Chapter 2

Asher

Asher sat by the lake, plucking grass. He rested his head onto his hand, his elbow on his lap. The lake sparkled beautifully, like a rippling mirror of the night sky. But he didn’t notice it, not with what he was hearing. A drifting whisper. He’d only ever heard that voice once before: “Oh thank you so much! You have been inspiration for so many of my characters Asher! Its a pleasure to know you love what i write, truly!”

“God, i hate this! How long will i be here on this wretched planet? First, the betrayal, and i’m still held down. I loved her, that CHILD!” It wailed, highpitched and breaking. Nothing like how excited and gleeful it had seemed alive. “Who?” Asher asked, instantly regretting the question that had sliped in his mind.

“Olivia, my sweet little baby. She killed me. That bitch.” Rebecca’s ghost whispered in spite.

Asher rolled his eyes, his grey eyes glowing like the moon now. “Tell them all. Tell them all she killed me. How COULD SH-”

Asher cut her off. A soundproof wall forming between him and the ghost he’d contacted. It was weird how they were always like this, a few days after they’d died, people were always screaming and wailing. Wild.

He looked at the place where they’d found her body, a bloody track still vaguely translucent there. The lake had cleared up its own murder.

When they’d found the gun at the rooftop, sunken in the pool, him and the police had had the same first assumption. Rebecca thinking about killing herself, but jumping off of the building instead. She must have landed on a rock which split her back and unable to breathe, she’d forced herself to swim up, onto a nearby rock where she’d breathed her last and succumbed to her injury. What didn’t add up was the bruise on her wrist, fresh and red. The body was still in autopsy and they wouldn’t find out about her physical conditions at the time of her death until the funeral back in London.

Goddamn procedure.

Asher got up, straightening his back and hearing it click. He twisted and turned, roughly stretching, looking back at the dark lakehouse. He’d left it untouched since he’d arrived, bringing his own ketttle for tea and a whole ton of plastic cups. He didn’t want to ruin the crime scene in any way unless it was for research that was urgently required. Like the search for unrecognizable DNA they’d done. Although that had got them nothing. He’d told them not to rush it but no, the English police have to keep up the heroic reputation of ‘chasing the truth’ and ‘avenging those that couldn’t defend themselves’.

Asher got into the boat by the shore, a private he’d rented. He picked up the paddles and the boat shook under him, he began rowing. He tried to ignore what Rebecca had told him. He didn’t like listening to ghosts in the middle of an investigation. Because all they ever wanted to do was scream the answers of a puzzle he was entranced in solving. It was annoying. Maybe it was a bad decision, calling on Rebecca because his curiosity right then had got the better of him. He’d lost a part of the thrill now. Like ignoring ‘Olivia’ was going to not make her the killer.

Asher sighed. “Shame. You try to have some fun, but some angry ghoul decides to mess up the party, again.” Ironically, an angry ghoul is what had got him into investigative work. After a detective had given a false result to a case and Asher had heard the ghoul complaining, he’d decided to start investigating himself, at the age of 17. And 3 years later, the truth had never hidden from him, and if he listened hard enough, it had come to him like a present being unwrapped. A pandora’s box that ALWAYS ruined the powerplay if it came to early.

He reached the shore leading to the village in a few minutes. There was still some thicket of the forest to cross, and it took him another ten minutes to begin to see the lights of civilisation. Tomorrow, he’d have interviews with the people that lived here. See if they’d heard anything, about this Olivia woman, because neither he, nor the rest of the world had.

***

Interview with Mr. Reilly, one of the villagers in some hearing proximity to Rebecca Wright.

Asher: Good morning Mr Reilly, let’s begin with this interview then, shall we. (smiles at the camera with a thumbs up)

Mr Reilly: Go ahead kid, whatever you need.

Asher: Do you know of any roommates Mrs. Wright had had? A resident besides herself in her house?

Mr Reilly: No. If anyone in this village had come across her, anywhere. I think i speak for all of us when i say, she was never a people’s person. She didn’t like the women in the village and she despised the men. The only time she ever got out was for grocery shopping, when she’d give the kids a chocolate or two, and a rare smile before returning to her monotone composure. She was always like that, married, widowed, whatever. Nobody from the village has ever entered the house, and its far less likely for anyone else to get in without us finding out. From the station, through the village, and into the lake is the only way to get to her house. She had no children. So, if i become a bit of a detective myself, there was no one in that house except her.

Asher: (nods) Was she fond of kids?

Mr Reilly: I’m not really sure, but i do know the kids were fond of her. She didn’t like conversation with anyone though. Mostly just did her job and left, burrowing in her house. Never caused any trouble either though, she was just a bit of a, people avoider i would say- that includes kids.

Asher: On the night of her death, did you hear any sounds coming from the lakehouse, or see anything out of the blue? Anything out of the blue at all? Since you are at closest proximity to her house.
Mr Reilly: (sips coffee) Nothing. The village is too far from her house for us to be in hearing or sighting vicinity. Honestly, I feel like its her fault. Women should never be living alone in isolation, its too dangerous. And i know English forests are dead and all, but you never know, there’s burglars and nasty people in this village who would swim to get her alone.

Asher: And, lastly, do you know what grocer Rebecca-

Mr Reilly: Wait, there was one thing. I heard noises, loud, unearthly ones from the forest. So did my wife. I swear, it sounded a lot like foxes fighting. They carried on for like, ten minutes, and then silenced. We finally got some sleep then. I’m sorry, you were saying?

Asher: Nevermind. Thank you so much, this interview has been vital.

Fin.

***

That’s what Asher had told every of the 12 village houses he’d interviewed, ‘this interview has been vital’, when infact, he’d just got the same answers from almost all of them. Some claimed they heard cats, others claimed bats or dogs, and quite rarely someone announced with full confidence that they’d heard wolves crying out into the night.

“Did you get anything from the grocer?” Asher asked Liam. “Nothing, no recent check in either. The last check in Rebecca had made had been 50 days ago, 20 days before the new owner’s mother died. She used to run the shop before her.”

Asher shook his head, looking around at the brick village houses sprouting flowers on the walls. “So her mother died 30 days ago?”

“Yeah.”” Liam replied.

Avery stood with her arms folded infront of her, a concentrated expression on her face. Her blonde hair looked fuzzy in the setting Sun’s light, and her brown eyes worried. Asher squinted. “You taking notes, you’ve been following me like a tail since today morning.”

Avery looked up at him. “I follow anyone who has information.”

Asher felt something shove his shoulder, causing him to fall slightly off balance but he caught himself. A man in a activewear jacket looked at him, his eyes panicked. “Sorry. Are you ok?” He asked, his hands infront of him in caution.

Asher nodded. “I’m good, just watch where you’re running.”

The man nodded and kept jogging.

“What now?” Liam asked.

Asher looked at the evening sky, the dipping red circle in the sky waved a goodbye to him, darkness engulfing as it disappeared. “Now, we go back to the inn and review the clips we got today.”

***

In his room, Asher was going through the pockets of his trench coat, trying to find some money for a tip over his dinner. When his hands crunched against something. His stomach flipped and he turned to see Liam on one of the twin beds, in a serpent like posture as he texted on his phone.

Asher hid the trench coat with his body, his back completely encasing the pocket as he pulled out what had touched his hand. A scrunched up note.

“Hey! Look what Hazel sent me, its a meme of Mr PomPoms as an Italian mafia boss.” Liam said, his voice breaking into a laugh.

Asher uncurled the note in his hand, his eyes running over it multiple times as his mouth curved into a smirk.

Meet me on the far side of the lake, on the village shore. There’ll be a fishing basket marking the place. I have information, but i can’t share it with you unless we’re in private. -The runner

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