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Chapters (70)
  1. Title Page
  2. Contents
  3. Copyright
  4. Praise for Caroline Mitchell
  5. Also by Caroline Mitchell
  6. Dedication
  7. Epigraph
  8. Prologue
  9. 1
  10. 2
  11. 3
  12. 4
  13. 5
  14. 6
  15. 7
  16. 8
  17. 9
  18. 10
  19. 11
  20. 12
  21. 13
  22. 14
  23. 15
  24. 16
  25. 17
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. 20
  29. 21
  30. 22
  31. 23
  32. 24
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. 36
  45. 37
  46. 38
  47. 39
  48. 40
  49. 41
  50. 42
  51. 43
  52. 44
  53. 45
  54. 46
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. 49
  58. 50
  59. 51
  60. 52
  61. 53
  62. 54
  63. 55
  64. 56
  65. 57
  66. 58
  67. Epilogue
  68. Acknowledgements
  69. About Caroline Mitchell
  70. About Embla Books

Ryan shrugged. ‘She wouldn’t have played it at home. You can’t be disturbed, and you have to do it in darkness with the front door unlocked. There’re loads of stories about it online if you search for it.’ He paused as they both watched him, waiting for more. ‘If you ask me, there’s only one place in Slayton you go to play a game like that.’

‘Where?’ Claudia asked.

Sarah was rooted to her chair. No. Not there …

‘You already know, Mum. Where’s the spookiest place in Slayton?’

‘That ugly old asylum on the outskirts of town?’ Claudia replied. But Ryan shook his head. ‘Somewhere creepier than that. A proper old haunted house.’

‘Blackhall Manor,’ the words were ghostly on Sarah’s lips. This was not good. This was not good at all. For one thing, Blackhall Manor was a death trap. The timbers were rotting, the structure was unstable, the place was falling apart. But there was something else. Blackhall Manor was deadly in more ways than one.

Claudia’s voice upped in pitch as she began firing questions. Sarah raised her hand. ‘If you bear with me for a minute, I need to relate this back to control. They’ll send officers round there, if they haven’t already.’ A slow sickness washed over Sarah. There was no way she was attending that place and nobody, not her sergeant or her DI, could make her.

12

As predicted, Her Majesty’s constabulary were soon crawling all over Blackhall Manor, poking their noses into cupboards, picking up things and laying them down again. How stupid did they think I was? As if I would leave a trace of my actions for them. I hoped they would fall through the stairwell and break their inquisitive necks.

They wouldn’t be the first people Blackhall Manor swallowed whole. Every Halloween, the local paper featured a piece on the Manor. Like many old buildings in Slayton, it was erected in Victorian times. It was said that the build had its share of casualties. The erection of the steep mansard roof was the cause of one of three recorded deaths as a labourer snapped his neck after falling off during a gale. The second met his death while creating the ornate flourishes in the corners of the high ceilings at night. The third was found dead in one of the many crawlspaces that Middleton insisted they build. The building was filled with gaps in the walls large enough to accommodate a grown man. The trick wasn’t just how to get into them, it was how to get out again afterwards.

No one knew why the crawlspaces were implemented, but they were never included on the plans. Now the place lay in ruins, but I was not ready for its reign to end. It was the perfect backdrop for the Midnight Game.