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 desk
s 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 th
e 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.’
Time To Die Page 27