by Rob Ashman
Within minutes, they had him strapped to a chair and hooked up to oxygen. Kray pulled her phone from her pocket to call Tavener.
‘I got Palmer,’ Kray said. ‘How did it go with Bagley at the flat? Has he–’ Kray listened for the next thirty seconds without uttering a single word. Then, she said, ‘Okay,’ and disconnected the call.
The front door opened, and Palmer emerged with the tubes and pipes dangling around him. The man and woman dressed in green scrubs guided him to the back doors of the waiting ambulance.
Kray sauntered over and put her hand on the back of the chair.
‘I’m sorry. We have to get this man to a hospital now,’ said the woman paramedic.
Kray leaned forward and whispered in Palmer’s ear. His eyes bulged from his face.
‘Noooo!’ he shouted into the face mask. He started to cough. ‘No, no, no. Nooooo!’ They lifted him in the back of the ambulance and drove away, the blue lights doing their hurry-up dance.
49
Kray stared at her bedroom ceiling, waiting for the alarm to go off. It wasn’t necessary. She hadn’t slept. That damned nursery rhyme had kept her awake all night.
The presenter announced the news headlines and she headed to the shower to prepare for, what she already knew, was going to be a shit day. When she slipped out of the house to her car, the morning was as black as her mood.
Her takeaway coffee was making little impact as she negotiated the traffic on her way to the station. She knew the jungle drums would have gone into overdrive and the team would be on their way in. She parked her car and sat in the smoking shelter, drawing on a much-needed cigarette. The drizzling rain pitter-pattered on the Perspex roof, counting down the time when she would have to face the inevitable.
Kray stubbed the fag out on the metal grid, shouldered her bag and marched across the concourse to the main entrance. She took the stairs one at a time – no need for urgency today – and shoved open the door to the incident room to find it already full with coppers. The atmosphere in the room wrapped her in a hundred wet carpets, smothering the breath from her body.
All faces turned in Kray’s direction, each one etched with the same expression, “We know what happened, but we need to hear it from you”. She made her way to the front. Tavener was sat at the back of the room. Kray couldn’t look at him.
‘Good morning everyone, thank you for coming in. I’ll make this brief. At around four o’clock yesterday afternoon, Sadie Raynor killed herself in her cell. She used her blouse to fashion a ligature and hanged herself. When custody officers found her, she was already dead.’
A low murmuring rippled around the room. Tavener sat with his head bowed.
‘We need to corroborate the testimony given by Kevin Palmer but all indications point to him being responsible for all four murders. He is currently in hospital suffering with an aggressive form of brain cancer. I will be in touch with the ward staff to find out when we can interview him. That’s all.’
The room emptied, except for Tavener.
‘We didn’t save her.’ He crossed to the evidence board and tapped the mugshot of Sadie Raynor. ‘Her name is on this board and we failed to save her.’
‘I know.’ Kray put her hand on his shoulder. ‘I don’t believe she meant to kill herself, it was a last-ditch cry for help. Palmer got what he wanted, for Sadie to have a taste of what he had endured. The difference was, she couldn’t endure it.’
‘If we had uncovered the evidence at the flat earlier, she would still be alive.’
‘Maybe. But one thing is for sure; you can either torture yourself playing “what if” scenarios or you can move on. This will eat you up if you let it.’
Tavener gazed at the photograph of Sadie Raynor. ‘Where’s Bagley?’ he said.
‘He’s with Quade in a crisis meeting with the chief, both of them no doubt fighting to save their careers. The IPCC are on their way, along with an investigating officer from GMP, which is an interesting twist in the tail for Bagley. And all the while, Palmer is tucked up in a hospital bed, slipping away quietly in a haze of morphine.’
‘What the hell are we doing, Roz?’
‘Our best, Duncan, we’re doing our best.’
‘It doesn’t feel like it.’ He crossed the room and disappeared out the door.
Kray went to her office to drown in her inbox. She pulled her phone from her pocket, dialled a number and waited for the call to connect.
‘Hi, are you free sometime this morning?’
There was a momentary pause while a certain Home Office pathologist, with a penchant for wearing tight trousers and a waistcoat, consulted his diary.
‘Sure, fancy a coffee?’
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Acknowledgments
I want to thank all those who have made this book possible – My family, Karen, Gemma, Holly and Maureen for their encouragement and endless patience. To my magnificent BetaReaders, Nicki, Jackie and Simon, who didn’t hold back with their comments and feedback. I’m a lucky boy to have them in my corner.
I would also like to thank my wider circle of family and friends for their fantastic support and endless supply of helpful suggestions. Not all of which are suitable to repeat here.
