The maniacal Graham Lawrie had Robbie Lewis in his clutches.
"So sad that you had to take your own life, Robbie. No, not really. But I am sad because I can't use my trusty hammer this time. That just wouldn't make sense for a suicide, even if I do like to think of it as the hammer of justice. 'Poor Robbie,' Laura will say when she attends your corpse, 'he'd already been through so much. And now with his reputation in tatters, it was just too much for him to bear.'" Lawrie made a tutting noise.
Lewis wrestled against Lawrie who didn't try to stab him as Lewis first feared, but rather Lawrie moved to slit his wrists. Lewis resisted but felt the flesh of his forearms opening and soon it was all the effort he could muster just to stay conscious. He tried to focus on the detailed lettering of Val's grave. Not ready to join you just yet, pet…
Back on the home front, Hobson had helped herself to the beer that Hathaway brought for Lewis. She worried about her tormented partner, and it took all of her resolve not to run to the cemetery, find him and hold him close. After a while, she found that she couldn't take it anymore. She finished her beer and took a deep breath.
"Maybe we should go to him..." Hobson suggested delicately, "…even though I know how much he values his private time there."
"I'll drive." Hathaway answered, sensing her desperation.
They drove towards the cemetery without speaking until Hobson broke the silence between them. "James, if both of us know where Robbie is because he is so predictable, then chances are that Lawrie knows where he is too. You don't think Lawrie'd…?"
Hathaway's eyes widened at Hobson's intuition. "No, no, not at all. But just to be safe…" He switched on the flashing light on his dashboard and for the second time that week Laura experienced the speed of a policeman on a mission.
They pulled up behind Lewis' car outside the cemetery. Hathaway and Hobson rushed towards the gate, but Hobson stopped short of entering.
"You go, James. This is Robbie's sacred place. I'll wait here, as long as he needs. He always comes to me when he is ready." Hobson said.
Hathaway nodded and considered just how true that was.
Hobson watched Hathaway disappear into the graveyard. She clutched the wrought iron gate like someone still very much on the outside. She breathed in and waited in solemn contemplation until Hathaway's scream "Laura!" came from within. "Laura! Call 999!"
When Hobson arrived at the scene, she found Hathaway contending with Graham Lawrie while Lewis lay prostrate in the grass, bleeding profusely. She finished feverishly barking instructions into her mobile phone before throwing it away and falling to her knees at Lewis' side.
"Robbie, Robbie, come back to me…" She desperately tried to slow the bleeding.
Lawrie, subdued by Hathaway, continued to taunt Hobson never the less. "Robbie Lewis is gone, doctor. You weren't enough for him. You were never enough."
Hobson ignored Lawrie. "James, I can't do this alone! I need your tie as a tourniquet—and help me apply pressure on his other side."
But Hathaway did not want to let this killer get away again. "I need to wait for backup!"
"There's no time, James. Robbie needs us now. I promise you that when this is over I will hunt down Lawrie myself."
"Will you, Doctor?" Lawrie could tell that he would win his freedom at her behest and was going to throw that in her face.
"I will find you and castrate you, dead or alive, Graham Lawrie."
"Ooh, does Lewis like it when you talk dirty?" Lawrie drawled.
Hathaway knew that Lewis wanted Lawrie captured at all costs but also knew that justice wouldn't be served if Lewis had to die. He released Lawrie roughly, throwing him to the grass. Lawrie ran for the woods as Hathaway yanked the tie from his own neck and rushed to Hobson's aid. Hobson picked up a stick to twist in the tourniquet and prayed.
Graham Lawrie made it on foot undetected back to the centre of town and was ready to enact the next phase of his plan. He arrived on the doorstep of Douglas Wilkins, an orderly at Thamesmarsh whom he had under his thumb.
"Hello, Wilkins. Good to see you on the outside." Lawrie said.
"Lawrie. What are you doing here?"
"I have a fresh supply for you," Lawrie said, extracting a small plastic bag of amphetamines from his jacket. "But I need a favour. May I borrow your apartment for an hour or so? It's best if you don't ask any questions." Lawrie, oozing charisma of a self-proclaimed ubermensch, didn't wait for Wilkins to respond. He let himself into Wilkins' flat, pushed Wilkins out, and locked the door.
Lawrie first took a razor and shaved his head. It was a thin disguise, he knew, but one that might buy him a little more time. As he placed the razor back in the medicine cabinet, he noticed a syringe. Of course, you muscle bound beta, you… it's not just amphetamines you've been using. He thought.
After stealing a change of clothes, he went to look for some household items. He then placed a phone call from Wilkins' landline. It was the ever-eager student Luke Burgess who answered. "How would you like to orchestrate a little mayhem?" Lawrie asked. Burgess responded in the affirmative.