Dr Carter clasped his fingers together and leaned over his desk. ‘Mr Bishop was fit and well when he left us. People with mental health issues are often subject to discrimination. I’d hate for him to be treated in a way that would result in him spending the remainder of his days in an institution. The most important thing for him is to keep his life normal.’

‘The problem is that he’s been giving readings, and certain recipients have died. I believe he’s responsible for their murders.’

‘Well, DC Knight, I wouldn’t tell you how to do your job no more than I would accept you telling me how to do mine. I’m afraid I’m going to leave the investigation in your hands. If you do arrest Bert I would be very grateful if you could make me aware.’ Dr Carter slid a packet from his breast pocket and pulled out a thick cigar.

Jennifer sensed the doctor’s impatience, but there was so much she needed to know. ‘Do you know anything about his nephew, Christian Bowes? He’s reported Bert for harassing him.’

‘You know as much as I do when it comes to Mr Bowes. But I will ask you one thing. If Bert has relapsed, he may be confused and disorientated. He might have no recollection of his treatment, or indeed may be living in a completely different time. Mr Bowes may be his link to the past. If he turns up and Mr Bowes antagonises him …’ Dr Carter shook his head. ‘Let’s just say it’s important Bert’s returned to our care so we can offer him the help he needs.’

Jennifer nodded, finding it hard to muster sympathy for a man who had left a child motherless and a fiancé without a wife. ‘Thank you, I appreciate your time.’

Dr Carter stood and extended his hand. ‘And I appreciate the opportunity to pay back an overdue debt. If it weren’t for your mother, my daughter wouldn’t be alive today.’

Jennifer shook his hand, hoping to tease out one last nugget of information. ‘So I take it that you’re telling me Bert’s not capable of murder.’

‘Ah.’ The doctor wagged his finger in the air. ‘I didn’t say that. I have no doubt he is capable of violence while in a delusional state. When in this state, with the validation of others, he could prove to be very dangerous indeed.’

Chapter Thirty-Seven

It should have felt strange, sharing her bed with a man after being on her own for so long. Jennifer breathed in the scent of Will’s pillow as she curled her legs around the warmth of his body. She had forgotten just how much she missed him, and Will’s soft snores were a welcome distraction from the sounds of the branches tapping on her window in the night. As dawn broke through and filtered soft morning light into her bedroom, she wished that she could bask in the warmth emanating from his body, instead of having to face the prospect of a killer loose on the streets of Haven. The haunting figure of Emily’s child replayed in her mind, lost and alone in the house with little food or water. Who would be next? She smoothed over her duvet, eyeing her clothes on the ground. She fought the sudden need to hang them in the wardrobe. Her relationship with Will would not be smooth sailing, she knew that. There would be times when she needed to be alone, and she couldn’t foresee a time when they could ever live together. Will’s messiness would get on her nerves, and he would resent having to constantly clean, once the first flush of their relationship had mellowed. They were the classic odd couple, but that was all right with her. Will stirred and Jennifer edged over to her side of the bed, wanting to be showered before he woke. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and slid out from between the sheets.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Will murmured, his muscles rippling as he stretched.

‘Shower, then I’m going to make you breakfast. Is that to your satisfaction, Mr Dunston?’

‘Come back to bed first. I’ve got something for you,’ Will said sleepily.

‘Not until I’ve brushed my teeth,’ Jennifer said, pulling on a t-shirt. But Will was too quick, and in one steady movement he had her pinned on the bed.

‘My mum’s been asking about you,’ he murmured, brushing aside her hair as he kissed her collarbone.

Jennifer wriggled under his grasp. ‘I know you’re an expert in pulling women, but talking about your mother in bed is not what I’d call a turn-on.’

Will paused long enough for her to slide free from his grasp. ‘No, I don’t suppose it is. Wouldn’t you like to meet her?’

Jennifer’s voice trailed behind her as she walked to the en suite. ‘Early days, love. Early days.’

Jennifer relished the hot spikes of water cascading from her chrome showerhead, and used the time to organise her thoughts. Will had recently come out of a difficult marriage, and the last thing she wanted was to be his rebound lover. But recent events had shown her just how much he cared, and it was pointless spending any more time fretting about if it would work out between them or not. She had far bigger concerns. The extractor fan rattled as it tried to keep up with the level of steam in the bathroom. Will had described her shower as boiling hot needles of hell, preferring his own gentle showerhead attached to the wall over his bath. She squeezed out the shampoo and lathered it into her hair. Some people sang in the shower. She used the time to mull over her latest cases. It was surprising what came to you when you were hidden away, devoid of distractions of the outside world.

Her thoughts returned to Alan Price, Felicity Baron, and Emily Clarke. Alan’s death seemed to involve minimal effort, and Felicity’s death involved tinkering with her car. However, no effort was made to pass Emily Clarke’s death off as an unfortunate accident. It was violent and brutal, and that’s what worried her most. The Raven was gaining in confidence, each kill more daring than the one before. He was building up to something, his escape from the law strengthening his resolve. Her thoughts drifted to a serial rapist she had investigated in her old station. He started off small, speaking to random women to ask them the time, then moving on to handbag snatches down lonely paths. Once he had gotten away with that, he escalated to snatching the bag and giving the victim a push as he did so. The pushes became more violent and turned into punches. Yet he remained elusive to the police, varying his routes, changing his appearance, but all the while growing in confidence until he carried out first one rape, then two. It would have ended in murder had she not brought him to justice. To Jennifer, the Raven was just the same. He was testing the waters. He was testing her.

She turned off the tap and squeezed the excess water from her hair. Blotting her face against a towel, she tried to envisage what was coming next. Was it possible to escalate from murder? If he was willing to kill in a house with a child, just what was he capable of? But there was still a chink of humanity present, as he had locked the bedroom door to stop the boy witnessing the horror. Phone records had shown Emily’s telephone was cut off the day before for non-payment. What if the killer hadn’t known that? What if he’d dialled for help before he left? Perhaps he seen the state of the place and thought the boy was better off without her. There was no doubt in her mind that Emily had been involved in The Reborners group. Was the Raven picking them off because they didn’t deserve a second chance? Did he think the same about her?

Jennifer patted her skin dry before winding the towel around her body and picking up her toothbrush. She wanted to grasp for hope anywhere she could find it. If there was some semblance of empathy in the killer then perhaps the answer lay in his past. There was just one person who could help her with that. She would need to visit Christian Bowes.