Chapter 98

‘I’ve never been so popular in my life,’ Ramouter joked as he sat up in the bed. The AB had started to wear off after forty minutes, but the doctors had still conducted an MRI scan to confirm that there was no damage to his spine. Henley, Pellacia and Stanford were in the room. There were also officers stationed outside. It was almost six in the morning and the rising sun was beginning to break through the clouds. Henley had had enough of hospitals to last her a lifetime.

‘How are you feeling?’ Henley asked as Pellacia prised the last of the coffees out of the tray and handed it over.

‘I feel like I’ve been knocked over by the Hulk,’ said Ramouter. ‘It hurts every time I take a breath.’

‘I’m sorry about that. I should have waited.’ Henley ripped open three sachets of sugar and poured them into Ramouter’s cup. ‘I shouldn’t have let you go into the house.’

‘How were we to know that Olivier was going to be there? If it makes you feel better, I don’t think that he wanted to kill me,’ Ramouter said unconvincingly.

‘No, that doesn’t make me feel better.’

Ramouter winced as he raised the coffee cups to his lips. He had three broken ribs, one of which had punctured his lungs. The stab wounds to the arm were deep and a nerve had been severed. ‘Have you spoken to my wife?’

‘No, but I did speak to your sister-in-law a little while ago,’ answered Pellacia. ‘I told her not to worry, that you’re doing OK, but she was quite insistent that she will be coming down to London with your wife today.’

‘Sounds like her. What about Kirkpatrick?’

‘He’s here,’ said Henley. ‘Being treated for dehydration and shock. He hasn’t got any serious injuries. Mentally? I don’t know how he’s going to cope.’ Henley couldn’t help but think back to her own ordeal. How she had held onto Pellacia for dear life after he had found her. How the anti-depressants and therapy sessions did little to keep the flashbacks at bay. Kirkpatrick confirmed that Pine was the one who took him. He had fought back but then he blacked out. He woke up in the shed with Pine leaning over him and telling him that he was going to come back and was going to start by cutting off his left arm, but Pine never came back.’

‘And Olivier?’ Ramouter asked as his eyes flicked to the door.

‘He’s not here and you’ve got protection. There’re officers on the ward. We’ve got everyone looking for him. The car that hit him wasn’t going that fast, but he has to be injured. I don’t know how he managed to walk away.’

‘He’s the bloody devil, that’s how,’ said Stanford.

‘So, what happens now?’ asked Ramouter. ‘Pine’s dead and Olivier is still out there?’

Henley checked the time on her watch and shook her head. She was exhausted, overwhelmed with guilt and still had work to do. ‘We’re just waiting to get the all-clear so that we can arrest and interview Karen Bajarami,’ she replied. ‘With Blaine dead, she’s the only thing that links us to Olivier.’

‘I want to be there when you interview her,’ said Ramouter.

‘You’re having a laugh, aren’t you? That’s not going to happen,’ said Pellacia as his phone began to ring.

‘Guv, I have to be there. If it wasn’t for her—’ Ramouter weakly pleaded.

‘That is not happening. You’re in here for another few days and you’re not coming back to the unit until you’re fit. You’ve got a punctured lung and broken ribs. You’re an HR headache that I don’t need.’

‘Yes, guv,’ Ramouter said sullenly.

‘To be honest, you do look like shit,’ said Stanford after Pellacia had left the room. ‘I’d rather not be looking at your ugly mug for the next few days.’

‘Thanks,’ Ramouter replied. ‘The love is real.’

‘For God’s sake.’

Pellacia leaned against the wall of the SCU building, threw the empty cigarette box towards the bin at the end of the car park and missed. He walked around the back of the building and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He didn’t feel as though he had a handle on anything. His life and his command of the SCU were spiralling out of control. The revelation of Dominic Pine as the copycat and his death should have been his crowning glory. But he had a junior officer laid up in the hospital. Olivier was out there and killing again. And he had broken his own rule by letting Henley back into his life. But he needed her.

‘You’re looking a bit stressed, mate.’

The familiar voice gave him goosebumps. Pellacia’s heartbeat quickened as he turned around. Olivier pushed back his sweatshirt hood. There were deep scratches and dried blood on his face. His bottom lip was split open and swollen.

Pellacia reached for the radio in his pocket but Olivier was too quick for him. Olivier struck him in the stomach with a brick and Pellacia doubled over, the air escaping his lungs. Olivier kneeled in front of him and grabbed his hair. Panic gripped Pellacia in his desperation to breathe. Henley had told him that it felt like someone had put a plastic bag over her head when she’d had her first panic attack. Pellacia’s last thought before he blacked out was of her.

The rest of the day was filled with letting the remaining jurors know they were no longer targets and that the copycat killer, Dominic Pine, was dead. Henley had given a brief press conference while Anthony’s team were still at Pine’s place recovering evidence. The image of Zoe’s dead eyes kept coming back to Henley. Upstairs they had found photographs of all three mutilated victims pinned to the bedroom wall. For the life of her she couldn’t work out why Pine would have kept the photographs on display. The pain that he had caused and for what? To get one over on Olivier? To exact revenge on people who had only been doing the right thing? Petty. Selfish. Egotistical.

A monster.

Henley had managed to go home and shower before the scheduled press conference at 6 p.m., but she was still exhausted. She had been awake for more than twenty-four hours and the day wasn’t over yet. She had received the call that Karen Bajarami was fit to be discharged from Queen Elizabeth Hospital, and Stanford and an exhausted Eastwood had arrested her. Stanford had messaged her during the press conference to confirm that Bajarami had been booked in at Lewisham police station, declared fit to be interviewed and was now sitting in the cell.

‘You’re making me feel like the rebound boyfriend,’ Stanford said as Henley punched in the security code that would let them into the custody suite.

‘Stop being so precious,’ Henley replied.

‘I can’t help it. It was me and you for years and then some little upstart appears and takes my place,’ Stanford said. ‘How’s he doing, anyway?’

‘I checked in an hour ago. He’s doing well. Couple of days and he’ll be home.’

‘I actually feel sorry for him,’ said Stanford.

The custody suite was busy with detainees being either booked in or charged. Henley knocked on the door of interview room three and let herself in. Karen Bajarami looked at her with her one good eye. The other eye was covered with a bandage and she looked utterly miserable. Henley recognised the duty solicitor as Morgan Tyler. She was one of the best ones.

‘Evening, Inspector,’ said Morgan. ‘We’re ready.’