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Chapter 4

Author: Goodtale
I squatted in front of the wardrobe and ran my fingertip along the grout lines between the tiles.

A few of the tiles were lighter in color, as if someone had scrubbed them clean.

"Were these tiles replaced?" I asked.

Eleanor replied, "Last fall, Henry said there was dampness coming up, so he bought some tiles and laid them in the living room and bedroom himself."

Detective Wyatt waved an officer over to scan them.

The numbers on the LCD screen flickered for a moment before the forensic examiner shook his head. "They're from the same batch. No signs of individual replacements. The color difference is just uneven wear and fading from cleaning agents."

Henry straightened up from the doorframe. He let out a short, casual laugh. "Hear that, Mr. Spence? You trashed the place all day, going on about floors and blood, all to prove some poorly wiped cleaning solution damaged the tiles? You just want to keep our security deposit!"

When he turned to Eleanor, his voice suddenly became dreadfully gentle. "Eleanor, to think Lea actually liked this guy. She used to give him fruit every time she saw him. And here he is, cursing my daughter to death just to pocket a deposit."

Eleanor shrank back a step. A tear ran down her cheek.

Henry took Isabel by the hand and headed for the door. "Let's go. I don't want to stay in this house for another second."

Detective Wyatt waved to his men and turned to me. "You're coming to the station with us."

I didn't budge.

A sound came from inside the wardrobe. It was a very soft, muffled "here", like something soft thudding against the inner panel of the door.

"It hurts. Someone opened up my body," whispered the bedroom wall.

I turned, gripped the edge of the wardrobe frame, and pulled back, but it didn't budge.

Frowning, Detective Wyatt grabbed my arm. "Enough already!"

"There's something behind the wardrobe!"

I shook off his grip and yanked at the wardrobe again. Still, it didn't move.

My finger scraped against a splinter of wood, leaving a cut that made me suck in a sharp breath from the pain.

Henry spun around. His voice rose to a shout. "Detective Wyatt, are you going to do something about this? The guy is a lunatic!"

Isabel collapsed onto the living room floor, wailing, "Don't touch that wardrobe… Lea put her stickers on it… You're going to ruin the last things she left behind…"

Eleanor covered her face. "Devan, please just stop… I'm begging you…"

The two officers exchanged uneasy glances, while the forensic examiner stood by the door, holding his kit.

Detective Wyatt stared at me for five long seconds.

Under the buzzing hum of the hallway light, his Adam's apple bobbed. He jerked his chin toward the two officers.

Four pairs of hands gripped the edges of the wardrobe. The wooden legs scraped against the tiles, sliding slowly away from the wall.

Behind the wardrobe, a vertical crack running from ceiling to floor was revealed.

The edges were smeared with pale, fresh concrete. The boundary between the old and new cement looked as straight as if it had been drawn with a ruler.

Detective Wyatt's movements slowed as he crouched down. His eyes were fixed on the crack.

"Get the crowbar," he ordered.

The metal bar jammed into the gap. With a downward crank of the wrist, a chunk of concrete crumbled and fell.

With the second strike, a larger gap split open.

The instant the crowbar was pulled free on the third strike, a damp, heavy, sickly metallic stench erupted from deep inside the wall, flooding the entire bedroom.

Isabel's weeping cut off instantly. Her knees gave way, and she collapsed onto the tiled floor. She buried her face in her arms and didn't move.

Across the living room, the last trace of color drained entirely from Henry's face.

Detective Wyatt slowly stood up and turned his back to the cracked wall. "Get tech and forensics down here. Right now."

The light from the window cut through the room at an angle, illuminating the plaster dust drifting slowly through the orange beam.

Henry slumped against the doorframe. His face was as pale as a sheet of paper.

I could hear the wall weeping. Someone was curled up inside.

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  • Real Estate Agent Who Hears Murdered Ghosts   Chapter 8

    Eleanor called me later.Her voice was utterly ruined. When she spoke, she sounded like she had a mouth full of sand. A long pause stretched between her words.I thought she had hung up, but after a long while, her voice drifted through the receiver again. "Devan, I keep dreaming about Lea peeling oranges for me."I never ate the orange she peeled for me that day. I left it on the coffee table. When Henry broke the lease, I forgot to clean it up. She wasn't even theirs, but when she peeled that orange for me, she held her hands up so high."She finished speaking, leaving nothing but the hiss of static on the line."Eleanor," I said, "it didn't hurt when Lea passed. She didn't struggle much."A long silence followed on the other end.Finally, she offered a faint murmur of acknowledgment and hung up.The next morning, Detective Wyatt asked me to come down to the station.When I arrived, he was standing in the main lobby, talking to a man and a woman.The man was in his early 40

  • Real Estate Agent Who Hears Murdered Ghosts   Chapter 7

    Detective Wyatt stood at the far end of the hallway with his back to me. He held those two DNA reports in his hand.Someone reached out and handed him a pen. He scribbled a few words in the blank space of one of the sheets and passed it back.The next morning, he pushed open the door to the office I was sitting in and tossed a stack of photocopies onto the desk."Ten years," he said, sitting on the edge of the table. His voice was laced with the scent of cigarette smoke. "At least five kids across four states."I looked down at the photocopies. They were yellowed newspaper clippings, blurry surveillance stills, and the police report from the neighboring state three years ago.The columns for the reporters' names read "Harren Johnson" and "Irene Martin". Attached was a one-inch photo of a child with two small braids, grinning at the camera.However, right after the date of the report, there was a handwritten note. "Case withdrawn. Missing child returned home on her own.""He with

  • Real Estate Agent Who Hears Murdered Ghosts   Chapter 6

    The interrogation room light hadn't been fixed. It was the same broken bulb. The light flickered erratically.I sat in the observation room next door, watching Henry through the one-way glass. Detective Wyatt sat across from him.When Henry dragged his iron chair forward, the legs scraped against the concrete floor with a long, grating screech."The child in the wall… I'm telling you again, the wall was like that when I moved in. The building is old. It has cracks everywhere."Henry placed both hands on the table. His fingertips tapped the surface in turn. "Eleanor knows. The exterior wall of her place cracked too. A chunk of plaster fell off the neighboring unit last year."Detective Wyatt flipped open a statement and propped it up, turning the page toward Henry. "Last fall, you told Ms. Eleanor Wilson the place was damp and paid out of your own pocket to tile the living room and bedroom."The place had bare concrete floors when you moved in. You laid those tiles yourself. The w

  • Real Estate Agent Who Hears Murdered Ghosts   Chapter 5

    When the tech team pried open the third block of concrete, the forensic examiner's breath caught.The beam of the flashlight probed into the breach, scanning the narrow cavity inside the wall.Where the light stopped, a small, curled-up silhouette emerged.Her head was pressed against her knees, and her arms were wrapped tightly around herself. She lay curled against the curve of the inner wall, looking almost as though she were asleep.Everyone fell silent at once.Even the rustling murmurs from the far end of the hallway were instantly choked off.The forensic examiner crouched there, keeping the flashlight trained on the spot. His other hand fumbled through his kit for a long while before finally finding a mask.He put on his gloves slowly, and his knuckles were strained tight.Detective Wyatt stood just outside the bedroom door. His gaze cut over the examiner's shoulder to land on the edge of the breach. He pressed his lips into a hard line."Based on the initial assessmen

  • Real Estate Agent Who Hears Murdered Ghosts   Chapter 4

    I squatted in front of the wardrobe and ran my fingertip along the grout lines between the tiles.A few of the tiles were lighter in color, as if someone had scrubbed them clean."Were these tiles replaced?" I asked.Eleanor replied, "Last fall, Henry said there was dampness coming up, so he bought some tiles and laid them in the living room and bedroom himself."Detective Wyatt waved an officer over to scan them.The numbers on the LCD screen flickered for a moment before the forensic examiner shook his head. "They're from the same batch. No signs of individual replacements. The color difference is just uneven wear and fading from cleaning agents."Henry straightened up from the doorframe. He let out a short, casual laugh. "Hear that, Mr. Spence? You trashed the place all day, going on about floors and blood, all to prove some poorly wiped cleaning solution damaged the tiles? You just want to keep our security deposit!"When he turned to Eleanor, his voice suddenly became dread

  • Real Estate Agent Who Hears Murdered Ghosts   Chapter 3

    Detective Wyatt's team moved fast.Two officers stepped into the bedroom. The lead cop pulled a spray bottle from his kit, misted a circle around the center of the floor, and flipped the light switch.A sliver of gray light filtered through the gap in the curtains, cutting across the floorboards.When the UV light clicked on, the bedroom plunged into a purplish darkness, casting a cold glow over everyone's faces.The floor began to luminesce. A few scattered, irregular specks of light glowed a faint blue.Isabel's crying cut off instantly. She was crouching by the doorway with her mouth still open, but no sound came out.Henry's Adam's apple bobbed twice. His hands clenched tightly against his thighs, and his knuckles turned white.Detective Wyatt turned to look at them.The bedroom stayed dead silent for about ten seconds.Then, Isabel spoke. Her voice was raspy but unnaturally steady. "It's cat blood."She let go of the doorframe and stood up. Her knees seemed to buckle for

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