‘For fuck’s sake,’ Stanford said as Pellacia shoved past him.
‘Come on,’ Henley said, taking Ramouter’s arm leading him towards the ICU entrance. She pressed the intercom button and identified herself to the disembodied voice.
The door to the ICU opened and Henley put her hand on Ramouter’s back to push him through, but he turned and called after Pellacia, his face twisted in fury and pain.
‘It’s all on you if Ezra doesn’t make it.’
54
Stanford handed Henley a large cup of coffee. ‘Any updates?’ he asked.
‘Not good. Ezra’s not good at all,’ Henley replied. ‘Fractured skull, swelling on the brain. Broken collarbone, cracked ribs and a broken wrist. He’s in critical condition but stable. We just have to pray that he comes around when they pull him out of the medically-induced coma.’
‘Shit,’ Stanford replied, his voice thick with tears. He placed his mug on the window ledge and pressed his forehead against the glass. ‘He doesn’t deserve this. He’s just a fucking kid.’
‘Paul,’ Henley said, fighting back her own tears as she joined him at the window and put her arms around him. ‘He’s going to be OK.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘I have to believe it.’
‘He should be walking in here with his disgusting green juice and moaning about the murder board,’ said Stanford. He pulled away from the window and wiped his face. ‘I can’t believe that fucking group of vigilantes decided that a kid was a threat to them.’
Henley shook her head. ‘It was one man according to the witnesses and he would have killed Ezra if he hadn’t been interrupted.’
‘Who’s dealing with it?’ Stanford asked.
‘Peckham CID. Ezra’s case is nothing to do with us, but theOIC has promised to keep us updated,’ Henley said. She put her mug down and rubbed her puffy eyes.
‘What time did you finish last night?’ Stanford asked with concern. ‘You look knackered.’
Henley groaned as she checked the time. It was almost 8 a.m.. ‘We finished interviewing Fonseka at around 9 p.m. but I didn’t get home until midnight. I’d just fallen asleep when Pellacia called. I haven’t even been home to change,’ she said, looking down at the hoodie she was wearing that belonged to Rob.
‘You should sleep. Take a nap downstairs.’
‘I’m too wired to sleep,’ Henley said as Pellacia walked in, making his way to his office without acknowledging either of them.
‘He looks even worse than you do,’ Stanford said. ‘Can’t say that I’m sorry.’
‘Are you going to talk to him?’
‘Nope. I said everything I had to say to him earlier. Ezra should never have been put in harm’s way. He took his eyes off the ball.’
‘Did you tell him that when you led him away?’ Henley asked.
‘Something like that,’ Stanford admitted. ‘Not my finest hour but he was behaving like a twat. What about you?’
‘Me? Absolutely not,’ said Henley as she watched Pellacia’s closed door. ‘I know him well enough to know that he wouldn’t even hear me right now and the last thing we need is for him to think we’re bitching about him. Best to leave him, but more importantly we need to keep Ramouter out of his way.’
‘I’ve never seen that side of Ramouter before,’ Stanford said with surprise.
‘I don’t know what he would have done if you weren’t there.’
‘Don’t even think about it. Eastwood said she was taking him to the café. Trying to get him in a good place before he comes back to work.’
‘It will take more than a full English to put Ramouter in a stable mood,’ Henley said as the phone on her desk rang and Southwark CSI appeared on the display screen.
‘Let me know when you’re ready to get started,’ said Stanford, turning his chair and waking up his computer.
