Page 113 of The Haunting of Lockton

I saw him from my peripherals. A pale face. Black eyes. A mouth that hung open, as though his jaw was dislocated. Ice shot through my veins, turning my blood cold.

Julian yanked on my arm and flung me back into the corridor, away from the door. I stumbled in step but quickly righted myself. Just in time to see the ghost lunge forward and stop inches from my brother.

“Jules!”

“Stay back, Sky,” he warned, not taking his eyes off the ghost.

The corridor had better lighting than the cell. Not much, but enough to make out more of his features. I was right about him being blond. I’d been right about the blood too. It oozed from a gaping hole at the back of his head and soaked into his hair and trickled down his shirt. Almost like…

“A gunshot wound,” I whispered.

“Owen?” Julian had also put two and two together. “Owen Reilley?”

Owen’s head jerked to the side, and his angry, distorted features lightened, if only a little. As for why his mouth had looked so unnatural? His jaw hung loose, as though the shotto the back of the head had shattered it. He was terrifying and heartbreaking at the same time.

“That’s your name, right?” Julian asked.

A wet gurgling left Owen. The same sound I’d heard while reviewing audio and hadn’t known what it was. Now, I did.

“Leave,” Owen growled in a dual-layered voice, a deep, gravelly one mixed with one of a slightly higher pitch.

Earlier, Julian had said the presence reminded him of Alan. More of an intelligent haunting rather than residual. Owen definitely seemed more alert and aware of his surroundings compared to other ghosts I’d met. Like Alan.

Well, almost.

Unlike Owen, Alan’s wounds were nowhere in sight. A small mercy for Paxton, I’d bet. I’d barely gotten the chance to know Alan, but I didn’t want to see him bloody with bullet holes or god knows what else happened to him in no-man’s-land either.

“We’re investigators,” Julian said in a surprisingly steady tone. Being face-to-face with Owen in his current state was gut-wrenching. “We just want to know what happened to you.”

“Why do you care?” Owen snapped. Blood dribbled from his mouth and onto the front of his shirt. “No one cares about us. They never have.”

“I care.”

“You are but one man.” Owen sneered at him. “And it’s much too late for you to be of any use to those of us within these walls.”

Though subtle, shock flitted across my brother’s face. “You know you’re dead?”

Further evidence that Owen was more like Alan. Aware of the truth. Some ghosts didn’t realize they were… well, ghosts.

“Of course I know.” A tremor passed through him, causing his body to flicker. “Look at me! Look what they did!” He thensaid in a softer, much more broken voice, “Look what they did tohim.”

“Who?”

Owen wailed low and deep. “They killed him.” Another strong quake of his body. “They threw me in this cell and put a hole in his head.” He lifted a hand to the back of his skull. “Much like one was put in mine.”

A hole in his head. Roy had a lobotomy. The pieces were sliding into place now. I was ninety-nine percent sure Owen was Roy’s mystery man.

“I failed him,” Owen added. His head twitched as a silent scream formed on his lips. “My beautiful Roy.”

A confirmation. The excitement at getting an answer was dulled by the devastation pouring off Owen.

“I heard you attacked an orderly and that’s why you were sent here,” Julian said.

“Lies.” Owen’s jaw snapped shut, then slid back open. More blood drenched the front of his shirt. “The man caught Roy and I kissing in the corridor and tackled me to the floor. Restraints were placed on my wrists, and I was dragged down to this cell.”

“Then they performed the lobotomy on Roy the next day.”

Grief crumpled Owen’s face before another low wail tore through his throat. “My Roy. I was supposed to watch the sunset with him.”