looked at her, then glanced at me. Then the nurse came in and he ran for it. It was only then that the penny finally dropped and I realized he wasn’t one of the team.”
“Why would Foster risk coming here?” Ingrid asked Gurley.
“To finish what he started.” Gurley moved toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“If they’ve got cops at the exits, I want to be there when they pick the son of a bitch up.”
Ingrid ran after him. “You seriously believe Kyle Foster has so completely lost it he’d come into the hospital to try to murder his daughter?”
He paused at the door. “If he has lost it, one thing’s certain.”
Ingrid tensed, knowing what Gurley was likely to say next.
“We can assume Tommy is already dead.”
13
“Wait up a second,” Ingrid told Gurley.
Jack Gurley was already halfway through the door. He stopped. The two uniformed cops they’d followed into the room pushed past him and hurried away.
“You know for sure this guy wasn’t part of the medical team?” Ingrid directed her question toward the concerned nurse, who was stroking Molly Foster’s forehead.
“No one I’ve seen before in ICU.”
“But we don’t know for sure it was Kyle Foster. Did you get a good look at his face?”
“Not that good. If it was him, he didn’t look like his photo, that’s for sure.”
“We’ve just come from the press conference,” Ingrid said. “The place was full of unscrupulous reporters looking for a scoop. Any one of them might stoop so low they wouldn’t think twice about impersonating a doctor.” Ingrid thought it was amazing Angela Tate hadn’t already tried something along the same lines. “Describe the man to me.”
“About five foot nine or ten, slim build, mid to late thirties,” the cop said.
“Did he say anything to you?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“You’re sure?”
“Erm…” The cop paused, his face had taken on a sudden panicked expression.
A moment later Ingrid discovered why.
DCI Radcliffe was standing in the doorway. “For God’s sake, Barlow—he was right here and you let him get away?” Radcliffe didn’t bother to even acknowledge Ingrid and Gurley’s presence. “Well?”
“That’s what we’re currently trying to establish,” Ingrid said, getting a little frustrated she couldn’t get a straight answer from the cop.
“And what the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Can you please keep your voice down or leave the room?” the nurse said.
“Barlow, come with me.”
The hapless cop followed Radcliffe outside. As did Ingrid and Gurley.
“Did the man speak to you?” Ingrid said again.
“He might have said ‘good morning’.”
“So did he have an accent?”
“Not really.”
“So he sounded English?”
“Yes, I suppose he did.” He glanced at his superior officer. “The more I think about it… I’d say it was definitely an English accent.”
“Just now you weren’t even sure whether he’d spoken to you or not, for Christ’s sake,” Radcliffe said, not bothering to disguise his contempt.
“I’ve had a moment to think. It was an English accent, sir.”
“So it might not have been Foster?” Ingrid asked.
Gurley pulled a folded sheet from the back pocket of his pants. He smoothed out the paper and showed the cop a full color, full length photograph of Kyle Foster dressed in camouflage pants and a light gray tee shirt. The cop turned his head this way and that as he stared at the picture.
“The man I saw had darker hair.”
“For God’s sake, could it be him?” Radcliffe said.
The nurse came to the door and glared at them. “How do you expect this little girl to recover with all this shouting?”
Gurley showed her the photo too. “Is this the man you saw?”
She stared at the picture for a few moments then said, “I barely got a glimpse of him. The general outline is right, but the man I saw was paler.”
“I’ve got officers stopping people from leaving the building and you’re saying it might not even have been Foster?” Radcliffe shook his head. “Un-bloody-believable.”
“You got that right.” Gurley folded the sheet and returned it to his pocket. “You should still have your officers check any thirty-something males, under six-foot tall, around one hundred sixty pounds, who try to leave the hospital.”
“Thank you so much for telling me how to do my job. I would have been quite clueless without your invaluable input.”
Ingrid’s phone started to chirrup quietly in her purse. She hurried down the corridor before retrieving it. “Sol, if you’re calling for an update, we’re on our way back to the embassy now.”
“No you’re not.”
“We’re not?”
“Another confirmed sighting has just been reported. St Thomas’ Hospital. Emergency room. I’ll text the