‘This Mika. Do you know her surname?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘And have you seen her today? Was she with you when the verdict was delivered?’
‘No, she wasn’t. I doubt very much that I was the only victim on her list.’ Siobhan pressed the ignition button and the car engine purred. ‘Can I go now? This has all been a lot and I really want to go home.’
‘Of course,’ Copeland replied as she stepped back from the car door. ‘Oh, but before you go, can you describe Mika?’
‘Has she done something?’ Siobhan asked suspiciously.
‘It’s just routine in an investigation like this.’
‘Ok. She’s about five foot five, slim build. Shoulder length blonde hair, dyed. She has a small mole under her right eye. Late forties, early fifties, I think. Sorry, I’m not the best with guessing ages. That’s it. Just ordinary really.’
Copeland stepped into the large court admin office. There were only three people in there as the court morning session hadn’t yet concluded. A short, middle-aged Asian man with his glasses hanging around his neck on a chain, stood by the photocopier, while a younger woman was on the phone.
‘I’m DC Copeland attached to the Serial Crime Unit. I’m looking for a woman called Mika,’ she said exasperatedly as her phone finally connected to the court Wi-Fi. ‘She was looking after a witness in the Catlin Ferguson trial. Court Three. She’s blonde, about five foot five. Has a mole. Late forties.’
The third woman, whose name badge identified her as Pearl, approached Copeland who showed her the photograph of the sketch that Stanford had emailed to the team.
‘Can’t say that I recognise her. Hold on. Terri,’ she said, turning to look behind her. ‘You’re covering Court Three, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, not that there’s much to cover at the moment. The defendant was apparently murdered over the weekend. Acid attack,’ said Terri. She put down the phone and approached Copeland. ‘Is this what you’re here about?’
‘Yes,’ Copeland replied as the man who’d been by the photocopier picked up a coat from the back of a chair and walked out. ‘Do you know this woman?’
Terri wrinkled her face as Copeland held out her phone. ‘That looks like Mikaela. She’s the new witness services manager. She lets the witnesses call her Mika.’
‘Where is she?’ Copeland asked.
‘What has she done?’
‘Where is she?’ Copeland repeated urgently.
‘I don’t know, but you can ask Elliot. She’s his wife. He was just standing by … Pearl, wasn’t Elliot just here?’ Terri asked.
‘He just left. Must be grabbing a cigarette break,’ said Pearl.
‘The man who was standing by the photocopier?’ Copeland asked.
‘Elliot Fonseka. He’s Judge Tarlov’s—’
‘And this woman is his wife?’
‘Yeah, he introduced her to me.’
‘Find the police liaison officer and tell them I need backup, now! I’ve got a suspect on the run,’ Copeland shouted. She ran out of the office, into the empty hallway and stopped at the lift. Copeland ran down the stairs. She wished she’d paid closer attention to the man standing innocently next to the photocopier. She reached the ground floor and turned to the lift. The doors were closed, and the lift was on its way to the second floor.
‘Did an Asian man just leave? He works here. A clerk. Elliot,’ Copeland shouted at the surprised security guard.
‘Yes, a few seconds ago,’ the guard replied.
Copeland pushed through the glass door and stood momentarily at the top of the steps.
‘Police!’ she shouted as the man who’d been walking quickly through the car park turned left and ran across the wet grass of the Court grounds. Copeland grabbed and extended her baton as she sprinted after Elliot.
‘Stop! Police!’ she shouted again. It didn’t take long for Copeland to catch up with Elliot and grab him by his coattails. Elliot screamed out; his arms wild. He punched Copeland in the face.
