‘What the –’ Sara Marshall shouted in surprise, instinctively shielding her body from the knife that Charlotte held.
‘Where is she?’ Charlotte demanded. Her face was red with anger.
Sara realised that Dr Lake was safe as long as she stayed in the cubicle. She shouted to her, ‘Don’t move.’
‘In there, is she?’
‘There’s no way out,’ Sara, her pulse racing, said. She knew that if she could reach her phone, there would be police officers nearby to take down the woman confronting her.
‘There was no way in, but here I am. I intend to finish what I started. To show those doctors in the other room what happens when you torture innocent people.’
Sara used all her training in negotiation to attempt to calm the woman. She was a strong woman, and in her state, unpredictable. Sara moved away from protecting Dr Lake’s cubicle, aiming to distance herself from the knife. She hoped the doctor would have the good sense to remain where she was.
Charlotte moved forward, matching the distance between her knife and Sara Marshall. Sara could feel her panic increasing and attempted to calm her nerves. She was a seasoned police officer, similar scenarios had been practised in training, but here was the real thing, and it was nothing like she had been taught. Then, there had been an element of make-believe, and there was no way that any harm would befall those who failed the test, but now: one mistake, one wrong word, one action, and there would be death.
‘Two for one,’ Charlotte said, grimacing. Sara could see that the situation was precarious. She thought of her child without a mother, all because of her chosen career and a mad woman.
‘It’s over, Charlotte. You cannot escape,’ Sara said.
‘With Dr Lake dead, what do I care?’
‘You need help, Charlotte,’ Sara said, hoping to delay the woman’s next action. Sara pressed her hand against her left pocket; her phone was there, but there was no way to use it, not while the woman was watching her intently. One wrong move and the knife would be propelled forward.
‘I’m coming for you,’ Charlotte taunted the woman in the cubicle.
‘Please, Charlotte, dear Charlotte. I always cared for you, did what I thought was right.’ The sound of Gladys Lake’s voice indicated the fear she was feeling.
‘Electric shocks and cold baths, is that how you care? Nobody cared for me, not my father, not my mother, and not that brother of mine.’
‘You killed your brother?’ Sara asked.
‘He deserved to die.’
‘Nobody deserves to die,’ Gladys Lake said.
‘Those men who treated me badly did.’
Sara could see that the conversation was weakening the resolve of the woman in front of her; the knife was not held as erect as before. She kept talking.
‘What did you plan to do after here?’ Sara asked.
‘I have no plans. I’ve already told you.’
‘There is help available for you, you know that.’
‘Help! Drugged out of my mind until I’m no more than a vegetable. No thanks.’ The knife grip firmed.
Sara moved further back, unable to avoid the direct impact of the blade. At the crucial moment, she managed to step sideways to avoid the full length of the blade entering her body. Charlotte came in again, Sara feebly trying to push her away. Gladys Lake, aware of what was happening, opened the cubicle door. It was the wrong move.
At that moment the door from the corridor opened and two women entered.
‘Help,’ one of them screamed. Charlotte, taking advantage of the situation, bolted for the door, pushing the two women to one side. She ran along the corridor, somehow avoiding the other police officers in the building and found the stairs to the basement. She hurtled down them and out of the door and back into Clifford’s Inn Passage. She could hear police sirens in the distance, coming closer. She removed the uniform she had been wearing, as well as the brunette wig, and walked, almost ran, down the street, aiming to distance herself from the police.
Chapter 28
Five minutes after the events at the conference centre, Isaac was in his car and on the way, the blue flashing light and the siren easing him through the traffic. A police officer down, the most serious offence in an officer’s book.
What concerned him was that one of his team had been stabbed. Details were sketchy. Her husband, Bob Marshall, had been notified.
Arriving at the conference centre, Isaac parked his car, taking no notice of whether he was interfering with the usual flow of traffic, and headed into the building. He rushed up the stairs, a policeman on the door showing him the way. Thankfully, the constable had recognised him and waved him through. An ambulance had arrived just before him; a medic bent over Sara’s still body. Gladys Lake was also administering assistance, holding Sara’s head in her lap, although it was evident to Isaac that the doctor was in need of aid too.
The doctor looked up at Isaac as he entered. ‘She’s going to be alright,’ she said. ‘The knife did not go too deep.’
Bob Marshall arrived ten minutes later. Sara, by that time conscious, although sedated and bandaged, meekly acknowledged his presence.
After the initial concern about Sara, Isaac took stock of the situation. He noticed the delegates at the conference filing out, their names and a brief statement obtained, although there was no need to detain them for long. Once again, Isaac realised, Charlotte Hamilton had made fools of them; he knew what was coming next.
Wendy phoned Isaac from Windsor. Bridget had phoned her. ‘DI Marshall?’
‘She’ll survive. Luckily, she managed to avoid the full force of the knife. She’ll be sore for a while and out of action for
