He had been watching her.
When every police force in the United Kingdom had been watching the airports and train stations, chasing every wild goose, no one had thought that he would come for her.
‘How did Olivier get your number?’
Henley looked up at the NCA agent who had asked her the question. He used to be DS Bailey, based in CID, at Charing Cross. He usually worked on serious fraud cases. She wondered who he had pissed off to end up on a babysitting case where no one knew where the baby was.
‘Chance Blaine, maybe? I gave him my card. But Olivier is resourceful. He always has been. Someone could have just transferred him directly to me. Have you checked with the central switchboard?’ said Henley, inching herself closer to the window. They were all squeezed inside Pellacia’s office.
‘We’ll get someone on it. Are you sure that he was out there watching you?’
‘If she said that he was there then he was out there,’ Pellacia said defensively from behind his desk.
‘He told me to be careful crossing the road. He wouldn’t have said that if he hadn’t seen my near miss with an idiot on a moped,’ said Henley.
‘And you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary when you left the hospital?’
‘No. As I told you, Ramouter and I came back from the hospital. I parked the car. Ramouter went into the station and I went across the road to get something to eat. My phone rang. It was an unknown number. I had no reason to suspect that Olivier was even in the area until he told me to be careful.’
‘That’s good news,’ said Agent Bailey. ‘It means that he’s got no intention of going anywhere. He’s staying in the area. Sorry, I know that’s not good news for you.’
‘Great. He’s been in our neck of the woods all this time. What exactly has the NCA been doing?’ asked Pellacia.
‘You saw Olivier three times before he escaped––’ Agent Bailey asked, ignoring Pellacia’s question.
‘Are you seriously suggesting his escape is Henley’s fault?’ Pellacia shouted.
Agent Bailey didn’t flinch as he kept his attention on Henley. ‘Of course not, but he called you Anjelica. He’s trying to get close to you. You’ve got a kid, haven’t you?’
Henley nodded.
‘Your colleague DS Stanford said that your husband and daughter are in Kensal Green. We’ve sent our own officers to them. Just as a precaution. I’m sure that everything is OK. What about the head that was delivered to your home on Sunday? Have you got any further with that investigation?’
‘We’ve tracked down the storage company and we’ve recovered the CCTV and the rental agreement. The details were fake,’ said Henley.
‘And what about the leak to the press about these recent murders? Have you discovered who was responsible?’
‘Is there a point that you’re trying to make?’ Pellacia snapped.
‘Stephen. It’s a small unit, you’ve got leaks,’ said Agent Bailey. ‘This case is mutating into something else and your senior investigating officer appears to be a potential target for a convicted murderer. You don’t need me to tell you that things aren’t looking that great for you.’
Henley could sense Pellacia bristling next to her. These men were in his space, addressing him by his first name as if they were peers, as though they would walk out of the SCU in a couple of hours and sit around the table in the pub.
‘What do you think he wants?’ Agent Bailey asked Henley.
‘I have no idea,’ Henley said, exhausted.
She was pissed at herself because it was one of the questions that she should have asked him. What do you want? How long had he been watching her? Are you working with the copycat? Who is he? Why me?
Henley couldn’t understand why Olivier was clinging onto her like a leech. It was as if he knew that she was broken – easy prey. Or maybe he could tell that she couldn’t let him go.
Pellacia handed Henley a shot of brandy.
‘I should be at home.’ She took a sip. ‘I need to speak to Rob.’
‘Is that wise?’
‘How can I not speak to Rob about what’s going on?’ Henley said wearily. ‘He’s been watching my house. But why?’
Henley squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted to block out the world. To disappear. She now understood what it meant when someone said that they had been shaken to their core. She opened her eyes to see Pellacia staring at her.
‘It’s not the same for him, is it?’ Pellacia said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘The attention. If he calls the paper or he puts out a random tweet, it’s temporary. People will talk about him, but they’re not engaging with him. Olivier will only be a hot topic for as long as it takes for another Z-list celebrity to start trending, but with you, he’s always got your undivided attention.’
‘I don’t like how this investigation is going,’ Henley said, changing the subject. ‘Our copycat goes to ground and Olivier rises up.’
‘Let’s assume that they’re not working together,’ said Pellacia. ‘What do you think Olivier will do next?’
‘I don’t bloody know,’ Henley snapped. ‘Maybe he’ll come for you, finish what he started with me or he’ll try to find the copycat himself.’
There was a knock on the door and Ramouter walked in without waiting for a response. Henley was about to tell him off, and then she saw the look on his face.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
‘I didn’t want to say anything in front of the agents, but we’ve got a problem.’ Ramouter handed Henley his phone.
Henley read the headline at the top of the Evening Standard. ‘Shit.’
COPYCAT SERIAL KILLER TARGETING THE JIGSAW JURORS
‘Shit, shit, shit!’