’t say it out loud but so did she. How had the very well-preserved head of a woman who had gone missing from Barrow three months ago turned up in Bowness, on the patch she worked, when all three of them just happened to be on duty? What exactly were the odds of that? There had been no sightings of her stalker, the serial killer Henry Smith, or the nurse he’d escaped with from the secure mental hospital four months ago in the area. Yet she felt sick at the thought that this could be so much more than a coincidence. Jake had gone back to the car and was now taping off the immediate area with a huge roll of blue and white crime-scene tape that was flapping so hard in the wind it looked as if it was going to take off, bringing the tree with it.

There was quite a crowd beginning to gather and Annie pushed the thought of Henry out of her mind as she began to tell people to leave the area because there was nothing for them to see. Which wasn’t strictly true but it was the best she could come up with at this moment in time. Bang went her early finish. Will would be here for hours in charge of the scene. She would be here until they could draft in reinforcements to guard the scene, and then she and Jake would have to go back to type up statements. Will would be working for hours waiting for the scene to be processed and then meeting the undertakers at the hospital.

Technically it was Jake’s job to go and fill out the sudden death forms at the path lab but he would want to get home to his partner, Alex, and Alice, their nine-month-old adopted daughter. Annie knew she would be the one to go instead. She had no children to rush home to. Besides, if Will was working late there wasn’t much point in her finishing early. She may as well stay behind. She turned to hear Jake shouting at a group of tourists who were all chattering excitedly and trying to duck under the tape. She walked over to give him a hand. At least they would be kept busy until reinforcements arrived.

Before long the sky lit up with flashing blue and white lights and the area had soon been completely sealed off. PCSOs had arrived in force to guard the scene and keep the tourists away, and Annie could have kissed every single one of them. Guarding a crime scene for hours on end was her worst nightmare. She had hated the days when she would spend a full shift standing outside a crime scene while it was being processed and didn’t miss it at all. Claire and Sally, along with Sam, Tracy, Tina and Phil, had been drafted in from Barrow, and Annie had thanked them all, promising she would make sure they weren’t forgotten about and that she would bring them a hot drink in an hour. Jake had been so glad to see them he had spent ten minutes gossiping with them all before Annie had dragged him away to go and write their statements up.

Unfortunately for Debs, she was the on-duty CSI so she had also had to travel up from Barrow to do the honours and process the crime scene. It was like some big community reunion and Annie had to admit that they had all worked well together and made a pretty good team. It was just a shame about the circumstances, but at least they could now tell this poor woman’s husband where she was. Will’s familiar black BMW pulled up and Annie felt her breath hitch in the back of her throat as she caught sight of him. He waved and she lifted her arm back, wondering if he would still have the same effect on her in ten years’ time. He got out of his car and smiled at his wife. He was there before his boss so he walked across to Annie and pecked her on the cheek.

‘What are you two like? He is supposed to be the one keeping you out of trouble not dragging you into it.’

Will nodded his head in Jake’s direction.

‘I know, but I wish I’d taken a photo of his face. He looked as if he was about to pass out. Have you eaten yet?’

‘Yes, my dad made some lasagne and he’s sent a plateful for you, but am I going to throw it all back up? Is it bad?’

‘It’s bad but not that bad. I’m pretty sure you’ve seen worse.’

Unlike his colleague, Detective Constable Stuart Martin, it took a lot to make Will throw up. He went back to the car to get suited and booted, then he walked across and ducked under the plastic tape. He approached Jake’s helmet, which was lifting slightly with the wind, threatening to blow away again. Turning to make sure there were no members of the public watching he crouched down, blocking the view from the pier as best he could, and lifted the helmet up.

‘Bloody hell.’ The head looked like it had fallen off a waxwork dummy. It was so lifelike but at the same time dead. There was a milky film over the eyes, which were wide open and staring straight at him. He shivered. What an awful way to die. He hoped she had been dead before whoever it was cut it off. Who in their right mind would do this to someone?

‘DS Ashworth to control.’

‘Go ahead.’

‘I can confirm this is a foxtrot.’

A male voice answered instead of the call handler and Will assumed it was the control room inspector.

‘Sergeant, you can’t confirm a foxtrot until the doctor arrives.’

‘I think I can, sir. We have a severed head and no body. Full decapitation. It doesn’t need a doctor to confirm this is a foxtrot.’

‘Now then, DS Ashworth, what have we got here?’

The chief super’s voice boomed down his ear and he jumped. He turned to talk to him and saw the duty detective inspector over by the panda car talking to Jake.

‘Evening, sir. I don’t really know, to be honest. We have a head but no body as yet.’

‘Well, have you called the dog handler out?’

‘No, boss. I’ve only just arrived myself. I’m about to do that now.’

A vision of the dog turning up and running off with their severed head filled Will’s mind and he had to shake himself to stop it. All he knew at this moment in time was that something bad was happening and he didn’t want Annie to be involved in it at all. She had nearly died at the hands of Henry Smith, who had abducted her and put her in the cellar of an abandoned mansion. In fact, he’d nearly killed Will as well. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Annie had found the strength and courage to fight for them both, neither of them would be here today to tell the tale.

Call it his copper’s instinct or a hunch, but whatever it was he knew she needed to be kept out of this and the sooner she left the better. He walked back to the car and, as he began talking on his radio, the hairs on the back of his neck began to prickle. He felt uneasy, as if someone was watching him. Will slowly began to turn around to see if there was anyone in the area who shouldn’t be. His first guess would be that reporter who drove him mad who always managed to appear at every crime scene Will did and completely piss him off, but he wouldn’t know about this and, if he did, he wouldn’t be here yet. Will scanned the area, but it was getting darker by the minute and it was hard to tell who or what he was looking for.

His gaze fell on the lake where there were lots of boats, some moored and others sailing around. He had the distinct feeling that someone was out there, watching him from a distance, but he had no idea who or why.

Chapter Two

Annie stretched out and was relieved to find Will still asleep next to her. She’d finished much later than she should have and had waited at the hospital for him to finish up with the head. He’d confirmed that Annie had been right. The victim’s name was Beth O’Connor. They had managed to ID her from the missing person’s posters that had been put all over the town and the police station. It wasn’t an official identification – that would happen first thing in the morning with her husband having that gruesome job – but Will was happy enough that it was her. She was so well preserved he thought that she’d either only been killed within the last twenty-four hours or been kept in a freezer somewhere. The whole thing made Annie shiver and she hoped that Beth had been decapitated once she was dead, because it didn’t bear thinking about if she hadn’t.

It had been the strangest sight to see the head being zipped into a black full-length body bag. It reminded her of something out of the old horror films she’d watched when she was a kid. The whole situation was awful. Not wanting to disturb Will she crept out of the bedroom. They had been living in their house on the outskirts of Hawkshead village for six months now and there had been no sign of… Annie didn’t like to say her name in case it summoned her back. But there was no sign of the woman who, in 1732, had killed an entire family and been hunted down by a group of men and hung from the very beams of the front porch of this house for her crimes.

If Annie had known the story about the house there was no way she would have bought it, but she hadn’t, and when Will had taken her there she had fallen in love with it. After a serious head injury at the hands of Mike, her first husband who had also been killed, she had developed a psychic sixth sense. Sometimes she thought she could hear the laughter of the young boys who had been murdered in the house but she didn’t mind that. At least they were happy now and they didn’t bother her or Will. Except for the odd things being moved around everything was fine. She was so forgetful she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t her who had misplaced them.

As long as the ghosts were happy then so was she. Even Jake, who had been terrified of coming into the cottage at first, was now content to sit on the sofa drinking wine until the early hours. He had told her that they’d done a good job and the house didn’t feel anything but cosy now, which was good because she would have hated it if her two best friends and their adorable nine-month-old daughter had refused to come and visit. Jake and Alex were so content with their lives and their perfect family that it made her heart ache. This weekend she was definitely going to broach the subject of children with Will. They had been married for six months and, although there was no rush for a baby, the more she thought about it the more she wanted one. Whoever would have thought that she’d become a broody old mare? It was all Jake’s fault.

She showered, dressed and made breakfast, leaving a plate of bacon, eggs, mushrooms and tomatoes in the microwave for Will, and then she set off for work. It was her last shift and then her long weekend off. After yesterday she was ready for it. There would be mountains of house-to-house and CCTV inquiries to do today because of the head yesterday. She hoped to God that someone had found the body and that it and the head had been reunited. Otherwise their tasks would also include searching every boat, boathouse, shed and garden to see if the body could be located. She drove to the car ferry, which would take her across the lake in a fraction of the time it would take her to drive around. There were only four cars in front of her so she might even be able to pop into the café for a skinny latte to take to the station with her. Gustav, the manager, still had a bit of a thing for her even though she had shown him her wedding ring, much to her inspector’s amusement. He would sense Annie walk through the door and within minutes he would be passing her a hot drink and begging her for a date. Will didn’t find it quite so amusing as Cathy did, but he knew Annie wasn’t about to go running off with an Italian barista because he gave her free coffee.

She parked her brand-new Mercedes outside the café and stuck the hazard lights on. The car had been a wedding present from Will to replace the beloved Mini Cooper she had managed to write off. She had been gutted when she’d woken from her coma in the hospital to find out she’d completely wrecked it. Will had offered to replace the Mini with an identical one, but somehow, as much as Annie loved it, she couldn’t face driving one again – at least not for a while. It would always remind her of Betsy Baker and the crash that could have killed her. There. She could say the woman’s name now that she was outside her house. She just wouldn’t have it spoken inside. Before she’d even got inside the café Gustav was walking towards her with a large takeaway coffee in his hand.

‘So, my lovely police lady, what’s been happening down by the pier? Is it true you found a severed head?’

He made a swiping motion across his throat with his hand. ‘This is bad news, very bad news. I want you to take care, Annie. I have a bad feeling about this. In my country severed heads mean you have pissed off someone in the Family.’ He leant closer and whispered, ‘You know who the Family are? The Mafia. Or it means there is a crazy person running around. Either way you should not get involved. Why don’t you come and work for me? I will train you to make the best coffee in town and you can work with me all day and drink as much coffee as you like.’

Annie laughed. ‘I know who the Family are and somehow I don’t think they have any reason to be leaving heads under boathouses around here, but thank you for your concern. You are such a sweetie. And thank you for the job offer. You know I may take you up on that one day when catching criminals becomes too much.’

He bent towards her and kissed her cheek. ‘That would make my life complete. I hope Mr Annie realises how lucky he is.’

He winked at her and went back to work, and although she was touched Annie wondered exactly how much Gustav knew about her life and why he would be worried about her.

Annie didn’t take any notice of the new girl who was working on the till and listening to every word of their exchange. There were new staff in the shop on a weekly basis. The only constant was Gustav, but the girl on the till never took her eyes off Annie because she knew exactly who she was. She had just never actually seen her in person.

Megan Tyler hated this job. She was a fully trained psychiatric nurse. She hadn’t spent three years of her life writing the most boring essays to end up making coffee, but then she had to remind herself that it had been her choice. She had thrown away a perfectly good career because she had become infatuated with one of England’s worst serial killers. Henry Smith had almost died at the hands of Annie Graham when it should have been the other way around. When the story had broken and the headlines on all the tabloids screamed about what a monster he was, Megan had found that she admired him a little. Then he’d been sent to the ward that she worked on. When he was well enough after a long time in intensive care, she had got to know the well-spoken, gentle, polite older man. She had become infatuated with him. She had read every article and a book about his crimes but was unable to connect the man she was reading about with the man she took breakfast to and chatted about the weather with every morning.

Megan had lost her own father when she was nine years old. He had been killed in a hit-and-run accident. In the early days she had asked herself if she wasn’t looking to Henry to become a father figure to her, but the more she got to know him the more she realised it wasn’t a father she needed. She had become deeply attached to him and had developed just as much of a secret crush on him as he had on this bloody Annie Graham. It had been Megan’s choice to help him escape and she realised that she’d thrown her whole life away to be with him, but she admired him and wanted to be just like him so it would all be worth it in the end.

They needed the money working in the coffee shop brought in – plus it was a perfect excuse for her to get to know Henry’s little crush, who was a regular customer. Megan couldn’t help but wonder why so many men were besotted with this Annie Graham. She supposed she was pretty and she did have lovely, thick, black curls, but she wasn’t dead skinny and drop-dead gorgeous. She was just normal. It must be her personality, or then again it could be the shiny black sports car that was parked outside on the double yellow lines with the hazard lights flashing – Megan hadn’t told Henry about the car yet. Whatever it was, Megan would like to get to know her better before they killed her.

***

Ninety-year-old Miss Martha Beckett had noticed the bad smell that was lingering in the downstairs corridor three days ago. Ignoring it at first she had then asked her cleaner to clear out all the kitchen cupboards and bleach the fridge in case something had gone off, but today the smell was still there and her cleaner was now on her days off. She had to do something about it. In fact it was even worse than yesterday. The horror she had felt at the realisation of where it was coming from had made her knees go weak and her heart race. It was emanating from…the cellar.

She hated it down in the huge, stark cavern that smelt of damp. It would for ever remind her of her nine-year-old brother, Joseph, who had gone down there during a game of hide-and-seek a long, long time ago and never been seen since. She forced herself to shuffle down to the big, oak door, which had been sealed shut since the day after Joseph’s disappearance. She tried to count back the years; it had been 1930 the last time anyone had any call to go down there – too damn long.

She felt her heart beat faster as she approached it, always with the same feeling of dread in the base of her spine, but she couldn’t live in a house that smelt this bad. The drains must be blocked. She reached the door and sniffed, then gagged. The smell was much stronger here. In fact it was dreadful. She moved away from the door, too afraid to even consider opening it to go down and investigate. No, she would call in a professional plumber and warn him not to go down there on his own. After Joe had gone her father had made it a rule that no one went down there alone. They must always be in a pair or group.

She went back into the kitchen and opened the drawer where kept a tatty copy of the Yellow Pages. It was four years old and she wondered if any of the plumbers were still in business, but she had to try something. She didn’t own a computer or a mobile phone. She hated technology. Her television was ancient and she rarely watched it, instead preferring to spend her time upstairs in her bedroom, which was at the opposite end of the house to the cellar. She would listen to her records and read her books, but most of the time was spent looking out of her window at the lake, watching the boats and wondering if Joseph would ever come home.

She picked the advert with the biggest writing and hoped that they would answer the phone. Carefully pressing the numbers on the keypad, she was delighted to hear a man’s voice answer, ‘Crawford’s Plumbing Services.’

‘Good morning, I wonder if you could help me? My drains are blocked. Well, there is an awful smell so I think they are. I don’t actually know for sure. Would you be able to send someone out to take a look at them as soon as possible?’

‘We could get someone out to you by four o’clock today if that’s any good?’

‘Today, oh yes, please. That would be wonderful, but can you tell me if your men work in teams?’

‘I’m not sure what you mean by a team, love; we have six staff and if there is a job that is big then yes we send in a team, but if it’s just blocked drains then it won’t need more than one.’

‘I’m afraid I can only let them into the cellar if there are at least two of them. It’s a rule of the house that no one can go down there alone.’

‘I’ll try my best to send two of the lads over but I can’t guarantee it. It depends how busy we are.’

‘If you don’t send two then I’m afraid I won’t be able to let anyone down there; I will of course pay for them both.’

‘Look, I’ll send two of them over as soon as I can. We’ll sort something out.’

‘Thank you.’

Martha replaced the receiver and felt her heart slow just a little. She couldn’t be responsible for what would happen if anyone was to go down there alone and didn’t come back up. She didn’t want another missing person on her conscience; it was getting too much to bear.

Chapter Three

Henry waited in the small silver van down the tiny side street behind the coffee shop for Megan. It had been her idea to get a job in the busy tourist town of Bowness. She was bored of his home town, Barrow, and said it was too small. She was right. In fact, most of the time she was right, but she never gloated when she was. It was always just a matter of fact.

He still didn’t quite believe that little nurse Megan was on a par with him when it came to their personalities. She was equally as sadistic and had enjoyed the thrill of their first kill together. They had lived in a caravan since she’d so boldly helped him escape from the mental hospital. They had sold their former caravan for a good price. Well, Megan had, using her fake name of Rosie Dance, and then bought a much older one on a site close to Bowness. Henry was able to wander around more freely up here. There were still the odd articles in the newspapers about him but he’d kept a very low profile. There had been no reported sightings of him as far as he knew and he never left the caravan unless he was dressed like a twenty-year-old rapper with his jersey tracksuit, baseball cap and dark sunglasses on.

He’d seen her a few times and felt his heart race so much with excitement. He had wondered if this was how it was going to end for him. Would he drop dead before he had the amazing Annie Graham in his arms? He hoped not because years of pent-up frustration were coming to a head. He smirked. He’d almost forgotten about the head. Watching his dream team of police all working the crime scene yesterday, he knew it had been worth the risk.

The icing on the cake had been watching him turn up. Henry had squirmed when he’d kissed Annie in public like that, as if she was his, but apart from that it had been pretty perfect. It would have been better if Annie had found the head. He would have quite liked to see her face, but that clown she worked with had found it before he’d even had a chance to ring up anonymously and report it. Still, all in all, it had gone well. They had watched from the small boat on the lake, drinking a cheap bottle of wine and sharing the crappy binoculars. Megan had got so excited she’d wanted Henry to video it all, but there was no way they could. It would have been far too risky.

The door opened and Megan threw herself into the passenger seat. ‘I fucking hate that place. I stink of ground coffee.’

‘Hello, Megan, how was your day?’

‘All right, Henry – it was as good as it can be scalding yourself to death over a red-hot coffee machine. How about you? What did you get up to?’

‘Not much. I spent most of the day inside bored out of my head, waiting to come and collect you.’

‘Guess who called in this morning? The boss was all over her – was a bit sickening to watch actually.’

Henry sat up straight and felt his skin prickle. ‘I don’t know, Megan. Why don’t you tell me?’

‘That Annie woman you like so much. Can I just ask you something? You don’t have to answer because it’s none of my business and I understand that, but why do you like her? What is it about her? It might be because I’m a woman but I don’t really get the attraction.’

Henry considered his reply. He didn’t want to upset Megan in any way and he thought he had hidden how much he really liked Annie from her – obviously not enough. Then again Megan knew everything. She was very astute.

‘I can’t really say. She entered my life at a time when it was absolute madness and I guess I felt sorry for her. She was all alone and had a terrible injury to the back of her head; she looked like a victim but didn’t act like one. I suppose I just clicked with her.’

He didn’t say how much he wanted her, how he’d spent hours watching and fantasising about being with her, because he didn’t want to piss Megan off. She was good to him and he owed her big time.

‘Oh okay, I get that. I mean, who would have thought I’d fall for you, Henry? But I did.’

She reached out and ran her hand along his thigh, squeezing it tight.

He smiled at her; she was so much like him it was a little bit scary, and it made him wonder how many other seemingly normal people were killers at heart if they were given the right opportunities. He drove away, careful to stick to the speed limit and not draw attention. He wished that he’d seen Annie close up, heard her talking, but she would have recognised him straight away.

It was almost two years since he’d managed to drag her down to the cellar in the abandoned mansion to kill her, where she’d well and truly got the better of him, fighting to save herself and that police detective she seemed to be so in love with. She had fought so well that she had managed to stab him so hard in the thigh he’d thought he was going to bleed to death. And then he’d panicked and thrown the damn petrol all over. If only he’d kept calm, his reflection wouldn’t now resemble Freddy Krueger from A Nightmare on Elm Street. She had left him for dead and he hadn’t quite got over that. The fact that he had wanted to slit her throat and leave her for dead didn’t matter. In his mind she had betrayed him and now he was destined to wear hats and sunglasses in public for the rest of his life, to make sure he didn’t scare any of the nice little children who might see him.

‘What do you want to do this afternoon then, my little flower? It’s a nice day. Should we take the boat out and people-watch?’

‘We could do, but first I want you to take me to bed, and then I’m going to have a shower, and then we could talk about what we’re going to do next. We didn’t discuss whether this was a one-off.’

She was talking about the woman they’d abducted between them and killed, a practice run to see if the lovely Megan was up to killing another person. Henry had needed to see if she really was serious and if she could cope with the enormity of what they had done. Megan had not shown one ounce of guilt, even after they’d left the woman’s body in a barn and kept her head in the freezer for a couple of months until the time had been right to put their plan into action.

‘The boathouse is almost ready. That old woman never leaves her house. I’ve been watching her for weeks now. She doesn’t have any family except that woman who turns up twice a week carrying a mop bucket and polish. She sits in her bedroom staring out of the window, but never in the direction of the boathouse. I doubt she even knows we use her boat. She might not even realise there’s a boat in there; it’s been so long since anyone has been inside it. I wonder why she lives alone in that big house and never comes out? Still it’s very lucky for us, because otherwise we would have nowhere to take our next victim. Plus it’s right next door to the caravan site. It’s very convenient.’

‘So what’s the plan then, Henry? Are we going to take another woman and let you cut her head off or are you waiting for the woman you love?’

She poked him in the ribs and he felt a brief flare of rage, so bright and red inside his chest that he didn’t speak. He didn’t like Megan being sarcastic about Annie and she must have sensed something.

‘Sorry, I’m only joking, you know. It’s just I really enjoyed the last time – well, except for having to keep her head in the freezer. It was a bit off-putting having that in a plastic bag next to the frozen sausages every time I looked inside.’

‘Patience. We have to take our time. These things can’t be rushed. It’s how you make mistakes, and if you make mistakes you end up being nearly burnt to death, stabbed and then locked up in a mental hospital.’

He indicated to take the sharp turn into the caravan park, driving slowly because there were always kids running everywhere. The last thing he needed was to run one over and have the police crawling all over the place.

***

The doorbell chimed and Martha looked up from the ball of pastry she was kneading with her gnarled hands. She wiped them on her apron and began to walk towards the front door. As she passed the cellar door she paused, sure that she’d heard a high-pitched giggle coming from somewhere down in the dark. Walking faster now she felt both relieved and terrified at the thought of opening up the cellar. She could see the dark shadows through the glass pane in the door and hoped it was the plumbers. At least there were two of them. She opened the door and was surprised to see two men who were nearing retirement age. She’d expected a couple of youngsters.

‘Hello, we’ve come about your blocked drains.’

She opened the door wide enough for them to step inside. ‘Thank you so much; I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. Unfortunately the smell seems to be coming from down in the cellar.’

‘That’s all right, we’re used to working in the dark. What we’ll do is take a look and see if it’s something we can get sorted now. If it’s going to be a big job it will have to wait until next week, I’m afraid. We’re so busy this week.’

Martha tried not to let the panic show. Next week was no good. No good at all. It needed sorting now. She sighed and turned, leading them to the cellar door.

‘By heck, what do you keep down there: lions? I’ve never seen so many locks on a door.’

The men laughed at their joke and Martha smiled. She didn’t want to tell them it was something far more lethal than a big cat.

‘My father was very conscious about us playing down there in the dark. The sewer pipe reaches to the lake and it can flood very easily in the winter. He was such a cautious man. I’m afraid I can’t open the locks very fast with my fingers – arthritis.’

She passed them an old, iron key ring and watched as the more talkative of the men began to try and unlock the padlocks. Finally he’d taken all the locks off and slid the bolts back. With the opening of each one Martha felt an impending sense of dread. Should she tell them about the thing down there or hope that it had died? Maybe that’s what the smell was. She prayed that it was. He pulled the door open and the stench was overwhelming. Both men groaned and began to take face masks from their pockets.

‘Smells like something’s died down there, love.’

‘It does indeed. Please be careful, won’t you. Don’t leave each other’s side. The light-pull is just to the left of you.’

She saw the look that passed between the men, as if to say, ‘Bless her; she’s a bit mental,’ but she ignored it. Better for them to think she was some crazy old woman than not to warn them. The light illuminated the stairs and they both began to walk down. Martha didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t go down with them because she couldn’t get back up fast enough if she needed to. Instead she paced up and down the hall. She could hear their muffled voices but nothing much else. She breathed out when they finally came back up.

‘It’s hard to see the problem. The smell is coming from the drains and it looks as if there is something down there that could be causing it. The problem is the drain is a lot bigger than we thought so we’re going to have to come back and investigate it properly, but it won’t be until next week.’

Martha felt herself deflate. Thirty seconds ago she had been overjoyed to see them coming up the steps alive and together. Now she was going to have to put up with the smell and them risking their lives again.

‘Is there nothing you can do today? I can’t live with the smell. It’s horrific.’

‘I’m really sorry, but it’s a lot deeper than it looks and we haven’t got the tools. They’re out on another job. There’s nothing we can do today.’

Martha pushed the heavy door shut and began to slide the bolts across.

‘Very well, but you must come back as soon as you can.’

She watched them leave and continued to work the locks, the sweat forming on her brow because it was taking so long. The van doors slammed and the engine started. They drove off, leaving her on her own once again.

***

Seamus Jones was walking along the road. There were no pavements around here. He’d been dropped off an hour ago to check out the houses along this stretch of the lake. His two friends had gone into the town and told him to ring them once he’d found a suitable house with no burglar alarms or security cameras. He stepped onto the grass verge to let the plumber’s van pass. It had only driven past him ten minutes ago. Bingo. They must have been to price up a job. He went to the overgrown drive the van had come out of and opened the gate at the side. He walked along the gravel drive and smiled to himself. Double bingo. This could be the payday they’d been waiting for.

He finally reached the house and nodded in appreciation. It was a beautiful old house. The garden was very neglected and unloved, along with the tired paintwork on the outside of the house. He couldn’t see any burglar alarms or cameras and it looked deserted. After walking up to the front door he hammered on it, not expecting anyone to answer, but after a minute he could hear a shuffling sound coming along the corridor. He put on his best smile and grinned at the old woman who opened the door. She looked distraught and he actually felt uncomfortable for the first time ever.

‘Yes, can I help you?’

‘I was thinking I might be able to help you, miss.’

‘Really, and how exactly could you help me?’

‘Well, I was out walking and couldn’t help but notice the plumber’s van. Are you having trouble with your drains?’

‘I am.’

‘Well, I could sort it out today if you like, if the price is right. Cash in hand.’

Seamus was thinking how he could make a bit of money all to himself before coming back with the others to burgle the house later. Before she had chance to answer he put his foot into the open doorway and stepped forward, forcing Martha to move back. He took his chance and within two strides was inside the house. His eyes fell to the huge oak sideboard with the solid silver candlestick holders and antique blue and white vase, and he practically felt the wad of cash he was going to earn from this in his back pocket.

He had startled Martha, who now felt wary of him. She knew his sort and knew what he was up to because she could almost imagine the pound signs that were ringing in his ears, but she was so desperate that now she didn’t care. He could only rip her off if she allowed him to. He was on his own but she didn’t feel quite as bad about a con man coming to a sticky end as two reputable businessmen.

‘I can only pay you what I was quoted by the others and not a penny more. I have no bank card that you can force me to give you the numbers for and I haven’t left this house for ten years so don’t think you will be able to get me to come to the bank with you.’

Seamus grinned. ‘Fine by me, miss; I’m only after an honest day’s work and some cash for my back pocket. Do I look as if I would try and rip such a lovely lady off?’

Martha didn’t answer that, but she smiled.

‘Good. I’m glad we have an understanding.’

‘Well, come on in then and take a look. See if you can do anything about my drains.’

She led the way and he followed, eyeing up the oil paintings and antique grandfather clock, which was ticking away in the hall. When they reached the cellar door he looked it up and down but didn’t say anything. All the time she kept telling herself that it would be okay. Those other men had been down there and come back out. He slid the bolts across and leant in to reach the light-pull. He tugged it but nothing happened. He pulled it again and still there was no light.

Uneasy now, Martha felt her heart begin to race. The light had worked less than half an hour ago.

‘It doesn’t matter. You can’t go down there in the dark. Why don’t you come back tomorrow?’

‘What’s up with you? I’m not scared of the dark, you know. Have you not got a torch?’

Martha nodded and walked back to the sideboard where she opened the drawer and pulled out a big torch. He took it off her.

‘I’ll have your drains sorted in ten minutes. You see if I don’t.’

He went back to the cellar with Martha lagging behind. She watched as he ran down the steps into the blackness and prayed to God that, even though he was probably a crook and a thief, he would be safe. The memories from eighty-five years ago came rushing back as if it was yesterday. He was whistling away to himself until she heard him mutter, ‘Fuck me.’

‘Is everything okay?’

‘Apart from the smell it’s fine, miss; don’t you worry. I’ll get this sorted out for you in a jiffy.’

Martha couldn’t stand there any longer. Her legs were shaking so much she needed to sit down, so she went into the kitchen and filled the kettle up. She would make a pot of tea for them both. After what he’d done he deserved it and it might make her stop feeling as if the world was about to end. She could hear some banging and clattering then some muffled curses, which made her smile. Footsteps came running up and he came into the kitchen.

‘I found the drain and it looks like something big is jammed in the bottom of it. No idea what it is but I need something to poke it with. If I can dislodge it then it should move along the sewer pipes. Then I can chuck some buckets of water down to flush it out.’

It didn’t sound very technical but she didn’t care. As long as it worked and got rid of the smell she would be more than happy.

‘There’s a shed outside full of my father’s old tools. I’m sure you’ll find something in there.’

He nodded and went out of the back door to the shed, which she could see from the kitchen window. He came back in with an assortment of tools and smiled at her.

‘You know, you have a beautiful old house and garden, miss. Do you not get lonely living here all on your own?’

‘Thank you, I do. I get terribly lonely but it’s always been this way and it always will be until the day I die. I know what’s in the shed by the way, but if you manage to sort out my problem I will let you take whatever you want.’

He began to laugh. ‘Well now, that’s very kind of you.’

He went off to finish the job and she felt a lot better. Maybe, after all these years, whatever it was had moved on. After all, it had nothing to feed on so there wasn’t really any reason for it to be hanging around beneath her house. She went back to the shortbread she had begun to roll earlier.

Seamus walked back along the corridor and was surprised to see the cellar door was now shut when he knew he had left it wide open. Probably a draught – this was a big house and he’d gone outside. He pulled it open and pressed the button on the torch. Before he could move he heard some strange, tinny music coming from somewhere down in the dark. It reminded him of the old jack-in-the-box his dad had given to him when he was a kid. It had a scary clown that freaked the shit out of him every time he wound the little handle, never knowing when the fucker would pop up and make him scream. In the end, he’d given it back to his dad and told him that it gave him nightmares. His dad had laughed until he’d cried and called him a big girl but Seamus hadn’t cared. He hadn’t wanted it in his bedroom.

He was much older and wiser now and shrugged to himself. He must have knocked something over on his way out of the cellar. The quicker he got out of here, the quicker he could pocket the cash before his mates turned up. He made his way down the steps and got a whiff of something that smelt of rotting flesh, smoke and lake water.

Martha was clattering around in the kitchen. The kettle was boiling. She had just slid the tray of shortbread into the oven and slammed the door shut. After she’d poured the milk and set the teapot on the table to brew, she heard the noise and her heart missed a beat. She knew that sound. It was for ever etched into her memory. That jack-in-the-box had been Joe’s favourite toy and he had spent hours turning the handle and playing the music. She felt her legs begin to wobble. Either that man was messing around or something terrible had happened.

Forcing herself to move, she walked slowly towards the open cellar door. The first thing she noticed was that the smell had gone. He must have cleared the blockage and be rooting around in her belongings. She reached the top step, her fingers brushing against the ancient Cree Indian symbols her father had carved into the back of the cellar door a long time ago to protect them all from the monster that lived down there. He had promised her when they had been done that the thing could not come past them because they were full of ancient Indian power, and she had believed him wholeheartedly. She looked down to the bottom of the steps and saw the circle of light shining into the blackness from the torch, which was now on the floor.

‘Are you all finished? I’ve made you a cup of tea and if you’ve got a few minutes to spare there will be some fresh shortbread coming out of the oven to go with it.’

She was greeted by silence. Then something began to shuffle in the dark and she heard a high-pitched shriek of terror, but it sounded as if it came from somewhere underneath the ground miles away. Terrified, Martha stepped back and slammed the cellar door shut, sliding the bolts across as fast as her shaking hands would let her. She couldn’t do anything to help and she crossed herself, begging God for his forgiveness. Picking up the phone she did the only thing she could think of and rang the police.

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