‘Nothing, boss, and I don’t think you are going to find anything either. We need to check the cellar.’

‘I agree with you, but I want every room searched first, and then if the shit hits the fan later on we can say that we did everything by the book.’

Cathy lowered her voice and pushed the door to. ‘Do you believe the old dear, then, or do you think she’s batshit?’

‘I believe her. I don’t know if I fully believe her about the something living in the cellar that no one can see that manages to kidnap kids and grown men who are never to be seen again, but I think there’s something to her story. There has to be.’

‘Why? What makes you believe her? Is it because you feel sorry for her or because that freaky psychic thing in your head is telling you something’s wrong?’

‘Both. When I went down in the cellar with George it made my skin crawl and I couldn’t get out of there quick enough. I don’t know how to explain it, though.’

Sam opened the door. ‘We’re all done. Nothing up here.’

They followed her out and back down to the first floor where Dawn was waiting for them. Annie wouldn’t have said the woman’s expression was smug, but it was close.

‘There are bedrooms, bathrooms and storage cupboards in most rooms. Help yourselves.’

She leant back against the hand-carved oak staircase and folded her arms across her chest, as if not wanting to hamper their search in any way.

They took a room each and began searching in wardrobes, cupboards and under beds until they finally met on the landing, empty-handed. Annie had opened the last door, which had been Joe’s room, and smiled at the perfect little boy’s room. It reminded her of the schoolroom in the haunted mansion that had started all of this and her first encounter with a ghost.

She pushed the door shut behind her and walked across to the small four-poster bed with a one-eyed teddy on it. Breathing in this time, she picked up the teddy, letting the emotions run from the stuffed bear into her fingertips. She closed her eyes and felt an overwhelming rush of love for the mischievous boy whom it had once belonged to.

She could see him running around and hiding from his even younger sister who was sitting at the kitchen table watching the cook while trying to count. He had run up the stairs and then back down again, stopping outside the cellar door. This time it only had one bolt across, which he could only just reach if he stood on his tiptoes. He worked the bolt back and opened the door, pulling it to behind him. He wasn’t afraid of the dark like most kids and he’d run down the steps, crouching at the bottom and waiting for Martha to find him. He would have gone further in but he knew his sister was a scaredy-cat and didn’t like the cellar.

A noise from the far corner shifted his attention from the slither of light that shone through the crack in the door. He turned to see where it was coming from. It sounded like something with sharp claws was skittering along the floor. He couldn’t locate which direction it was coming from, and then he heard Martha shouting at him and turned back to face the door, the noise behind him forgotten. He decided to go up and see her. But before he could, something came out of the dark and grabbed him.

Annie couldn’t see what it was because of the blackness, but it looked the size of a tall man. Terrified and too scared to carry on because she didn’t want to see what terrible thing had happened to poor little Joe, she dropped the bear onto the bed and crossed herself. Feeling as if she’d just intruded into another person’s nightmare, she turned and left the room to join the others on the landing. She shivered. The thing was horrible and, whatever it was, it lived in the dark and never came into the light. Annie didn’t want to go back down into the cellar because she knew that the first time she had been lucky and this time her luck might run out.

Dawn, Cathy, Sam and Tracy were waiting on the landing for her; she walked out and shrugged her shoulders, hoping her voice wouldn’t crack and that she sounded braver than she felt. ‘I guess we need to check the rooms downstairs and then the cellar. What about the grounds? Are there any sheds, garages, boathouses?’

‘All three but I’ve checked them, except for the boathouse because no one can get the rusted lock open on the door. I’ve definitely been out into the garage and outhouses, though.’

Dawn led the way downstairs with Annie lagging behind; she really didn’t want to go into the cellar. She had no idea what it was that lurked down there but the thought of being dragged off and never seen again didn’t appeal to her in the least. Not to mention what it actually did with the people who were never seen again. Where was little Joe Beckett now? He would be almost a hundred. And what about Seamus? There was a big difference between a nine-year-old kid and a grown man. Whatever it was must be strong enough to drag them both off. She pictured the claws from her vision and, realising somewhere deep down that they were used for killing its prey, she shuddered.

Chapter Eleven

Stu could hear the dog whining downstairs to go out and he groaned. He hated the horrible little thing with a passion but Debs loved it to bits. He got out of bed, relieved he wasn’t at work until two. It would give him the chance to unpack some more of the boxes of his stuff that had been shoved into the spare room three days ago when they’d moved in. He had never really wanted to live over on Walney Island but Debs loved it. She loved the beaches and being surrounded by open fields full of horses, cows and sheep. Stu loved Debs, so when she’d found the house he’d agreed they could go and take a look at it. She’d fallen in love with the whitewashed cottage with a huge back garden.

He padded down barefoot into the kitchen and stepped in a puddle of dog piss. ‘Argh, you dirty little bastard.’ The dog was still whining by the back door as Stu hopped over to open it and let it out. Lifting the washing-up bowl out of the sink he lifted his leg and ran his foot under the hot water tap. As he was balancing on one leg he saw the note taped to the fridge and leant over to tug it off.

Happy that his foot was now clean he blotted it dry with kitchen towels and then unfolded the note from his wife, asking him to walk the dog because she’d run out of time. He swore under his breath. He didn’t mind walking; it was the dog he didn’t like. It came back inside the house and started whining again, so Stu went upstairs to get dressed and take it out, planning, when he came back, to make the biggest bacon and egg sandwich this side of Walney and find his games console and connect it to the telly. He would sit playing on it until it was time for him to go to work – his revenge on Debs for making him take the dog out.

The dog slipped its collar and bounded off across the grass verge to the slightly open gate. Squeezing through the gap it ran off towards the ramshackle barn. Stu cursed, shouting, ‘Come on, Sasha. Come here, girl.’

The dog, totally oblivious, continued towards the barn. It was on a mission. It began scratching at the door and whining. Stu called it, not really wanting to go into the field in case there was some angry bull hiding behind a hedge – or a horse. He didn’t like either of them and they were both as bad as each other in his opinion. He leant against the gate and hollered, ‘Sasha.’

The dog didn’t even flinch. Stu stood on the metal gate and looked around. He couldn’t see any big four-legged animals so he squeezed through the gap and began to stride towards the dog, which was going to get its arse kicked when he got hold of it. As he got nearer to the barn he got a whiff of something dead and he felt his stomach turn. He knew that smell. He’d dealt with enough dead bodies at work to recognise the stench of a decomposing body.