‘Mum?’ I called, walking into the house.
Tilly and Spectre greeted me, so she wasn’t out walking. But there was no car on the driveway. That was odd. ‘Thomas?’ I called. No answer.
Garden? No, it was too cold for that. What was she doing?
I took my shoes and coat off, Tilly dancing around me the whole time, then trudged upstairs. The loft hatch at the top was open, a pair of step ladders underneath the opening. ‘Mum?’ I called up.
‘Just fetching the Christmas decorations, don’t mind me,’ she said.
Thomas floated down through the ceiling. ‘Hi, Edie.’
‘Hey Thomas.’
‘Here, grab the tree,’ said Mum, pushing the dusty box through the hole. I reached up to grab it, lowering it down then resting it just inside Mum’s bedroom door. Tilly sniffed it, then walked off. Obviously Princess Westie disapproved of the fusty plastic smell.
‘I thought the house could do with some festive cheer,’ said Mum, handing me another box. ‘Especially after everything that’s been going on lately.’
Thomas frowned, then floated downstairs to give us some privacy.
‘You mean like whatever happened to the car?’ I said. While I couldn’t guarantee something had happened to it, no car on the driveway and Mum getting the decorations down mid-December were flashing neon signs something had happened. She was usually a ‘put the decorations up the week before’ sort of person.
Mum cleared her throat, almost shoving the next box at me and causing me to stumble into the wall. She didn’t say anything else until she’d closed the loft hatch and stomped down the ladder.
‘I crashed into a lamp. Don’t say anything.’
Oh my god. What had I missed while I was at college? Why didn’t she ring me?
‘I wasn’t going to! Other than what happened? Are you all right? You look all right?’
She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. ‘I’m fine, obviously, but the car took a beating, so it’s in the garage. They’re sending a courtesy car over. Your dad already gave me a lecture about driving when I’m so tired.’
‘Yes, yes I did,’ said Dad, appearing beside her with a sombre expression on his face. He gave Mum the side eye. ‘You know better.’
‘What was I supposed to do? Cancel on a client?’
‘You did anyway,’ he mumbled.
She glared at him.
‘It’s not my fault I can’t get any sleep! If it isn’t for my pounding headache, the relentless tossing and turning, or the racing thoughts, it’s that damn whistling!’
‘You’re still hearing it?’ I asked. Was that what was causing Mum’s headache? No wonder she couldn’t sleep.
‘How often are you hearing it?’ asked Dad.
‘Most nights,’ said Mum, shaking her head. ‘The tune varies. Some nights, it’s just an annoying sound. On the nights he murders, it’s impossible for me to block it out. A million times worse than nails on a chalkboard. Based on what one of his other victims said, Ben and I think he torments his victims first to weaken them, then uses the second whistle to either torture them in another way or exert some sort of power over them before he kills them. Maybe to incapacitate them so that they can’t fight back.’
‘Could whistling really do that?’ asked Javi.
‘There are a lot of things in our lives that sound impossible but seem to happen anyway.’ Mum gestured to him.
‘Point taken.’
‘And look at what the sodding noise is doing to me. I imagine it’d be louder and more annoying for someone he’s right in front of.’ She massaged her forehead, a reminder of just how much pain the noise was causing her.
‘Do you think you’re on his list?’ I couldn’t help it. I had to ask. Why else would Mum hear his haunting tune? Or lack of a tune?
She sighed. ‘Who knows?’
Was that supposed to reassure me?
Instead of answering my question, she grabbed a box of Christmas decorations and marched down the stairs.
No wonder she couldn’t sleep. She was terrified she was next. So was I.
I looked over at Dad, who shrugged, picked up the Christmas tree, and followed her. How much energy was he using doing that? Was he even allowed to do that? Not that he’d ever been one to listen to rules.
I picked up the last box and joined them in the living room, where Tilly, Spectre, and Thomas sat on the sofa.
‘Did you hear it the night Tessa was killed?’ I asked. Even though Mum wanted to end this conversation, I so wasn’t over it.
Mum nodded, using a pair of scissors to score open a box. ‘Yes. I didn’t know what it was at the time, but I heard the other tune a few nights in a row before she was killed, too.’
‘It doesn’t make sense,’ said Dad. ‘Unless…’
Mum looked up. ‘Unless what?’
‘Well, you died for a few minutes before Edie resurrected you, right?’
Mum nodded. Dad had been there when it’d happened but he’d been in a trance, so he had no recollection of that time.
He hover-paced as he talked, floating through the coffee table and back again. ‘What if you’ve got a closer connection to the spirit world now, and that’s why you can hear it, not because you’re a target?’
‘That makes sense,’ I agreed, taking the scissors from Mum and opening the other box. The smell of dusty tinsel filled the air. I kind of liked it. It reminded me of when times had been simpler. ‘It’s been going on too long and things haven’t escalated. It doesn’t make sense otherwise when the others are only tormented for a few days before the tune changes.’
‘That’s somewhat relieving,’ said Mum. ‘It at least means he’s not on to me yet.’ We hoped.
‘If it will help you sleep, I can keep an eye out when you’re asleep,’ offered Dad.
‘Are you allowed to do that?’ asked Mum.
He shrugged. ‘If it’ll make my family feel better, I’m not opposed to breaking a few rules.’