A police officer was standing guard outside Karen Bajarami’s room. Henley recognised him from Plumstead police station. He was efficient enough as an officer, but it was times like this that Henley wished that the Met had never got rid of the minimum height requirements for new recruits.
‘Has she had any visitors?’ Henley asked.
The officer stood up a little bit straighter. ‘Not since I took over, ma’am. She was last seen by the nurse about forty minutes ago, but that’s been it. There’s been no personal visitors. I’m not sure if she’s awake, though.’
‘Thanks,’ replied Henley before turning to Ramouter. ‘How about you take the lead? I honestly don’t have the brain capacity to deal with this.’
Ramouter looked knackered after spending most of the day driving around London but he was able to find some enthusiasm. Still keen to impress.
‘Really? That would be great,’ Ramouter pulled out his notebook and pen.
The officer stepped aside and opened the door. Karen had been moved to a room that was usually reserved for patients who were able to pay privately. The curtains were a warm sunshine yellow and a painting of the Embankment at night hung on the wall above an actual armchair. The TV was on but Karen wasn’t watching. She was facing the window.
Ramouter cleared his throat. ‘Excuse me, Ms Bajarami.’
Karen turned and Henley stifled a gasp. Her left eye was bandaged and the bruises on her face had turned various shades of purple. Her jaw was swollen and a cannula in her left arm connected to a pump on the side of the bed. Henley wondered what state Ade Nzibe and the security guard were in if Olivier had done this much damage to Karen.
‘Oh God. Is it that bad?’ Karen gingerly raised a hand to her forehead. ‘I haven’t looked. You know what, don’t tell me.’
Ramouter glanced at Henley before he answered. ‘We’ve met before. At the prison.’
Karen nodded as she eased herself up. ‘They took away my morphine first thing this morning. Kermit the frog was sitting in that chair last night and it all seemed perfectly normal.’
‘Morphine will do that to you,’ said Ramouter. ‘We’re not going to keep you long. We just want to get a better picture about what happened here yesterday.’
Karen closed her one good eye for a moment, before she began talking. ‘The doctors had said that they were happy with Olivier’s progress. He would have gone straight to the health wing once we got back to Belmarsh. We told the doctors that Olivier should be restrained but they didn’t listen. Anyway, I was sitting outside his room and all of sudden I heard a crash and Ade—’ Karen winced and took a breath. ‘Could I get some water please?’
‘I’ll get it.’ Henley walked to the bedside cabinet, poured a glass of tepid water into the plastic cup and handed it to her. ‘That will be the morphine. It makes you thirsty.’
Karen took a couple of painful sips before handing it back. She leaned her head back on the pillow.
‘Thank you,’ said Karen. ‘The bastard might have blinded me. I didn’t sign up for this crap. Sorry.’
‘You don’t have to apologise,’ said Ramouter. ‘So, you heard Ade?’
‘Yeah. When I came in. Ade was… He was on the floor by the bed. There was blood coming from his head. I’m not sure what Olivier hit him with. Next thing I knew he’d grabbed me and pushed me to the ground… and… I didn’t see the fork in his hand.’ Karen started to cry.
‘Here.’ Henley pulled out the tissues from the box on top of the cabinet and handed it to Karen.
‘Thank you. It was… The pain.’ Karen dabbed at her right eye. ‘I’m not sure what happened next. I must have passed out because the next thing I remember is waking up here. I don’t understand how Peter could… How’s Ade? Every time I close my eyes I can see him lying there.’
‘He’s in surgery right now. He suffered blunt-force trauma to the head and has a clot on his brain.’
Tears started to leak from Karen’s eye. ‘And the security guard? They told me that Peter attacked him.’
‘Fractured collarbone, cheekbone and jaw. Broken nose and cuts to his face. It was more than an attack. Olivier looked like he enjoyed it.’
‘Jesus, I’m starting to think that I got off lightly. God, I’m so tired and my head is killing me.’
‘Is there anything else that you can think of? Did Olivier say anything once he came out of his coma?’
‘He said something about finally having a view but that was—’ Bajarami’s head fell forward and she screamed out in pain.
‘Ramouter, get a nurse. Now.’
Henley put her arms around Bajarami and tried to comfort her as Ramouter ran out of the room.
‘Don’t worry. Help is coming,’ Henley said. Bajarami screamed out again and buried herself against Henley’s chest. ‘We’ve got you.’
‘Olivier could have killed her,’ Ramouter said.
‘I don’t think that was his intention. She was just in his way.’
‘We should go,’ said Henley. ‘Let’s hope that Ezra has found out where Olivier’s been hiding.’
Mark would call this the ‘cooling-off period’, Henley thought to herself, as she walked down Greenwich High Road. He had explained to Henley more than once that it was something that all serial killers would do. Taking a moment to enjoy the silence as they went back, temporarily, to their normal life. Henley wondered how long her killer’s cooling-off period would be. Days, weeks, months.
Henley’s stomach growled as she approached the chicken shop. She had been drinking overpriced coffee for most of the day, but hadn’t eaten a thing. As she placed a hand on the shop door her phone began to vibrate.
UNKNOWN CALLER flashed across the phone screen. Henley pressed the green button.
‘Hello, Anjelica.’
A shiver ran down Henley’s back as Olivier’s voice rang in her ears.