The man had hung up.

15

Ben splashed his face with tap water; so cold it burned. Now he rested against the counter, dabbing his eyes with a dishcloth. The kitchen had been so obnoxiously yellow the night before. The sunlight exposed its true palette of dirty browns and a stale biscuit colour that might have been cream or even white before he’d been born.

Chloe had sleep-walked out of the room without a word. By the creak of her step on the stairs and the slam of a door, Ben guessed that she had gone for a lie-down. Any dream was better than this nightmare.

From his podium, Sparling had sold them his theories like a used-car salesman born into the trade. He used all the shiny things at his disposal – money, adventure, enlightenment – and Ben had champed at the bit. The bastard set him up. He had sent them to Tír Mallacht knowing full well that some local head-case would follow them back to the city. But why?

Ben shuffled over to the back door and pressed his forehead against its glass. Grey blocks were stacked tall on all three sides of the yard; a private prison to contain his misery. On the cracked patio between the weeds and the door there was a cereal bowl full to its brim with rainwater. Maybe Chloe fed a cat. Her relic of a laptop finally snapped out of its slumber with another shrill ping. It had been booting up since Sparling rang. Ben felt obliged to use it now, considering the trouble it had gone through just to turn on. He peeled his head from the glass and his reflection came into focus. Both eyelids were jammed halfway down like two broken blinds.

Ben had one lead to follow – Detective Barry. Their only link to Carol Fortune and the truth behind her disappearance. Alec Sparling was a ghost. But his hauntings hadn’t passed unchecked. A quick internet search told Ben that Barry was still active. More importantly, it offered up the man’s contact number.

Chloe had left her phone on the table. If it were unlocked, he would make the call himself. Ben figured the detective might take him more seriously if he spoke to him one-to-one. Having two voices jumping in and out of the loudspeaker wasn’t exactly the deftest approach to conversation.