An hour and a half of interrogation and not a single word had left the suspect’s lips. After the excitement of the arrest, Daniels and Naylor walked away from the interview feeling as if they were right back where they started.
‘He gets minimum rest,’ Naylor said. ‘Then we try again.’
‘We’re wasting our breath, guv!’ Daniels snapped. She wanted to punch something. Scream. Yell. But what would be the point? ‘Did you see those eyes? Cold as ice. You could stick pins in them, he wouldn’t even flinch.’
‘He’s a hard-arsed bastard, I’ll give you that.’
‘Yeah, Jo nailed him as soon as she looked at him. As she said, he’s had all the right training. Well, we’ve had all the right training too and we’ve been in the job long enough to know when we’re beaten. Let’s face it, if we’re going to find Jessica Finch, alive or dead, we’re going to have to do it without his help.’
They walked back to the observation suite to collect Jo, then organized coffee and found somewhere comfortable to sit and plan their next move, knowing that it was important to regroup now rather than leaving it till morning.
It was getting on for two thirty a.m. – and several coffees later – when they finally agreed on the best line of attack. They were about to call it a day when a deafening alarm bell rang out in the building, getting louder and louder the longer it went on.
Daniels shot out of her seat and poked her head round the door to see what was going on. Several officers came tearing down the corridor, heading in the direction of the cell block. With a sinking feeling, she took off after them with Naylor and Jo right behind her. The moment she turned the corner, her worst fears were realized.
The door to cell 4 was gaping open. A huddle of bodies crowded around the entrance, visibly shaken by what they could see. Daniels rushed towards them and pushed her way through. Makepeace was lying unconscious on the floor in a pool of his own vomit, a small plastic bag smeared with human faeces next to him. A custody officer was kneeling beside him, his face frozen in disbelief, completely clueless as to what to do next. A pair of latex gloves dangled loosely from his right hand. Grabbing them, Daniels shoved him aside and snapped them on. Yelling for a defibrillator, she lifted Makepeace’s eyelid.
The eye underneath was unresponsive.
Tilting his head back, she listened for breath.
There was none.
Someone handed her a resuscitation aid, a plastic valvelike tube designed to fit into a casualty’s mouth. Wiping away vomit from Makepeace’s airways, she put it into his mouth. Pinching his nose between forefinger and thumb – trying to ignore the stench of vomit – she took a long deep breath and blew twice into the tube. He still wasn’t breathing, so she began chest compressions.
‘One, two, three, four . . .’ Tears were rolling down her cheeks, sweat running down her back. ‘Don’t you fucking die on me you bastard!’
Naylor and Jo looked on helplessly as she tried for fifteen minutes to revive him, both manually and by delivering a shock with the defibrillator when it came. She hadn’t figured on him topping himself, shafting them completely in the process. The evil sod had prepared for his arrest and, if necessary, his death, right down to the very last detail, concealing poison he knew wouldn’t be found without a full internal body search.
Daniels was faintly aware of Naylor’s voice as he cleared the room behind her. And, seconds later, felt his presence near her as she continued in her quest to restart her suspect’s heart. Deep down she knew that her efforts were in vain. A strangulated wail escaped from her mouth, a demonstration of distress so upsetting it made Jo shiver.
‘That’s enough, Kate,’ Naylor said softly.
And still Daniels continued to ram her balled hands into the centre of the suspect’s chest. ‘One, two, three, four . . .’
Her voice broke off, exhaustion taking over.
‘Kate, he’s gone!’ Naylor’s tone was more forceful than before.
Stopping the heart massage, Daniels sank back on her heels, head bowed in defeat, a mixture of grief and anger washing over her. She was sobbing now, not for Makepeace but for Jessica. Getting up, she pushed her way past Naylor without another word, ripping off her gloves as she went. Jo followed her out. Leading her into a nearby office, she shut the door behind them and held Daniels close until her rage began to subside.
‘I’m so sorry, Kate,’ she whispered. ‘If it’s any consolation, I don’t think he was ever going to tell you where he’d hidden Jessica.’
Daniels withdrew, choking back the tears, a look of pure anguish on her face.
‘I hope he burns in hell!’ she said.
The search team were now her only hope.