Page 4 of No Safe Place
And then they were surrounded by uniforms – officers with batons out, forming a proper ring around them.
Two more paramedics joined, unfazed by the gasping, dying man, unzipping bags and pulling out dressings.
‘Keep that pressure on, Detective,’ Mike ordered. ‘Don’t ease up until someone’s ready.’
Field’s arms were starting to shake with the effort, sweat running down her face.
She pressed harder and looked up at Riley. ‘Firearms?’
He looked pale in the moonlight. ‘On the way from Lewisham. Three minutes out.’
Then blue-gloved hands were taking over from hers, and Field sat back on her ankles, panting. She had an iron taste at the back of her throat, like she’d breathed the blood in.
There were five medics around the victim, now, and a sixth unpacking a defibrillator.
Her gloves were sticky with blood, hands sweaty insidethem. A young PC materialised – evidence bag already outstretched.
When the gloves were off and bagged, Field felt her sense of control return. She could concentrate on being a police officer, leave the lifesaving to the professionals.
Where is the knife?
Which direction was he attacked from?
Which route is the attacker most likely to have taken?
Mike’s voice: ‘He’s going into shock.’
Field turned back to watch them. Lea was still speaking in a low, soothing voice, right by the man’s ear.
This is going to end up a murder investigation.
The thought had popped into Field’s head before she could stop it.
Upstairs windows were opening all along the street, shocked figures leaning out, holding up phones.
Riley strode towards her, thumbs tucked into his vest. ‘We’ve got six PCs and a skipper. Told four to stay with our victim, got one at each end of the road. Cordon going up now.’
‘Good. The blokes who found him – bag their clothes.’ Field pointed at one of the houses – door still wide open, like there wasn’t a madman with a knife on the loose. ‘Take a quick statement – timings, whether they know the victim – anything that’s going to be helpfulnow.’
Forensics was going to be tricky with the paramedic intervention. She pulled a torch from her belt and shone it at the ground.
There was more blood than she’d realised, stretching down the street, towards their car. Their attacker must be covered in it.
A different pitch of siren in the distance, the wide headlights of a black van and then firearms officers were pouring onto the road.
It was progress: they had the bodies – and gunpower – to keep the scene safe.
‘Detective?’
Field jogged back to the paramedics.
Mike stood, breathing hard. He had dark stains on his uniform. ‘We’ve got five minutes to get him stable enough to get into the van or—’ He gave a grim shrug and returned to crouching.
As a rule, if a stabbing victim wasn’t in the back of the ambulance or a chopper within twenty minutes, chances of survival were slim to none.
The scene was a mess. Boot marks in the blood, bandage wrappers littering the street.
The victim had tubes in his throat, the needle in his chest rising and falling rhythmically, now – the paramedics breathing for him. One medic had his hand inside the slice to the thigh.
