Matt actually stepped back a little and had to grab the banister. ‘My god.’
‘You okay?’
‘Not really.’
The bed sheets were white. Or rather, they had been. Now most of them were drenched in the brown-looking blood that had seeped from the animal in the middle. There was a cut right up its middle, and parts of its organs were stretched out in long, slippery threads.
‘Closest thing to a pelican round here, I guess,’ Larry said. ‘We’ve checked and there’s one missing from the park.’
The dead swan lay with its head on the pillow with a white flower hanging from its beak. Neck broken, wings snapped back and broken wide. Stretched like an angel, feeding the world.
Matt and Larry sat at Jo Finch’s kitchen table, while another officer hovered near the kitchen bench, arms folded. Rain pounded the windowpane.
‘This is totally insane,’ Matt said. ‘You do know that?’
‘Yeah.’ Larry nodded. ‘I’d kind of worked that out.’
‘And clearly a dog didn’t steal a swan and do this.’
‘Kind of worked that out, too.’
Matt let out a jittery breath and looked around the kitchen. Jo had hung little box canvases on the walls, with overused sentimental sound bites like Dance Like No One’s Watching or Life is a Journey so Travel Well! It was the type of corny psychology that made him groan whenever he saw them on Facebook profiles. Yet here, in Jo’s empty house, they felt horribly poignant. ‘Is it just animal blood up there?’
‘Yes. We’ve checked that. In fact, there’s very little sign that Jo or Lee have been hurt in any way apart—’
‘From the fact that they’ve vanished and there’s a swan with its insides strewn across their bed!’
‘Let me finish,’ Larry said. ‘Apart from an upturned chair at a computer desk, there’s no sign of struggle here. Or even forced entry.’
‘Which means?’
The officer who was standing cleared his throat and spoke. ‘Which means anybody could have killed that bird. Even Jo Finch or Lee Bradshaw themselves. Or both of them together.’ He was probably late twenties, with a greasy swoop of ginger hair. His skin was pocked with old acne scars.
‘Who are you?’
‘This is Keech, and he knows all the details of this, so speak freely,’ Larry said. ‘He’s lived in Menham all his life.’
‘And proud of it.’
Matt nodded at him. ‘Well, I can’t see Jo being involved in what happened at the school, so I doubt she did this either.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because …’ Matt shrugged. ‘I don’t know … because I met her. Because she was genuinely upset by her friend’s death.’
Larry smiled. It was horribly patronising, made only more infuriating because he was quite correct. What the hell did Matt know about Jo Finch, or any of this?
‘What do you want from me?’ Matt said, finally. ‘Why am I back here?’
‘Leave Jo and Lee to me. I’m not saying they killed that swan, but hey, let’s not rule it out. We’ll be looking high and low for them, and figuring out what happened. But for now, I need you to do something for me.’
‘Go on.’
‘I want you to go to that seance tonight.’
Keech seemed to let out a tiny breath when he heard that.
‘Why?’ Matt said.
‘Because Steph Ellis said something was following her before she died. And I want to know exactly what that was.’
‘So you go, then.’
He shook his head. ‘They didn’t invite me, did they? They invited you. Sounds as if they like you.’
‘Because they want me to write about them. Raise their profile or something.’
‘Fine. Then write about them. Stick ’em in your blog.’
‘I don’t blog.’
‘No? Well, whatever. Just get in there and get me some info.’
He glanced up toward the ceiling. ‘And do I tell them about this?’
‘Absolutely not. You tell them nothing. You just follow the ghost trail and see where it leads.’
‘A ghost didn’t kill that animal upstairs, Larry,’ Matt said. ‘And a ghost sure as hell didn’t set a skinny dog onto Steph Ellis, then walk it home past the old folk’s home.’
‘You’re right.’ Keech said suddenly. ‘Maybe it wasn’t a ghost. Maybe it was a demon instead.’
Matt almost laughed again, but he saw how fixed and serious the officer’s face was. ‘Why’d you say that?’
‘Enough,’ Larry slapped a hand on the table and stood up. ‘I need to get cracking on this. So for now you need to get in touch with Bob Hodges ASAP and get yourself a seat at that table.’
Matt stood up too and did nothing to hide his sarcasm. ‘Okay. I’ll sit at said table and ask a long-dead little girl if she knows who killed the swan.’
‘Yes, you will.’ Larry caught his eye. ‘And you’ll call me right after and tell me exactly what she says. Got it?’
Larry headed out to make a phone call, while Keech sidled up to him. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t be so flippant about Holly Wasson.’
‘I don’t mean to be flippant. It’s the ghost stuff I don’t care for—’
‘Just remember he had to cut her down.’
Matt blinked, ‘Pardon?’
‘He didn’t tell you?’
‘Tell me what?’
‘Larry, he was an officer here at the time. He was called in and had to cut Holly down from the noose she made.’
‘Oh shit.’ Matt closed his eyes. ‘I had no idea.’
‘Yeah, well now you do,’ Keech said. ‘And stuff like that sticks with you. They never really go away. Maybe that’s why they call them ghosts.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Matt stood in Jo’s lounge, with his phone pinned to his ear. The low trill of the ringer went on and on. So as he waited for Bob to answer, he listened to it purr and glanced around the room, stomach gurgling with hunger.
Jo had a magazine rack that was bulging with nothing but old copies of Auto Trader. The black TV set, which had zero dust on it, had a Pokémon-sounding brand name so obscure it was either incredibly expensive, or incredibly cheap – he could guess which. The mantelpiece had four fancy-looking candles that were still wrapped in
