Echoes (Whisper Trilogy Book 2) (7 page)

“Melody Samson?” he said, his tone as expressionless as his features.

“Why do you want to know?”

“It depends.”

She shuffled her feet, and looked the man in the eyes, which seemed to be the only part of him with any semblance of life. There was a shifty brilliance to them. He snorted, a short bark of laughter.

“Let’s just cut to the chase. I know you are who I’m looking for, I was just being courteous.”

She was careful not to confirm or deny anything.

“Who are you?” she asked, forcing herself to hold his gaze.

“My name is Goodson. I represent Henry Marshall.”

“Never heard of him.”

“No, I don’t expect you have,” Goodson said, a small smile forming on his lips. “You didn’t stay in our town long enough to become acquainted.”

Her stomach plummeted, and she subconsciously balled her fists.

“You’re from Oakwell?”

“Me personally? No.” he said, shaking his head. “As I said, I’m just here in representation of Councilor Marshall.”

“I haven’t lived in Oakwell for almost eight years.”

“Indeed, I’m led to believe your stay was only short before you left.”

She chose not to respond directly. The line of questioning seemed to be leading her in a direction she didn’t want to go. Instead, she decided to go offensive, something the meek, timid Melody of old would never have done.

“What do you want? More to the point, how did you find me?”

“My client wants to discuss a business proposition with you. As to how I found you, well, let’s just say it’s my job to find people. Even those who don’t necessarily want to be found.”

She shook her head. “Tell Mr. Marshall I have no interest in any proposition, business or otherwise. Sorry for wasting your time.”

Goodson frowned, then morphed the expression into a smile.

“You haven’t even heard what I have to say yet. I have driven a long way to find you.”

“I’m not interested. As I said, sorry for wasting your time.”

“It would be in your own interests to hear me out, especially taking your … financial difficulties into account.”

She strode to the fence, now standing just a foot away from Goodson who, up close was much smaller than he first appeared.

“I have no idea where you get your information from, Mr. Goodson. I can assure you any idea of financial difficulties is untrue.”

“Really?” he said, his smile telling her he saw through her lie. “I could go into detail if you like?”

“I don’t know who you think you are, Mr. Goodson. However I don’t appreciate these borderline threats.”

“Threats? I apologize if I was rude, Mrs. Samson, it wasn’t my intention. I just think it’s important we stop beating around the bush.”

“Frankly, whatever it is you think you know doesn’t change the fact I’m not interested in anything you have to say.”

“You should be. I know the fire at Hope House left you in a… difficult position financially. It would really be in your interest to listen to what I have to say.”

She shifted her gaze to the envelope in Goodson’s hand.

“What is it you want?”

Goodson smiled and handed the envelope to Melody. “Everything is explained in there. You and your husband should discuss it together. If…”

She tore open the envelope as Goodson looked on and pulled out the paperwork inside, leafing through them. There was a glossy mock-up of a medium-sized hotel and two contracts along with a letter direct from Henry Marshall. As she read, she was filled with a mixture of dread and anger.

“You can’t do this, you can’t build there…”

She swallowed hard, knowing her voice was wavering.

“I know this is a shock, which is why I suggested you and your husband read this together. However since you have already opened the package, let me assure you Councilor Marshall is prepared to offer you a very generous financial compensation for your endorsement of the hotel.”

“Are you people insane? You know what happened there?” She screamed, hating the fact she must sound completely crazy, which was supported by the smug look on Goodson’s face.

“I understand the fire and the resulting injuries to your husband had a severe emotional impact on your lives, which is why, if you check page six of the document, Mr. Marshall is also prepared to settle all of Mr. Samson’s outstanding medical bills if you agree to participate. As I understand, they are quite substantial.”

“You don’t understand. Tell whoever’s in charge they can’t build there, it’s not safe.”

“I appreciate the claims you and your husband are said to have made about certain paranormal events—”

“It’s a fact. Check the history of the place.”

“However,” Goodson continued, “we found no evidence of anything on the site to suggest anything other than a fire caused by an intruder which, incidentally, is concurrent with the statements given to the police by both you and your husband.”

Melody glared at Goodson and tossed the envelope at him, watching as the papers fluttered around his feet.

“Forget it,” she said as he scrambled to pick them up. “You can’t buy us. We won’t get involved with this. First thing tomorrow I’m going to set about opposing the building of this hotel; it isn’t safe.”

Goodson actually showed a brief flicker of anger, hissing at Melody as he snatched the papers out of the dirt.

“This is a chance to drag yourselves out of the gutter. It’s a chance to stop living without knowing what tomorrow will bring. Don’t let pride get in the way of an opportunity like this.”

She was angry now, and as much as she hated letting Goodson see her weakness, she began to cry.

“Don’t you think we’ve suffered enough? You seem to know everything already. If not, let me tell you. My husband is unwell. He’s been struggling to cope with the fallout from the fire for the last eight years, and all the money in the world couldn’t make me burden him with this.”

“If you don’t, you won’t get another opportunity like this. It’s a chance to re-join society. Don’t be hasty.”

“We don’t need money, Mr. Goodson. We may have struggled to get by, a lot of people do. However we do it, we manage. Our rent is always paid, and food is always on the table. Sure enough, we can’t afford expensive holidays or luxury cars like yours, and it doesn’t matter. We’re happy. We just want to be left alone.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, however I can’t help wondering if that’s how you really feel when you’re sitting up into the night wondering how you’re going to feed your son the next day?”

“Get out of here. Leave us alone. Tell Councilor Marshall I’ll do everything in my power to make sure this hotel never gets built.”

Goodson nodded, and stretched his lips into a smile of sorts, then walked to his car.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he said as he opened the door and tossed the screwed up papers onto the passenger seat. “There is one thing you should know. Trying to stop the build just won’t work. It’s already done.”

Melody felt her stomach plummet into her feet, then rocket back up to her throat.

“It’s built?”

“As near as,” Goodson said, apparently reveling in her reaction. “Whatever you decide, it will open. There is nothing that can be done to stop it. While it’s true we’d like you to be involved, we don’t need you. We will open to the public with or without you. Do yourself a favor and think about it.”

“Mr. Goodson, please. If you go ahead, you risk putting everyone involved with it in danger.”

Goodson snorted and smiled. “I don’t believe in ghosts, Mrs. Samson. Real life is horrific enough as it is.”

Melody watched as he climbed into his car and drove away. As the dust thrown up by the vehicle shrank into the distance, she felt Isaac’s hand grasp hers.

“What did the man want?” he asked, squinting against the sun.

“Nothing, he was looking for something.”

“Did you help him find it?”

“No, not this time,” she mumbled, then turned to Isaac and smiled. “Come on, let’s go inside for a while.”

“I want to play outside,” he whined.

“Maybe later, it’s getting cold. Come on, maybe Aunt Becca will let you watch cartoons for a while?”

“Yeah!”

Isaac raced ahead with Melody following, trying to convince herself the reason for making her son go indoors wasn’t because of the sound of the wind moving through the trees.

CHAPTER 6

The videos Scott & Cody had shot at the Hope House site became a viral sensation on the internet; at least as far as their respective school friends were concerned. They were all at the town hall where, twice a week during the evenings, the councilors went home, and the hall acted as a youth club of sorts; somewhere for bored teenagers to get together and socialize. This particular Tuesday evening, there were around twenty in attendance, the bulk of which were comprised of Scott and Cody’s group. Although the two boys made a show of enjoying their recent burst in popularity, they were uncomfortable talking about what had happened that afternoon, and neither particularly wanted to go along with the plan of their friend, Alex Brett, who was a year older than both of them. Their other friends looked on, a collection of perpetually moody misfits and gothic types with haunted eyes and pallid complexions. Cody still wasn’t quite sure how they became involved with this group at all, then his eyes found Emma, and he remembered. He had been flirting with her on and off for the last few months, and although initially unresponsive, he noticed more and more the attention she was paying him. He caught her looking again, quickly averting her eyes when she saw he’d noticed.

“What’s the matter, you scared?” Alex said, grinning his mouthful of crooked, ugly looking teeth.

“Don’t be stupid,” Cody countered, feeling confident knowing Emma was watching. “Why would we be afraid? I just don’t see the point. We’ve been up there before.”

“Yeah, not at night though.”

“Night or day, the place is creepy,” Scott cut in, locking eyes with Cody for a split second.

“Which is exactly why we should go!” Alex replied, feeding on the attention. “Just imagine it. A couple of tents, a few beers and some weed. We can make a night of it. Camp out there where it all happened.”

Cody shrugged and shook his head, even as inside he recoiled at the thought of being there after dark. “I really don’t think there’s any point. There’s nothing else to see up there.”

“Come on man,” Alex said, looking to the others for support. “Everyone knows it’s gonna be different after dark. Any pussy can go up there during the day, hell, especially now with the hotel being built. After dark though… that would be a different story.”

“I just don’t see the point.”

“Come on, grow some balls. Have you seen the YouTube comments on the last video you posted? Do you know how many people have begged you to go back and film some more? Can you imagine how cool it will look as a night shoot? Come on man, this will be amazing!”

Alex’s constant questions were like a barrage, a never-ending slew of words designed to break down defenses. Peer pressure at its finest. Cody squirmed, and glanced at Emma. This time she didn’t look away. She kept her brilliant blue eyes locked on his, and although it was entirely possible he was imagining it, he thought she might just be getting off on the danger. As was always the case with the male species, groin overruled brain, and with cocky assurance which was a world away from what he actually felt, Cody snorted and shrugged.

“If it really means so much, then fine, let’s do it.”

Cody could feel Scott’s eyes burning into him at the violation of their unspoken agreement not to go back.

“It’s settled,” Alex said, clapping Cody on the shoulder. “We’ll head up there this weekend. How does Friday night sound?”

The rest of the group murmured their inclusion and began to arrange who would buy the weed, how they would get out of the house and away from suspicious parents. Only Scott remained silent, watching and wondering how the initial conversation had ever gotten to this particular point.

“What do you say, Scotty? You up for revisiting Hope House?” Cody asked, hating himself for putting his friend on the spot. Peer pressure or not, he felt like a complete dick.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever man,” Scott mumbled.

“You sure?”

“I said I’d go, didn’t I?”

“Relax, I was just making sure. It should be fun.”

“I thought you said there was no reason to go back.”

Cody’s fake smile faltered for a second. “It’s not a big deal. It’s something to do at least.”

The two friends locked eyes, a conversation playing out between them which needed no words. Each knew the other well enough to understand exactly what they were thinking behind the bravado and bullshit talk.

“You don’t have to convince me. I’ve already said I’ll go. Stop making such a big deal out of it,” Scott said, glaring at his friend, feeling hurt and betrayed.

“Glad to hear it. We’ll make a night of it,” Cody replied, hating what he was becoming.

Just like that, plans had been made. Snatches of those voices which had invaded Cody’s head last time they were at the clearing drifted back to his mind, bringing the memories of the violence he felt so compelled to inflict back in sharp clarity. He forced them aside, telling himself it would be different this time. There would be more of them together, which in theory would make the entire experience a lot less unusual. Most importantly, and the primary reason he had so readily agreed was because Emma would be there. Maybe, just maybe he might find a way to pluck up the courage to get her on her own and find out how she felt; with luck, in the literal sense. Ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach, he headed outside for a smoke.