The trees flashed past the window in a green blur as Jennifer drove towards Radio Haven. She glanced at her dashboard as the ding ding of her warning system alerted her she was low on petrol. Swearing under her breath, she gripped the steering wheel. It wasn’t like her to be so disorganised, but with everything going on, her normally ordered lifestyle had been thrown into chaos.
Jennifer swung her car around and pushed her foot onto the accelerator as the engine roared into life. The Siri device on her phone obtained the number for the radio station and she punched it in.
‘Come on, come on,’ she growled as the slow tone rang out unanswered. Just what was she going to say if she got through anyway? Surely anyone trying to get access to their roof would be challenged, and if they’d seen anything suspicious they would call the police. She cancelled the call and concentrated on the road, wishing she had a blue light on the roof of her car.
[#]
Jennifer’s car screeched up to the building, sending gravel skidding across the path as she yanked her handbrake. Pulling out her warrant card, she flashed it at the brunette on the reception desk.
‘DC Knight. Has anyone suspicious come in this way? Any men you don’t know?’
The brunette closed her magazine, a wad of chewing gum resting on her back teeth as she stared open-mouthed. ‘No, nobody,’ she squeaked in a small voice.
‘How do you get access to the roof? Is it possible for someone to get on from outside?’ Jennifer said, her heart pounding as precious seconds passed by.
The girl pointed at a set of double doors to the left of the building. ‘There’s a railing outside but it’s safer in the lift. It’ll bring you right up to the roof.’
‘Thank you. We have concerns that an elderly homeless man may be trying to jump off a building today. If you see anyone matching this description on the premises then call the police.’
The girl chewed her gum a couple of times before answering, ‘Sure, I will do.’ But Jennifer had already left, and was hastily jabbing the buttons to call the lift.
She wrung her hands as the lift slowly ascended, the panelled numbers of each floor flashing red as they rolled across the glass screen, one … two … three … four … as if in slow motion. Jennifer’s imagination went into overdrive, acting out every worst-case scenario. How terrified must George and Tinker be in the clutches of the madman? she thought, clenching her fists. She didn’t trust the receptionist, who had been engrossed in her magazine when she burst through the double doors. They could have easily gotten past her and slipped into the lift. They could be up there right now. She envisioned them on the roof as the wind whipped around them. Bert standing behind George, his hands rough on his back. The skinny Irish man was skin and bone. It would only take a small push to send him over the edge. Clutching his little dog, he would either land on the concrete or on the roof of a car in the car park below. She willed the lift to move faster until finally it dinged.
A gust of cold fresh air invaded her space as the doors slid open. With slow, cautious steps Jennifer walked out onto the bleak flat roof. Thick blankets of clouds rolled overhead, carrying the guts of a storm, and loose wire cables whipped ominously against the tangled steel of a radio mast. Car doors slammed below, and the sound of heavy boots scrunching on gravel told her that her colleagues had arrived. But the roof was desolate, with no sign of the Raven or George. A gust of wind flapped her jacket open, and the reality that she had come to a dead end delivered with it a bolt of anger.
‘Damn it!’ she said, stepping back into the lift and pressing the button for the ground floor. Her colleagues were waiting for her as she got to ground level, and she shook her head as she stepped out. ‘Sorry guys, it appears to be a false alarm. There’s nobody up there.’
A ruddy-faced officer nodded. ‘We’ve checked the ladder and the rear of the building. Reception will call us if anyone turns up. The PCSOs have checked the other high points, the tower block and the new church.’
It wasn’t until Jennifer got in her car that the answer came to her. The Raven had been away from Haven for a long time, and his psychiatrist said he often lived in the past. His perception of the highest peak may not be the same as theirs. The radio station, the tower block and the new church were all built in the last few years since the expansion of the town. The officer’s words filtered through her brain. They’d checked the new church. But not the old one. She opened her car door to alert her colleagues, then paused, allowing them to drive away. She could have been wrong, and the Raven may have been setting her up to look like a fool. But something in her gut told her she was on the right track. It was the same stubborn determination that made her want this arrest all to herself. Emily’s little boy floated in her vision, starving and alone as his mother lay dead on the bed. She would be the one to bring the Raven in. She grabbed her shoulder harness from the back seat and pushed her arms through the loops. The weight of her baton, handcuffs, and CS incapacitant spray felt good as it nestled next to her ribs. She started her car and drove in the direction of the church. They had a bond, which would soon be broken. She was going to take the Raven down.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Bert
‘Please,’ George said, his voice frail and broken. His tattered coat flapped mercilessly as he followed in Bert’s wake across the open plains of the remote church land. ‘Please, mister, just let me little dog go. He’s not well.’
Bert strode in wide, dogged footsteps through the overgrown graveyard, squashing the growling terrier close to his chest. Moss-covered headstones slanted against the rushes trembling in the wind. The residents of this graveyard had little family left to mourn them, and as Bert stomped carelessly over their graves, his thoughts were focused only on reaching the bell tower. His mother used to say it was the highest point in Haven, and how once she had ventured up there after visiting Callum’s grave. He knew then that she had considered jumping off. He often wondered what brought her back from the edge. It wasn’t love, that much he knew. His twin’s gravestone lay in the children’s graveyard at the back of the church, and he recalled that a weeping stone angel stood guard over the young souls taken too soon. But none of that mattered, as Bert doggedly carried out his mission. All that was left was to carry out the final prophecies. A thin layer of sweat glistened on his forehead. The ravens above cawed and screeched their warnings, as ominous as the derelict church ahead. Time was running out. He didn’t have a second to lose.
Bert pushed open the wooden door at the rear of the old stone-walled building, which had been there almost as long as Haven itself. Bats rustled overhead, disturbed by the footsteps echoing through the crumbling spiral steps to the belfry.
‘Come along, I’ve got you a present,’ Bert said, his words echoing as he climbed each step. George’s terrier emitted soft muffled whimpers as he cried for his owner.
George wheezed as he forced his legs to climb the stone stairwell, Tinker’s distress spurring him on. His neck craned upwards in the gloom, and he shouted a warning. ‘I don’t want yer fecking present. Now let us go or I’ll call the guards on ya.’
Bert carried on climbing until he reached the bell tower, positioning himself perilously close to a windowless alcove.