Текст книги "Time to Die"

Автор книги: Caroline Mitchell

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Chapter Fifty-Two

In the mirror, daubed in ghostly fingerprints, were the scrawled words ‘LOOK UP’. Jennifer froze, her heart pounding as she steadied herself against the ceramic sink. Her eyes darted around the steaming bathroom, as she hastily pulled on her shirt and trousers, unable to take her eyes off the fogged writing. It was the only morning she had not showered. Just how long had those words been written on the mirror? And who put them there?

A frown burrowed its way into her forehead, and she stared up at the ceiling spotlights for answers. What does it mean, look up? she thought, her heart picking up a beat.

The extractor fan kicked in, fading the words as it sucked the steam from the room. She squeezed her damp feet back inside her boots, her flesh pinching against the taut black leather. The answer came to her like a bolt of lightning. The loft! He’s in the loft! The realisation invoked a fluttery, breathless feeling upon her. All thoughts of Christian’s visit were forgotten as she dragged the vanity chair to the landing, her mind flooded with thoughts of Will. Her nightmare showed him in a dark space, warm and heady … just like her loft. The moans she heard in her sleep – had they been real? Had he been calling for help? Had Will been lying in agony as she slept in her soft warm bed below? And if so, who put him there? Had the Raven been above her head all along? Had he crept into the loft while she was asleep? Surely she would have known. The thoughts lingered as she pulled down the extendable silver ladder, allowing it to clank against the soft woollen carpet below. A wave of sickness descended on her as fear ran riot with her imagination. She steeled herself as she gripped the cold aluminium, trying not to think the worst. How on earth could Will have ended up in her home? Cobwebs lingered along the edges of the dark space. It was the one room she could not bear to clean. But cobwebs and spiders were the least of her worries as she entered the attic. She inhaled through her nostrils, praying she would not be greeted by the scent of death.

Adjusting her eyes to the dark, her hands grasped blindly for the nylon string to activate the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. She swallowed back the dryness in her throat as dread flooded her system. Stale heat cloaked a musky smell, which hung heavily in the air. She whispered a quick, silent plea for help before calling Will’s name. Her right hand grasped in the dark air as her left clung onto the cold metal steps. The long nylon string teased her palm and she grasped it quickly, tugging hard until it lit the loft with a sharp click. Her eyes darted around the shadows and settled in the corner, focusing on a body.

The figure of a man lay on its side, bathed by the shadows of the dim light.

‘Will? Is that you?’ Jennifer said, wobbling as she hoisted herself onto the thin wooden floor. Her heart was pounding faster now, and she prayed for signs of life. Crouching under the slanted ceiling rafters she crept over, trying to accustom her eyes to the faint light. A sharp intake of breath passed her lips as she recognised Will’s suit. It was just like in her dream. He was on his side, facing away, his legs bent up to his chest, his bloodied hands bound behind his back.

Jennifer inched forward, blinking away the tears pricking her eyes. ‘Will,’ she said, ‘please Will, say something.’ The silence was deafening. Fumbling in the shadows, her legs became weak, and she stumbled onto her knees as the loft walls began to close in on her. ‘What the hell is wrong with me?’ she slurred, clambering over to Will. Anguish and torment stabbed her heart as a dark pool of blood soaked into the knees of her trousers.

‘Will!’ she cried, her voice piercing through the stifling air. With shaking fingers she tentatively reached out to touch his cheekbone, whimpering ‘Please be OK, please be OK.’ She could not bear the thought of touching his cold dead body. Relief flooded through her as she felt life in his clammy skin. Tears sprang to her eyes at the sight of Will reduced to such a pitiful state. Cradling his head, she called his name, lightly tapping his cheek. But it made little difference as he lay lifeless and gaunt under the light of the single bulb.

She shook her head, trying to ward off the drunkenness invading her body. She was sick, but could not understand why. Could there be a gas leak? Carbon monoxide? she thought, feeling like she was on a carousel. She needed to get out of the loft before she passed out, or they would both be in mortal danger. Shuffling over to some boxes, she tipped over the one containing the blankets and sheets she had been saving for the dogs’ home. She worked swiftly, placing a folded blanket underneath Will’s head, and covering him with the other. She winced as she pulled back the blanket to inspect his bindings.

‘Sick bastard,’ Jennifer said out loud. It was the Raven’s handiwork. And she had been next. She needed to get help, but couldn’t leave him either. Pulling her sleeves down over her fingers, she unwound the wire around his wrists and ankles as gently as she could. The barbs prodded into her skin, intermingling her blood with Will’s, another wave of dizziness overcoming her as she laid him in the recovery position. But even the movement was not enough to bring him around. She quickly scanned his body, each injury stabbing her heart. His shirt was damp with the blood pooling on the floor, and she nimbly opened the buttons to discover the small knife wound to the right of his stomach. Grasping the edge of a sheet, she ripped enough padding to press against the wound, holding it in place with the waistband of his trousers. She touched his face, promising to return. If she passed out here, it could be days before anyone found them, and by then it would be too late. Feeling drunk, she clung to the ladder like it was a lifeboat, clambering down the stairs to search for her phone. But her mind was foggy and she could not remember where she left it. The doorbell rang, and she swung it back, virtually running into Christian, who looked as shocked as she was.

‘Jennifer, are you OK? Oh my God, is that blood ?’

‘I need a phone … call for help,’ she said, concentrating hard on her words. ‘Will’s in the loft. He’s hurt. I need … ambulance.’

‘What! Are you OK?’

‘I … I don’t know,’ she gasped, hanging onto the banisters for support. ‘I don’t feel so good. I’ll explain later. Please, call them.’

Christian’s blond quiff bounced as he nodded ferociously. ‘Of course. You go inside, I’ve got my phone in the car, I’ll call them straight away.’

Satisfied, Jennifer turned and headed back upstairs, her legs feeling like lead as she forced them up each step. Half way up she heard a car door slam. At least help was on its way. Just how long had Will been up there? He must be dehydrated and in need of food, but moving him would only exacerbate his blood loss further. The way she was feeling, she could barely make her way upstairs.

She gritted her teeth in determination as she mounted the stepladder and hoisted herself into the loft. ‘It’s OK, Will … help is on its way,’ she said breathlessly as her heart pounded like a jackhammer.

Someone shuffled in the kitchen downstairs. It must be Christian waiting for the ambulance, Jennifer thought. She touched Will’s face, cursing herself for not bringing water up with her.

‘Will, if you can hear me, just hang in there. Help is coming. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner.’ Jennifer shuffled over to the tiny loft window, one of the original features of the Victorian home. It offered a view of the streets below, and she peered out through the glass, praying for an ambulance to arrive. But there was no ambulance. What she did see chilled her to the core.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Jennifer’s stomach lurched as footsteps creaked on the loft ladder. She needed to get back to Will, but her sickness was coming in waves, weakening her legs, and blurring her vision.

Christian appeared through the hatch, his expression blank. ‘The ambulance will be here soon. Is he still breathing?’

Jennifer nodded, taking small, quick breaths as the room began to swim. She strained to listen for sirens, but silence was returned. Christian took another step up the ladder, and her body stiffened in his presence. She locked her eyes on his, stunned by his betrayal.

‘There’s no ambulance is there, Christian? Or should I call you leader?’

His mouth twisted in a sneer as he clapped, the palms of his hands striking together in three slow, forceful beats.

‘Well done, detective, you got there at last. Tell me, what part of my award-winning performance didn’t ring true?’

Jennifer pointed to the window. ‘The chalk … from the quarry. It’s all over your tyres,’ she paused to look him in the eye, barely believing her own words ‘It was you all along.’

‘I can’t take all the credit, darling, Cousin Bert had his role to play too. Such a shame you had to interfere. Still, I’m sure we can rectify that.’

‘You … you helped him?’ Jennifer said, the weight of betrayal falling heavily.

Christian climbed off the ladder and sat on the loft entrance, his legs dangling down. ‘Darling, I didn’t help him, I orchestrated him. That’s what made it all so perfect. There’s nothing to trace the murders back to me.’

Will stirred in the corner, a small moan escaping his lips.

A cold sweat ran down Jennifer’s back. The answer had been staring her in the face all along. She needed to buy some time while she worked out a course of action. There were two things Christian loved most in the world: a captive audience, and the sound of his own voice. She relied on him not being able to pass up the opportunity for either.

‘Why?’ Jennifer said, knowing that even if she was able to get past Christian and make it downstairs, she could never leave Will at his mercy.

‘I’m here to finish what Bert started. He’s always idolised me, you see,’ Christian sighed dramatically. ‘It used to be such a pain, until I found good use for him.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Jennifer said. She mentally assessed his strength. He was slim but toned and completely blocking her exit from the loft. She, on the other hand, was sick and groggy, while Will was unconscious and bleeding out. The odds were not in her favour. She tuned in to his voice as he revealed the truth.

‘It all started with Felicity. The engagement was all her idea, and I couldn’t dump her after she appeared on that reality TV show. Our relationship boosted my ratings, and I knew the press would turn against me if I broke off the engagement. Next thing I know, she’s arranging the wedding and talking about kids. I mean really? As if I’d want to spend the rest of my life with that. So I did the only thing I could do, I found someone pliable, someone whose life meant nothing, and used it to my advantage. Bert had told me how he’d used the cards to kill people in the past, so I decided to test him out on Alan Price. All I had to do was plant the seed in Bert’s brain and let him think it was all his idea.’ Christian smiled at his ingenuity, the light from downstairs casting his face in a ghoulish glow.

Jennifer was sitting now, shifting slowly backwards, her hands silently groping the floor, for something, anything she could use to defend herself. ‘But you reported Bert for harassment,’ she said, needing to keep his focus turned inwards.

Christian flapped a well-manicured hand. ‘Oh that? It was just a cover, something to make me the victim. It was me calling him. Sometimes he’d tune out, but I knew a part of him was always listening.’

‘You were so bereft,’ Jennifer said, fighting the rising nausea. Mind over matter, she thought, taking slow deep breaths to work through the sickness and build her strength. But she needed more time. Time Will couldn’t afford.

Christian beamed a smile, revealing perfect white showbiz teeth. ‘I know, and to think they said I couldn’t act! I even managed to get a couple of newspaper interviews about my tragic loss, as I waited for the insurance policy to come in. God knows I needed to bolster my show ratings. Felicity and that silly cow of an ex-wife of mine bled me dry. My livelihood, my home, everything was at risk. The network had been threatening to drop the series. Don’t you see? I had to do something.’

‘But murder?’ Jennifer said, fighting to steady herself. ‘You were making money from the cult. Why resort to murder?’

‘I didn’t set up The Reborners’, I managed it. They needed someone intelligent, who could launder the money and control the members. But drugs aren’t my scene, and it became too big for me to handle.’

‘Mike Stone,’ Jennifer said, her voice a whisper. Everything drug related in Haven came back to him.

Christian nodded. ‘Alan Price was one of the few people who knew of my identity. When I confided in him about my association with Stone, he started calling me a fraud and threatened to go to the papers. Then he blabbed to Emily and Geoffrey, and they tried to blackmail me for money.’ Christian rolled his eyes at the audacity. ‘They soon shut up when Price died. With each death, Bert became more hands on. It was fascinating to watch his confidence grow.’ Christian chuckled. ‘So I whispered some more, and allowed your little priest friend to get his comeuppance. I made Bert think it was all part of some big prophecy. He actually believed that if he didn’t go through with it, something terrible would happen to him.’

‘Why did you warn me about George?’ Jennifer said, trying to distract Christian as she kept her focus on Will’s faint breath.

Christian blinked in the dim light. ‘The same reason I sent you those letters: to implicate Bert and stop him going too far. He’s completely mad.’

‘And Will? Was he part of your plan?’

Christian crouched as he approached her. ‘He should never have interfered. I figured you could find Will dead and blame it all on Bert. But then I knew. You’d chip away until you pointed it all back at me. And what if Will survived? I couldn’t stop now, not when I’d come so far. Can you imagine what they’d do to me in prison?’

Jennifer opened her mouth to respond, but another wave of sickness fell over her, and she leaned on her hands to catch her breath.

‘Ah good. The drugs have taken hold. I was worried you’d taste them in the water.’

Jennifer had already guessed her drinking water had been drugged. She tried to cast her mind back to when she came home; just how much had she consumed?

The bulb flickered overhead as loud scratching noises echoed from the darkened corners of the room. Christian sneered in the erratic light as he loomed over her. ‘It sounds like your boyfriend has woken up. Best you say your goodbyes. If it’s any consolation, I’ll make it quick.’

Christian clenched his jaw in frightening determination as he straddled her body. She struggled under his weight, gurgling a scream as her body betrayed her, a limp and lifeless rag doll.

Clamping his hands over her mouth, he sealed her last breath as she weakly kicked and bucked underneath him. Her muffled screams petered out, her lungs burning as she lost the air to accommodate them. In a flash she saw her death, then Will’s; dying next to her as red blossomed around him, seeping through the floor, to be found as a scarlet bloom soaking through to the ceiling below. Horrified officers would climb the loft and find two of their colleagues dead. One murdered, one suicide.

NO! she screamed inside her head. I’m not fulfilling any prophecy. She dug her nails into Christian’s wrists in an attempt to aid her survival. He groaned, his breath coming in gasps. A bead of sweat rolled off his forehead, then onto the tip of his nose, before dripping onto her shirt.

Sweat dampened the roots of Jennifer’s hair as he pushed her head back on the hard wooden floor. She dug her nails in harder, dragging precious forensics behind her nails. He would not get away with her murder, she thought as stars blinked in her vision. But what about Will? A thump from behind caused momentary relief as a book came whizzing out of the darkness, making Christian yelp as it hit him squarely in the head.

Jennifer leapt on the distraction, and sank her teeth into the back of his hand.

Shaking his hand, Christian stared in disbelief. ‘You bitch!’

Using every ounce of strength, Jennifer scurried forwards on her hands and knees towards Will, grasping, reaching out for something, anything to help her fight. She gasped in disbelief as her fingers wrapped around a thick-handled knife, and a flash of realisation clawed its way into her brain. The knife was Bert’s, left behind after he stabbed Will. Christian had seen it too, and he launched himself upon her, clawing at the weapon. It sat in the small gap between the heat of their bodies, and a shocked gasp escaped Jennifer’s lips as it turned. The knife met flesh and plunged. It clanged against the floor and they both collapsed, heaving for breath. Jennifer’s fingers traced the warm blood dampening her shirt. Anxiously she traced the skin underneath, to the backdrop of Christian’s breaths, now coming in whistles and frothy bubbles. It was not her blood. It was his. He clasped his hands to his chest, until they slid down to his side, and his eyes became vacant.

Rifling through his pockets, she found his mobile and dialled 999. Perhaps later she would feel sorrow for Christian, but for now, her only concern was saving Will’s life.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Jennifer felt relief that Christian survived, not due to any concern for him, but because she did not want to be responsible for his murder. Facing charges for kidnapping, attempting to pervert the course of justice, witness intimidation and attempted murder, he was not going anywhere soon. But first, he had to recover from his punctured lung. It came as little surprise that Bert had fallen into decline and would spend the remainder of his life in an institution.

It was the topic of the office as Jennifer returned to work, having used up all her leave to care for Will, who was steadily recovering from his injuries. Leaving him in his mother’s care, Jennifer was keen to discover the full extent of the investigation.

‘So how’s Will?’ DI Ethan Cole said from behind his desk. He seemed to be getting a grip of his role, having almost lost two of his best officers. Her eyes fell on his desk in admiration as she noticed his sharpened pencils lined up neatly in row. She smiled at her superior, grateful for the opportunity to mull things over.

‘He’s champing at the bit to get back to work. His mum is so cute, she won’t let him outside until the doctors give him the all clear.’ Jennifer smiled. She had gotten on famously with Will’s mother since the incident. Rather than blame Jennifer for her son’s injuries, she was full of praise for her ‘brave actions’ – staying with Will, when others may have left him to fend for himself.

Ethan looked at her thoughtfully, as if reading her mind. ‘He’s very lucky. It could have been a whole lot worse, for both of you.’

Jennifer recalled the small scars dotted around Will’s wrists. The dehydration was almost as harmful as the knife injury, and they both carried guilt for not noticing the criminal right under their nose.

‘Thankfully there’s been no permanent damage. Still, it sticks in my gut to think Will was in my house the whole time we were looking for him.’

Ethan blew out a gasp of exasperation. ‘I’ve never met anyone like you before. There were teams of police officers looking for Will, but you sensed he was in your home. Something drew you back there, and you saved his life because of it. It’s a good thing Christian is as crap at dispensing drugs as he is at telling fortunes, otherwise you could have died. So give yourself a break, eh?’

Jennifer shrugged off the compliment. Everyone knew the story of how Will found the Raven, and no doubt Ethan would give him a telling-off for going it alone instead of bringing in his colleagues. It all came back to their visit to Christian. As the crocodile tears flowed, Will had noticed the white bonded notepaper on the dresser; the same notepaper used to send Jennifer the letters. It led him to seize the phone records from The Rivers mental health institution, which listed hundreds of inbound calls to Bert. Jennifer was furious at her incompetency. Having had so much on her mind, she had been in no hurry to seize the phone records, and believed Christian when he said the harassing calls had been made to him. After finding out about the insurance claim on Felicity’s life, Will took the details of the CCTV company outside Christian’s home. A security system recently installed in the periphery of Christian’s garden led Will to finding Bert parked under the cover of private wooded land. But Will’s curiosity had not gone unnoticed, and Christian had already wormed his way into Bert’s consciousness, advising him that Will was a danger to his bigger plan.

Jennifer reminded Ethan that hindsight was a wonderful thing, and sometimes hunches or suspicions were not enough to call in the cavalry and risk looking like a fool.

Ethan broke into her thoughts. ‘They’ve taken Christian’s show off the air. His ex-wife was offered a nice payout for that story they ran in the Sunday paper.’

Jennifer smiled. ‘I wasn’t entirely surprised. It was only a matter of time before the media turned on him.’

Ethan gave a bemused smirk. ‘He’s certainly the villain of the piece now. I don’t think they’ll give him an easy time of it in prison.’

Jennifer shook her head. Her disgust at Christian’s betrayal left a bitter aftertaste. She gave her trust to so few people, and he had let her down. She thought of how he had sympathised with her about her tough upbringing. His whole career was based on taking advantage of people in their grief, and he had become a master at it.

‘It’s all such a waste of life. And for what?’ Jennifer said, imagining the ghost of Bert’s mother waiting for her son to come home. Her feelings about the Raven were mixed. Since being institutionalised, he had reverted back to his previous state, with no recollection of his time outside the institution. It was hard to stay angry with someone who was being used as a pawn to commit evil deeds. The thought struck deep within her, although she could not fully understand why. She shuddered, feeling as if someone had walked over her grave.

Ethan touched the pencils on his desk, aligning them for a second time. ‘That Bert gave me the creeps. When they brought him into custody … those big black crows … the rear yard was swarming with them. Three of them slammed against the window of the SERCO van when they took him away.’

Jennifer vaguely remembered picking up the dead raven outside her home. The nightmares that followed, being attacked in the woods, she would never quite feel at ease with ravens again. She nodded, keeping the information to herself. ‘His readings, apparently they were very accurate.’

‘Yes, but sometimes he helped them to come true. All the same, I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of one of his predictions.’

‘You know what I think? Leading The Reborners was a massive power trip for Christian. I’m not convinced that Geoffrey or Emily tried to blackmail him. Running the cult made him feel godlike, choosing who deserved a second chance and who didn’t. His ratings were flagging because of his rubbish predictions, and the public was fickle, only loving him for his fiancée, not for himself. He involved Bert because he was jealous of his psychic powers, and maybe even mine.’ Jennifer stared through the office window, thankful for clear blue skies. The more she spoke, the closer she came to believing her own theory. ‘Christian wanted Bert to get his comeuppance, just like the others, but the power of Bert’s convictions scared him, and that’s why he always kept us one step behind, in case he needed us to bail him out. We found other letters in his home, one for Geoffrey, and one for George. I guess it became too risky to deliver them, with all the police on the streets.’

Ethan swivelled his chair to face her. ‘The main thing is that you and Will came through it in one piece. If you ever need to speak to anyone, my door is always open.’

‘Don’t worry about me, I’m like a rubber ball,’ Jennifer said, wearing her most convincing smile. She was glad of the distraction of staying at Will’s while he recovered, and did not relish the thoughts of going home alone. The adjoining loft to the empty flat next door had been sealed up, but she still felt ill at ease in her home. Will had denied making any noises in the loft, much less throwing the items that distracted Christian long enough for her to fight back. He had looked at her blankly, when she put it to him. His only memory was being held captive by Bert, and passing out as he inched the knife into his stomach.

Christian had given his interviewing officer the same blank look when questioned about writing on her bathroom mirror, with the words ‘LOOK UP’. He actually had the cheek to send his apologies, and planned to write a book of his experiences. The news of his denial provided her with comfort. Whatever was in the walls of her home had tried to help her, and she would not question it further. Perhaps it was George who had come back to right a wrong, or the written warning had come from older souls, who had inhabited the space long before. Whatever the reason, such occurrences were woven into the very fabric of her life, and impossible to escape. The best news came in the form of George’s dog, Tinker. Having heard the story of the pining pet, Will persuaded his parents to take him in. It may not have been the grandchild they wished for, but being the focus of their adoration helped the little dog settle in quicker than any of them dared hope for.

Ethan’s voice broke into her thoughts as she rose to leave. ‘Hang on, Jennifer, I have a proposition to put to you.’

‘Go on,’ Jennifer said, eyeing him warily. It was no secret she was with Will, and she tried to contain the blush spreading to her cheeks as she wondered what he was going to say.

He slid a manila folder from his neatly stacked pile. ‘How do you feel about doing a little family liaison work for a couple of weeks? It’s day shifts, and would give you a bit more time with Will.’

Jennifer frowned. She had trained as a FLO before joining Operation Moonlight in the hope of being given some better jobs. It hardly seemed to matter now. ‘What’s it all about?’

Ethan flipped open the folder and handed her some copies of the enquiry log. ‘It’s Sergeant Duncan from Lexton MIT. You may have heard that one of his twins went missing … The press is going to be all over this and we need one of our best officers supporting the parents. Are you up for it?’

‘That’s awful,’ Jennifer said, reading through the paperwork. A photo of the identical blonde girls caught her eye. Both wearing the same colourful dresses, the children smiled brightly for the camera. She read the names, Abigail and Olivia. They weren’t much older than her nephew Joshua. A pang of sadness drove through her chest as she wondered which girl had disappeared. But she couldn’t bring herself to take it on. Her emotional involvement would only serve to hinder the case. It only took seconds to decide against it.

‘I appreciate you thinking of me, boss, but I’m not sure I’m the right person for this family. After all, I’ve just joined Op Moonlight, and Claire needs me.’

‘Your sergeant suggested you for it. This is far from straightforward, Jennifer; there’s been some strange goings-on with the other twin,’ Ethan said.

Jennifer eased herself back into her chair, her interest piqued. ‘Really? What sort of things?’

Ethan gave her a knowing smile. ‘Enough to make the current FLO walk out on the family. Let’s just say we need someone with your skills to handle the case.’

Jennifer slowly nodded, a flutter of excitement awakening inside as the meaning behind his words took hold. ‘In that case, count me in.’