Текст книги "Time to Die"

Автор книги: Caroline Mitchell

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Chapter Fifty

Jennifer took the tissue from her sergeant and blew her nose. The two-bar heater had warmed the chill from her bones, which was brought on by more than the weather as Moonlight descended. Arresting Bert had given her little comfort. George’s death struck deep, but her sergeant folded her arms, showing little emotion for the man she had helped over the year.

‘I know it’s sad, but you didn’t really know George. You’re best off forgetting about him.’

‘That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it? He’s barely cold,’ Jennifer said, shocked by the chill in her words.

‘If you knew the truth …’ Claire paused, signalling at Jennifer to close the door ‘… You might not have given him the time of day.’

Jennifer leaned against the door and closed it without moving her gaze from Claire. ‘Go on then, tell me.’

Claire sat on the edge of her desk, which was littered with overtime sheets and folders full of appraisals waiting to be completed. ‘Did you know he used to be a priest?’

Jennifer’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‘No I didn’t, but he was quite philosophical at times, I suppose. Is that why he was wearing the cassock?’

‘I expect so. Father Butler served as a parish priest in Ireland for over twenty years until he left.’

Jennifer nodded. The idea of George holding regular sermons was not a far stretch of the imagination. ‘A man of the cloth, eh? I wouldn’t hold that against him.’

‘You might feel differently when you hear his history. When he was thirty, he got a seventeen-year-old girl pregnant.’

Jennifer’s hand touched her mouth. ‘You’re not serious.’

‘That’s not all. He arranged a secret abortion without the knowledge of her parents. It’s outlawed in Ireland, so he would have had to pull out some stops.’

‘That’s awful … but it was a long time ago, wasn’t it?’

Claire nodded. ‘And he’s been paying for it ever since. It’s why he chose to be homeless. George’s loaded, but his guilt consumed him. He told me his story a while ago, and I promised to keep it to myself.’

‘To think …’ Jennifer’s eyes flared as her emotions tied themselves up in knots. ‘To think I gave him soup!’

‘It’s a mind fuck all right. On one hand I feel sorry for him, spending all those years on the street, but then I think of what he did and he repulses me.’

Jennifer scrunched up her tissue and threw it in the bin. ‘I guess you’re right. I shouldn’t waste my tears.’

‘I think Bert wanted to make it look like George killed himself due to his guilt. That’s probably why he dressed him up in the cassock,’ Claire said, picking up her paperwork and throwing it down again.

Jennifer knew the feeling, her own paperwork demanded her attention, but the Raven case had knocked her out of sorts, and she found it hard to concentrate on anything else. ‘Did George ever mention The Reborners to you? A vulnerable old man with money, sounds right up their street.’

‘No, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he was a member. But without Bert’s testimony, who knows?’

Jennifer nodded mechanically, dropping her gaze to the floor. Claire’s boots were scuffed with mud. ‘Where’s the dog?’

‘My mum’s keeping an eye on him at mine. Not many people want an old dog that howls for his master every night.’

Jennifer gave an involuntary shudder. ‘I still can’t believe it. I really liked him.’

Claire nodded, rubbing the tiredness from her eyes. ‘As my old mum would say, “There’s nowt so queer as folk.”’

After five hours in custody, force medical examiners and the mental health team agreed Bert was unfit for interview. He had been taken back to The Rivers for assessment, but it was unlikely he would ever be released. Jennifer hated cases like that, and knew her unanswered questions would keep her awake for some time to come.

Arrests from The Reborners’ raid had gained little information, other than a cult being led by a supreme leader whose name was known to very few. As far as Jennifer was concerned, the mysterious man behind the mask was Bertram Bishop, and she hoped that, one day, the mental health team would draw out some answers.

She checked her phone. A whole day had passed and Will had not called. She turned over in her bed, knowing she wouldn’t sleep without finding out how things had gone with his parents. Putting the phone to her ear, she groaned as the robotic tones of his automatic voicemail played out. She hated leaving messages due to her tendency to waffle, so she terminated the call before she could be tempted to ask why the hell he hadn’t rung. As long as he’s not having second thoughts about divorcing his wife. Jennifer sighed as her mind grew fresh worries. As if she didn’t have enough to keep her awake. But sleep came eventually, and as she turned and twisted she was given an insight of nightmarish proportions.

It started much like many of her other nightmares, feeling lost in the darkness, alone and confused. Then she heard it. In a bleak confined space, an anguished moan. A clotted head wound, and beneath, a pool of congealed blood. Jennifer probed further and a man’s wrists came into view. Bloodied and torn, they were tightly bound with barbed wire, clasped behind his back. Jennifer gasped as she recognised a silver ring edged with dry blood. Black wings flapped overhead, opening their talons to claim their prey. Will! Jennifer screamed, unable to reach him. The raven’s eyes snapped towards hers as Jennifer’s energy spiked in fear. Long talons reached into her consciousness, tugging on the tailcoat of her thoughts.

[#]

Morning light came to rest on Jennifer’s face, and she wiped the sleep from her eyes, staring quizzically at the ruffled sheets and the pillows that had ended up on the floor. Recollection of the night before was hazy. She stared at the brightly lit screen of her iPhone, a sudden streak of terror running deep as the images in her nightmare began to filter through.

Jennifer held the phone tightly in her grip. The dark space, the sleeping man, and in the corner, a curled-up figure caked in blood.

‘It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream,’ she mumbled, over and over, under her breath, dialling Will’s number with trembling hands. She paused over the connect button, scared of what she would find. ‘Answer, please answer,’ Jennifer whispered, pressing the green connect button and holding the phone to her ear. When she received no response, her fingers typed out a text: WHERE ARE YOU?

There was no time for a shower as she waited for a reply. She pulled back her hair into a bun and rushed around the room throwing clothes on the bed. She needed to get to work so they could triangulate the call. Should she call at Will’s place first? Her mind raced. No, call her sergeant, give her an update, and then call into Will’s flat, just in case he’s at home. Tendrils of hair fell loose as Jennifer pulled the cashmere jumper over her head. Hastily pulling on her black leather boots, she took deep breaths to stop the tidal wave of fear that threatened to engulf her.

‘If you can hear me,’ Jennifer said, eyes turned to the ceiling, ‘please, if anyone can hear me, please help Will. Please.’ A sob escaped her lips and she swallowed hard. She would not allow herself to fall apart now. ‘Please keep him safe, he’s a good man. I can’t do it without him.’

[#]

The journey to Will’s house felt like an eternity as every learner driver in Haven seemed to clog the streets. The Fiat Punto in front of her stalled as the traffic lights turned green and Jennifer clenched the steering wheel as she growled in exasperation. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she patched in a call through her car, straight to the DI’s mobile. After several rings it was answered by a surprised-sounding Ethan. ‘Hello? Everything OK?’

Jennifer bit back the tears as she struggled to relay the words. ‘It’s Will. He’s in trouble. I haven’t been able to get a hold of him, and last night I sensed he was bound and gagged somewhere, with blood coming from his head. It’s real. I know it is.’ It sounded crazy, but Ethan picked up the worry in her voice and knew better than to dismiss it.

‘It’s not crazy, Jennifer. I … I was just about to ring you. We rushed through the forensics on the van. We’ve found traces of Will’s blood.’

Jennifer gasped in horror as he delivered the words, her stomach clenching at the thoughts of her nightmare becoming a reality. She bit down hard on her lip, forcing herself to focus. She needed to be strong for Will, now was not the time to fall apart.

‘Jennifer, are you there?’ Ethan said, his voice sounding echoey and far away.

Jennifer took a deep breath. ‘I’m OK. I’m almost at his flat. Can you look up his parents’ phone number on the system and see if he’s with them? He left two days ago to go to theirs but I haven’t heard from him since.’ She tried to work out a timeline. Bert must have kidnapped Will and then moved on to George. Traces of blood, the DI said, not pools. She clung to the hope it was not too late to save him. Had Bert given Will a reading? Just how did he overpower him? Questions came quick and fast as she realised the DI was still talking.

‘Don’t worry, Jennifer, Will’s a tough nut, and I have everybody out looking for him. I’ll contact his parents myself, and try to get a unit to meet you at his flat. God knows they’re thin on the ground this morning. Keep me updated and don’t send any texts or try to call him. I don’t want anyone turning off the phone while we triangulate it.’

Jennifer nodded into the phone. At least triangulation would give them a rough idea of where he was, or rather where his phone was. Will never went anywhere without it. She thought of the dark space, the wire bindings, and the silent watcher. Will was bleeding and unconscious in her premonition. He was barely breathing but at least he was alive. But time was running out, and they needed to find him fast.

[#]

She wished she had accepted the offer of a key for his flat. But within minutes of talking to his neighbours she discovered he was not home, and nobody had seen him for a couple of days. His parents were on their way with a spare key, and her colleagues would search every inch of the place, but in her heart, Jennifer knew he was not there. Very gently, she closed her eyes and scoped the area with her mind. There was nothing. Standing outside, she searched the bushes for anything that may have been thrown away in haste if he had left in a hurry. The only thing she found were some strange looks from the PCSO that turned up to assist. Jennifer asked him to search the area for Will, but he was unconvinced there was anything to worry about.

‘Will’s always messing about, he’s probably sleeping off a hangover somewhere,’ the PCSO said jokily. He lived in the area himself, and had known Will for several years. He had only just come on duty, and had headed straight out after being notified of the search.

Jennifer updated him on the forensics, watching his eyes widen as he digested the news.

‘Shit,’ the young lad said, ‘I’ve seen that Raven guy in all the briefings. If he’s hurt Will … shit. He could be dead for all we know.’ His pessimism was enough to tip Jennifer over the edge. She swallowed back the lump in her throat as she trotted back to her car. Turning up her police radio, she listened for updates as she drove to see Ethan

[#]

The CID office was bustling, the air filled with a sense of urgency as telephones rang and printers jammed. The doors between their office and Op Moonlight had been flung open, as both teams worked together to find their lost colleague. Jennifer collared Ethan as he rushed past, snapping at someone to turn off the radio in his wake. His shirt was stained with sweat, and she guessed he had not been to bed. She stood apprehensively at the door of his office as he went inside.

He waggled the mouse to awake his computer, his Outlook Express displaying virtual chaos as dozens of unread emails pinged up notifications. Ethan picked up a half-eaten ham sandwich from his desk, raising his eyebrows in Jennifer’s direction as he chewed.

She hated when he was like this, uncharacteristically harried and stressed. She wanted to see him focused and hopeful. She’d known him long enough to know that snappy and tense meant he was worried. She began to wish she had troubled someone else for an update rather than relying on their friendship to provide her with answers. She desperately wanted to relay the strength of her intuition, but Ethan did not appear to be in a listening mood.

She took a deep breath. ‘Have you managed to trace Will’s phone yet?’

Ethan finished his sandwich and gulped back some cold coffee to wash it down. ‘We’re doing everything we can. His phone is dead, most likely battery failure. They’ve checked ANPR and his car hasn’t left Haven, so he’s most likely still about. The ’copter will be taking off as soon as weather permits. Now why don’t you go home and let me get on with things. You’re meant to be having a day off.’

Jennifer opened her mouth to protest and Ethan waved her down. ‘We’re doing everything we can to trace Will, now if you don’t mind, I need to be getting on.’

The source of his irritation became clear as she caught a glimpse of an email from his superiors. It wasn’t just Will’s disappearance that was playing on Ethan’s mind. She did not need psychic abilities to cotton on that he had received a rollicking for his run-in with the Lexton DCI. He picked up the phone to make a call, and looked at her as if to ask why she was still standing there.

Jennifer looked at him cagily. She was beginning to prefer the young and carefree Ethan, before he succumbed to the pressures of being her boss.

‘With all respect, sir, this is my shift partner we’re talking about, and he’s in danger. I can’t just go home and put on Jeremy Kyle.’

‘Go home,’ he mouthed, before speaking into the phone.

She nodded, tight-lipped, not trusting her response. But she was never one to do as she was told, and made herself a cup of coffee before checking her work emails in the empty office of Operation Moonlight. The budget only ran to one shift, but the sheer volume of mysterious cases hitting their desks dictated that soon the team would grow. She scanned through enquiries and responses to earlier emails, finding nothing of relevance surrounding Will’s disappearance. Pulling on her jacket, she took to the streets in the hope of some insight. His car had to be in Haven, but where? Jennifer grasped for hope, unlikely tales spinning in her mind. Maybe he had come across the van and cut himself. Maybe he was away, chasing up leads, not knowing the Raven had been arrested. But why hadn’t he been in touch? The same ugly answer resounded in her head: Because he’s dead. Jennifer hit her steering wheel as the incessant thoughts drove her crazy. She couldn’t face the answer that had been staring her in the face all along. It was why she felt Will’s presence, breathing in the walls of her home. He had died, cold and alone, and had come back to be with her. Turning her car for home, she forced herself to face the truth. If she could not communicate with Will on an earthly plane, it was time to seek his presence on the other side.

Chapter Fifty-One

Efforts to communicate with Will had proved fruitless, and Jennifer felt like banging her useless head against a wall. Not that the communication she desperately sought came from her head. No, it emanated from her soul, and for the hundredth time she wished it was something tangible she could physically control. Her eyes danced around her home, wishing she didn’t feel his presence so strongly. It was her turn to call Christian for comfort, and she bit back her tears as she updated him on Will’s disappearance. With the police failing to turn up any leads, he was her last port of call.

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ Christian asked. ‘Will’s been gone some time, I may not give you the answers you’re looking for.’

‘I need to know where he is, dead or alive. I hate to ask so soon after Felicity’s passing, but I don’t know where else to turn.’

‘I’m just dropping off the kids, I’ll be with you in just over an hour. Together we may be able to pick up something.’

‘Thank you,’ Jennifer said, her voice barely a whisper.

‘You’re more than just colleagues, aren’t you?’ Christian said, his soothing voice relaying his empathy with ease.

Jennifer closed her eyes and squeezed the bridge of her nose. ‘Yes. That’s why I need to know.’

‘Hold tight. I’ll be there as soon as I can. If you hear anything in the meantime just call.’

[#]

Jennifer was no stranger to haunted homes, having researched them in her spare time. Sometimes people haunted buildings when they passed over, choosing to stay with their loved ones rather than explore what was waiting for them on the other side. The thought of Will being trapped in the walls of her home filled her with dread – and given the soft whispers that sometimes passed through her mind, he would not be alone. It was a thought she could not bear to entertain, and yet … She shivered. It was doing her no good sitting here, sick at the thought of losing the only man she had ever really loved.

Ethan rang to inform her that Will’s parents were visiting the police station to speak to his colleagues. Jennifer apologised, saying she wasn’t up to it. She recalled something Christian Bowes said after his fiancée died. I know it sounds selfish but I just don’t have time for anyone else’s grief right now. Had it really come to that? Jennifer pushed the thought away, muttering under her breath as she admonished herself for being so morose. But all the same, she knew what they would be thinking, that Will was fine until he met her, and if he had gotten back with his wife as they advised, he would be safe and well. Jennifer’s stomach clenched, the small cramping sensations making her feel weak. She sat and wrapped her arms around her waist, leaning into the pain until it passed. She had experienced them when she was a child. Anxiety and hunger wrapped up in a painful little bow. Yet she welcomed it, because it was better than the deadening numbness inside.

Walking into the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of filtered water from the jug in the fridge. Closing her eyes, she stared inside the cool white box, inhaling the cold artificial air. The smell of cleaning fluid was barely discernible, and that unsettled her even more. She could clean it while she was waiting, use the extra thick bleach, then the kitchen cupboards … ‘And what good is that going to do?’ she moaned, closing the fridge door, pushing her forehead against the white sterile steel. It calmed her, making her think like a police officer instead of anxious ten-year-old Jenny who was lost and all alone.

She wanted to grill Bert, to demand he provide her with answers. He had to be responsible for Will’s disappearance. But she was not going to be allowed anywhere near the suspect she had been thrilled to arrest. Never before had she felt such an anti-climax. Think, girl, think, she thought, gently tapping her forehead against the fridge door. She recalled her case the previous year, when she looked to the past for answers. Her knowledge of Bert’s history was vague. He had lived between the mental institution and his home all his life. Officers had attended both addresses but it had not progressed their investigations. But they were level-headed men and women. They weren’t like her. Pulling her bag from the counter, she headed for the door, car keys in hand. If she put her foot down she could make it to Bert’s home and back in under an hour.

[#]

Satnavs weren’t of any use when it came to finding Bert’s address, so it was just as well she had scanned the police officers’ statements at work, greedily taking in every last shred of evidence. His house was beyond Raven Woods, another quarter mile down the track where she had abandoned her car the day she was attacked by the ravens. An icy trickle of unease slid down her spine. It was the last place she wanted to be, and her sergeant would admonish her for attending when they had already conducted a search. But she had to try, and anything was better than sitting alone, with the feel of Will all around her.

The journey to Bert’s home was easier than she thought, as she followed the tyre tracks from the police 4x4 dug into the soft soil of the narrow laneway. Jennifer stared straight ahead, her fingers gripping the moulded grooves of her steering wheel. She didn’t want to see the woodlands, much less the flocks of ravens overhead. A tiny voice told her to stop and call for backup. Jennifer pressed the accelerator as her internal monologue argued the toss. She couldn’t waste another minute. Will was hurt, or worse. If she found anything then she would call for help. She sighed. One side of her desperately wanted to find him, while another wanted to live in the moment of hope and possibilities. What if he was dead? Will was the kindest, most thoughtful man she knew. He didn’t deserve this. Just how would she cope without him in her life? Jennifer’s heart felt like it was being squeezed by an ice-cold grip. Taking slow, steady breaths, she eased the car up the leaf-strewn gravel driveway of Bert’s home.

The gloomy building was bigger than she imagined, and in a state of total decay. Half-drawn graffiti was daubed on the side of the home, discarded cans of paint thrown on the ground. Like many places on that side of Haven, visitors did not stay very long before beating a hasty exit. There was no beauty to be found in the grounds either. It no longer lay in the dying flowerbeds, choked by the weeds taking dominance over the soil. Rotting brickwork glistened with torn cobwebs, dancing mournfully in the breeze like silken fingers pointing, go back, go back. It was the same breeze that carried the sour smell of the woods. A crow’s caws echoed in the distance. Jennifer quickened her steps towards the crumbling building; Will’s life was at stake and she had to make the most of the fading light.

A thought occurred as she reached the unsecured front door. Dr Carter had said that Bert sometimes imagined his mother was still alive. What if her spirit still clung to the land? What if she was still here, imprisoned by the house which encompassed so much misery? The front door emitted a rusty screech as Jennifer pushed it open, wishing it was a little brighter inside. As soon as she stepped in the hall she felt like an imposter, and it took all her strength not to turn around. Her eyes flicked up to the cobwebbed ceiling, and a wide-legged spider retreated into its web. Jennifer stiffened, reaching for the door handle of the room on the right. As she twisted the cold metal doorknob, she focused on the energies in the house, stepping back to a time when it was infused with life. As she pushed open the door, her eyes were drawn to a wide stone fireplace, blazing with a fire radiating a yesteryear heat. It was then that Jennifer saw her first embodiment, and froze to the spot. It should not have come as such a surprise, given her previous encounters with the supernatural. She was used to picking up voices, like an old radio channel filtering through her mind. But a real-life ghost? She looked just like a normal person, rocking in her chair. It was Bert’s mother; the grief lining her face told Jennifer all she needed to know. Her hair was scraped back in a bun, and her pallid flesh encased a withered body frozen in time. She wore a long black skirt that brushed the ground each time her rocking chair bowed forward. Yet Jennifer knew from the glazed expression and listless energy she was a shadow of the past. The ghostly apparition could not cause her harm, but just like in her dreams, her body perceived the situation as a threat, and Jennifer’s heart thundered in her ears as she forced herself to stand her ground.

The room dimmed as Bert’s elderly mother curled her arthritic fingers around the arms of the wooden chair and set it to a halt. The corners of her mouth turned downwards as she craned her head in Jennifer’s direction, raising a bony finger in the air.

‘Get. Out. Of. My. House.’

Jennifer’s heart felt as if it was going to beat out of her chest as she faced the shadow of what once was. The room temperature dropped steadily until it was icy cold. Jennifer’s words carried on frosted breath as she uttered the words, ‘Mrs Bishop, I need your help. It’s about Bertram.’

The woman’s eyes blazed at the mention of Bert’s name. ‘What do you want with him?’

Jennifer tugged her jacket around her shivering body. ‘I’m looking for my friend Will, and I think Bert may know where he is. Has he brought anyone here?’

Bert’s mother relaxed into her rocker, setting it back in motion. ‘I’m waiting for Callum. He’ll be home soon. Bert’s in bed. He’s a sickly child.’

Jennifer sighed. She was not going to get any assistance from a dead woman’s ghost and it was time to move on. ‘Mrs Bishop, I don’t think it’s good for you to stay here.’

‘I’m waiting for Callum.’

‘He’s waiting for you, Mrs Bishop. He’s been waiting a very long time. Don’t you want to go to him?’ Jennifer swallowed, mystified at the words leaving her mouth. It was not the first time she found herself uttering words she did not understand, but if they provided comfort then she was happy to continue.

The woman’s face clouded over, the frailty of her soul laid bare. ‘I … I can’t leave the house.’

‘Yes you can. You don’t need it any more. Let it go. When you feel Callum’s presence, step up and take his hand. But you don’t need to stay here. There is so much more for you, if you can find the strength to leave.’

But she wouldn’t. At least not yet, and she returned her gaze to the fire as it hissed and spat orange sparks that went nowhere, delivering heat that could not be felt. Slowly Jennifer left the sad figure, and wandered through the rest of the house, her ear sharply attuned to the flapping of the ravens gathering on the fence outside. She rubbed the back of her hand. It had healed well, but the small scar would serve as a reminder of her stubbornness, and inability to ask for help for fear of looking like a fool. She checked her mobile phone, the absence of calls a painful reminder that time was running out. Five minutes. She would give herself five minutes and leave.

Every room door was ajar and she was relieved to see the loft hatch gaping open, its mouth an empty chasm as sharp-clawed rodents scurried overhead. Officers would have already searched the gloomy space, which meant she didn’t need to. The oppression in the house grew with every second that passed, until the derelict building took on a life of its own. I shouldn’t be here, she thought. Not only was she under a ceiling that may well give way, her presence was most unwelcome, and the birds that had swooped to attack her were now gathering outside.

Jennifer ventured into the kitchen as the building groaned above her. Small black pebbles of droppings littered every counter, and in the absence of food, there lay empty bread wrappers, chewed by rodent teeth. It felt as if a hundred sets of eyes were beating down on her back. She wondered if the attending officers had felt it when they conducted the search. She turned to leave, passing each ramshackle room until she came to the largest bedroom. Like the rest of the house, it was caked in a layer of dust. The peeling sash window allowed generous light to flood over the rusted metal bedstead, and she guessed it was Bert’s room. Her heels echoed as she walked across the cold wooden floor, and she imagined a small hungry boy, lying on the sunken mattress as he stared at the oak tree outside. She pulled back the damp mouldy blankets and lingered long enough only to check under the bed. Another wave of despair passed over her. Will was not there. He never had been.

She turned on her heel and made her way to the hall, but the noise of the ravens suggested there were more than one or two waiting for her exit. She peered through the gap in the door, catching her breath as she caught sight of the black feathered sentries gathered on the fence. A horrifying sense of dread enveloped her as she realised she would have to pass them on her way out. Why didn’t I park the car nearer? she thought. If the birds attacked, they could do a lot of harm in the precious minutes it would take her to reach it. Tapping her fingers against her bottom lip, she formulated a plan. She picked up an empty milk bottle from the floor and pressed the central locking button through the gap in the door. A chorus of excited caws ensued as her car beeped in response, and they flapped and danced on the fence in preparation for their prey. They’ll rip me to shreds, Jennifer whispered as she backed away. She would get only one chance. She had to be quick or she would pay the consequences.

She returned to the kitchen, holding her breath as she slowly turned the handle of the back door. Relief flooded through her as it opened, and she tentatively slid out, tiptoeing through the undergrowth at the side of the house. The front of the house was black with ravens, their beady eyes focused on the front door. She flung the milk bottle, sending it rebounding on the front porch, startling the ravens long enough to race to her car. Soon she was safely inside, sending gravel shooting in her wake as she raced down the driveway for home.

Jennifer dropped her car keys onto the hall dresser. Her stomach growled to remind her she had not yet eaten, having been sick with stress all day. She opened the fridge door, gulping back the last of her mineral water. Pulling out a block of cheese, she laid it on the chopping board next to a chunk of bread. She checked her watch. It granted her enough time for a quick shower before Christian came around. She needed to wash away the dark barbs that clung from the horrors of the day. But the feeling of Will’s presence had grown stronger since she came home, each step inside telling her she was missing something, something she should have known. She tore off some bread and nibbled on enough cheese to silence her rumbling stomach. Hopping up the stairs, she turned the shower to the hottest setting and slipped off her clothes. A creeping sensation on the nape of her neck made her whirl around, a shriek emitted through her lips as she faced the steamed-up mirror. There, in the midst of her distress, the answer came. She knew where Will was. It had been staring her in the face all along.