The Ghost House. Helen Phifer

bedroom that overlooked the mansion for a better view. It fascinated her that the lightning was striking directly over it.

      Annie was scared; she didn’t want to be alone in the middle of the woods. What she would give to have her colleague and best friend Jake with her, his muscular arms wrapped around her. She couldn’t get a phone signal on a good day up here. In a storm she was totally cut off. Jake would laugh at her and tell her she had lost the plot big time and maybe he wouldn’t be that far wrong. He would be at work now, halfway through his shift, which is where she should be. At least then bad things happened to other people and not her.

      Common sense told her the house wasn’t haunted; there was no such thing as ghosts. But the other explanation scared her even more: her head injury could be worse than the doctor had thought. Then she remembered the book and went back downstairs to check her bag. If it wasn’t there then she would go to the hospital tomorrow and tell them she was hallucinating.

      Her bag was on the kitchen floor and for a moment Annie didn’t know whether she wanted to open it or not. Eventually she unzipped it and rummaged around inside her fingers caught the sharp corner of a leather bound book. Oh crap.

       Chapter 2

      By the time Will arrived at Jenna White’s house the normally quiet street was thriving with people. Earlier, the arrival of Jake in the patrol car, after the call had come in for a missing teenager, had set a few curtains twitching. But now neighbours were standing in front gardens chatting away to each other and several people had remembered that they had left something in the boot of their cars and were trying to look inconspicuous, but failing miserably, as they loitered at the rear of their vehicles.

      A reporter from the local paper parked opposite Will, who growled under his breath at him: he was a right pain in the backside. His speciality was making every copper he interviewed look like an idiot. Will was well aware that some of his colleagues didn’t really need much help in that department, but most of them came to work to help others – protect and serve the public and all that malarkey – so the papers should have been on their side. Will was just biding his time until the reporter stepped over the line and gave him a reason to arrest him, show him the hospitality of the custody suite and see how he liked bed and breakfast listening to the regulars: drunks wailing and being sick or drug addicts coming down from their highs.

      A handful of youths, dressed as if they had starring roles in the Rocky Horror Picture Show, were hanging around by the gate of 9 Walton Path. Jake appeared at the front door and lifted his hand to wave at Will, who was out of his car and ducking inside the front garden before the reporter got the lens cap off his camera.

      ‘Glad to see you mate, the word has spread like wildfire: bloody Facebook. And by the look of that lot over there they have her down as being abducted by a transvestite alien,’ said Jake.

      Will closed the front door behind him and followed Jake through to the kitchen. The house was neat and tidy and the sweet smell of vanilla filled the air from a reed diffuser on the hall table: it reminded him of his Nan’s home. She had lived in the next street along and, as the queen of baking, her house had always smelt like this. Will felt his heartstrings tug at the sight of the crumpled woman staring at him expectantly.

      ‘Mrs White, I’m Detective Sergeant Will Ashworth. I work in CID. Jake has told me about Jenna. You say she has never done anything like this before?’

      ‘Never. She has never run away from home before or stayed out and not told me where she was staying. We did fall out because of her constantly arguing with her sister and I told her she was grounded until next weekend, but where would she go with no money? Something has happened to her, I just know it has. As soon as Sarah told me Jenna hadn’t slept in her bed I knew then. She is such a kind girl she wouldn’t worry us like this.’

      ‘I need to ask you some questions and if you could give me as much information as you can it will help us search for Jenna and help Jake to fill out the missing persons report.’ Will glanced at Jake who had found something interesting to look at on his boots. ‘I know you told my colleague that Jenna hasn’t got a boyfriend as such but you know kids, they don’t always tell us adults what’s going on.’

      ‘She never mentions any particular boy. I know she has friends that are boys at college but they just hang around together.’

      ‘Does she have any favourite places she likes to go?’

      ‘The Abbey. She’s doing an art project for college and has loved it there since she was a kid.’ The woman sniffled into her handkerchief, then stood abruptly and left the room momentarily before returning with a glossy photograph, which she handed to Will.

      He looked at the painted face staring back at him and passed it to Jake. He continued with his list of questions – ‘Does Jenna keep a diary? Does she have a computer?’ – to which Mrs White vigorously shook her head.

      ‘I don’t know about a diary, she may do because she was always writing things down. Her dad bought her a laptop for Christmas; it’s in the dining room.’

      Will smiled. ‘That’s great. Would you mind if we took it away to get examined and see if there is anything on it that could give us a clue where Jenna may be? Is it OK for me and Jake to go and take a look around Jenna’s room?’

      She whispered, ‘Help yourself,’ then stood and turned to go upstairs. Both Jake and Will followed her. She led them along the narrow landing to the last door, which had a picture of some movie star all the girls were crazy about stuck to it. Jake had no idea what he was called even though he’d watched the film a couple of times with Annie.

      She opened the bedroom door and he stared at the assortment of posters on the wall, all were of the scariest people he had ever seen. They checked to make sure there was no sign of a struggle; nothing was out of place, there wasn’t even an overturned cup and there were no bloodstains. The room was neat and tidy, for a teenager, and there was a black sparkly purse on top of the dressing table. Will opened it: there was a five pound note and a debit card. It was obvious that nothing untoward had happened in here, that Jenna hadn’t been dragged from her bedroom fighting.

      Walking out he nodded at Mrs White. ‘Thank you. We’ll go back to the station, see what we have and come up with a plan of action. I’ll be assigning you one of my family liaison officers, who will keep you up to date with our investigation and answer any questions you have. They will act as the go-between so you don’t have to worry about trying to get hold of anyone at the station. .’

      Will nodded at Jake to follow him outside. He lowered his voice so the spectators couldn’t hear. ‘I hate to admit it but I think you’re right to be worried. I’m forty percent she’s shacked up with some boy or girl nursing off a hangover, but I’m sixty percent positive that something is wrong. It doesn’t feel right. She isn’t one of our usual missing persons, she isn’t known to us, and I did some checks on Intel before I came here and there is no trace on the system for any of them. Until today the Whites were just your average family. Can you get an update from whoever is checking addresses and see where they are up to? I’ll speak with the motley crew over there and see what they have to say.’

      Jake smiled to himself as Will approached the crowd of Goths. Of all the jobs to get sent to today it had to be this one. He would bet a hundred quid that it wasn’t going to be case closed in the next hour.. He hoped that Jenna would turn up soon, tail between her legs and apologetic, but his instinct was telling him that it wasn’t likely.

       Chapter 3

      He had no idea what was wrong with him, one minute he was happy with his rather ordinary existence, the next he couldn’t bear it. The highlight of his life consisted of taking his elderly mother to the spiritualist church every Wednesday; where he would sit and listen to some phony pretend to