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Contents ( 89)
  1. The Secret of Cold Hill
  2. Table of Contents
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. 60
  63. 61
  64. 62
  65. 63
  66. 64
  67. 65
  68. 66
  69. 67
  70. 68
  71. 69
  72. 70
  73. 71
  74. 72
  75. 73
  76. 74
  77. 75
  78. 76
  79. 77
  80. 78
  81. 79
  82. 80
  83. 81
  84. 82
  85. 83
  86. 84
  87. Acknowledgments
  88. About the Author
  89. The Cold Hill Ghost Stories

‘I cannot confirm any identities at this stage.’

Jason ducked under the tape, the officer making no attempt to stop him, and ran to the badly mangled van, its front crumpled almost to the windscreen. Hundreds of prawns lay scattered around on the road.

Fire and rescue officers, using hydraulic cutting gear, were sawing through a door frame, while two paramedics were working on a trapped, motionless male figure in the passenger seat. The top of his scalp had been sheared off, exposing his brain. His torso was split open, his intestines uncoiled and hanging grotesquely down.

Ping.

2

Jason stared, numbly, in disbelief. He was that trapped figure in the van.

‘We’re losing him,’ one of the paramedics said to his colleague. ‘No pulse.’

Jason continued staring. No. It could not be. No.

Ping.

1

That was it, Jason thought, his brain racing frantically. It’s an alarm. It was going to wake him. It was going to ring any second.

A message appeared on the screen.

J D E A D 0 0

And now, in that fleeting moment, he understood the significance.

The message disappeared and was replaced with just a single number:

0

Silence.

The display went dark and his torch went out.

84

Sunday 19 April 2020

‘Excuse me, what are you doing in our house?’ Jason Danes asked, as the well-dressed couple, the man in a suit, the woman in jeans and a leather jacket, followed Paul Jordan up the spiral staircase and walked straight past him and Emily, into his studio.

All the furniture and his easel were gone. The room was bare.

‘This is a fabulous room, Mr and Mrs Middle – I’m sure you’ll agree,’ the estate agent said.

‘Fabulous!’ the man echoed, looking around.

‘It is!’ his wife said, enthusiastically. ‘Stunning!’ She went over to each of the windows in turn, looking out. ‘It has a real wow factor!’

‘I’m sorry, what are you doing here?’ Jason asked.

No one heard him.

‘The wow factor indeed, Mrs Middle!’ Jordan said. ‘It could be an office or an amazing bedroom! This is such a wonderful house. It’s the best house on the entire development, I can assure you of that, no question. To be honest, the build quality of a Forest Mills home is second to none. They don’t scrimp on anything; all the fittings are the best that money can buy. It is a rare opportunity to find this house back on the market so soon after the completion of the development, I can tell you.’

‘The kitchen is stunning, too,’ she said.

‘Quite stunning!’ Paul Jordan echoed. His eyes darted to the doorway, to the figure of a man and a woman standing, watching them, then back to his clients.

‘Oh, look!’ she exclaimed, peering down. ‘Primroses are out on the front lawn! I hadn’t even noticed them! See them, Kevin?’

‘Well, it is Primrose Day today,’ Jordan said. ‘April nineteenth. Such a wonderful time of year this, everything coming up in the gardens and in the countryside. The perfect time to be moving into a new home, I always think.’