Chapter 53
‘Ez, are you sure you don’t want a lift, cuz?’
Ezra adjusted his rucksack on his back. ‘Bruv, you make absolutely no sense,’ he said. ‘We both live ten minutes away and you’re driving.’
‘Don’t start on me,’ said Zyon. ‘Acting all sanctimonious about my little car’s carbon footprint.’
‘The last time I checked, a Land Rover Evoque wasn’t a little car,’ said Ezra, playfully shoving his cousin.
‘It’s electric.’
‘What do you want, a medal?’
‘Nah, a gold star would do,’ Zyon laughed, stepping aside to allow a couple to enter the gym. ‘All right, suit yourself. Message me when you get home.’
‘Great,’ Ezra said to himself as the first raindrops splashed against his forehead and Zyon drove away.
He pushed his AirPods into his ears, turned the volume up high and walked quickly down New Cross Road.
Ezra’s plan for the evening was simple: go home, jump in the shower, eat whatever experimental dish his sister had cooked, and then go to bed.
He was three houses away from his front door when the first blow connected with his head, the force ejecting his AirPods out of his ears like a projectile.
A second blow landed in Ezra’s stomach, and he fell back into a trio of wheelie bins.
His chest muscles seized as he struggled to breathe.
He opened his eyes to see the orange glow of the streetlamp bouncing off the dull steel of the standpipe that was being held aloft.
Ezra willed himself to turn over, his hands reaching for the low crumbling wall in front of him.
The sounds of speeding traffic and trains pulling into New Cross Gate station drowned out Ezra’s screams as the third blow landed on his back, swiftly followed by a kick to his head.
Ezra cried out as the force of a kick to his back propelled him along the pavement.
He rolled over twice and ended up with his face flat against the wet pavement.
The smell of mouldering leaves and a blocked drain filled Ezra’s nose.
He yelled again as he was roughly turned over onto his back.
There was a tight pressure on his chest as his attacker straddled him.
Somewhere in Ezra’s head, he heard an instruction, and he scratched weakly at his attacker’s hands.
‘You little fuck,’ his attacker said as he punched Ezra in the face and smashed his arm against the ground.
Ezra tried to open his eyes, but he was blinded by the glow of the streetlight and then another blow to his head.
Ezra wanted the high-pitched ringing in his ears to stop.
He wanted the pain to stop. A final blow to his head gave him his wish.
The sharp sound of Henley’s phone pulled her forcefully out of sleep. She pushed Rob’s arm off her chest and turned over, scrambling in the dark for her phone on the bedside table.
Henley reeled the charging cable in like a fishing line and pulled the phone onto her chest. She squinted at Pellacia’s name on the screen and then the time, silencing the phone as she did so. It was 2.13 a.m.. She scrambled out of bed and pressed accept.
‘Anj,’ said Pellacia. The pain in his voice was clear. ‘Anj. Are you there?’
‘I’m here,’ Henley said. She closed her bedroom door and sat down on the top step of the stairs. ‘What’s going on?’
‘It’s Ezra.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘This is all my—’
‘Stephen! Where is he?’
Henley got up and opened the door to the spare room, grabbed a hoodie and a pair of leggings from the pile of clean clothes on the bed. She put the phone on speaker. She could hear Pellacia taking a breath, steadying himself.
‘Lewisham hospital,’ he said. ‘He’s been attacked.’
The harsh overhead lighting struck the tense muscles in Pellacia’s jaw as he stood in front of the window staring out into a night sky. He turned around as though autotuned to Henley’s presence.
‘This is my fault,’ Pellacia said, his voice low and pained.
‘Stop it,’ Henley said, making her way to his side. She silently counted to three, hardening herself, sealing off her emotions and her attachment to Ezra before she asked, ‘What happened?’
Pellacia opened his mouth just as the lift pinged and Ramouter stepped out, his face fixed in a combination of anger and determination.
‘What the hell happened?’ Ramouter demanded in a tone that made it clear that in that moment he had no respect for rank.
‘His cousin Zyon said they left the gym on New Cross Road at about 9.15 p.m.,’ said Pellacia, his voice hardening with each syllable.
‘He offered Ezra a lift home, but he refused, because it was only a ten-minute walk. Zyon said he was expecting a call or text from Ezra by 9.30 p.m. to let him know he was home, but he didn’t get one.
He called but got no answer. He called Natalie, Ezra’s sister and she said he wasn’t home.
Zyon decided to go to Ezra’s house but when he got to Jerningham Road, well the place was lit up. Paramedics and police. Ez—’
Henley remained where she was as Pellacia’s voice broke, and he turned his back. She looked at Ramouter and for the first time since getting to know him she couldn’t read his expression.
‘Who called 999?’ Henley asked.
Pellacia turned around. His eyes wet. ‘A couple who were walking home saw a man hit Ezra multiple times with a standpipe.’
Ramouter placed his hands on his head and turned his back. Henley closed her eyes.
‘This man then ran off when the couple shouted at him. A cab driver was completing a drop off at the same time and he also called 999.’
‘Were they able to give a description?’ Ramouter asked as Stanford and Eastwood arrived.
‘I haven’t seen their statements yet or spoken to the officers from Peckham who were there,’ Pellacia answered. ‘But CSI did retrieve the standpipe, and they’ve got Ezra’s clothing.’
‘So, what was it? Is this to do—’
‘Ramouter stop,’ Henley said to no avail when she saw the intense anger in his eyes.
‘Say it,’ Pellacia said through gritted teeth. ‘I can hear it in your voice. You blame me.’
‘Of course I fucking blame you,’ said Ramouter, his voice cold but amplified in the hallway. ‘It’s this case. We’ve got two lunatics out there and they both know that Kaiden Longley was talking to Ezra. You left Ezra out there exposed even though you—’
‘Do you know what, you can stop talking right now,’ said Pellacia his face reddening as he stepped up to Ramouter.
‘Hey, hey,’ Stanford said, moving swiftly in front of Ramouter and pushing Pellacia back. ‘What are you playing at? This ain’t the—’
‘He’s just a kid. I know that he gives it the big I am, but Ezra is a kid,’ said Ramouter. ‘You’re the one who brought him into the SCU and—’
Pellacia inhaled sharply. ‘Don’t even—’
‘You told me to say it, so I’m saying it,’ Ramouter challenged.
‘All right, stop,’ Henley said firmly as she and Eastwood both grabbed Ramouter and pulled him back. ‘We’re not doing this here. In fact, we’re not doing this at all. Do you understand me?’
Ramouter turned his head away as the dull tone of an arriving lift rang and a doctor stepped out.
‘Ramouter, did you hear me?’
‘Yes, boss,’ Ramouter said quietly.
‘We’re taking a walk,’ Stanford said to Pellacia in a tone that made it clear he was not messing about.
‘Get off me,’ Pellacia said his voice low.
‘You either walk or I fucking carry you,’ said Stanford.
‘Stephen, please,’ Henley said. ‘Go.’
‘For fuck’s sake,’ Stanford said as Pellacia shoved past him.
‘Come on,’ Henley said, taking Ramouter’s arm leading him towards the ICU entrance. She pressed the intercom button and identified herself to the disembodied voice.
The door to the ICU opened and Henley put her hand on Ramouter’s back to push him through, but he turned and called after Pellacia, his face twisted in fury and pain.
‘It’s all on you if Ezra doesn’t make it.’