Nine Elms (Kate Marshall #1)(63)

She backed away from the little cup lying on its side, the vodka spreading out over the tiled floor, and she hurried away. Past the luxury wine and spirits store and onto her platform. She saw it as fate that a fast train was due to leave in one minute. She ran along the platform and hopped on board just as the doors closed.





32

Kate calmed down a little on the train home. She found a quiet corner and she managed to speak to Glenda, who said she would contact the police liaison they had been assigned over the years.

“He’s safe, Kate. I promise. The school is secure, and they know Jake’s background.”

“Keep me posted, Mum, and ask Jake to text me back, tell me what he thinks of the picture I sent him of the wet suit.”

“Of course. Are you okay, love?”

Kate looked out at the landscape rushing past. She didn’t want to think that she’d come so close to drinking.

“I’m okay,” she said. When she ended the call, her phone rang again. This time it was Tristan. She quickly told him what had happened, omitting the part where she almost drank.

“I’ll be back in time for my three p.m. lecture,” she said.

“Cool. Listen. I just saw online that at seven p.m. tonight there’s going to be a candlelit vigil for the third victim, Layla. It’s in Topsham, the village where she lived. It’s only about ten miles away from Ashdean. It could be a good place to talk to people, find out more information, especially if it’s a small village . . .”

Kate had a quick think. I’ve got a lecture three to four p.m., the five p.m. AA meeting with Myra. Then drive to Topsham.

“Okay, let’s do that,” she said. Keeping busy was good, she thought. It kept her mind off other things.



Later that afternoon, Peter was doing push-ups in his cell when he heard a bang on the door. Winston opened the hatch.

“Peter, we need to search your room,” he said.

“Why?”

“Routine,” said Winston, looking at him with impassive eyes. Peter came to the hatch and was cuffed and hooded and taken out into the corridor. Winston stayed with him as Terrell pulled on a fresh pair of latex gloves.

“Anything you want to tell me before I go in?” he asked.

“No,” said Peter. Terrell went inside, closing the door.

Peter tried to remain calm. He was keeping the letters from Enid and his “fan” inside capsules in the large bottle of vitamin C supplements. He figured that, at a glance, the white paper packed inside looked the same as a full capsule. He hoped that the radiator knob wouldn’t be discovered loose. It would be a shame to sacrifice that hiding place.

“You okay, Peter?” asked Winston. “You’re sweating.”

“I was exercising,” he said. Glad to be able to tell the truth for once. He had noticed how much better his clothes fit.

Winston’s radio bleeped, and a call came through for medical backup in solitary confinement.

“Urgent. We have a patient caught up in the new razor wire . . .” Winston reached for the knob on the radio and turned the sound down.

“New razor wire?” asked Peter. “Did someone try to escape? I didn’t hear the siren go off.”

“The yard in solitary now has razor wire on top of the walls,” said Winston.

“How did he get through the net?” asked Peter.

“The nets have been removed,” said Winston. “Too many birds were getting caught in them and dying. It’s very expensive to get them removed . . .” Winston checked himself and stopped talking. Peter was one of the few lucid patients, and Winston was a nice bloke. Peter noticed how he sometimes fell into a rhythm of talking to him like a normal person. The door opened, and Terrell came out of Peter’s room.

“We’re all good,” he said. “We just need to check you, please, Peter.”

They went back into the cell, where they conducted a strip search and shined a small flashlight into all the places where he might hide something.

Peter heard them move on to search the other cells in his corridor.

There’s now no net above the yard in solitary confinement, he thought. This changes everything.

He tore a small strip of paper and sat down to write another note to give to Enid on her next visit.



Meredith was waiting for Winston and Terrell at the entrance to G Wing. Her meeting with Kate had rattled her, and on her way back to the hospital, her concerns had grown that Peter could be communicating in some way.

“All rooms are clean,” said Winston. “We found some food stashed away, but that was it. There’s no correspondence. No weapons or anything prohibited.”

Meredith nodded and paced up and down. “And you’re a hundred percent sure that you’ve checked every patient who comes into contact with Peter?” she asked.

“The only contact he has with other patients is during group therapy with you each week,” said Winston. “And we watch everything.”

“What about staff members?” she asked.

“My team is straight down the line,” said Winston, his face clouding over. “We go through security checks in and out.”

“I’d like all staff areas checked and I’d like interviews with everyone who works on G Wing or has worked on G Wing over the past three months. And I want that done now.”