‘Her phone’s going straight to voicemail, but Copeland spoke to Paige’s sister, who’s staying at the house. She told her Paige had gone to her studio in Bermondsey.’
‘Ok, where are you now?’
‘I was eating a Big Mac in Greenwich when Copeland called, I’m still here, just outside.’
‘Let me think,’ Henley said as she put on her trainers, grabbed her car keys and raced out of the house, the door slamming shut behind her. ‘Get on the DLR and I’ll pick you up on Elverson Road,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t be more than ten minutes.’
58
Mika turned off the car engine and sank back into her seat. She’d kept a safe distance from Paige Jones as she followed her but had also checked her rear mirror regularly for any signs of the police officer who’d turned up at Paige’s home. When she’d seen Paige’s Instagram story, a plan had formed. She invited her followers to join her for a live Q&A and a manifestation session. The high iron fencing surrounded a small industrial estate where a clothes factory had been converted into three buildings that housed recording studios, a boutique gym and office space. Mika got out of the car, opened the boot and reached for the large duffle bag that she’d hurriedly packed. She winced as rough canvas brushed against the acid burns – the skin raw and peeling – on her hand. She removed the knife that had been used to scalp all of her victims and cable ties. She closed the boot and ran across the road and into the estate, making sure to keep to the spots where the streetlamps couldn’t reach as she made her way to Paige’s recording studio.
The sound of screeching brakes pierced through the silence as Copeland stopped the car in the middle of the estate. She’d been forced to listen to Henley chastising her over the loudspeakers of the car, accusing her of entitlement and recklessness as she’d driven at speed towards Bermondsey. She stepped out into the estate and looked around as she adjusted her stab vest. The lights were on in the gym, but the windows were frosted – it was impossibleto see in or out. She turned to her left and saw the building that had made a regular appearance on the Joneses’ website and social media pages. To the outside world the building which housed the Joneses’ office and recording studios was a sign of a commitment to manifestation and their wealth, but it was only the people who’d sat in Courtroom Two who’d known the true horrors of what had taken place on the top floor. Copeland wasn’t convinced that Paige Jones could ever rebuild her tarnished reputation. She stopped momentarily at the main door as Henley’s voice emerged from her police radio.
‘Copeland where are you?’ Henley demanded.
‘I’ve just arrived,’ Copeland replied. She pulled fruitlessly at the main door and then pressed the buzzer for ‘Floe Studios’.
‘We’re seven minutes away. Do not go into that building until we and back up arrive.’
‘Little chance of that,’ Copeland said. She turned left and walked towards the side of the building, stopping at the external staircase. ‘The main door is locked. I’m just checking the fire escape.’
‘Is there any sign of Mika?’
‘The rental car is parked nearby but there’s no sign of her,’ said Copeland. She walked up the staircase and pulled at the fire door. She heard a click, pulled it open and stepped into the dark hallway. ‘I’m in the—’
Copeland gasped as someone pushed her hard from behind. She fell forward, the rough carpet tiles grazing her bruised face. She rolled over on to her back as the fire door slammed shut. The dimmed lights illuminated Mika’s face which was contorted with rage.
‘Shit,’ Copeland breathed when she saw that Mika was holding a small fire extinguisher. She scrambled to her feet, but she wasn’t quick enough to defend herself and Mika swung the fire extinguisher hard against her arm, breaking the bone. Copeland screamed in pain. Mika kicked Copeland in her side as shedropped the fire extinguisher. Copeland cried out as Mika fell to her knees, grabbed her head and banged it hard against the floor. Her head rocked. She blinked twice and inhaled sharply in an effort to force herself to focus through the intense pain ricocheting through her body.
Copeland gingerly raised her head and then her upper body. She saw Mika moving determinedly down the corridor. Copeland shoved herself backwards until she was against the wall, her left arm limp, tears streaming down her face. She used her good arm to grab her police radio but when she patted the top left-hand side of her stab vest it was empty. She shakily pulled herself to her feet and looked along the ground, her gaze stopping when she saw the white glow of the display screen on the radio near the fire escape door. She cried out, the turbulence in her head making her nauseous. She limped towards the radio, convinced that her ribs – as well as her arm – were broken. Copeland froze as Mika stopped at the end of the corridor and turned around. Copeland fought through the pain to snatch her police radio and press the red emergency call button. She pushed the radio into her pocket and grabbed the fire escape door handle when she saw Mika running towards her. The cold night air hit Copeland, momentarily sobering her up as the door swung open, and she stepped out onto the steel landing. She could hear a cacophony of sirens, but the building concussion in her head made her unsure if they belonged to police, ambulance, fire department, or all three. She had one foot on the first step when she heard the screech of car tyres and saw the flashing blue lights. Copeland stumbled as she took the second step. She tried to steady herself when she felt hot breath in her ear. She turned around and faced Mika.
‘You’re in my fucking way,’ Mika said as she pushed Copeland hard in the chest.
Copeland tried to grab hold on to the railings, but she was too weak and unable to stop herself from being pushed over the edge.
Paige cried out, the rope tight around her wrists. She’d been adjusting her microphone when her studio door burst open. She screamed when she found herself staring at a woman who closely resembled the woman in the photo that Detective Inspector Henley had shown her. The soundproofed room had trapped her screams as the woman grabbed and pushed her. Paige fell heavily against the desk and the computer monitor, and mixer console had landed on her. She fought to disentangle herself from the cables when she felt a pair of hands around her ankles, and she was dragged across the floor.
Warm spittle had fallen on Paige’s face as the woman had stood over her and screamed, ‘You should not be here,’ and slapped her face hard.
Paige had begged and screamed that she’d done nothing wrong when the woman grabbed a fistful of her hair. She’d kicked out and knocked over the trio of scented candles as she was dragged to the corner of the room. It was only when the woman pulled a syringe out of her pocket that Paige realised what the woman was going to do. The accusation against her was that she and her husband had drugged the guests on the retreat and one of the women had woken up to find herself tied to a bed. Paige felt the sharp scratch of the needle, and the first waves of disorientation hit her. She had no idea how long she’d been out for when she felt the heat of the flames against her face.
‘Which building is it?’ Henley asked. She pulled out her phone and dialled Paige Jones’s number again, as the sound of police sirens grew louder.
‘The one on the left. Steele House. Paige’s car is here and so is the rental but there’s no sign of Copeland,’ said Ramouter as they walked briskly towards the building. ‘She said she was on the fire escape before she pressed the alarm.’
Henley looked up at the building as her call to Paige went unanswered. ‘I can smell smoke,’ she said.
‘Are you—’
Ramouter didn’t finish as he took off at speed towards the fire escape.
‘Where are you … oh my God,’ Henley exclaimed when she saw the light from the side of the building shining on the crumpled body on the floor. She gave chase after Ramouter.
Copeland was on her back, her left leg clearly broken and her right arm across her chest. Blood trickled from her nose and glistened on the arm of her sweatshirt.
‘Is she alive?’ she asked as Ramouter fell to his knees and pressed his fingers against Copeland’s neck.
‘There’s a pulse,’ he said as Henley activated her radio and requested an ambulance, fire services and confirmed that an officer was down.
