Authors: Maynard Sims
“You’re mad,” Holly said.
Diana smiled. “If you say so. I’m not sure madness comes into it, but what I am is very patient, and I’ve waited a very long time to reunite my family.” She rose from the chair and walked to the beds, leaning first over Laura, Annie’s friend, stroking her cheek, and then turning her full attention to Holly. She crouched down so their eyes were level. “Still,” she said. “Not long to wait now.”
Later, as Carter entered the house he heard voices coming from the basement kitchen. Annie was down there with Adam and Penny Chapman.
Annie had been crying. Her eyes were red-ringed and there were a pile of crumpled, damp tissues on the table in front of her. The Chapmans flanked her, Penny holding her hand, her husband sucking on a cigarette as if his life depended on it. As Carter stepped into the kitchen, Adam Chapman took the cigarette from his mouth and ground it out in the overfilled ashtray. “It’s all over the local news,” he said. “What happened? Were you there when Henry jumped?”
“We came over as soon as we saw it,” Penny said. “We didn’t think Annie should be on her own.” She gave Annie’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
“I’ve been behaving like a complete wimp,” Annie said. “I can’t believe how much Henry’s death has bothered me. Sorry, Rob.”
Carter pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “It gets worse,” he said. “I’ll answer your questions in a moment, Adam, but first I want you, all of you, to tell me what you know about witchcraft in the Calder Valley.”
“What do you mean exactly?” Penny said.
“You’ve all lived here for years. You must have heard stories, folk tales, rumors, anything. Wrack your brains. I want to know everything you know, no matter how trivial you may think it is.”
“Why?” Annie said.
Carter reached across to Adam Chapman’s packet of cigarettes, extracted one and lit it. He was out of them. He’d smoked his last one on the way back from Sarah Bennett’s flat.
“You asked me up here,” he said, blowing out a plume of smoke. “Because you wanted me to investigate a number of suspicious deaths and the disappearance of Laura Sallis. From what I’ve learned I’d say that all the incidents are related, as are the deaths of Henry Norton and Ollie Tucker. And now Holly Ireland has gone missing and I’m afraid she could be the next victim in all this.”
“Oh, no!” Annie said, reaching for another tissue.
By the time the Chapmans went home and Carter went to bed, it had gone three a.m. It had been an excruciatingly long day and his body ached, but he found it difficult to sleep. His mind refused to switch off, churning over the events of the day and reviewing the stories Annie and the Chapmans had told him. When Penny Chapman herself told him she was a white witch it didn’t surprise him. The whole valley was steeped in witchcraft with people, usually women, adopting Wicca as their religion and embracing the whole alternative lifestyle it presented. But there was a difference between the Wiccan ideal and the powers exhibited by Diana. Her magic came from a much darker philosophy.
Diana.
Even the name seemed significant. In legend Diana was the goddess of the hunt—so did she see herself as a huntress? And there was even a predominantly feminist branch of Wicca named after her. Dianic Wicca. So had the name been given to her or was it one she had simply adopted? Whatever the truth might be it was obvious she had set herself some kind of mission. There was a purpose to the killings, he was sure of that. But he was equally sure that she was deliberately muddying the waters to make detecting that mission nigh on impossible. Henry Norton and Ollie Tucker had been killed to prevent them from discovering the truth about her. Martin Impey had been attacked in the British Library while researching the Yardley sisters. Dave Scott, the driver of the flour tanker, had been killed because… Why?
His mind hit a brick wall.
He rolled over in the bed and punched his pillow in frustration. When sleep finally found him it was fitful and dream-filled. It was almost a relief when the persistent ringing of the front door bell brought him back to wakefulness.
He pulled on a robe and padded from his bedroom. The bell hadn’t roused Annie. He could still hear her snoring slightly in the next room.
He tiptoed down the stairs and saw a familiar silhouette through the glass panel in the front door. He unlocked it and pulled it open.
Jane Talbot stood on the doorstep, umbrella raised against the thin drizzle falling from the sky.
“Good to see you,” Carter said. “Thanks for coming.” He leaned forwards to kiss her, but she turned her head, presenting him with her cheek.
“I’m doing this for Emilie,” she said flatly. “I’ve brought a friend.” She stepped to one side and closed the umbrella. Beyond her Carter could see her car parked on the street. A familiar figure was hauling a small suitcase from the trunk.
“Harry Bailey?” Carter said. “What the hell’s he doing here?”
“Sorry, Rob,” she said. “Your one-man show is over. Crozier’s made this official now.”
In the street Harry Bailey slammed the lid of the trunk and carried the suitcase to the house. “Rob, good to see you again,” he said, extending a hand. To Jane, he said, “Your bag, madam.”
“But how…?” Carter said.
“Easy explanation, old son,” Bailey said. “Simon set me the task of tracking you down and coming to Yorkshire to give you some help. I hadn’t got a clue where you were staying, so I called Jane, figuring she might know, and she said she was coming up here today, so I cadged a lift.”
“Fortunate,” Carter said.
“Born lucky, me,” Bailey said with an easy smile.
“Where are you staying? There’s no room here.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m sure there’ll be a bed and breakfast somewhere, or I’ll pitch up at one of the pubs. I saw at least one of them advertising rooms.”
Carter turned and saw Annie, dressed in a toweling robe, padding down the stairs. “What’s going on, Rob? Who are these people?”
“This is Harry Bailey, a department colleague of mine. And this,” he said. “This is Jane Talbot.”
Annie Ryder frowned. “Well invite them in. Don’t keep them standing out there in the rain.”
Jane shook the rain from her umbrella and stepped over the threshold. Harry Bailey followed.
“I take it Rob didn’t tell you I was coming,” Jane said to Annie.
“Not a word,” Annie said, shaking her head. “Not a bloody word. Come through, I’ll put the kettle on.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Harry Bailey reached into the pocket of his overcoat and pulled out a book, dropping it on the table in front of Carter. “This was what Martin was reading when he was attacked.”
Carter picked it up and read the title, smiling tightly. “The Yardley sisters,” he said. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? What are you doing with it?”
“The police found it when they were called to the library. They handed it to Simon who, in turn, passed it on to me to read through.”
“And have you?”
“I sat up half the night. Interesting reading. A testament to intolerance and bigotry. Those poor women were persecuted, hunted down one by one and killed horribly.”
Carter nodded. “I know something of the story. The Yardley sisters are part of the folklore around here. I pointed Martin in their direction. There was a footnote on one of Henry Norton’s files that mentioned an Elinor Yardley.”
“Well I think we can safely say that the Yardley sisters play an integral role in all this,” Bailey said.
“Yes, but how?” Carter said.
Jane Talbot leaned forwards in her seat. “That’s what we’re here to find out,” she said.
Annie looked troubled. “How did Diana—we’ve given her a name, we might as well use it—how did she know your friend Martin was going to the library to look at that particular book?”
“Some kind of location charm or spell, I should imagine,” Harry Bailey said. “At some stage she would have had contact with the book and applied the spell. After that it would be quite a simple matter to keep tabs on who was taking it out to read.”
“That easy?” Carter said.
“Oh, yes. I’ve encountered these spells before. They’re pretty big in Haiti.” He turned to Annie. “I spent a number of years there when I was in my twenties, when Papa Doc’s son, Jean Claude, had the country in a stranglehold.”
“So you believe in witchcraft?”
“There’s too much evidence not to,” he said. “I’m not saying that all witches have powers. Some, if not most of them, are self-delusional. To them it’s a belief system, as flawed as all belief systems that rely on blind, unquestioning faith. But I’ve met a couple of genuine witches in my time and I believe they had real powers. They may not be up there with Harry Potter, but I’ve seen them perform some remarkable feats of what we’d call magic.”
“So Diana is aware that Martin had checked the book out of the library,” Jane Talbot said. “And then what? She somehow possesses the girl who then goes on to attack him?”
“That seems the most likely scenario,” Harry Bailey said. “The girl’s name is Annabel Levy, training to be a lawyer, and definitely not the type to attack a total stranger.”
“I’d go along with the possession theory,” Carter said. “It makes sense.”
“Do you think that’s why Martin wasn’t killed? The fact that Diana was using someone else to carry out her dirty work?” Annie said.
“I can’t be sure,” Bailey said. “But it could be that using a third party weakens her powers in some way.”
“We know she had close contact with Ollie Tucker and Dave Scott, but not with Henry Norton until yesterday,” Carter said. “The result being that they are all dead, but it’s taken her days to kill off Norton after that initial attack, so you could be right.”
“Then it’s imperative we keep her away from Martin,” Jane said.
“I agree,” Harry Bailey said. “I’ll call Simon and get him to instigate a twenty-four-hour guard at the hospital.”
Carter said, “Do it, but it could be futile. Diana is a shape-shifter. For all we know she could take the form of one of the nurses, a doctor or even one of the guards.”
“How can we protect him?” Jane said.
Carter thought for a moment. “Is John McKinley on assignment?”
Bailey shook his head. “Not as far as I know. The last time I saw him he was in his office, buried under a mountain of paperwork and complaining bitterly. You know John. Hates sitting on his arse when he could be out working on a case.”
“I’ll call him and put him in the picture,” Carter said. “He’d be better equipped to deal with Diana should she surface in London. I suspect though that she’s going to have enough to deal with up here to worry much about Martin. I could be wrong but I think that whatever plan she has is gaining momentum. If you think about it the first attack we ascribe to her was about eleven years ago. And then there were a few other killings in the period up until now. But, suddenly, things are speeding up, the tempo’s increasing, and now she’s abducted Holly Ireland and possibly…no, probably…Laura Sallis. I think she’s entering the end game.”
“And you think it relates to the Yardley sisters?” Jane said. She reached across, took the book from Carter and started thumbing through it.
“It’s likely. Both Norton and Martin were researching them, both were attacked. A link is likely, don’t you think?”
Jane nodded, not looking up from the book.
“All the sisters were killed,” Carter said. “But Ian Lacey told me that one of them, Elinor, was something of a wild child. Apparently she dabbled in black magic, but she also liked men.”
Jane was quick to get the gist of what Carter was saying. “You’re thinking she may have got pregnant, thus continuing the bloodline,” she said.
Carter shrugged. “It’s possible. It’s something we should look at. Diana might have Yardley blood running through her veins.”
“Then I think I’ll make a start with the local church,” Bailey said. “That would probably be the best place to begin. Parish records can tell you a lot. If Elinor, or one of the other sisters, had a child, it might be documented. What about you, Jane?”
“I’m going to read this,” Jane said. “And then, Rob, I want to meet your tame policeman.”
“Lacey?”
“You told me he had files linked to the deaths. I’d like to see them. Do you think he’ll let me read through them?”
“I don’t see why not. I’ll call him as well.”
“What can I do?” Annie said. “I’d like to help in some way.”
“Do you know the vicar of the church here in Ravensbridge?” Bailey said.
“Peter Wright, yes. He’s a lovely man.”
“Then you can come with me and make the introductions,” Bailey said. “It would help if I’m seen with you, a local face and all that.”
Carter got to his feet. “Best get started then.”
Jane Talbot snapped the book shut. “Will Diana know I’m reading this?”
Harry Bailey shook his head. “No. It’s clean now. I applied a counter charm to it before I left London.”
Carter looked at him incredulously. “You know how to do that kind of stuff?” he said.