The Heron's Cry by Ann Cleeves

The Heron's Cry by Ann Cleeves

Author:Ann Cleeves
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group


Chapter Twenty-Five

AFTER DROPPING JANEY MACKENZIE IN INSTOW, Jen Rafferty made her way back to the police station. She tracked down the registered owner of the vehicle which had blocked Janey in the afternoon before and gave him a call. He was belligerent, blustering.

‘The council should have reserved parking for locals. All those people coming from outside, taking up our spaces, when we just want to take the kiddies to the beach. I didn’t know I was doing any harm.’

He had a Brummie accent. Not so local himself. But he’d confirmed Janey’s story. She hadn’t driven into Barnstaple the day before. Not using her own car at least.

Jen wanted to talk to the mother of Luke Wallace, the teenager who’d committed suicide in London, the lad whose death had forced Roger Prior to resign from his high-profile post in Camden. She’d contacted the woman through the ‘Love Luke’ Facebook page, and they’d arranged to talk on the phone. Matthew Venn was still out and Jen used his office to take the

call. This wasn’t a conversation to be had with the noise of the open-plan room in the background.

‘Detective Sergeant Rafferty.’ The woman sounded calm, normal. Jen wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. A nutter perhaps. Someone hysterical. Or greedy, just desperate for com- pensation. ‘Thanks for getting in touch. How can I help?’

Jen had planned how to approach the woman carefully. It wouldn’t do to suggest that Roger Prior was a killer. Or even to link him to the investigation. Jen might not like the man, but she couldn’t be the person to ruin his career without evidence. For one thing, Cynthia would never talk to her again and Jen was already missing her support and friendship.

‘We had another suicide, much like Luke’s, here on the North Devon coast. Our officers were involved. We want to prepare them for any possible future case, perhaps put together a training package to help them deal better with people with severe depression. I hoped you might be able to help, to give the signs to look out for.’ And all that, Jen thought, was true. She’d be prepared to put together a training module herself. She knew what depression felt like.

‘But that’s brilliant!’ Jen hadn’t been expecting such an enthusiastic response and felt a little uncomfortable. The woman went on: ‘Of course, the police have to be at the front line when it comes to mental illness these days. The health service has been cut so much the police have to take up the slack.’

‘You felt your son was let down by the NHS?’

‘He was! I don’t blame any individual, but there just wasn’t anyone there when we most needed the support.’ She paused. ‘There were other influences. He’d found his way onto one of those foul suicide websites.’

‘What are those?’ Jen looked on Venn’s desk for a pen to take notes. They were lined in a row next to a neat pile of scrap paper. Of course they were.

‘There are chatrooms where people



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