Chapter Fifty-Two

In the mirror, daubed in ghostly fingerprints, were the scrawled words ‘LOOK UP’. Jennifer froze, her heart pounding as she steadied herself against the ceramic sink. Her eyes darted around the steaming bathroom, as she hastily pulled on her shirt and trousers, unable to take her eyes off the fogged writing. It was the only morning she had not showered. Just how long had those words been written on the mirror? And who put them there?

A frown burrowed its way into her forehead, and she stared up at the ceiling spotlights for answers. What does it mean, look up? she thought, her heart picking up a beat.

The extractor fan kicked in, fading the words as it sucked the steam from the room. She squeezed her damp feet back inside her boots, her flesh pinching against the taut black leather. The answer came to her like a bolt of lightning. The loft! He’s in the loft! The realisation invoked a fluttery, breathless feeling upon her. All thoughts of Christian’s visit were forgotten as she dragged the vanity chair to the landing, her mind flooded with thoughts of Will. Her nightmare showed him in a dark space, warm and heady … just like her loft. The moans she heard in her sleep – had they been real? Had he been calling for help? Had Will been lying in agony as she slept in her soft warm bed below? And if so, who put him there? Had the Raven been above her head all along? Had he crept into the loft while she was asleep? Surely she would have known. The thoughts lingered as she pulled down the extendable silver ladder, allowing it to clank against the soft woollen carpet below. A wave of sickness descended on her as fear ran riot with her imagination. She steeled herself as she gripped the cold aluminium, trying not to think the worst. How on earth could Will have ended up in her home? Cobwebs lingered along the edges of the dark space. It was the one room she could not bear to clean. But cobwebs and spiders were the least of her worries as she entered the attic. She inhaled through her nostrils, praying she would not be greeted by the scent of death.

Adjusting her eyes to the dark, her hands grasped blindly for the nylon string to activate the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. She swallowed back the dryness in her throat as dread flooded her system. Stale heat cloaked a musky smell, which hung heavily in the air. She whispered a quick, silent plea for help before calling Will’s name. Her right hand grasped in the dark air as her left clung onto the cold metal steps. The long nylon string teased her palm and she grasped it quickly, tugging hard until it lit the loft with a sharp click. Her eyes darted around the shadows and settled in the corner, focusing on a body.

The figure of a man lay on its side, bathed by the shadows of the dim light.

‘Will? Is that you?’ Jennifer said, wobbling as she hoisted herself onto the thin wooden floor. Her heart was pounding faster now, and she prayed for signs of life. Crouching under the slanted ceiling rafters she crept over, trying to accustom her eyes to the faint light. A sharp intake of breath passed her lips as she recognised Will’s suit. It was just like in her dream. He was on his side, facing away, his legs bent up to his chest, his bloodied hands bound behind his back.

Jennifer inched forward, blinking away the tears pricking her eyes. ‘Will,’ she said, ‘please Will, say something.’ The silence was deafening. Fumbling in the shadows, her legs became weak, and she stumbled onto her knees as the loft walls began to close in on her. ‘What the hell is wrong with me?’ she slurred, clambering over to Will. Anguish and torment stabbed her heart as a dark pool of blood soaked into the knees of her trousers.

‘Will!’ she cried, her voice piercing through the stifling air. With shaking fingers she tentatively reached out to touch his cheekbone, whimpering ‘Please be OK, please be OK.’ She could not bear the thought of touching his cold dead body. Relief flooded through her as she felt life in his clammy skin. Tears sprang to her eyes at the sight of Will reduced to such a pitiful state. Cradling his head, she called his name, lightly tapping his cheek. But it made little difference as he lay lifeless and gaunt under the light of the single bulb.

She shook her head, trying to ward off the drunkenness invading her body. She was sick, but could not understand why. Could there be a gas leak? Carbon monoxide? she thought, feeling like she was on a carousel. She needed to get out of the loft before she passed out, or they would both be in mortal danger. Shuffling over to some boxes, she tipped over the one containing the blankets and sheets she had been saving for the dogs’ home. She worked swiftly, placing a folded blanket underneath Will’s head, and covering him with the other. She winced as she pulled back the blanket to inspect his bindings.

‘Sick bastard,’ Jennifer said out loud. It was the Raven’s handiwork. And she had been next. She needed to get help, but couldn’t leave him either. Pulling her sleeves down over her fingers, she unwound the wire around his wrists and ankles as gently as she could. The barbs prodded into her skin, intermingling her blood with Will’s, another wave of dizziness overcoming her as she laid him in the recovery position. But even the movement was not enough to bring him around. She quickly scanned his body, each injury stabbing her heart. His shirt was damp with the blood pooling on the floor, and she nimbly opened the buttons to discover the small knife wound to the right of his stomach. Grasping the edge of a sheet, she ripped enough padding to press against the wound, holding it in place with the waistband of his trousers. She touched his face, promising to return. If she passed out here, it could be days before anyone found them, and by then it would be too late. Feeling drunk, she clung to the ladder like it was a lifeboat, clambering down the stairs to search for her phone. But her mind was foggy and she could not remember where she left it. The doorbell rang, and she swung it back, virtually running into Christian, who looked as shocked as she was.

‘Jennifer, are you OK? Oh my God, is that blood ?’

‘I need a phone … call for help,’ she said, concentrating hard on her words. ‘Will’s in the loft. He’s hurt. I need … ambulance.’

‘What! Are you OK?’

‘I … I don’t know,’ she gasped, hanging onto the banisters for support. ‘I don’t feel so good. I’ll explain later. Please, call them.’

Christian’s blond quiff bounced as he nodded ferociously. ‘Of course. You go inside, I’ve got my phone in the car, I’ll call them straight away.’

Satisfied, Jennifer turned and headed back upstairs, her legs feeling like lead as she forced them up each step. Half way up she heard a car door slam. At least help was on its way. Just how long had Will been up there? He must be dehydrated and in need of food, but moving him would only exacerbate his blood loss further. The way she was feeling, she could barely make her way upstairs.

She gritted her teeth in determination as she mounted the stepladder and hoisted herself into the loft. ‘It’s OK, Will … help is on its way,’ she said breathlessly as her heart pounded like a jackhammer.

Someone shuffled in the kitchen downstairs. It must be Christian waiting for the ambulance, Jennifer thought. She touched Will’s face, cursing herself for not bringing water up with her.

‘Will, if you can hear me, just hang in there. Help is coming. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner.’ Jennifer shuffled over to the tiny loft window, one of the original features of the Victorian home. It offered a view of the streets below, and she peered out through the glass, praying for an ambulance to arrive. But there was no ambulance. What she did see chilled her to the core.