Page 105 of No Safe Place
Sam doodled on her slip-on shoes. Dyed her hair fun colours. Bribed the nurses to bring in contraband Red Bull.
There was no doubt that Andy was the smartest when it came to maths and science, but Sam ran rings round them at other subjects. Her recall for dates and historical events was insane.
They did a lot of weird shit to pass the time.
Paige used to love testing Sam on the dates of the Shakespeare plays, which she learned one weekend when she was bored. To help Paige prepare for her future career-defining turn as Ophelia, Sam learned all of Hamlet’s lines.
By the time they were discharged, Callum was cast as Claudius and Lily was Gertrude. Sam also memorised Laertes and the Ghost. On a good day, David could even be persuaded to read Polonius.
The sun had finally set, and for the first time in weeks, there was a slight breeze.
Lily had goose bumps on her arms. The park had emptied out quickly once the sun went down. In her hurry, Lily came out of the wrong entrance – God knows how far from the bus stop that would take her back to Scott’s.
Her phone was dead. She had no Google Maps, no Uber.
Footsteps came up behind her. Lily glanced round, but there was no one there.
You’re being paranoid.
She looked back over her shoulder. Maybe she should cut through the park – she’d be back at the bus stop in ten minutes, rather than thirty.
Apart from a few biscuits with a cup of tea, it had been a full twenty-four hours since she’d eaten, and that had all been thrown up in the night. She was exhausted and emotionally wrung out, and even if it meant getting back to Scott’s and having to face him faster – at least she could rest.
She heard the sound again, and felt a little prickle of fear at the back of her neck.
A few seconds later, a whistling man appeared from behind her with an excitable beagle on a lead. He smiled and nodded, and was off down the road.
Shewasbeing paranoid.
Lily mentally shook herself, and set off on the long way round, down the lit street.
Chapter 73
Saturday | Evening
Field
Andy’s mother’s house was a tired two-up two-down in Thamesmead. The grass in the front garden was dead and brown, and tall weeds below the front window provided the only greenery.
They were parked two hundred metres up the road. Field was in the Territorial Support Group vehicle, air-con blasting. They’d been watching the house for an hour, and a plainclothes TSG officer had already done a reccy. So far there were no signs of life. She had Wilson on one side, the TSG inspector on the other.
Bellamy, and every DC the super could call in, were waiting in buses further up the road.
Field’s phone vibrated, and she snatched it from the dashboard. It was hot from the glare of the late-afternoon sun, and the email loaded slowly.
‘Is that the green light?’ Wilson asked, hand on the door.
‘No,’ Field said. ‘Riley’s forwarded the statement from Paige’s parents.’
Phrases from the email jumped out at her, and Field’s head swam.
David Moore gave us our daughter back
The helplessness of watching your child suffer with mental illness
The work he did with those kids was transformational
Beside her, Wilson huffed. ‘Obviously he didn’t bother CCing me in.’
