A Whispering Of Ghosts Read online

  Shit. What have I done?

  Then little Millicent Stokes loomed before her, her youth represented by a rosy halo against the darker shade of the night. “You don’t know what you're asking! The truth will tear them to pieces!”

  Josie closed her eyes. A hollow sensation passed through her. So it was true then. Jeff’s police instinct had been right. She should have known it all along.

  “Your father killed you,” she whispered, her voice softer than the swirl of a snowflake on the breeze. “He pushed you off that balcony.”

  The disembodied voices rose around her, protesting, condemning her coercion of the truth from one of their own. This was not the way things were done. The ghosts freed themselves of their burdens at their own volition, and could take a hundred years or a thousand. Josie had set grim deeds in motion here, and would soon see the consequences.

  But Millicent Stokes pushed through the disorder, her form leaning down until it stood less than an inch from Josie’s own.

  “My father loved me.”

  “What? Wait—”

  “I was his little girl. I've seen his grief, the way he can’t move forward. It takes all his strength to get out of bed every day, to walk through the house. To walk past my bedroom . . .”

  Josie forced the tears back. “But who—”

  “It was Graham. It was my brother.”

  PART 3

  Shattered, exhausted, and weighed down by terrible knowledge, Josie struggled into the station and made a bee-line for the coffee machine. Paul Kett saw her and beckoned her into his office a second before Jeff noticed her appearance.

  Thank God.

  She bowed her head and hurried across the office. Kett closed the door behind her. “You alright there, Leigh? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Josie gave him a wry look. Ever since the rumours started regarding her alleged ‘ability’, it seemed every single one of the station’s male staff had hit her with that one liner. With Kett though, she knew it was only a slip of the tongue.

  He winced. “Shit. Sorry.”

  She forced a laugh. “I’m used to it, and I’m fine. But thanks for worrying, boss.”

  “You sure?”

  Josie wavered, then caved. This was one of those times when she needed the experienced advice of those she trusted. She was still a rookie after all, and Kett was both a friend and a skilled supervisor.

  “You know about Jeff’s granddaughter, don’t you?”

  Kett grimaced. “Yes, my heart goes out to that family.” He had kids of his own.

  “The Spanish police have ruled it an accident. I just wondered what would you do if you thought otherwise, sir?”

  Kett eyed her closely. “How the hell can you know that? Is this something to do with that thing no one really talks about? Like when Joe died?”

  Josie nodded. On the day her old partner died, Kett had confided to her that he too had once heard the cries of the dead across the benighted streets of York – Europe’s most haunted city.

  Kett sighed. “The reality is harsh, I’m afraid. Don’t get involved if you can’t back up your facts. You know full well that proof is all that matters. Get it wrong, Leigh, and you might ruin your career.”

  “But we can confront . . . the suspect, sir.”

  “You could also land yourself in a pile of shit the size of the Minster, not to mention this department. Do not push it, Leigh. Not without hard facts.”

  Josie couldn’t keep the troubled look off her face. “I went through a lot to get this far, sir. Too much, in fact.” She thought back to the chaotic whispering.

  “Then let it drop,” Kett advised calmly. “Dammit, Leigh, you have a little girl. A partner. And a bloody promising career, truth be told. You asked for my opinion –I say, drop it.”

  “Alright.” Josie backed away, sipping at the hot coffee. “I get it. You need facts.”

  Kett blinked. “Out of all that you heard three words.” He sat heavily behind his desk. “We’re the police, Leigh, we don’t do well without facts.”

  Josie nodded and slipped away. Someone had brought a box of Krispy Kremes in and there was a Lemon Drizzle calling her name. She moved towards it as if in a daze, needing the sugar fix, needing the comfort food. It was at times like this that she really wanted to call Emily, to hear her daughter’s happy voice and cheery outlook, but Emily would be a long time asleep by now.

  Jeff beat her to the doughnut by a nose. Josie tried not to see the light of expectant hope in his eyes as he turned to her. “How’s it going?”

  Josie had become a police officer partly to pay back the help she'd received from others after the spiteful break up with Emily’s father. Now, she couldn’t resist the desperate need barely concealed beneath the craggy lines of this man’s face. She could feel his distress and knew it intimately, because it was the same distress passed on to her by the countless spectres who revealed their secrets to her.

  Kett, despite his job, would hopefully never have to live with that depth of raw emotion.

  She led Jeff outside the building, finding comfort in the gloomy shadows between trees, confidently aware that nothing living or dead was around to eavesdrop on them there. A voice inside second-guessed the notion, asking how the hell she could be so sure the ghosts weren’t a perpetual presence at her side.

  How indeed?

  Jeff lost the expression on his face as soon as he saw the hardness of hers. “It’s not good, is it?”

  “It’s not what you thought, Jeff,” Josie breathed, unsure how to go on. How did you tell someone that a young girl’s brother was responsible for her death, without causing him limitless and unalterable pain?

  “Just tell me. I know you’re a good person, Josie. You won’t hurt me for the sake of it.” Jeff’s face was white with anguish. “So go on. Just tell me. It was Terry wasn’t it?”

  “No. I’m sorry, so sorry. But your instincts were right, of course. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Jeff. It was her brother, Graham.”

  Jeff visibly flinched. His frame wavered. Josie caught him and manoeuvred him beside the trunk of a tree.

  “But why?”

  “I don’t know. She didn’t say. It’s always—” she paused. “A bit confusing for them.”

  Jeff’s face grew softer for a moment. “How is she? Little Millie?”

  Josie swallowed hard. “It’s not that kind of contact. But she is amongst friends. And there’s no pain where she is, Jeff.”

  Only loneliness, she thought. And wondering. Forever – the wondering why. But the words didn’t pass her mouth.

  “I miss her. I miss—” Jeff clammed up quickly, before he could lose control. “She said it was Graham?”

  Josie nodded.

  “Then we go see him. We force the bastard to confess.” Jeff looked as if he were ready to jump into a patrol car and set off that minute.

  “We have to tread carefully,” Josie warned him. “Or we’ll both end up out of a job. There’s no proof. We should see him together and try to get him to admit it.” She could feel the foundations of her career fracturing around her.

  But Millie’s pain and confusion, her retribution and justice, was far more important.

  Jeff’s teeth clenched. “There are better, more direct ways.”

  “Not for us. And not if you want my help.”

  “Bloody hell, this is hard.” Jeff tried to relax, leaning his forehead against the tree. “I can’t . . . can’t get her face out of my mind. She was always so happy. Why would—”

  Josie gripped his shoulder hard. “Tomorrow, before work. We’ll go ask him. We’ll do it together.”

  PART 4

  Josie kissed her sleepy daughter on the head and rose as quietly as she could. Problem was, she'd been squished into such an awkward position for so long whilst reading Emily’s current favourite story that her bones and knee joints protested with a vengeance.

  Crap, she thought. I feel fifty, not twenty six.

  Emily’s
eyes fluttered open. “Mummy? Is it bedtime yet?”

  Josie smiled. “Sweet dreams, darling. See you in the morning.”

  Emily mumbled and drifted off again. Josie backed out of the room, taking care to activate the Sofia night light before heading downstairs.

  Simon looked up from his Kindle as she walked past. “You heading out early again?”

  Josie paused. There went most of the breathing space she’d established to pursue her extracurricular activities. And she thought he hadn’t noticed. Inwardly, she sighed.

  “Busy,” she said vaguely. “The hot sun brings out the crazies, even in York.”

  “By crazies, if you mean tourists, then I’d agree,” Simon vented. “Did you know the Chinese visitors stand on the bloody toilet seat to do their business?” He owned a small coffee shop along Stonegate named Java Surprise.

  “You have mentioned it before.” Josie smiled. “Once or twice.”

  Simon returned her grin. “No shop talk.”

  “No shop talk.” Josie gave him a hug, picked up her bag, and exited the house. She looked back once, smiling, loving its homeliness and security, its collection of happy memories. Poor ole Simon, she thought. He was finding it hard to keep the coffee shop business afloat whilst dealing with the demands of the tourists, the council and the taxman.

  If only my dilemma were that simple, she thought.

  ****

  Jeff met her near the Vue Cinema at Clifton Moor. The two of them piled into Jeff’s car, leaving her little Astra ticking softly to itself.

  “How far?”

  “Strensall.” Jeff pointed ahead. “Ten minutes and we’ll be there.”

  “Assuming he’s at home.”

  “Thursdays he’s always home. Plays the five-a-side at Huntington, then gets dropped off around nine. We should have timed it just about right.”

  Josie knew that a dozen things could have changed Graham’s routine tonight, but she was also aware that most human beings were basically creatures of habit – they tended to stick to times and schedules.

  “Remember,” Josie said. “Kid gloves.”

  Jeff drove them along the darkened country roads until the village of Strensall appeared before them, placid and inviting on the surface with its brightly lit streets and quiet corners. But both officers knew that madness visited here as much as it visited the centre of York on a Saturday night. The madness visited everywhere.

  Jeff pulled up just shy of the Stokes' family home. They waited until a boy racer’s car grumbled to a halt opposite the house, its music thumping, and bright green wheel trims and huge rear spoiler making it look as if someone had lost a bet in good taste. A youth climbed out of the passenger seat, grinning.

  “That’s Graham.” Jeff climbed out as the car raced away, its driver banging the wheel to the beat and holding his mobile to his ear whilst lighting a cigarette. The car picked up speed, roaring as it flew along beneath a hundred darkened windows. Josie watched a tall short-haired youth, wearing a yellow-and-black football strip, stride quickly towards the Stokes’ driveway. She took a deep breath and followed.

  “Hey, Uncle Jeff?” Graham stopped suddenly. “If you want to arrest Kyle you just missed him.” The youth burst out laughing, no sadness or sorrow registering in the way he walked, talked or held himself.

  “I wanted to talk to you, actually.” Jeff blocked Graham’s route to the front door. “Just for a second.”

  Josie ambled up to the side. She watched as the youth’s eyes ran over her figure appreciatively. She fought down an urge to jab him in the throat.

  “What did I do?”

  Jeff forced a laugh. “Only a guilty man reacts that way, Graham. What are you guilty of?”

  Josie almost winced. That wasn’t exactly kid gloves.

  “If only my uncle weren’t a police officer,” Graham said wishfully.

  “If your uncle weren’t a police officer,” Jeff repeated. “He wouldn’t know what you did, would he?”

  The air grew still. Graham stared, an unmistakeable look of fear flashing across his face to be replaced quickly with disdain.

  “All you know are my two favourite friends. Jack and shit.” Graham burst out laughing, the guffaws grating on Josie’s nerves. Nevertheless, she tugged Jeff’s arm. The old man was being too direct, letting his feelings get the better of him. She took a step forward.

  “He’s upset,” she breathed. “And how are you, Graham? You coping okay since your sister died? Been for counselling?”

  Graham tried hard not to sneer. “I don’t need no counselling. I’m a man.” He twitched his nose at Jeff. “Not like some.”

  Josie gripped Jeff’s arm even harder. “You’re, what? Fourteen?” She noted his height and well-built frame. He fit the profile. “Probably a big man in school. Do you like to bully the smaller kids, Graham?”

  “Is that what this is about? Someone complained?”

  Josie shrugged. “Maybe. Do you get angry when the little kids don’t do as you say?”

  “They’re immature. Sniffling brats, running around like headless chickens. They should respect their elders.”

  “As should you,” Josie said pointedly.

  “I respect my dad,” Graham snapped. “But he ain’t here.”

  “And who do you blame for that?”

  Graham’s head moved momentarily toward the house, then swivelled back. “So what do you want me to do?”

  Josie ignored the question. “You blame your mum? Maybe Terry? And now they’ve been taken down a peg or two. Bet their grief really gets to you, doesn’t it?”

  Graham’s eyes were unreadable. Josie’s double meaning was not lost on Jeff, whose frame relaxed slightly.

  “And poor little Millie,” Josie pushed. “Did she eclipse everything you ever did, Graham? Did they show her so much attention, so much love, that you felt cast aside? Lost?”

  “I don’t need them,” Graham said in a surly voice. “I have friends.”

  “We saw.”

  “Look, get out of my way. I get the message. I’ll leave ‘em alone.” A sly grin crossed the youth’s face. “For a week or two. Cheers, Unc.”

  Graham made to move past them. At that moment, Jeff lost all control and burst forward like a world champion boxer. His fist locked into the material of Graham’s t shirt around his throat. The youth stumbled back off the kerb and into the road.

  “I’m not here to help you. I’m here to find out why you killed your sister!”

  Josie closed her eyes. Damn. But the cat was now most definitely out of the bag. Time to end this.

  “We know what happened,” she said. “We just want you to admit it. Man up. Prove you’re not a snivelling little brat.”

  Graham’s eyes were wild, trapped. “No. No! I didn’t do it. Millie fell. She just fell. I tried . . . tried to catch her.”

  “You pushed her.” Jeff’s knuckles had turned white, his lips bloodless.

  “No. She was my little sister. Sweet. Good hearted. We all loved her.”

  Josie could read him like a book. The rehearsed speech, the repetition of words he had heard come out of his parents’ mouths. The way none of it got through to touch his heart and soul.

  He would never admit to it. And they had no proof.

  Graham’s cold eyes bored into Jeff’s, becoming more confident as nothing else happened to him. “I didn’t do it.”

  Josie tried one more tactic. “Do you not feel anything real for your sister?”

  “She’s not my fucking sister.”

  Graham pushed Jeff away and tried to make himself look big in the way of a bully. His chest expanded, arms hanging out from his sides like a gorilla, face as blank and hard as he could make it. “I didn’t do it.”

  Jeff would have waded in, fists swinging, but Josie clamped his arms to his chest. She stood in front of him, blocking his view.

  “It’s over,” she whispered. “Done. We can’t make him admit anything. Maybe his conscience will kick in later.” She kn
ew that it wouldn’t.

  Graham heard everything. He stepped around them and gave a little smirk. “Still didn’t do it,” he said, and headed for the house.

  Josie watched him go. Was there nothing they could do? Would a little girl be left to always wonder what she had done that was so wrong? Josie prayed that her parents never found out. She would have to coach Jeff for that to happen.

  Disgust filled her eyes as she watched the tall youth skip sprightly toward the front door. Then, in a trick of light, the darkness seemed to shift. The square glass windows of the house became indistinct, their reflections gone. Josie felt the hairs along the back of her neck prickle and creep as the temperature plunged ten degrees. The dim lights all around them faded away, and the air hung heavy with dread.

  Graham noticed it too, stopping and turning around. “What—”

  Jeff stood rooted to the spot. Josie prayed to God his heart held out, and closed the gap between her and Graham very quickly. “Did you push your sister off that balcony?”

  “No!”

  A darkness oozed slowly down from the overhanging shadows, coalescing into a small figure. Graham’s eyes bulged as the form of Millicent Stokes took shape. Josie saw the starshine glitters sparkling around her outline, the bright flickers of a good soul.

  Millie’s face was frozen in anguish. “Graham.”

  “God, no. Oh God, oh God . . .” The youth turned his head away, grasped between his shaking hands.

  “Own up to your sins, and bring peace to the dead.”

  “That’s all they want,” Josie said. “The dead don’t seek justice, just confession.”

  Graham fixed petrified eyes on her rather than face his sins.

  “Do you really want her to come closer?” Josie whispered slyly. “And touch you on the shoulder?”

  Graham flinched as if he’d been electrocuted. He turned back to the vision that was his sister, like a rusted nut being turned slowly by a heavy wrench.

  “Mill . . . Millie?”

  The ghost of Millicent Stokes began to whisper, “Why did you push me? I was so young. So carefree. A whole life before me.”