by Tara Lyons
“Well, at least you can arrest him now.” She released a loud sigh, stopped walking and looked at the officers. The frown etched on the man’s face was not a welcoming one. “What?”
He cleared his throat. “There’s no one in your home. The forensic team have found a trail of blood, but there’s no body.”
Katy’s body failed her again. The officer’s words echoing over and over in her mind. She reached out for the chair but it was too late, and she fell to the floor. Colours blurred past her as muffled voices filled the air. Unidentifiable noises screeched in her fragile ears.
“Mrs Royal? Mrs Royal? I think we need the paramedics in here.”
“No,” Katy slurred.
Jolene returned to the kitchen and crouched in front of her, smiling and whispering something she couldn’t understand. The two officers beside Katy helped her into a sitting position.
“I’m fine,” she said, but PC Lakhani and his colleague supported her regardless. Katy shook them off and sat back at the breakfast bar. “I said I’m fine.”
“Mrs Royal, it might be worth getting checked out at the hospital –”
“No! No. I need to think.”
“You’re suffering from shock –”
“How could he not be in the apartment?” Katy interrupted the officer again. “I locked the front door behind me. I bloody locked him in.”
“The front door was still locked when we arrived. Did your husband have a key?”
Katy’s head wobbled from side to side. “Only I have a key to my home. Besides, when I’m at home I always leave my keys in the front door. Even if he had a key, he wouldn’t be able to open it with them inside.”
“It’s the back door that was opened, Mrs Royal. He escaped via the balcony, and then the communal door you share with your neighbour.”
Katy gasped. “There was no key in that door…” her voice trailed off, realising the error she’d made.
“Mrs Royal… Mrs Royal?” The officer’s calls finally dragged Katy back from her thoughts. “We will need to take an official statement from you. Is there somewhere you can stay tonight?”
“Katy and Frankie can stay here,” Jolene answered.
As thankful as she was for her neighbour’s kind gesture, bile rose in Katy’s throat at the thought of being so close to where she’d been attacked. Brad would be waiting somewhere out there in the dark. He’d want his revenge for her overpowering him once more.
“Thank you, Jolene, but I can’t stay here,” Katy replied, and zoned out. She stared at the white kitchen tiles, the assault replaying like a film in her head.
PC Lakhani lightly touched Katy’s shoulder to get her attention. She looked at his face; the sun-tanned skin and warm, brown eyes soon disappeared in a haze as her tears returned. It was stupid of her to think she could make a home for herself away from Brad. He had proven, once more, he could find her. She had fought against him too many times and feared for her life. Her husband had come to kill her tonight. Of that she was sure.
“Mrs Royal, I want to take you to the hospital. Just for a quick check over and then we’ll make sure you get to wherever you want to go. You do have somewhere else to stay, don’t you?”
Katy thought for a moment before nodding. “Yes, my aunty. Well, an old friend of my parents, but she’s practically family… Wait, I need my bag! A Nike backpack, it’s in the bottom of my wardrobe. It just has some clothes for me and Frankie, and some money.”
“Okay, I’ll see if we can grab that for you before we head off to the hospital,” PC Lakhani said, and exited the kitchen.
Jolene came over and draped her arms around Katy, hushing her as they rocked back and forth. The unexpected gesture left Katy feeling uncomfortable, but thought it too impolite to shrug off the woman who had just been dragged out of her nice warm bed, and straight into a nightmare. She’d give Jolene a few minutes more, but then she had to get her son and escape. The stifling air attacked her like a winter fog.
The next hour raced by in a dark mist. Katy and Frankie clung to each other as they were transported from house to police car to hospital ward. The intrusive sharp lighting kept her from resting, even as her exhausted body sat motionless. Despite the clattering of equipment, screams from other patients and machine beeps, Frankie slept soundly on her lap. He refused to move away from his mother.
She always thought it strange how hospitals filled people with dread. It was easy to associate them with death and pain, but Katy felt safe. She hadn’t watched her parents slowly die, attached to machines while they fought for their last breath. They had left their home to see a theatre show, and she’d waved them off as the car pulled out of the driveway. An hour later their bodies were in a mortuary. Their car written off, because another driver had sent a text message while driving. Instead, she thought about the day Frankie was born, in a hospital very similar to the one they were in now, and she hugged him a little tighter.
PC Lakhani entered the ward with a young nurse, the dark circles under her eyes suggesting this wasn’t her first night shift of the week. They requested Katy follow them into a private cubicle. Frankie stirred as she stood up and readjusted him. His legs automatically wrapped themselves around her waist, and she slung the Nike bag over her other shoulder. She followed the official pair a few paces behind, allowing them to chat; she was sure PC Lakhani was flirting. She smiled and looked away, peering through the widows of the different wards they walked past. Katy halted, a low shuddering noise escaped her lips and PC Lakhani rushed to her side.
“What’s wrong, Mrs Royal?” he asked.
Her body was weak, but she pointed to the patient on the other side of the window. The officer followed her gaze to a man lying on the bed, his eyes closed and a bandage covering the top of his head.
“That’s him. That’s my husband. That’s Brad,” she whispered.
Without waiting for a reply from the officer, Katy ran back the way they had come, her arms squeezing Frankie to her. She charged into people, hearing the insults shouted in her wake, but Katy paid them no attention. The determination to put as much distance between her and Brad overpowered everything. She couldn’t remember running so fast in her life. PC Lakhani’s voice echoed in the distance, roaring her name through the corridors. She was furious. Why was he following her when he should be arresting that monster of a husband? Frankie’s cries triumphed over all other noises and spurred her on towards the automatic doors ahead.
Katy ran out into the middle of the night for a second time. The headlights from streaming cars and ambulances momentarily blinded her. Shielding her eyes with one hand, she strained to see out into the distance. She leapt in delight when she spotted a friendly face and raced off again. Clambering into the car, and with Frankie gripping her neck, she relaxed back onto the cushioned seat. Driving past the hospital entrance, she watched PC Lakhani end his chase.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Hamilton was the first person in the office, and half an hour earlier than they had planned to convene. He enjoyed the morning peace, although it didn’t come often in the incident room, and drank a strong mug of tea while examining the evidence boards again. Photographs, area maps and lists of personal belongings glared back at him, all vying for a connection to be made. The connection was there, he knew it was, but its elusiveness frustrated him.
As the team began to join him, Hamilton noticed Rocky was late. His annoyance grew. DCI Allen had relinquished some of the tasks and research to other detectives in the office as it became clear more assistance was needed on the case. But, as a point of rule, he would not stand for anything less than one-hundred per cent effort from his own team.
“Right, I’m not hanging around this morning, it’s gone eight a.m. and we need to crack on. Fraser, can you give us an update on what you and Rocky discovered yesterday at Scarlett Mitchell’s former address?”
She gazed at her watch before making eye contact with her boss. It was only five minutes after eight, and he reckoned Fraser p
robably thought he’d been a bit tough, but right now Hamilton couldn’t care less. The bodies of two mothers and their sons had been discovered, he didn’t want another family to meet the same fate because of his team’s lack of punctuality.
“Sadly, not much, boss,” Fraser answered. “It seems she and Fred were a quiet couple. They were new parents who didn’t socialise too much with anyone in the area. Her closest neighbour did tell us that after Fred’s murder she tried to reach out to Scarlett, to offer support, but it was unwanted. She said Scarlett fell into a state of depression and within a matter of weeks there was a ‘for sale’ sign outside the house. The neighbour never saw Scarlett or her son again.”
“That’s not very helpful,” Clarke grunted.
“Well, how many of your neighbours are you friends with?” Fraser retorted, and he shrugged. “Because none of my neighbours really know me, or what I do for a living. It’s human nature these days to keep yourself to yourself.”
Clarke groaned. “I guess you’re right. So, do we think her fiancé’s murder has anything to do with this case, or is it just a coincidence?”
“Well, we can’t ignore it,” Hamilton said. “If anything, it could be the reason she moved to another area, took to hiding in her own apartment and ultimately was left alone. Similar to Emma Jones, whose husband was the reason she kept a low profile.”
“Did you find out why he was arrested last night, gov?”
“Yes, it would seem Tony Jones had a night off from work and decided he wanted to be on the other side of the bar. He got drunk and got involved in a fight with his boss.”
“I thought they were ‘buddies’,” Clarke mocked.
Hamilton grunted. “That’s alcohol for you. And the man obviously has a temperamental personality.”
“Still, I don’t think he’s involved in his wife’s murder. Okay, he’s not a nice character, but I don’t know, he…” Clarke trailed off as Rocky opened the door and floated through the office, a grin plastered over his face.
“Again, let’s not ignore Tony Jones. He remains a person of interest, especially until we’ve heard back from Audrey about any possible DNA,” Hamilton continued, refusing to acknowledge the young police officer.
Rocky dropped the smile and cleared his throat. “I’m really sorry I’m late, sir.”
“It’s not a trait I let fly in my team.” Hamilton’s tone was harsh, but he gestured for Rocky to take a seat and join them.
“Of course not, sir, I totally understand. But I have some news that I think is beneficial to the case.”
Hamilton rolled his eyes. “Well, don’t leave us all in suspense. Spill…”
“Right, after our trip to Luton last night,” he paused and looked at Fraser. “Have you updated them about that?” She nodded in reply. “Okay… so I went home. Well, not home obviously, but over to my ex-missus to collect my stuff –”
“Rocky, we know all this already. Do you think you could get to the interesting bit?” Clarke cut in.
Hamilton unexpectedly felt sorry for the new recruit. The lad was there to help and to learn, but it appeared his team were shunning Rocky’s enthusiasm.
“I’ll cut a long story short; when I was leaving for work this morning, my flatmate was coming home. He told me about a scene he attended last night. You see, he should have been home hours earlier, but the victim had taken flight.”
“You share a flat with another officer?” Hamilton asked.
“Yes, sir. PC Lakhani and I work at Welwyn station.”
He contemplated asking why this PC had no nickname like Rocky, but, worried it would launch him into another tale they didn’t have time for, he bit his tongue and waved Rocky’s story on.
“The victim, Katy Royal, was attacked in her home last night. But here’s the real kicker, and there’s actually more than one – Katy is a single mother to a young boy and the intruder was wearing a balaclava.”
“She survived?” Hamilton confirmed, now extremely interested.
“Yes, sir. She’s adamant it was her husband who she ran away from a few months previously because of domestic abuse. PC Lakhani filed her report on him a few days before the attack.” Rocky continued to bring his colleagues up to speed on the events that led to Katy running from the hospital. “However, Lakhani couldn’t find her outside so he went back into the hospital. It turns out Brad Royal was admitted days before, after being attacked and left for dead on the road. There’s no way he could have attacked her last night.”
“Hang on,” Clarke said. “I understand the similarities, but the two other victims lived so close together. Now our murderer just ups and travels at least an hour’s drive from Central London to Welwyn in Hertfordshire?”
“Well, if you let me finish,” Rocky jested, making the rest of the team chuckle.
Hamilton couldn’t determine if it was the excitement they all felt about a potential new lead, or if in fact Rocky’s personality was growing on them, but they suddenly hung on the officer’s every word.
“Katy Royal has connections to Central London. She lived here before running away to Welwyn, and said there was an aunt still living here and she would stay with her.”
“Has the Welwyn station followed it up?” Hamilton enquired.
“No, sir. Lakhani drove by her apartment last night, thinking she may have returned after the hospital, but it was empty. Katy only mentioned the woman once, and gave no name or address.”
Hamilton took a minute to process the information. They had a surviving witness to what seemed like a connected case. They had to get her into the station and take a statement from her. It also troubled him that, if the attacker was not the woman’s husband, she may well be a vulnerable target.
“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen,” Hamilton said. “I’m going to update the Chief and inform him we’ll need to work with the Welwyn station. Fraser, I want everything you can find on Katy Royal and if she has absolutely any connection with the other two victims. Rocky, find this aunt! It’s imperative we find Katy, so get me an address. Clarke, go and get the car ready. We’re taking a drive to Welwyn.”
As instructed, his partner raced from the room. Hamilton grabbed the phone to make a call to DCI Allen, but his fingers lingered for a moment over the buttons. He looked over to Rocky who was already drumming passwords into the keyboard.
“That is okay with you, isn’t it Rocky? Clarke and I handling the interview in Welwyn? I mean, it is your turf,” Hamilton called out.
The lad’s face flushed a deep crimson, but his smile took over. “Of course, sir. It’s exactly what I would have expected to happen… but I totally appreciate you asking.”
Hamilton turned down his lips and slowly nodded. “Well, you did good, Rocky. And because of it, I might even let you off for being late… just this once.” He winked, and quickly got on with the task at hand, not waiting to see Rocky’s response.
Betty, DCI Allen’s secretary, explained he was in an important meeting and couldn’t be interrupted. Before Hamilton could counter-argue his update was just as important as any meeting taking place, Betty informed him she’d been planning to get in touch with him this morning anyway.
“You’ve saved me a job, Denis,” she said. “DCI Allen wanted me to schedule an appointment with you today.”
“Good, because I urgently need to speak to him too, but I don’t think I can commit to a time today. I’m just about to drive into Hertfordshire to interview a victim, a possible connection to the bedroom killer case. Could you get him to call me on my mobile whenever he gets out of his meeting please, Betty?”
“Of course, Denis. Leave it with me.” She hung up the phone, and Hamilton shouted goodbye to Fraser and Rocky as he left the office.
PC Lakhani was waiting outside the Queen Elizabeth hospital when they arrived, and Hamilton was pleased Rocky had called ahead for them to make the initial introductions.
“The nurses aren’t best pleased about all this activity around their patient,”
Lakhani explained. “But after a brief summary of the case, and how it could possibly connect with the murders in London, they assured us they’re more than happy to help.”
Hamilton and Clarke followed the PC through the hospital while he briefed them about Brad Royal, his injuries and how he had arrived at the hospital. After interviewing the on-call doctor, Lakhani discovered Brad had been found unconsciousness three nights ago, and had been in the hospital since that night. The manager of a public house found him bruised and bleeding in the middle of the street and called an ambulance.
“All the details we have are in my report, sir, and I’ve sent it via email to Rocky already,” Lakhani said.
Hamilton was impressed with the rapid progress. They came to a standstill outside a ward, the double doors pushed wide open, secured with rubber stoppers, and the curtains pulled back. Hamilton peered through and counted ten beds, five on each side. The man closest to the window sat in an awkward position – not fully lying down but not sitting upright enough to get a decent view of anything going on around him. Lakhani thumbed towards that same patient.
“That’s him, sir, Brad Royal.”
Clarke grimaced loudly. “Jesus! Look at the state of him. Is he capable of talking to us?”
Lakhani nodded. “The nurses informed me Brad’s been conscious for over twenty-four hours now. I had a brief chat with him earlier and, though some words are difficult to understand over the swelling and facial injuries, he’s competent enough.”
“Thanks, PC Lakhani, we’ll take it from here,” Hamilton said, and entered the ward.
Once they announced themselves, Clarke pulled the curtain around the cubicle. Not the ideal private location, but Hamilton knew there was no other choice.
“Mr Royal, we need to speak with you about your wife, Katy.”
“What the fuck you wanna talk about her for?” he mumbled through busted lips. “It’s me that was flaming well attacked… unless the bitch did this to me! Why would someone give me a good hiding and not even nick my wallet?”
