‘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 the 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.