Henley caught the look that DC Dao gave DS McLaren as though she was requesting permission to speak.
‘DC Dao,’ Henley said sternly. ‘There’s a reason why MIB are involved in this case, and it’s got nothing to do with Fox-Carnell breaching her curfew.’
‘Yesterday, at 6.02 p.m., Soteria, the electronic monitoring company reached its data storage capacity,’ said DC Dao.
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means that for the past fifteen hours and thirty minutes, Soteria haven’t been able to record or view the movements of 12,892 people who are currently on tag, including Fox-Carnell.’
Henley leaned back in her seat, momentarily lost for words as she processed the enormity of DC Dao’s statement. The fact that there was an IT explanation for the fact that Sian’s current location was unknown didn’t appease Henley.
‘Fox-Carnell doesn’t know that Soteria has IT problems so it doesn’t stop her from complying with her bail conditions, which means that she’s either disappeared of her own volition or—’ said Henley.
‘Or something happened to her,’ McLaren concluded as he intensified his gaze on Henley. ‘Or someonedidsomething to her, ma’am.’
10
Ramouter hesitated as he waited outside the locked entrance to the intensive care unit. His only good hospital memory had been the birth of his son, Ethan, but he had plenty of bad ones. The pain of discovering that his wife, Michelle, had been diagnosed with early onset dementia and the pain of being stabbed by the serial killer Peter Olivier. Ramouter pressed the intercom buzzer for a second time when a doctor, dressed in dark blue scrubs, appeared behind him.
‘They’re a bit short staffed,’ the doctor said, his gaze drifting to the warrant card around Ramouter’s neck. ‘Who are you here to see?’ he asked.
‘Graham Ashcroft. He was admitted two days ago.’
‘Come on through,’ the doctor said, pressing his staff ID card against the security panel. ‘He’s doing well considering that he took a bloody battering. We would have moved him down to the general ward but we’re waiting for a bed to become free.’
‘What were his injuries?’
‘What weren’t his injuries? Stab wounds in his right bicep, back and hands. Broken ribs. Broken leg, cheek and collarbone and we had to perform a splenectomy. Do you want to know the odd thing though?’
‘What’s that?’ asked Ramouter.
‘He’s been here for two days and you’re the first person who’s been to see him.’ The doctor stopped at the nursing station andtapped the shoulder of the nurse who was sitting at the computer. ‘Mabel, has Ashcroft, bed nine, had any visitors since I’ve been on break?’
‘Nope. Not one and he’s been asking.’
‘Who has he been asking for?’ Ramouter asked.
Mabel looked up and stared at Ramouter for a brief moment before turning her head towards the doctor.
‘Police,’ the doctor answered in response to her unspoken question.
‘Right,’ said Mabel as she stood up and reached for a file on the side of her desk. ‘He’s been asking for his wife, but she hasn’t responded to any of our messages. Bed nine. Straight ahead on your right.’
Graham Ashcroft slowly raised his head and squinted at Ramouter through heavily bruised eyes. The disappointment on his swollen face was hard to miss. He lowered his head and turned his gaze towards the window.
‘Hi, Graham. I’m Detective Salim Ramouter.’ He closed the door behind him. ‘I’m from the Serial Crime Unit.’
Graham coughed as he turned his head. ‘Sorry,’ he croaked. ‘My throat. Could you … water.’
Ramouter quickly made his way to the tray on the side, filled up a tumbler with water and held the paper straw to Graham’s mouth. He waited patiently as Graham drank.
‘Thank you,’ Graham said when he was finished.
Ramouter placed the empty glass back on the tray and sat down on a chair next to Graham’s bed. ‘You’ve been through the wars a bit. How are you feeling?’
‘Everything hurts. I’m not even sure if the morphine pump is doing anything.’
‘It must be hard for a doctor to be the patient.’
