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Chapter 60
Poehad seen people die before. Too many times. Perceived wisdom was that police officers became desensitised to death, but he wasn’t sure it was true. It certainly wasn’t for him. The dead stayed with him. Haunted his dreams and occupied his waking thoughts. They were the soundtrack to his life and the day he couldn’t hear them would be the day he handed in his warrant card. Poe needed to live among the dead. It was how he protected the living.
But doctors, particularly ones who had a few years in, like Mukherjee, came across death on a daily basis. Desensitisation would be the only way they could cope. Same for nurses.
Even so, for the men and women gathered around the bed of Karen Royal-Cross, this death would hit them hard. They looked shell-shocked, but there was something else as well. Shame, maybe? This woman, this vile racist, had been admitted to their care fit and healthy, but would leave in a waterproof body bag.
Karen Royal-Cross was no longer under the isolation tent. The only sound in the bed unit was the ventilator breathing for her. It sounded like Darth Vader standing next to a ticking clock. Poe scrutinised the machines monitoring her vitals. He didn’t know the optimum numbers for blood pressure, oxygen saturation and respiration, but he knew when a temperature was dangerously high and a heart rate far too low.
Without warning, a series of alarms sounded. None of the medical team moved. Mukherjee stepped forwards and took Karen Royal-Cross’s pulse. He then lifted her eyelid and shone a torch into her eye.
‘Time of death is ten p.m. exactly,’ he said. ‘Record this, please.’
Junior doctor Ben made a note on a form while a nurse beganunplugging Karen Royal-Cross from everything to which she had been connected. Another nurse turned off the ventilator. The bed unit fell silent.
Mukherjee filled it.
‘This woman might have held unpleasant views, Sergeant Poe, but she was still someone’s daughter. I spoke with her mother and father earlier today and now I have to tell them she is dead. Please, catch this man before another doctor is forced to make such a call.’
‘I’ll catch him,’ Poe promised.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a text from Bradshaw.
‘Speak of the devil,’ he said. ‘He’s on the phone now.’
