Jennifer groaned, easing further into the bathwater until it touched her chin. Too exhausted to process any more, she rested her bandaged hand on the side, the sharp aroma of disinfectant filling her nostrils as it stung every scratch and open wound. The pain was comforting as it purged the woodlands from her body, and she allowed her mind to wander while the tea lights flickered on the edge of the bath. The smell of antiseptic brought her to another place, a little boy in bed, staring out at the forest … the picture changed to the same boy, bigger now, digging up a pack of tarot cards from the earthen forest…
Jennifer abruptly snapped out of her vision to banging on her bathroom door. The water was freezing cold, and all but one of the tea lights had extinguished. Will was hammering on the other side.
‘Jennifer, are you in there? If you don’t answer me soon I’ll have to force open the door.’
Jennifer blinked as she grounded herself, her pruned fingers reaching for a nearby towel. ‘I’m fine … I must have dozed off. I’m getting out now.’
She pulled the plug and watched ribbons of blood-tinged water swirl away. Her mind raced as she patted the goose bumps on her skin dry. Her vision provided her with more than an insight into a little boy’s past. It brought her deep inside the mind of a killer.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Bert
Bert scratched the new scrub of beard forming on his chin as he stared through the grimy window of the derelict room. He would be here soon, his next pawn in the game. Emitting a little chuckle, he thought of his next victim. Officer Knight was sure to shed a few tears over this one. She would blame herself, and she would be right. His targets didn’t deserve their so-called second chance, and the fact the interfering detective knew them gave them even higher priority on his list.
His thoughts were interrupted by a scuffling noise downstairs. His heart thumped a dull throb in his chest. What if it’s the police? He placed the open can of beans on the floor and cautiously walked out of the room to investigate. The police don’t normally hum, he thought, and peered out over the stairwell on the landing. A small skinny man sung to himself as he rifled through his bag, picking out scraps of food to eat and talking to his dog.
‘Look at this, Tinker, we’re going to dine well tonight. Ham sandwiches.’
Bert’s yellow teeth glistened as he drew back his lips in a sneer. He shoved his hand into his pocket and sharply drew back his finger as static electricity snapped from his tarot cards in response. His instincts had been proven right.
Bert snuck back into the bedroom and waited. Sliding out a half-empty bottle of whisky, he placed it on the bare floorboards and resumed eating his cold beans. The stage set, he waited for his prey to come.
Soft footsteps pressed against the stairs, followed by a hoarse bark. ‘Oh jaysus, mister, ya frightened the life out of me. I thought we had ghosts up here.’
Bert smiled, raising one wiry eyebrow in mock surprise. ‘Don’t mind me. Anyway, looks like you’re at an advantage with your guard dog there.’
‘Tinker? He just looks out for me, that’s all. I was planning to stay the night here, it’s a bit rough outside, and I don’t have anywhere to take me dog. Is that OK with you, mister?’
‘Sure. Care to share a drink?’ Bert raised the bottle and George shuffled over, keeping a tight hold of Tinker, whose hackles rose in spiked formation. Head lowered, he emitted a low rumbling growl before stopping to lick his paws.
The atmosphere between George and Bert warmed as they siphoned the whisky. The bottle drained and George looked sorrowfully at the empty tumbler before placing it back on the flask that Jennifer had loaned him. Sitting back against the wall, he interlinked his fingers as he placed them behind his head, wondering what she would bring him tomorrow. The shuffle of cards made him open his eyes and glance in Bert’s direction.
Sitting up, George rubbed his fingerless gloved hands together.
‘I love a game of cards. Do ya play poker?’
Bert shuffled the cards from hand to hand in expert fashion. They were large and feathered, but comfortable in his grasp. ‘They aren’t playing cards, they’re tarot.’
George shuffled nearer on his bottom, giving Bert a look of caution. ‘You should be careful with those, the dark arts aren’t to be messed with.’
‘It’s only a bit of fun. Haven’t you ever had your fortune told?’ Bert said.
Inebriated from the whisky, George gave a little chuckle. ‘When I was thirteen, I had me tealeaves read by a traveller on the common. A big fat lady named Ruby. Sure I was too busy looking at her ample chest to take in what she was saying. God, they could have suffocated me but what a way to go, I would have loved it.’
‘Would you like me to read for you?’ Bert said, forcing a smile.
George gave a little chuckle, the image of Ruby still alive in his memory. ‘Sure, why not.’
Bert laid out the cards in the usual manner and waved his hands over them as the images came into play.
‘What do ya see?’ George said, his eyes flickering from the cards to Bert.
‘I see you started off very differently to what you are now. You were well educated, but left home at an early age.’
George opened his eyes wide in amazement. ‘Well would ya credit it, you’re right, but it’s nothing I like to dwell on now.’
‘You’re very alone: apart from a few kind faces, it’s just you and your dog.’
‘I’m happy on my own. It’s exactly how I want it.’
‘It won’t always be. One day you’re going to return to your past. It hasn’t left you and it never will,’ Bert said.
George frowned. ‘I’ve put all that behind me.’
The candlelight exposed the doubt on Bert’s face as he spoke. ‘But you haven’t, have you? The truth is you have a lot to answer for. You think you’re punishing yourself now, but deep down you know it’s nothing in comparison to the act you’ve committed all those years ago. I can see it, here in the cards.’
‘I only agreed to this to be sociable. I don’t want to talk about it or think about it any more. So if you don’t mind I’m going to sleep.’
Bert turned over the last card. ‘I’m sorry, friend, I can’t stop a prediction once it’s started. You can close your eyes if you wish, but I’m going to finish.’
George folded his arms and shuffled back against the wall.
Bert revelled in the little man’s discomfort. The wind howled mercilessly outside as the rain beat against the path, and he knew George couldn’t bring Tinker out in that. He carried on, ignoring the fact that George had closed his eyes. He didn’t need him to be awake for the reading. Hell, now he had started he didn’t need him there at all. But it was always more fun revealing the ugly truth with the participant present. Bert snickered to himself as he watched his past open up in front of him. Officer Knight would not have been so charitable had she known of his history. It was distasteful to say the least, and he did not need to repeat it aloud. Bert read out his future like he was reading out the news.
‘You will return to your past by seeking out the highest point in Haven. From that point you will jump from the roof as an act of penance.’