Days Like Shadows Pass by M.S. Morris

Author:M.S. Morris [Morris, M S]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Raven rose early the next morning, unable to sleep once the gulls had begun their morning chorus. He hoped that Hannah would have managed a lie in, but she too was up when he came downstairs, and was curled on the sofa cradling a mug of green tea. She gave him a wan smile and he bent over and kissed her forehead.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.

‘Okay, I suppose.’

‘Did you get any sleep?’

‘A bit. You?’

‘The same.’

The truth was he’d lain awake half the night, reliving the terrible events of the evening before.

After his foolhardy excursion to the abbey he’d returned to his car and driven to Whitby’s west side, stopping on Crescent Terrace, a few doors down from Mrs Harker’s guest house and just above the pavilion. There, after stepping out briefly to pick up a styrofoam cup of coffee from a late-night burger van, he’d settled back to wait for Hannah’s appearance, congratulating himself that he had finally become the sort of father she’d needed when she was growing up.

Better late than never.

He winced as he tried to make himself comfortable in the leather seat of the car. Every move set off his leg or his shoulder. Shift one way and the ghost of the bullet in his thigh seemed to rise from its grave to haunt him. Twist the other direction and the fresh pain in his shoulder stabbed at him once again.

Better just to keep still and endure a dull throbbing from both. Not to mention the sharp pricking of the graze on his cheek.

That bloody dog, it had a lot to answer for.

His phone sprang to life with an incoming call, but the name on the screen gave him no comfort.

Detective Superintendent Gillian Ellis.

No prizes for guessing why she wanted to speak to him at such a late hour. That interview with Liz Larkin in the grounds of the abbey had been worse than a public relations catastrophe. So much for media awareness, Raven couldn’t have been less aware of how to handle the situation if he’d been pitted against a chess grandmaster without knowing how any of the pieces moved.

He rejected her call and slid the phone into his jacket pocket. He’d deal with Gillian the following morning, with a good night’s sleep and a handful of Nurofen to soften the impact.

He forced down the cooling brown liquid that the burger van had falsely advertised as coffee, each sip of the disgusting sludge a test of his resolve, and idly perused a flyer from the concert. There were various bands performing but he didn’t recognise the name of a single one. He was out of touch. If anyone had quizzed him about his musical tastes, he’d have said gothic rock without thinking twice. But the truth was the scene had moved on, leaving him stuck high and dry in his own little world.

Story of his life.

The sudden arrival of emergency vehicles – two police cars and an ambulance – with their deafening sirens and blue flashing lights had roused him from his stupor.

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