Page 10 of No Safe Place
The super let out a deep sigh. ‘Field—’
‘Sorry, I need to go. Briefing.’
She ended the call before he could object.
It wasn’t exactly a lie. The team were gathering for an improvised briefing in one of the front gardens. An elderly lady tottered through the front door with a tray of more coffees and teas, and Wilson rushed forward to help her.
Field took a particularly garish mug with frolicking kittenson. The black coffee was cool enough that she could gulp it, imagining the caffeine fizzing through her veins.
Most of the sixteen officers she’d been assigned were on house-to-house. Two DCs and a community support officer had been held back.
DS Riley was leaning against the house with his hands in his pockets, and DS Wilson was standing upright next to him.
The five of them stared evenly back at her.
Wilson and Riley had clashed ever since Riley joined the team, six months ago. They were fiercely competitive, determined to be promoted before each other.
After three years of Criminology at Manchester and a master’s at UCL, Riley had worked a boring private sector job for a few years, before joining the Met on a direct-to-DC scheme. Wilson, on the other hand, had started her career as a PC at eighteen and spent years on Response, before her DC posting. Despite being in their thirties now, Wilson resented Riley for taking what she saw as a shortcut, and she wound Riley up about his lack of experience in the “real world” of policing.
It was evident that even with his degrees, Riley found Wilson intimidating. She had achieved ridiculously high scores in every exam. She made a name for herself among the higher-ups, while she was still a PC in Hackney, by voluntarily leading the local widening participation programme. On her days off, Wilson visited schools and chatted to pupils about her experiences as a young, black officer.
They were two of the most impressive officers Field had welcomed onto her team for years, and she doubted either of them would be with her long.
Despite that evening’s dramatic turn of events, Riley still managed to look immaculate, his sharply pressed shirt tucked into grey suit trousers, sleeves rolled up to the elbows.
Wilson’s wardrobe was a lot less try-hard – thrown-on monochrome clothes, paired with Doc Martens.
Some DCIs would demand that they sort out their differences, but Field approved. Their need to outdo each other made them work harder.
‘Right,’ Field began. ‘It hardly needs stating, but let’s all remember that this is an attempted murder inquiry. Evidence logs, witness statements – everything about how we conduct this case needs to be impeccable. Wilson, can you give DC Ayres a call? She can act as family liaison officer.’
‘She’s already on her way in,’ Wilson said. Behind her, Riley rolled his eyes.
‘We identified Moore from his driving licence,’ Field went on. ‘The victim was wearing a wedding ring and has a photo of a woman in his wallet – presume that’s the wife. We’ll need to inform her as a priority.’
Riley straightened up, tired eyes calling for her to pick him, but this was a big case. Field couldn’t let him cut his teeth on this particular distressed spouse.
‘Wilson – you and I will go to the address as soon as we’re done here.’
Wilson’s face remained impassive.
‘What else do we know about Dr Moore?’ Field asked.
Riley reached into his suit jacket for his daybook, but Wilson was already on the page.
‘Dr David Moore, forty-nine. Married. He came up on the King’s College University website. He’s a lecturer in clinical psychology – a specialist in obsessive-compulsive anxiety disorders, but he also works for the NHS trust.’ Wilson read on. ‘There’s a news article on the site too – last year he received a medal at Buckingham Palace for his charitable work, as well as his part in numerous academic studies, research projects.’
A good man, then. Field took a beat.
‘Nikki, Cat—’ Field turned to the DCs. ‘I’d like you to co-ordinate door-to-door. We’ve got no CCTV on the street itself, but they’re not cheap, the houses around here. There’ll be private cameras, Ring doorbells.’
The uniforms nodded.
‘Anything noteworthy, email me. Riley – make a start on the decision log and open a case file on the system. Crack on with making a list of his patients, okay?’ She made a snap decision. ‘And there’s an exhibit in evidence – a page of an article or something, that he was working on. Check it out, please.’
‘Yes, boss,’ he drawled, snapping his notebook shut without writing anything down.
A cloud shifted and Field had to raise a hand over her eyes. ‘Wilson, we’ll leave in five.’
