Claire stopped clicking her pen and rested it on the table. ‘Experience. My first husband wasn’t much taller than me. He hated being overshadowed. The day after he left, I went out and bought a five-inch pair of red killer heels. They’re still in the back of my wardrobe somewhere.’
Jennifer crossed her legs. She had worn her navy kitten heels because they matched her pinstripe trouser suit. Skirts were off for the next few days, at least until the bramble scratches faded from her legs. ‘I’m afraid you’re off kilter on this one. I’m just being kinder to my feet.’
‘Of course, because you’d be the first person to fill me in, wouldn’t you? Remember, I have no life, I have to get my kicks through you.’
You wouldn’t want to live through me, Jennifer thought, before giving her sergeant a half smile and rising from her chair.
She jiggled her mouse as she powered up her computer. The Rivers mental health institution had finally sent her a picture of Bert Bishop. She clicked the link and gasped as the face of a bristly faced old man stared back at her. His wiry grey eyebrows jutted out over black beady eyes in an intense gaze. The pouches under his eyes combined with the weather-beaten face fitted the witness descriptions exactly. Jennifer put her hand to her cheek, recalling the contours of his bristled jawline when she made contact. There was no doubt about it. This was the face of the killer.
She chewed the lipstick from her bottom lip as she clicked on the confidential report accompanying the email. Her eyes greedily scanned the computer screen as it flickered into life. Bert had been assessed several times for making continuous calls to Christian Bowes. The source of the phone was unknown, although, like prisons, patients were known to smuggle items through visitors and use them as currency. Jennifer flipped open her journal, scribbling times, dates and the name of the doctor listed. A dart of pain from her bandaged hand reminded her of the urgency of the enquiry. Dr Lionel Carter. After further digging, she found his number and punched it into her phone.
[#]
‘Hey you,’ Will said, dropping a thick file onto his newly cleaned desk.
Jennifer swivelled her chair to greet him, opening her top drawer and rolling a Cadbury’s Creme Egg across the desk. ‘Here you go. I’ve cleaned your desk and given you chocolate, what more could a bloke want?’
The look in Will’s eyes relayed he could come up with several suggestions. ‘How are you feeling?’ he said, pushing aside the paperwork to unwrap the chocolate egg.
‘Fine. My hand’s a little stiff and I can’t do much typing but it’s better than it was.’
Will frowned, but Jennifer had already told him what to do with his suggestion that she should be at home resting.
‘You’ll never guess what I’ve found out about Claire,’ Will said, keeping his voice low.
‘As long as it’s not gossip,’ Jennifer said. ‘I like Claire, and she’s had enough mud slung in her direction over the years.’
Will looked affronted. ‘What do you take me for? It’s about her abilities. Haven’t you ever wondered what they are?’
Jennifer wondered all the time, but Claire didn’t seem comfortable talking about it so she figured she’d find out for herself. This seemed as good a time as any.
‘Go on then, what is it?’
‘Zoe said she can read auras, you know, the coloured energies people have around them. They change according to your moods. She can even tell if you’re lying. I wish someone had warned me, I’ll be on my guard from now on.’
Jennifer clasped her hand to her mouth, her earlier chat with her sergeant coming back to haunt her. ‘You’re joking me.’
‘Afraid not,’ Will said. As he chatted animatedly about his discussion with Zoe, two things crossed Jennifer’s mind. One was that she could understand why Claire would be cagey. Everybody lied, and people were bound to treat her differently once they knew. The second thing Jennifer noticed was how quickly Will accepted Zoe’s explanation. There was no mention of rational thought or not getting carried away; Zoe’s word was taken as fact.
‘Are you all right? You’re looking very miffed,’ Will said, throwing his chocolate wrapper into the bin.
Jennifer reddened, relieved that Will couldn’t read her thoughts. ‘Huh? Um no … I just need to have a chat with Claire. I wasn’t entirely truthful this morning and I think it’s time I came clean.’
‘Sounds ominous,’ Will said. ‘Nothing bad, I hope?’
‘I’ve had a breakthrough with the Raven case. Zoe and I have accessed the Facebook group Emily Clarke was using before her death.’
[#]
Claire did not look surprised to see Jennifer return to her door. Jennifer began with an apology, followed by admissions of what happened in the woods, her relationship with Will, and her progress on the Raven.
‘I take it someone has told you, then,’ Claire said, folding her arms.
Jennifer opened her mouth to speak then paused, measuring her words. ‘It just came up in conversation. Apparently you know when people are lying.’
Claire smiled. ‘That’s one way of putting it. I’m an empath. I can read people’s energies, see their auras, and take on other people’s emotions. Sometimes I can determine if they’re telling the truth or not. Just like with you earlier today. I knew you were hiding something, but I trusted it was for a good reason, and if it were important, you’d tell me. Everyone is entitled to their privacy, Jennifer, and as thrilled as I am that you’ve got it together with Will, who you see in your own time is none of my business.’
Jennifer nodded, keen to change the subject. ‘I take it your abilities don’t stand up in court.’
‘No. Think of it as a copper’s intuition. Evidentially you can’t use it, but it can point us in the right direction.’
‘It’s a cool trait. Remind me to bring you into interview.’
Claire smirked. ‘It’s not foolproof, so I don’t rely on it too heavily. I mean, it’s not like a lie detector test. But let’s put all that aside for now, I’m more concerned about your investigation. It’s time we called the DI in here, and work out a plan of action for the Raven.’
Claire was impressed to see Jennifer had made good headway into the investigation, having arranged an informal appointment with Bert’s psychiatrist the next day. Ethan, her DI, had taken the decision to bring Lexton MIT fully up to date on their investigation. Although unhappy at being kept in the dark, progression of an undercover officer in the Facebook group was welcomed, and Zoe’s activity was being closely monitored.
Officers would be briefed and kept on standby for any forthcoming raids, and although Ethan had given her a telling-off for withholding information, Jennifer felt she was finally making some progress in the investigation. She was painfully aware of the lack of physical forensic evidence, but she was closing in on the killer, and if anyone could help her, his psychiatrist could.
[#]
An evening call from her sister was the last thing she expected, and Jennifer cradled the phone as she whipped together some eggs.
‘Hi, how are you?’ Amy asked.
Jennifer gave a wry smile. She always recognised when her sister’s calls were leading up to something. ‘Fine, just making an omelette for supper. Is everything OK?’
‘Mmm? Oh yeah, fine … Josh stop that … no, Lily isn’t allowed Lego …’
Jennifer diced a spring onion and plopped it into the egg mix, imagining her nephew presenting his little sister with his latest Lego creation.
‘Sorry,’ Amy said, ‘I was wondering if you’d be free to babysit Josh and Lily some night? Just for a couple of hours. I haven’t been out with David for ages, thought it would do us good.’
Jennifer stood open-mouthed as thin blue smoke began to rise from the frying pan. Amy rarely asked her to babysit Josh, and always brought Lily with her.
‘Yeah, sure, I’d love to … oh crap, hang on, my pan is burning.’ She turned off the pan and pushed it to the side. A thought occurred to her. Jennifer wondered if the offer
was a thinly veiled peace offering. Amy was the only person she knew who looked upon the offer of babysitting as a treat. ‘So how did it go? With dad, I mean. It’s OK to talk about him, I won’t snap your head off, I promise.’
‘It was all right,’ Amy said flatly.
‘Just all right?’ Jennifer said, trying to remember that she wasn’t supposed to have seen him. ‘Is he still off the booze?’
‘Oh yeah, he’s been off it for some time now. He goes to AA, or so he tells me. He’s got a girlfriend, she’s American.’
Jennifer pretended to sound surprised. ‘Really? I take it she’s an improvement on mad Peggy from Hackney then?’
Amy snorted. ‘Anything’s an improvement on that silly woman. Dominique, this one’s called, very glam. She was his hypnotherapist.’
Silence passed and Jennifer gave in to her curiosity. ‘Dad has a therapist? Go on then, spill the beans.’
Amy whispered conspiratorially down the mouthpiece of the phone. ‘She’s very wealthy. I liked her at first but now …’ A door closed in the background and Amy’s voice drew closer to the phone. ‘… She’s a bit pushy, and she doesn’t like kids.’
Jennifer smiled. Not liking children was a hanging offence in her sister’s eyes.
‘And dad’s no better, he didn’t even bring them a bag of sweets! And I know I’m always telling you off for buying chocolate but they could have brought Josh something, the tight gits.’
‘Mmm,’ Jennifer said, not entirely surprised. Their father had never even sent her a birthday card.
‘And that’s not all. I went to a real effort, baking a Victoria sponge and those nice little jam tarts that you like.’
Jennifer’s mouth watered at the prospect. Her sister was the best cook she knew.
‘David took the kids into the sitting room and I brought dad and Dominique into the kitchen for a chat. She started looking around the place saying how quaint everything was. Quaint. I’ll give her blooming quaint …’
Jennifer giggled into her hand, reluctant to interrupt her sister’s flow.
‘So I gave them tea and cake using my best china, and … well, you’d think I’d given her poison. She started going on about how bad carbs were for you, and wouldn’t allow dad to have any either. Then it just went from bad to worse.’
‘Worse? How could it get any worse?’ Jennifer said, abandoning her unmade omelette as she pulled out a chair to sit down.
‘She started saying that dad had to sort out his issues before he could move forward, and it wasn’t long before I realised that we were the issues she was talking about.’
‘Bloody cheek. What did he say?’
‘He couldn’t get a word in. Then she said that in order for him come to terms with things, we would have to set up a family meeting so we could all move forward. I said “What things?” and she said – wait ’til you hear this – she said that when dad was regressed, he said you set fire to the boathouse on purpose. Have you ever heard anything so stupid?’
Jennifer held her breath, relieved her sister could not see the look on her face. A sick feeling of dread erupted in the pit of her stomach, the words filling her with shame.
‘Hello? Are you there?’ Amy said.
‘Yeah, sorry, I’m just … astounded.’
‘That’s how I felt … for about two seconds. Then I told her that when we were living in the boathouse, dad was pissed most of the time, and then I told her that her theory was thoughtless and cruel. I’ve looked it up, she’s filling his head with false memories through her hypnotherapy sessions.’
‘Yeah … that’s what it is.’ Jennifer’s hand caressed her throat as a red flush spread from her collarbone to her jawline.
‘That’s when I threw them out.’
Jennifer would have laughed if she were not feeling weak at the revelation. ‘You didn’t, did you?’
‘Well, I politely asked them to leave. Dad was full of apologies but she wasn’t. I don’t think she liked me calling her a quack.’
This time Jennifer did laugh. ‘Oh dear. She didn’t do a very good job at impressing you, did she?’
‘Honestly, I don’t think she could have insulted me any more if she tried. First my kids, then my house, my baking, and finally you! Who does she think she is? Snooty cow.’
‘So what now?’
‘I’ve told dad we’re not here to make him feel better about himself. If he just wants to rake over the past, I’m not interested. He’s said he’s sorry, but we’ll see where it goes.’
Jennifer was not sorry things had worked out the way they did. At least now, Amy was back on her side. The comment about the fire made her feel sick to her stomach. The last thing she needed was being confronted about the past. Her sister’s loyalty had proved itself to be fickle, and if the truth came out, Amy would never forgive her. Jennifer emptied the contents of the pan in the bin, having lost her appetite. Much of her life was spent raking over the bones of her past, and she wished she could wipe the slate clean. She shook her head at the irony. She was hunting down a group whose aim was the exact same thing.
She recalled how Zoe mocked her for being so straight-laced. If only she knew. The boathouse … it was so long ago, but the memory was easily recalled, bringing with it a fresh dose of pain. That awful night, when her father came home drunk, calling her dead mother’s name. His breath, soured from beer and cigarettes, was heavy on her face as he climbed into bed, clawing at her nightdress. She wriggled free that night, and he always acted as if he didn’t remember a thing. But Jennifer knew. If he didn’t take her innocence then one of his scummy friends would. She hoped the memory resurfaced in his regression sessions. She’d like to see how his girlfriend would cope with that little nugget of information. But as bad as he was, her father was right. She had set fire to the boathouse. Had she really wanted to kill him as she placed the candles under the curtains where he slept? Hatred had consumed her for the man that was meant to be her protector. It was him or them. She had to protect her sister. Or was that too easy an explanation for a woman who couldn’t face her past? Jennifer rubbed her eyes, trying to push the memories back into their box. She couldn’t face them. Not now. She would rather spend the rest of her days risking her life protecting others, than face her own fraught past.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Bert
* * *
The cards were just tools, an extension of the woodlands in which they were hidden. Bert knew his mother would see sense and demand he return the gifts she lavished upon him, but he had hidden the cards far from her reach in the woodland soil.
That night his path was well lit, as he visited his haunt in the forest. The air felt different somehow, and the raven flew with a sense of purpose overhead. Swooping and cawing, it led him to the tall tree that was so alive he could almost feel it breathe. Bert sat at the mossy base, closing his eyes as he inhaled the dead leaf smell. Digging his fingers into the dirt, he enjoyed the tickle of creatures as they slithered through his fingers. Bert sat back on his knees, pulling handfuls of warm moist soil as he dug deeper.. He cleared the soil away from his special hiding place, squinting to see the small tin box nestled underneath the thick root, which had grown protectively over it. Nine months had passed since he had been given the cards, and he grunted as he pulled the small narrow tin box from its hiding place. The lid refused to give and he jammed his stubby dirt-lined nails under the tightly sealed lip. He had bided his time as they absorbed the energies of the land. His tongue poked out the corner of his mouth and he tugged until the lid popped off with a whoosh. Wiping his dirty hands on the back of his clothes, he tipped the contents of the box onto his hands. Now tantalisingly musty and discoloured, the pictures were printed in intricate patterns and colours, emitting an energy all of their own. Like everything in the forest they had a quality that would be negative to others, but felt like home to him.
As dawn streaked through the sky in purple and pink hues, he entered his window as quickly as his muscles wou
ld allow. Bert held the cards under his nose, breathing in the sour odour. It was beautiful in comparison to the smell of bleach that permeated the house. The cards felt alive as he laid them on his bed, and each one told a story. They had lain in the ground for a long time, and returned to hands that would make good use of them. Bert did not need instructions, and in the quietness of his room when everyone was asleep, he laid the cards out again and again until he understood their meanings. They worked with him as he flicked them over, getting to grips with each image. Their hypnotic quality made him lose hours of the night under their spell. Once mastered, Bert began to resume a normal sleeping pattern. He was keen to get out in the world to put them to good use. The fact the raven chose him simply reinforced the knowledge that they were interlinked with the forest. His research on ravens in the old school library told him they were highly intelligent, associated with witchcraft and powers of divination. Bert smiled. He was strong and he was not alone. And with the cards giving him the power of prophecy, he was Raven.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Dr Carter’s telephone voice made him sound like a giant, but in the flesh, he was shorter than Jennifer in his wrinkled off-white suit. His vice-like handshake left Jennifer in no doubt that what he lacked in height he made up for in strength of character.
His office was exactly how she imagined it to be. A spacious but cosy grandfatherly room, with a hint of cigar smoke, featuring wood-panelled walls and a well-stocked bookshelf. The wall facing the street had two windows, and crooked venetian blinds filtered the afternoon light. Jennifer itched to straighten them until they were both the same level.
Dr Carter gestured towards the buttoned leather chair. ‘Please, have a seat.’ He paused, his eyes returning to the windows. ‘Would you like me to lower the other blind and switch on the lamp?’
‘No, that’s fine, thank you.’ Jennifer tried to contain her smile. Only a doctor dealing in the complexities of the human mind would notice her discomfort and understand the reasons behind it. She wondered if it was some kind of test, or if the pleasant pink-faced man was just good at his job.
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