Page 44 of No Safe Place
‘Met when we were teenagers.’
Field’s eyes were wide. ‘Were you in hospital together, Callum? The Maudsley?’
Callum felt numb, couldn’t feel his fingers. Managed to nod.
‘Did you take part in David Moore’s trial together, Callum? In 2010 – did he write a paper about you?’ she asked, and her voice was more urgent.
The weight of his exhaustion and anxiety was threateningto bury him, and his shock at the question was dimmed, overwhelmed by everything else.
‘Yes,’ he choked out.
They were taking him back there.
‘Last question, Callum. What alerted you to what had happened outside?’
Callum sat on his hands, to try and stop them from shaking so badly. ‘There was a knock on the door.’
Field’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Really?’
‘I didn’t see anyone, when I answered it. It took me ages to get the door open, I had the bottom lock on, or something. Then Sam was just—’
He squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t go on, couldn’t say anything else.
‘It’s going to be okay, Callum,’ Field said firmly. ‘We’ll get you cleaned up. We’ll find out what happened to Sam. This will all be okay.’
There was a silence, and Callum supposed he should say something, but all he could think about was leaving. Leaving the house, the street, the road.
The panic was still fighting to break through the numbness and the shock.
‘I’m going back outside now, Callum.’ Field’s voice was far away, distant. ‘I’m going to find someone to sit with you, and then I promise, we’ll sort this all out.’
Chapter 24
Thursday | Early hours
Field
The similarities between the scenes made the night surreal. Like déjà vu come to life.
Tonight’s attack was on Conway Road, less than a five-minute walk from where David was stabbed on Ancona. The houses were similar, the same birch trees at regular intervals, the kind of streets that all look the same unless you know the area.
Field watched from the cordon as the paramedics continued to work on the victim. From this distance she couldn’t see how young their victim was.
Twenty minutes: the golden rule, at a stabbing. Twenty minutes to get the victim stable and in the ambulance, if they were going to stand any chance of surviving.
The paramedics had been on scene for over an hour.
On Field’s drive over, she’d made the split-second decision to call Riley over Wilson. He lived closer and drove like alunatic, and Wilson had been to plenty of stabbings during her days on Response.
Wilson wasn’t happy about it, but she was on her way to the station, prepping the decision log, compiling what little they knew about theDisordered Approach to Diagnosispaper and co-ordinating the wider team.
Field heard her name and turned. Riley was ducking under the crime scene tape.
He was in his usual pressed grey suit, but his blond hair wasn’t slicked back, a shade lighter without gel.
‘Well?’ he said, striding over to her. ‘Is it linked?’
No preamble.
