Текст книги "Time to Die"

Автор книги: Caroline Mitchell

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Chapter Forty-Seven

Bert

He was getting stronger, he could feel it in his bones. Every cell was repairing, knitting together, expelling the sick, and cleansing his blood. The police officer may not have been part of his plan but he had come too far now, he could not risk getting caught. Now all he needed to complete his mission was to fulfil two more prophecies. The bound and gagged police officer was a good bargaining tool. If the homeless man did not bring Jennifer Knight to him, the death of her colleague would. He needed to arrange a meeting, and he needed her to come alone. This had to be personal, so personal that she would want him solely for herself. She was close. He could feel her energy reaching out to him, probing the darkness. It was all coming together, and he was ready.

Like a vampire, he would feed from the essence of her soul. Only then could he be free. Bert smiled as he watched in his rear view mirror of his mother’s car. The ragged man slowly ambled up the road, his face wracked with discomfort as he clutched a rucksack over one shoulder, and his scruffy dog under his arm. A grey blanket enveloped the terrier’s body, its small black nose peeping out from the layers. Bert pressed the brake, allowing the man to catch him up. The drizzly weather had kept people inside, and Bert felt his confidence in his mission grow. The car came to a slow halt as he unwound the dirt-streaked window, a spray of drizzle providing fresh vigour.

‘Can I give you a lift?’ Bert craned his neck to peer up at the man.

George pulled the scruffy terrier up under his right arm as he shuffled on the pavement towards town. He hunched his shoulders in a determined march, throwing a glance at the driver of the car crawling alongside the kerb. ‘Do I know you?’

‘Don’t you remember? We shared a drink the other night. Can I give you a lift?’ Bert tried to hide the glint of excitement in his eyes. Such enthusiasm tended to unsettle people, and although his prey may have overlooked it for the sake of a drink, in the empty streets with nothing but blackbirds circling overhead, he may not be as keen. He could also have been warned of a suspicious man in the area.

‘I’ve got a little nip of something that should help warm you up,’ Bert said, his patience running thin. His eyes flicked to the mirror to check the streets were clear. A knife lay hidden in the pocket of his door well. The dog could prove difficult, but if the old man didn’t get in voluntarily, he would take him by force.

George came to a sudden halt, his dog shivering under his arm. Bert willed him to climb inside, wondering if the sight of rosary beads hanging from his mirror would give him some much needed reassurance.

George hoisted up the dog under his shoulder, his own discomfort evident by his pained expression. ‘I need a lift to the vet’s. Me dog is sick. I think he’s caught a chill.’

Bert leaned across and pulled the passenger door handle. The bottom of the door scraped across the pavement and it protested with a loud creak. It hadn’t been opened in years, and an earthen mossy odour escaped with a barely audible whoosh.

‘Hop in,’ Bert said, with his most reassuring smile.

George ducked his head as he climbed inside. ‘Thanks very much, mister. Can ya drop me to the Haven Veterinary clinic on the far side of town? You’ll have to turn around. Do ya want me to direct ya?’

Bert checked his mirrors as he pulled away from the kerb. ‘No need. I know exactly where I need to go.’

George drew the seatbelt across his dog, strapping him onto his lap. Tinker blinked before narrowing his eyes at Bert, and a low rumble of a growl ensued.

‘Tinker, stop that,’ George said, stroking down the white hackles forming on the dog’s back. The car veered left and began to gain speed as it took a country road out of town. ‘You’re going the wrong way, mister, the vet’s back there.’ George jabbed his thumb behind him.

Bert stared firmly ahead. ‘In good time. There’s a few loose ends to tie up first.’

George’s straggly Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his liver spotted hands shaking in tune with Tinker’s nervous shiver. Probably desperate for a drink, Bert thought, knowing that would be the least of his worries soon. As if reading his thoughts, the dog gave a low growl, enough to tell him he was up to no good. Bert smiled in satisfaction. He had George exactly where he wanted him. There was no way he could get out of the car while it was moving so fast. The metal box shook as it hit the country lanes, the worn-out suspension making every bone in his body rattle.

‘I don’t have time for this,’ George said, his teeth jarring as the car bounced out of another pothole. ‘Just bring me back to where you found me and I’ll be on my way.’

Bert tightened his fingers over the narrow steering wheel and threw George a poisonous look. ‘You’ll go when I say you can go. Now sit tight, this won’t take very long.’

George’s voice rose up a pitch. ‘What do ya want with me? Sure I’m just an auld fella on the street. What interest do ya have in me or me dog?’

Bert shook his head. ‘I saw your past, I read your cards. What’s the saying? What comes around goes around. Well today destiny is paying out.’

‘What?’ George said, craning forward in his seat as the car slowed to a halt. As he gazed at the landscape ahead, it all became clear. The earlier drizzle began to thicken, as black clouds blotted the landscape. A low rumble of thunder echoed from far away.

‘I’m not going in there,’ George said, as Bert opened his passenger door from the outside.

Bert leaned across and clicked the stiffened seatbelt free, pulling back his hand from the snapping muzzle. ‘Fine. Then we’ll do this the hard way, because I always get what I want.’

Bert ripped the blanket from George’s arms and threw it over the dog’s head.

‘What are ya doing to Tinker?’ George yelped, slapping away his hands. ‘Don’t hurt me little dog.’

‘I’m not going to hurt him, I’m just bringing him for a walk,’ Bert said as a sheet of drizzle showered his face. Wrenching the dog from George’s arms, he strode to the building ahead. George caterwauled in despair, shuffling and limping behind Bert, his black coat flapping in the rising wind. In the distance, a flash of light followed the boom of thunder.

The corners of Bert’s mouth cranked upwards as a flock of ravens cut through the evening air. One, two, three … there was no stopping the prophecy now.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Jennifer nursed her cappuccino as she inhaled the delicious aroma of freshly ground coffee beans in the small cosy cafe. While most police officers frequented pubs in their leisure time, Jennifer could usually be found in one of Haven’s coffee shops. Although she was not averse to going out for a drink, the smell of alcohol reminded her too much of her father, and the nights she had to pull on her coat to walk through the dimly lit streets to bring him home. Heads would turn as she entered each of the local boozers, full of drunken patrons elbowing each other to warn of the presence of a child. Their father had become an expert at dealing with the occasional visits from social services. Lying was a natural talent, and he used his charm to ease any lingering doubts.

Jennifer forced herself to snap out of it. Without work to occupy her, her thoughts often returned to the past. Only now could she comprehend how much danger she and Amy had been in. And yet her father was back, raking up old wounds.

She liked the coffee shop because she was always left alone to ponder. Nobody took your cup before you finished, or wiped your table to subtly pressure you into leaving. It was usually filled with young girls, admirers of the David Beckham lookalike barista who ran it. Jennifer turned her thoughts to Will, who had made the journey home to chat to his mum about their relationship. She didn’t know what worried her the most, the fact he deemed their relationship serious enough to involve his parents, or their reaction when they found out how smitten he was. He didn’t need to say he loved her, it was evident every moment they spent together. But it was no secret they wanted him to return to his remorseful wife, who was yet to sign the divorce papers citing her infidelities. Jennifer’s fingers found the nape of her neck as a cold breeze danced on her skin. She shook off the feeling, telling herself she was being silly. But as she gripped her mug, a ball of dread dropped like a stone inside her.

Students giggled as they waited to be served, toddlers whined in their pushchairs, and the man across from her rustled the pages of the Financial Times. But it was all lost to Jennifer as she sat stiffly in her chair, oblivious to the outside world. Something was wrong. It chilled her bones and filled her soul with dread, detaching her from reality until the only sound she could hear was the beating of her own heart.

She jumped out of her trance as her telephone rang, bringing up her knee and spilling the contents of her coffee cup across the table. Jennifer mopped the cold liquid with serviettes. Just how long had she been sitting there? Grabbing her handbag she squeezed past a queue of customers to the front door. Of all the places for that to happen, she thought. I must have looked like a shop dummy sitting next to the window in a trance. But the feelings of misgivings had not relinquished their hold, and her heart skipped a beat as her phone rang a second time.

It was not Will’s name that lit the screen but Christian’s. ‘Hello?’ Jennifer whispered, fiddling with her car keys as she strode down the path.

Christian’s voice was breathy. ‘I’m glad I caught you. Bert’s called my mobile. He said he was going to pay me a visit, but he had some business to take care of first. I’ve had a bad feeling all morning, I just knew something was going to happen.’

Jennifer’s heart flickered. ‘Did you hear any background noises? Anything to tell you his location?’

‘He said something about being in the highest point in Haven. I could hear someone shouting in the background, something about letting go of a tinker. That’s when the call ended. You need to arrest him, Jenny, please. I’m terrified he might come around and harm the children.’

Tinker? Jennifer searched the corridors of her brain as she tried to extract the information she needed. She stared at the cracks in the rain-dappled pavement, her forehead knotted in a frown. Tinker … ‘The voice, did it have an accent?’

‘It wasn’t local. He just kept shouting something about Tinker, and then the phone went dead. I didn’t even know Bert had a phone.’

Jennifer nodded, even though Christian could not see her. ‘OK. I’ll call this through to control and send somebody over to keep an eye on the place. Keep the line free and call me if you hear any more.’

Jennifer tapped her fingers against her lips, pushing back her anxiety. The Raven must have taken George and his dog. But why would he want to hurt them? Membership of The Reborners came with a hefty price tag and Jennifer couldn’t imagine him attending. And where the hell was the highest point in Haven? She alerted control to carry out a local search, and organised a unit to attend Christian’s address for safeguarding. The wind whistled as the dark clouds whipped into a storm, sending loose leaves in a circular dance as the breeze picked up momentum.

The thoughts of the Raven hurting George filled her with trepid determination. She had to find the Raven before he killed again. A sense of déjà vu swept over her as she recalled her last big case, attending the boathouse to save her young nephew Joshua. In her eyes, George Butler was every bit as vulnerable. A small frail man with a trusting nature, she struggled to understand why the Raven would hurt him … unless it was solely to get to her. She thought of the last time they spoke, the raven glaring down at them from the branches of the tree. Was it an omen? Jennifer’s heart pounded in her chest at the thought of George making his way to the highest point in Haven. But where was the bloody highest point? Haven was relatively flat. There was a river, woodlands, and acres of unkempt land, but no mountains or hills to be explored. Frustration pushed the breath out of her body and she fought to calm herself in short gasps. She couldn’t keep driving aimlessly around, waiting for answers. She had to stop the prophecy.

She dialled her sergeant’s number and patched it through to hands free. It was picked up on the first ring. ‘Sarge, give me some answers please, where’s the highest point in Haven?’

‘I’m looking. There are several blocks of flats, or the radio station, but I don’t think anyone can get in there. We don’t even know if he means a building or land, do we?’

Jennifer could hear a keyboard tapping in the background. She was about to reply that she didn’t know, when she was interrupted by Claire’s voice.

‘Hang on, I’ve got it on Google. The highest point in Haven is the radio station, it’s located on the old industrial estate. I’ll update control and get some units to meet you there. And Jennifer … you don’t need to look for Bert’s van. Officers picked it up down a side alley half an hour ago.’

The trees flashed past the window in a green blur as Jennifer drove towards Radio Haven. She glanced at her dashboard as the ding ding of her warning system alerted her she was low on petrol. Swearing under her breath, she gripped the steering wheel. It wasn’t like her to be so disorganised, but with everything going on, her normally ordered lifestyle had been thrown into chaos.

Jennifer swung her car around and pushed her foot onto the accelerator as the engine roared into life. The Siri device on her phone obtained the number for the radio station and she punched it in.

‘Come on, come on,’ she growled as the slow tone rang out unanswered. Just what was she going to say if she got through anyway? Surely anyone trying to get access to their roof would be challenged, and if they’d seen anything suspicious they would call the police. She cancelled the call and concentrated on the road, wishing she had a blue light on the roof of her car.

[#]

Jennifer’s car screeched up to the building, sending gravel skidding across the path as she yanked her handbrake. Pulling out her warrant card, she flashed it at the brunette on the reception desk.

‘DC Knight. Has anyone suspicious come in this way? Any men you don’t know?’

The brunette closed her magazine, a wad of chewing gum resting on her back teeth as she stared open-mouthed. ‘No, nobody,’ she squeaked in a small voice.

‘How do you get access to the roof? Is it possible for someone to get on from outside?’ Jennifer said, her heart pounding as precious seconds passed by.

The girl pointed at a set of double doors to the left of the building. ‘There’s a railing outside but it’s safer in the lift. It’ll bring you right up to the roof.’

‘Thank you. We have concerns that an elderly homeless man may be trying to jump off a building today. If you see anyone matching this description on the premises then call the police.’

The girl chewed her gum a couple of times before answering, ‘Sure, I will do.’ But Jennifer had already left, and was hastily jabbing the buttons to call the lift.

She wrung her hands as the lift slowly ascended, the panelled numbers of each floor flashing red as they rolled across the glass screen, one … two … three … four … as if in slow motion. Jennifer’s imagination went into overdrive, acting out every worst-case scenario. How terrified must George and Tinker be in the clutches of the madman? she thought, clenching her fists. She didn’t trust the receptionist, who had been engrossed in her magazine when she burst through the double doors. They could have easily gotten past her and slipped into the lift. They could be up there right now. She envisioned them on the roof as the wind whipped around them. Bert standing behind George, his hands rough on his back. The skinny Irish man was skin and bone. It would only take a small push to send him over the edge. Clutching his little dog, he would either land on the concrete or on the roof of a car in the car park below. She willed the lift to move faster until finally it dinged.

A gust of cold fresh air invaded her space as the doors slid open. With slow, cautious steps Jennifer walked out onto the bleak flat roof. Thick blankets of clouds rolled overhead, carrying the guts of a storm, and loose wire cables whipped ominously against the tangled steel of a radio mast. Car doors slammed below, and the sound of heavy boots scrunching on gravel told her that her colleagues had arrived. But the roof was desolate, with no sign of the Raven or George. A gust of wind flapped her jacket open, and the reality that she had come to a dead end delivered with it a bolt of anger.

‘Damn it!’ she said, stepping back into the lift and pressing the button for the ground floor. Her colleagues were waiting for her as she got to ground level, and she shook her head as she stepped out. ‘Sorry guys, it appears to be a false alarm. There’s nobody up there.’

A ruddy-faced officer nodded. ‘We’ve checked the ladder and the rear of the building. Reception will call us if anyone turns up. The PCSOs have checked the other high points, the tower block and the new church.’

It wasn’t until Jennifer got in her car that the answer came to her. The Raven had been away from Haven for a long time, and his psychiatrist said he often lived in the past. His perception of the highest peak may not be the same as theirs. The radio station, the tower block and the new church were all built in the last few years since the expansion of the town. The officer’s words filtered through her brain. They’d checked the new church. But not the old one. She opened her car door to alert her colleagues, then paused, allowing them to drive away. She could have been wrong, and the Raven may have been setting her up to look like a fool. But something in her gut told her she was on the right track. It was the same stubborn determination that made her want this arrest all to herself. Emily’s little boy floated in her vision, starving and alone as his mother lay dead on the bed. She would be the one to bring the Raven in. She grabbed her shoulder harness from the back seat and pushed her arms through the loops. The weight of her baton, handcuffs, and CS incapacitant spray felt good as it nestled next to her ribs. She started her car and drove in the direction of the church. They had a bond, which would soon be broken. She was going to take the Raven down.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Bert

‘Please,’ George said, his voice frail and broken. His tattered coat flapped mercilessly as he followed in Bert’s wake across the open plains of the remote church land. ‘Please, mister, just let me little dog go. He’s not well.’

Bert strode in wide, dogged footsteps through the overgrown graveyard, squashing the growling terrier close to his chest. Moss-covered headstones slanted against the rushes trembling in the wind. The residents of this graveyard had little family left to mourn them, and as Bert stomped carelessly over their graves, his thoughts were focused only on reaching the bell tower. His mother used to say it was the highest point in Haven, and how once she had ventured up there after visiting Callum’s grave. He knew then that she had considered jumping off. He often wondered what brought her back from the edge. It wasn’t love, that much he knew. His twin’s gravestone lay in the children’s graveyard at the back of the church, and he recalled that a weeping stone angel stood guard over the young souls taken too soon. But none of that mattered, as Bert doggedly carried out his mission. All that was left was to carry out the final prophecies. A thin layer of sweat glistened on his forehead. The ravens above cawed and screeched their warnings, as ominous as the derelict church ahead. Time was running out. He didn’t have a second to lose.

Bert pushed open the wooden door at the rear of the old stone-walled building, which had been there almost as long as Haven itself. Bats rustled overhead, disturbed by the footsteps echoing through the crumbling spiral steps to the belfry.

‘Come along, I’ve got you a present,’ Bert said, his words echoing as he climbed each step. George’s terrier emitted soft muffled whimpers as he cried for his owner.

George wheezed as he forced his legs to climb the stone stairwell, Tinker’s distress spurring him on. His neck craned upwards in the gloom, and he shouted a warning. ‘I don’t want yer fecking present. Now let us go or I’ll call the guards on ya.’

Bert carried on climbing until he reached the bell tower, positioning himself perilously close to a windowless alcove.

‘The guards?’ Bert laughed, as George joined him, panting for breath. ‘You’re not in Ireland now, George. I’ve seen your past; I don’t think you’d be welcome there again, do you?’ Bert waited for the shock to register on George’s face before carrying on. ‘So take your present and be happy about it.’ Wriggling in his arms, Tinker gave a threatening growl. Bert pulled back the blanket and slapped him on the muzzle.

George whimpered at the sight of his beloved pet being mistreated. ‘Wait, I’m sorry, I’d love to see me present. Can’t we go back down and take a look at it?’

Bert moved towards the shafts of light stabbing the gloom. ‘There’s no need, I have it here. Take a seat and I’ll give it to you.’

George took one look at the madness dancing behind his eyes, and sat down before his legs gave way.

‘Good,’ Bert said, unceremoniously dropping the dog to the floor with a plop. Opening his rucksack, he pulled a long black cloth and shook it free of its creases before passing it to George. ‘Put it on,’ he said, a menacing tinge to his voice.

George said, ‘What?’

‘Don’t play stupid with me. I said, put it on.’

George opened his mouth to speak, but instead was taken over by a series of spluttered coughs and wheezes. But there was little sympathy to be gained from Bert, who dumped the garment over his head and pulled his limp arms out either side.

‘You don’t know the lengths I had to go to, in order to get my hands on this.’ Bert stood back and frowned. ‘It’s a bit big. Here, let me fasten these buttons.’

George’s voice came in a throaty rasp. ‘Please, no more. I’m not well.’ He rubbed his tightening chest. His fingers touched the buttons of the cassock and his eyes grew wide as he realised the garments that had been bestowed upon him. ‘What sort of tomfoolery is this?’

Bert widened his smile in mimicry as the lilt of an Irish accent passed his lips. ‘Wat’s going on? Ah sure I’m only an auld beggar man to be sure to be sure.’

Tinker barked weakly in the corner as George’s trembling fingers worked to release the long line of buttons from the holes.

‘Oh no you don’t.’ Bertram's long nails dug into George’s scrawny wrists as he grabbed them tightly, causing him to cry out in pain. ‘No you fucking don’t, you hear me? Not unless you want to see flea-bag here bungee jumping without a rope.’

‘What do ya want from me? Do I know you?’

‘No but I know you, Father Butler. I’ve seen all your secrets. Did you really think you deserved a second chance?’

George’s mouth dropped open, his eyes pleading with his captor. ‘I … I haven’t served as a priest for twenty years.’

Bert paced the narrow space. The wind screamed through the cracks in the walls while a sense of madness rose in the wild evening air. He stopped abruptly, smiling again. His moods changed by the second, and his unpredictability made him all the more dangerous.

A clap of thunder boomed in the evening sky, electrifying the air around them. Tinker looked sorrowfully at his master before lying down on the block floor. His teeth clacked together as he whimpered through his closed muzzle, his energy dissipating by the second. A flash of lightning drove a sudden shaft of light through the narrow space, and Bert stared at George with narrowed eyes. He could tell he desperately wanted to scoop up his dog and leave, but his heart was most likely beating at such a rapid pace it barely gave him enough strength to stand, never mind tackle him, whose determination had lent him strength unknown for a man his age.

Bert clapped his hands on both of George’s shoulders, clattering his teeth as he forced him down. ‘This will be your defining moment in the priesthood. Now what are we missing? Oh, of course, here it is,’ Bert said, pulling out the white collar from his pocket. Bert’s fingernails pressed into George’s windpipe as he slid the collar through the cassock, then stepped back and admired his handiwork.

George gasped for breath, clawing his throat, which had been sorely deprived of oxygen seconds before. ‘Please, are you finished? Can we go now?’

‘We’re finished. Yes,’ Bert said, walking towards the terrier. ‘Time to say goodbye.’

‘No, please, you said you weren’t going to hurt Tinker,’ George said.

Bert smiled. ‘Oh no, I would never hurt a dumb animal. It’s you that’s leaving. Don’t forget, I’ve seen it all, Father Butler.’ Bert waved his finger before tutting three times. ‘What age was that girl again? Sixteen? Seventeen? You couldn’t arrange that abortion quick enough, could you? And you, a man of the cloth!’

‘She wanted to be with me, but I stopped it because it was wrong. She came to me distraught. I was just trying to right a wrong.’

‘A wrong you’ve tried to forget ever since. You on your pulpit, preaching clean living, all the while arranging the murder of your unborn child.’

Guilty tears fell down George’s weather-worn cheeks. ‘Why do you think I live on the street? Because I know I don’t deserve any better.’

‘And yet you are still a coward, running away from me when I am here to deliver your prophecy. Surely you know that dying is the only way to receive absolution for your sins. I’m not completely heartless. If you really can’t face dying alone, I’ll let your dog go with you.’ Bert reached for the dog’s collar, and began to drag him to his feet.

‘Bertram Bishop, I’m arresting you on suspicion of murder,’ Jennifer said, her voice echoing as she rose from the stairwell.

Bert swung his head as Jennifer stepped into the bell tower, her baton extended in preparation to fight.

‘What … what are you doing here?’ he stammered, holding Tinker mid-air by the collar. The helpless dog twisted under his grasp, his eyes bulging as he fought for breath.

Bert was so stunned by Jennifer’s presence, he did not see George reach for the Swiss army knife in his right pocket. A gurgling scream passed his lips, as George plunged the extended fork into his hand.

Tinker wriggled free, finding a second wind as he bumbled down the stairs.

‘Stand back!’ Jennifer shouted to George, taking Bert’s legs with her ASP as he lunged forward, pulling the knife from his pocket. The glint of the knife was her justification, and a crack of bone rang through the air as the metal baton took his shin in one precise hit.

Bert screamed as he rolled around the cold concrete clutching his leg. Jennifer pounced, pulling his arms roughly behind his back to lock the handcuffs in place. Indignant caws ruptured from the darkened sky, turning Jennifer’s blood cold.

‘You can’t stop the prophecy,’ Bert screamed, the words delivered in a maddening howl. The words had just left his lips when the rapid burst of a police siren pierced the air.

‘Me dog!’ George panted, as another roll of thunder boomed. ‘They’ll run over Tinker!’ Stumbling towards the stairs, George called for his terrier as the siren grew louder, and as if in slow motion, Jennifer cried out for him to wait.

But George wasn’t listening, and flailing both arms, his feet tangled in the long black material of the cassock as he went tumbling down the steps. Jennifer gasped in horror, leaning all her weight on Bert as she subdued him long enough to call out to George. But the bump bump bump of his body down winding steps silenced, and all Jennifer could hear was Tinker, fussing over his lifeless owner, lying bloodied and motionless on the bottom of the stairwell floor.