Dreamwalkers Book One - The Intruder. A Markland Garraway Paranormal Mystery Thriller, Page 2
Andrew M Stafford
Markland Garraway’s House
Bristol
October 1st 2015
10.38 pm
Markland Garraway deadlocked the door, took off his coat and slumped in his chair.
He’d been on a date. The lady was beautiful, a few years younger than he and with a smile which lit the room. It hadn’t been an easy evening. The food in Bottelinos Italian restaurant had been lovely, but neither of them where in the mood for eating and their conversation had been marred by an air of awkwardness.
Baby steps, thought Markland while he pondered over the evening.
They had agreed to meet again, but she’d said she would call him when she was ready.
Baby steps, thought Markland again.
It had been eighteen months since the conviction of Daniel Boyd for the murder of Ben Walker and Stanley Brown, and just over two years since Liz Mason took her last breath at the bottom of the small hill in Badock’s Wood. Markland would never forget the memory of Liz’s body with her hand gripping the hand of three-year-old Christopher Jameson. It was also just over two years since the unbearable arthritis which contorted and twisted his body had inexplicably left him the moment Liz passed away.
Markland had taken early retirement a few months after the dust had settled. Initially he’d been in a state of euphoria. Euphoria because he’d been proven right all along, euphoria because he’d got one over on both Sergeant Colin Matthews and Detective Superintendent Munroe, and euphoria because he’d got one over on all of those who’d disbelieved him over what he knew to be true about the extraordinary Ben Walker case. He’d been especially pleased to have proven to DS Munroe that he’d been right, as the two of them had rarely seen eye to eye, and the lack of support given by Munroe at such a vulnerable time during Markland’s life had left a bitter taste. There had been little love lost between the two men.
The case had briefly made Markland famous around the world. He’d been the only detective known to have used evidence provided by a murder victim to catch his killer. Now his fame was rising again because Thomas Judd had published his memoirs in a book called ‘The Man Who Caught His Killer’, where the hypnotist recalled how he gleaned information from Ben Walker by way of hypnotising the toddler Christopher. Walker’s spirit had lived within the boy and had been able to communicate to Judd. The book had only been published for two months and already was a best seller. Judd’s publishers were currently negotiating a movie deal.
But Markland’s euphoria had been relatively short-lived. After taking long term leave on health grounds, he found his new position within the police force as a trainer to rookie up and coming detectives had lost its lustre and he couldn’t stomach returning to his original role as a regular Detective Chief Inspector.
His bittersweet relationship with his former partner, Sergeant Matthews, had become bitter again. Despite meeting for a drink a few months after the Walker case had closed, to bury the hatchet and toast their success, an air of awkwardness still remained between the two men. Garraway had assisted with a case Matthews had been working on which strongly hinted of something paranormal, but nothing had come of it and the two men became distant. They had become so distant that they went out of their way to avoid one another when both in Kenneth Steele House, which housed the incident rooms where Matthews spent most of his time and the training rooms where Garraway spent most of his.
Joan, his wife, had left him during the heady days of the Walker case. She couldn’t tolerate his mood swings, depression nor his drinking. She felt guilty about abandoning him to deal with his crippling arthritis alone, but because of her own state of mental health she had no choice.
Markland was hopeful that things would soon be different. The evening’s date with her at Bottelinos was the first along the path of reconciliation. He was fitter and stronger, both mentally and physically, than he’d been for a long time, and he was hopeful that he and Joan would get back together and carry on from when things between them had been better.
He’d found retirement to be a long haul. It was a drawn out and lonely battle with depression and alcoholism, but was grateful he’d come out of the other side relatively unscathed. At night his dreams were regularly peppered with what had happened on the hill and the events leading up to the death of Liz.
Both Maria and Campbell, Christopher’s parents, had been supportive and remained close friends of Markland, as had Terry Mason, Liz’s father.
Markland flicked on the television and surfed the channels. There was nothing worth watching. There were more channels than ever before, but to him there was nothing of interest. It was all talent shows, ‘fly on the wall’ documentaries, programmes about fat people wanting to be thin and thin people wanting to be fatter. He preferred the days when there were only five channels. He checked the time and decided it was time for bed.
He trudged into the hall and was about to climb the stairs when he saw the unopened post by the front door. He stooped down and scooped up four envelopes. The first two were utility bills, which he flung on the shelf, the third was franked and had a return address of Compton Wells School in Bristol. He ripped open the envelope and scanned the paragraphs looking for the words he hoped to see. A smile spread across his face as he read the news he had been waiting for. He’d been offered a part-time job as an Attendance Improvement Officer at the school. He was definitely fitter and stronger than he’d been in years, in fact he was better in mind, body and spirit since the whole Ben Walker episode entered his life way back in the autumn of two thousand and nine, and now he was ready to re-enter the world of employment. Markland didn’t apply for the job because he needed money, the police pension took care of things nicely, but he viewed it as a step in the right direction to keep his mental state of health intact.
He folded the letter, replaced it in the envelope and turned his attention to the fourth letter. It was a white DL envelope sealed with sticky tape. Written on the front in felt pen was one word.
Markland
He frowned and held it to the ceiling light, as if doing so would offer further clues to what was inside. He slid his finger under the flap and opened the envelope. Inside was a piece of lined notepaper which was folded. He unfolded it and gazed at what was written.
Meet me at the hill in Badock’s Wood tomorrow morning at 10.
I need your help.
Markland gripped the note. Just thinking of returning to the Woods made him unsettled. He read the note again, as if reading it for a second time would reveal something he hadn’t seen the first time around.
“What the hell?”
After the Walker case Markland had been stopped in the street countless times by those who’d recognised him after seeing him on television news reports. They’d been keen to shake his hand and a few had wanted to share with him stories of paranormal things which had happened in their lives. They had wanted to know what he thought and whether he could offer an explanation. It was as if he became an expert in all things supernatural. But this was the first time he’d received a request from somebody asking for help.
The unsettling feeling had turned to one of fear. Fear of doing something that he swore he would never do again. He had vowed that he would never set foot in Badock’s Wood, let alone return to the hill where the Ben Walker murder case had begun. He put the notepaper back in the envelope and placed it next to the unopened bills.
He prepared for bed and closed the bedroom curtains. Had he not been so tired he may have noticed the man standing beneath the yellow glow of the street lamp, looking up at Markland’s bedroom window.
Chapter 2
Bristol
October 1st 2015
10.38 pm
Markland Garraway deadlocked the door, took off his coat and slumped in his chair.
He’d been on a date. The lady was beautiful, a few years younger than he and with a smile which lit the room. It hadn’t been an easy evening. The food in Bottelinos Italian restaurant had been lovely, but neither of them where in the mood for eating and their conversation had been marred by an air of awkwardness.
Baby steps, thought Markland while he pondered over the evening.
They had agreed to meet again, but she’d said she would call him when she was ready.
Baby steps, thought Markland again.
It had been eighteen months since the conviction of Daniel Boyd for the murder of Ben Walker and Stanley Brown, and just over two years since Liz Mason took her last breath at the bottom of the small hill in Badock’s Wood. Markland would never forget the memory of Liz’s body with her hand gripping the hand of three-year-old Christopher Jameson. It was also just over two years since the unbearable arthritis which contorted and twisted his body had inexplicably left him the moment Liz passed away.
Markland had taken early retirement a few months after the dust had settled. Initially he’d been in a state of euphoria. Euphoria because he’d been proven right all along, euphoria because he’d got one over on both Sergeant Colin Matthews and Detective Superintendent Munroe, and euphoria because he’d got one over on all of those who’d disbelieved him over what he knew to be true about the extraordinary Ben Walker case. He’d been especially pleased to have proven to DS Munroe that he’d been right, as the two of them had rarely seen eye to eye, and the lack of support given by Munroe at such a vulnerable time during Markland’s life had left a bitter taste. There had been little love lost between the two men.
The case had briefly made Markland famous around the world. He’d been the only detective known to have used evidence provided by a murder victim to catch his killer. Now his fame was rising again because Thomas Judd had published his memoirs in a book called ‘The Man Who Caught His Killer’, where the hypnotist recalled how he gleaned information from Ben Walker by way of hypnotising the toddler Christopher. Walker’s spirit had lived within the boy and had been able to communicate to Judd. The book had only been published for two months and already was a best seller. Judd’s publishers were currently negotiating a movie deal.
But Markland’s euphoria had been relatively short-lived. After taking long term leave on health grounds, he found his new position within the police force as a trainer to rookie up and coming detectives had lost its lustre and he couldn’t stomach returning to his original role as a regular Detective Chief Inspector.
His bittersweet relationship with his former partner, Sergeant Matthews, had become bitter again. Despite meeting for a drink a few months after the Walker case had closed, to bury the hatchet and toast their success, an air of awkwardness still remained between the two men. Garraway had assisted with a case Matthews had been working on which strongly hinted of something paranormal, but nothing had come of it and the two men became distant. They had become so distant that they went out of their way to avoid one another when both in Kenneth Steele House, which housed the incident rooms where Matthews spent most of his time and the training rooms where Garraway spent most of his.
Joan, his wife, had left him during the heady days of the Walker case. She couldn’t tolerate his mood swings, depression nor his drinking. She felt guilty about abandoning him to deal with his crippling arthritis alone, but because of her own state of mental health she had no choice.
Markland was hopeful that things would soon be different. The evening’s date with her at Bottelinos was the first along the path of reconciliation. He was fitter and stronger, both mentally and physically, than he’d been for a long time, and he was hopeful that he and Joan would get back together and carry on from when things between them had been better.
He’d found retirement to be a long haul. It was a drawn out and lonely battle with depression and alcoholism, but was grateful he’d come out of the other side relatively unscathed. At night his dreams were regularly peppered with what had happened on the hill and the events leading up to the death of Liz.
Both Maria and Campbell, Christopher’s parents, had been supportive and remained close friends of Markland, as had Terry Mason, Liz’s father.
Markland flicked on the television and surfed the channels. There was nothing worth watching. There were more channels than ever before, but to him there was nothing of interest. It was all talent shows, ‘fly on the wall’ documentaries, programmes about fat people wanting to be thin and thin people wanting to be fatter. He preferred the days when there were only five channels. He checked the time and decided it was time for bed.
He trudged into the hall and was about to climb the stairs when he saw the unopened post by the front door. He stooped down and scooped up four envelopes. The first two were utility bills, which he flung on the shelf, the third was franked and had a return address of Compton Wells School in Bristol. He ripped open the envelope and scanned the paragraphs looking for the words he hoped to see. A smile spread across his face as he read the news he had been waiting for. He’d been offered a part-time job as an Attendance Improvement Officer at the school. He was definitely fitter and stronger than he’d been in years, in fact he was better in mind, body and spirit since the whole Ben Walker episode entered his life way back in the autumn of two thousand and nine, and now he was ready to re-enter the world of employment. Markland didn’t apply for the job because he needed money, the police pension took care of things nicely, but he viewed it as a step in the right direction to keep his mental state of health intact.
He folded the letter, replaced it in the envelope and turned his attention to the fourth letter. It was a white DL envelope sealed with sticky tape. Written on the front in felt pen was one word.
Markland
He frowned and held it to the ceiling light, as if doing so would offer further clues to what was inside. He slid his finger under the flap and opened the envelope. Inside was a piece of lined notepaper which was folded. He unfolded it and gazed at what was written.
Meet me at the hill in Badock’s Wood tomorrow morning at 10.
I need your help.
Markland gripped the note. Just thinking of returning to the Woods made him unsettled. He read the note again, as if reading it for a second time would reveal something he hadn’t seen the first time around.
“What the hell?”
After the Walker case Markland had been stopped in the street countless times by those who’d recognised him after seeing him on television news reports. They’d been keen to shake his hand and a few had wanted to share with him stories of paranormal things which had happened in their lives. They had wanted to know what he thought and whether he could offer an explanation. It was as if he became an expert in all things supernatural. But this was the first time he’d received a request from somebody asking for help.
The unsettling feeling had turned to one of fear. Fear of doing something that he swore he would never do again. He had vowed that he would never set foot in Badock’s Wood, let alone return to the hill where the Ben Walker murder case had begun. He put the notepaper back in the envelope and placed it next to the unopened bills.
He prepared for bed and closed the bedroom curtains. Had he not been so tired he may have noticed the man standing beneath the yellow glow of the street lamp, looking up at Markland’s bedroom window.
Chapter 2
