SUBJECT TO FREEDOM OF INFORMATION ACT AND PROTECTION ACT.
NO UNAUTHORISED DISCLOSURE-DISPOSE OF AS CONFIDENTIAL WASTE
9
Henley’s reflection in the dented and scuffed lift door was distorted by the aging yellow and white ‘Meet the Met’ sticker. She sighed wearily. The dark and puffy circles under her eyes were in stark contrast to the rest of her skin which was still benefiting from three weeks of Caribbean sunshine. It had been a restless night, the rain ferocious against her windows and filled with toxic dreams of home invasions and Sian Fox-Carnell stealing her child. Henley walked into the office with her dripping umbrella. The motion sensor lights had stopped detecting activity months ago and the facilities team had shown no urgency in replacing them. It saddened her that she felt safer in the dark, empty SCU than she did in her home.
Fifteen minutes later, Henley was standing in front of the map on the whiteboard, holding a steaming cup of coffee. She picked up the yellow magnet that had been placed on Cullen Lane and rolled it in her free hand. She’d given Ramouter forty-eight hours to decide to keep the case or not, but her gut told her the Ashcroft case did not fit. As Ramouter had said, ‘There was too much violence.’
‘Why didn’t you call me?’
The yellow magnet fell out of Henley’s hand and coffee sloshed from her cup as she spun around. She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard the sound of the SCU becoming alive with activity.
Pellacia bent down and picked up the magnet.
‘Call you about what?’ she asked.
‘Sian Fox-Carnell. She turned up at your home, harassed you and I had to find out about it from a PC at Colindale.’
‘Fox-Carnell turning up on my street isn’t work related,’ said Henley.
‘Why are you down playing this?’ Pellacia exclaimed. ‘She was at your house, travelled across London to find you, to—’
‘To gloat. That’s all she wanted to do. Gloat and make it seem as though she’d got one over on me.’
‘You can’t see the danger?’
‘I was never in danger.’ Stanford and Eastwood’s chatter suddenly became audible in the office hallway. ‘And I can take care of myself.’
‘Christ, you make it sound as though I’m not allowed to be concerned about your welfare. I do have a duty of care when you’re inside these four walls and, whether you like it or not, outside of them too.’
Henley turned to face the far wall, unable to handle the hurt and concern that was etched on Pellacia’s face.
‘There must be a good reason why she missed curfew.’ Henley was eager to turn the conversation away from her. ‘I can’t imagine her willingly sacrificing the hundred grand that her parents gave the court and her freedom.’
‘I’m not really interested in what the reason is,’ Pellacia said coldly. ‘But I can’t ignore the fact that she came after you which means that all of us in the SCU have a target on our backs.’
‘It’s not just us though,’ said Stanford, shaking the rain off his mac and hanging it on the coat rack in the corner. ‘The woman turned up at Henley’s door when she was with her kid, and—’
‘Stanford, stop,’ Henley pleaded.
‘Emma was with you?’ Pellacia asked, shaking his head with disbelief.
‘Emma was … is fine,’ said Henley. ‘Fox-Carnell breached for a reason. That’s not just a problem for her lawyers and the CPS. It’s a concern for us too.’
‘I like the fighting spirit but what are we supposed to do?’ asked Stanford.
‘Are you worried that she’s going to rock up at your house next?’ Eastwood asked, sitting down at her desk and switching on her computer.
‘If she does, she better bring milk, because I’m out.’
‘All right enough,’ said Pellacia, his face stern and unyielding to Stanford’s attempt at levity. He took a chair and brought it towards Eastwood’s desk. ‘We’ve got a lot to get through this morning. You’re going to find on your desks a list of our current caseload and Eastwood should have a list of case transfer requests.’
