‘I didn’t kill her,’ said Mika. ‘That was clearly Donovan on the street. I don’t know who that other woman is.’
‘The jury delivered a guilty verdict. Unanimous.’
‘You’re lying,’ Mika said as she pulled herself up. ‘She was going to walk. I could see it on their faces. Elliot could see it too.’
Ramouter took a printout and handed it to Mika. ‘This is a copy of the trial record. As you can see, on Monday at 11.26 a.m. a verdict was returned. Guilty. Unanimous. You interfered with justice.’
‘No,’ Mika said, her eyes scanning rapidly across the page. ‘You made this up. This is fake. You’re a fucking liar.’ She ripped the page in two, screwed up the pieces and threw them at Ramouter.
‘Why don’t you help yourself and admit that you were involved, and that this entire thing was your idea?’ said Henley.
‘I’ve told you. I had nothing to do with any of this. It was my husband and Donovan.’
‘Here’s the thing. Both your husband and Donovan Hernandez have become quite talkative in the past twenty-four hours,’ said Henley. ‘When they were first interviewed, they were, I suppose loyal is the word, but the realisation that they were going to spend the rest of their lives in a prison cell sobered them up.’
For the first time, there was fear in Mika’s eyes as she looked at Henley and Ramouter. ‘What do you mean?’ Mika asked, her voice low.
‘Before Donovan Hernandez was produced at court this morning he gave a statement to our colleague.’
‘What did he say?’
‘That you were the ringleader. That he was following yourorders including an order to throw Kaiden Longley from the balcony of his flat.’
‘That’s not true,’ Mika said softly, her fingernails scraping against the burned skin on her face.
‘And then there’s your husband. I don’t know whether the prison air does something to your senses, but he also had a lot to say,’ said Ramouter. ‘In fact, I’ve got a copy of my colleague’s notes right here. “I, Elliot Fonseka make the following admissions. I obtained confidential court information on the request of my wife Mikaela Fonseka. I obtained these documents under duress. I—”’
‘No, no, no,’ Mika screamed. ‘How could he? The liar.’
Mika stood up, banged her hands repeatedly on the table and swept all the exhibit bags and folders to the floor.
Ramouter raised his eyebrows, and pressed the alarm strip that ran around the perimeter of the interview room.
‘Suspend it?’ he asked Henley as the door flew open and the custody sergeant appeared with a plain clothes officer.
‘Yes,’ Henley said. She picked up the exhibit bags containing the scalps of Mika’s victims from the floor.
‘Interview suspended at 11.36 a.m..’
Henley stood outside the gates of Lewisham police station and breathed in deeply. She could still taste smoke in the back of her throat and the headache was taking an age to shift.
‘Can I say that I think she’s crazy,’ said Ramouter, zipping up his coat.
‘Mika Fonseka is not crazy,’ said Henley. ‘That woman knew exactly what she was doing. She’s manipulative and evil but the irony is that she’s going to be asking the jury to believe that she’s the innocent one in her husband’s sick games.’
‘They won’t fall for it,’ said Ramouter as they walked towards Henley’s car. ‘They’re all going to sit in the dock, blaming each other and they’re all going to go down.’
‘I bloody hope so,’ Henley said as her and Ramouter’s phones both rang at the same time.
Ramouter paled as his thumb hovered above the green accept button. ‘It’s Eastwood,’ he said.
‘Pellacia,’ Henley replied. She pressed accept, closed her eyes and silently prayed as she listened to Pellacia. He was short. To the point. Emotional. She ended the call and wiped her eyes.
‘Ezra’s awake,’ Ramouter said quickly with a broad smile on his face. ‘Awake and talking.’
‘Thank God,’ Henley said, exhaling with relief.
‘I want to see him,’ Ramouter said as the 199 bus which stopped at Lewisham hospital approached.
