The cold morning gave way to afternoon, and then late evening. In the Radcliffe Infirmary, Dr. Russell lay on a bed, wrapped in a warm blanket, breathing deeply through an oxygen mask, asleep. Morse crept quietly to her bedside, mindful of the three other women sleeping in the side ward. He carefully placed the flowers that he had brought into a convenient vase on the bedside cabinet. She stirred slightly, opened her eyes, and smiled in recognition.
"Hello," Morse said, a little uncertainly, perching awkwardly on the edge of the bed, "how are you feeling?"
"Better, thank you," Russell replied, removing the oxygen mask and sitting up a little, giving him a smile, "there shouldn't be any lasting damage. They've said I can go home in the morning."
"Good," Morse nodded, keeping his voice low.
Only his badge had managed to get him past the militant ward sister, and he could see her hovering by the doorway, glaring at him disapprovingly.
"How's Lewis?" Russell asked, reaching out to put a hand on his arm.
"I… haven't seen him, yet," Morse admitted, "but he's fine. You concentrate on getting better."
Russell gave him another one of her smiles. Morse glanced away quickly.
"It was Jackson who called you on the fake call-out," he told her, "he must have got your – and Lewis's – number from the phone book. I'm ex-directory, so… well, anyway. Did… did he say anything… to you?"
Russell shook her head slowly; "Not that I can remember. I… I got there after Lewis. He… Jackson, that is… seemed to come out of nowhere. He… he hit Lewis, twice I think, and knocked him out. He tied me up, and, and put us in the garage. When he drove the car in, I, I thought he was going to run us over with it…"
She broke off, and shook her head at the memories, tears welling up in her eyes. Morse drew her into a comforting hug, as she fought to regain her composure.
"I'm sorry," he said, quietly, "but I really need to know what happened."
"It was Lewis that got us out," she said, at last, quietly, "he found a hacksaw to cut the ties, and then did something – got the car engine to cut out, somehow… the fumes, though…"
She shook her head again, took a deep breath, and continued; "We couldn't get out of the garage, so Lewis… I thought he'd gone mad when he got the car started again, but… when he… the door…"
"I saw," Morse said, softly, "go on."
"There was enough of a gap… to let clean air in," she told him, leaning back on the bed and giving him a sorrowful look, "I… tried to get to Lewis, but the fumes… I must have passed out. Luckily, with the air coming in, it was enough to keep us alive…"
She shivered, and Morse took her hand in sympathy.
"Did you catch him?" she asked, suddenly, looking at him.
"No," Morse shook his head, regretfully, "he was long gone…"
"I sense a 'but', Morse…"
He sighed; "But… we found another body."
~*~
"Do we know who she was?" Lewis croaked, sipping from a cup of water.
"Not yet," Morse replied, from the armchair by the bed, which he had turned to face the sergeant, "but we think she was murdered in the garage… how are you feeling?"
"I've been better," Lewis admitted, holding up his bandaged hands, ruefully, "cut myself with on the saw a few times, like, and got a burn from the car engine. All superficial, mind…"
Morse nodded, noting the large bruise and black eye his sergeant was sporting.
"We've got every available man – and woman – out on the streets looking for Jackson," Morse said, trying to sound reassuring, "we've also doubled the guard on your house, so don't worry about Mrs Lewis…"
Lewis managed to raise a half-smile, and murmured his thanks.
"They're letting me out tomorrow," he muttered, sleepily, "no lasting damage…"
Morse made no comment, as Lewis slowly fell asleep. 'No lasting damage' indeed – he had seen the terrified expression on Dr Russell's face, and the haunted look in Lewis's eyes. He waited until he was sure that Lewis was asleep, and then slipped out. He had some thinking to do.
~*~
Morse came in late the next morning, and was quite surprised to find Lewis in the office, at his desk, with a mug of tea in his left hand, a pen in his right, and the 'phone cradled to his shoulder. He raised the mug in greeting to Morse, scribbled a note on the pad in front of him, and finished the call. Morse dropped heavily into his chair, leaning back and giving the sergeant an appraising look.
"Are you supposed to be here?" he asked, eventually.
Lewis was pale, and the bruises on his face stood out starkly. The bandages were gone from his hands, but Morse could still see the white surgical tape that held some of the deeper cuts together in place of stitches.
"They needed someone to man the phone, sir," Lewis replied, "that was Dr. Green, the junior pathologist – the woman you found in the garage was Fiona Smith. Definitely Jackson's eighth victim. The usual MO, and Emma's necklace was in the bag…"
"Have we had the identity confirmed?"
"Her fiancé identified her early this morning," Lewis replied, leaning back in his chair, tiredly, "he also said her engagement ring was missing – yellow gold, set with sapphire and diamond."
Morse sighed; "Bastard. We were so bloody close…"
"Sorry, sir," Lewis murmured, apologetically.
Morse shot him a surprised look, but let the comment slide. The 'phone rang on Lewis's desk, and he stared at it for a moment, before picking it up reluctantly.
"Lewis…"
Morse picked up his newspaper and shook it out, focussing on the half-finished crossword. There were a couple of clues that were really quite challenging this morning…
"Aye, we'll be right there," Lewis was saying.
Morse sighed, folded the paper up, and dropped it onto his desk. It seemed that there would be no rest for either of them.
"Verified call in, sir," Lewis reported, already getting to his feet and reaching for his jacket, urgently, "Jackson's been spotted…"
"Who called it in?"
"Sergeant Hogan."
"But isn't she meant to be guarding your…?"
"Aye, sir!"
"Oh, shit…"
~*~
Lewis drove his borrowed police pool car with a reckless abandon that made Morse close his eyes and grimly hang on to the door panel. They screeched to a halt outside Lewis's house, and the sergeant was out of the car virtually before it had stopped moving. He was through the front door before Morse was even half-way out of the car. He followed the sergeant at a more sedate pace, scanning the street carefully. He went into the house, where he found Val and Lewis in the kitchen. DS Hogan was in the living room, drinking a cup of tea, and DC Michaels was in the back garden, playing with the kids.
"Thank God," Lewis was saying, relieved, giving his wife a hug.
"Indeed," Val replied, and ushered them both towards the living room, "come on – you look like you could both do with a nice cup of tea…"
Morse went through to the living room and sank into an armchair, gratefully. Hogan glanced across and nodded to him.
"I've sent Bailey and Maskall on a patrol around the block, sir," she reported, "if Jackson's still creeping around, they'll pick him up."
Lewis nodded, silently, sitting tensely on the edge of his seat. Vale appeared, bearing two mugs of tea. Morse mumbled his thanks, and Lewis winced as he took the hot mug with sore hands.
"Thanks, pet," he murmured, as she took a seat next to Hogan on the settee.
"This is a nice coat," Vale said, brightly, fingering the leather of the cuff of Hogan's black jacket, "where did you get it?"
"A little specialist shop in London," Hogan replied, with a quick smile, "nifty little place just around the corner from Covent Garden…"
"Oh, I think I know the place!" Val responded, delighted, "I love shopping in London, have you ever been to…?"
Morse very quickly tuned out the idle chatter, as Lewis gave him a knowing half-smile, drinking his tea silently. Morse suddenly realised why Lewis liked to work a double shift when Mrs Lewis had her knitting group around. So far, the two women had talked for about ten minutes, without exchanging any pertinent information, as far as Morse could tell. Morse suddenly wondered why they were still sitting here, and he realised that he was not convinced that Jackson was not still hanging around somewhere. Lewis seemed to sense it, too, and kept nervously glancing out of the window.
Suddenly, there was a loud bleeping, and Hogan reached into the depths of her coat, producing a mobile radio-transmitter.
"Hogan here, go ahead."
"No sign of Jackson, ma'am," reported a distorted, distant-sounding voice, "permission to return to the house, over?"
Hogan glanced across at Morse, who nodded reluctantly.
"Granted," Hogan replied, into the radio, "out."
She flicked off the channel, dropping the handset back into whichever hidden pocket it had come from. She glanced across at Val apologetically.
"I'm sorry," she said, "he must have slipped away…"
"Don't worry about it," Val replied, with a forced smile, "more tea?"
"Ah, we need to be getting back to the station," Morse cut in, quickly, giving Lewis a look, "unless you'd rather I left him here?"
"Take him with you," Val laughed, making a shoo'ing motion with her hands, "he'll only sit here and fret otherwise. You can leave Sergeant Hogan with me though – I think she likes my home-made fruit cake."
"Don't worry, Robbie, I'll keep my eyes open," Hogan promised him, giving a significant nod towards the window.
He smiled and thanked her, and the two of them slipped out of the house quickly, heading back towards Lewis's replacement pool car. Lewis went to unlock the car, and realised that he hadn't locked it in his rush to get to the house.
Morse climbed into the passenger seat, as Lewis dropped into the driver's side, and put the key in the ignition. His other car had been a total write-off, and he wasn't entirely happy with this new model. His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp intake of breath from Morse, and the sensation of something very sharp and very cold being pressed into the side of his neck. He managed to turn his head, just enough to see familiar, hate-filled blue eyes staring back at him from the back-seat foot-well, hidden from a casual glance from the outside of the car.
"Why can't you just bloody die?" Jackson spat, his hand shaking with anger, "They knew how to die, and now I'm going to bloody teach you… now… drive!"
~*~
