meaning to hurt her.' But her voice betrayed her true feelings.
Kate walked across from the printer. 'This is a list of everyone working at the South Hampstead over the last year. And the smaller list is ones who have all at one time worked with the three victims so far.'
Delaney scanned the small list – names, addresses and phone numbers – and two of the names jumped out at him straight away: Paul Archer and Jessica Tam. Jessica had been one of the team who had fought so desperately to save his wife's life. He remembered her genuine grief that they hadn't been able to save either of them. He remembered her kind words, her genuine solicitude. He remembered her small, delicate body, her almost oriental features. Most of all he remembered her gentle smile and her humanity. And then he remembered what had been done to the other two women.
He snatched up the phone, looked at the list and punched in a number. It rang for a while before it was answered.
'South Hampstead Hospital.'
'Can I speak to Jessica Tam please?'
'She's off shift, I'm sorry. You've missed her.' The voice at the other end of the line was curt.
Delaney hung up and looked at the list again. She didn't live far from the hospital. He dialled her home number, it rang for a while but there was no answer. He stood up and hunched as best he could into his jacket.
'Come on, Kate. You can drive.'
'Let uniform deal, Jack,' Diane Campbell said, a warning tone in her voice. 'You are in no fit condition to do anything.'
'I can't just sit here, boss. By the time we get there she'll be home.'
'He's right, Diane,' Kate said as she stood up and put her own coat on.
Campbell sighed and lit another cigarette, calling out from her perch by the window as they walked to the door. 'Jack . . .'
'Yes.'
'Just be fucking careful.'
Jessica Tam fought desperately to stay awake as the man above looked down at her with the cold smile of an executioner.
It had all happened so quickly: she had opened her door, hardly registering the dark-haired man standing there before he had moved quickly forward, there was a sharp prick in her neck and her legs had gone rubbery beneath her. Unable even to speak she had been bustled back into her house, the door kicked closed behind them, and she was laid on her couch. As the man looked at his watch, like an anaesthetist waiting for a sedative to take hold, she knew all too well what was going to happen next if she lost consciousness; she could see it in the absolute chill of his eyes. If she could just fight it. Keep awake, then there was hope. But she could almost feel the rhythm of her heart slowing. She tried to lift her head, but it felt as if a sandbag had been placed over it. Maybe it had. Her eyes flickered open very slightly, she tried to seize the light, draw herself up along it. But she just felt so tired. So very, very tired. Her eyes closed again and she half formed the thought to fight it, to open them again, and then the thought died.
Kate pulled her car behind a Land Rover parked on pavement outside the nurse's house, and cut the engine.
'You wait here, Kate,' Delaney said.
'I'm coming with you. No arguments.'
Delaney shrugged and regretted it immediately as spikes of pain shot through his battered shoulders. They got out of the car and walked towards the house. Delaney looked through the back windows of a blue Transit van that was parked outside, but he couldn't make anything out, the windows were too deeply tinted.
