Page 49 of No Safe Place
‘Please, Lily. Sit down,’ Wilson said.
Scott put a hand on her arm and pulled her back down.
‘I understand that you want to see Callum, but you should also know—’ The detective took a breath and Lily braced herself. ‘In the early hours of Wednesday morning, there was another attack in the area. Dr David Moore—’
‘Is David dead?’ Lily breathed.
‘No, Lily. He’s in hospital. I understand he’s Callum’s therapist, and I do have some questions about that, but first—’
‘I need to see Callum,’ she said again.
Why wasn’t this woman listening to her?
Scott was on his feet, moving purposefully towards the door.
Sam. David. Callum.
Her head was swimming.
‘Lily, before you go, I need to ask.’ Wilson’s voice was urgent. ‘Where were you, early this morning? Who were you with?’
Chapter 28
Thursday | Morning
Field
Callum Mulligan’s house was small and unremarkable.
The search was well underway. DI Bellamy was co-ordinating the joint effort between Forensics and PolSA – the Police Search Advisors – who were already taking each room apart, an item at a time.
Field moved between them, trying not to get in the way. While they searched for a weapon, for evidence, she wasn’t looking for anything specific. Field wanted to understand what made Callum tick.
She’d noted Callum’s movements last night. Right-handed. Next check would need to be the girlfriend.
Even with all Dr Simon Dawes’ insight into OCD from yesterday, and despite knowing that it wasn’t just about being tidy, Field was shocked at how messy the house was. It reminded her of student accommodation – drawers overspilling with junk, scuffed skirting boards, walls covered with posters and postcards.
And there were books everywhere. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases covered a wall in the little living room, at the front of the house. There were food-splattered cookbooks in the narrow kitchen, and boxes of books from the cupboard under the stairs were being picked through, pages rifled one by one.
Field was looking for one book in particular.
It always helped to get people talking about the easy topics when they were in shock. Stunned and blood-spattered up to the elbows on his sofa, Field had asked Callum what he did for work. He told her he was a writer, a novelist. She assumed that was code for ‘unemployed’ – but a quick google of his name had thousands of results.
AGuardianarticle described his novel asThe Bell JarmeetsThe Breakfast Club.
Field couldn’t find Callum’s book on any of the shelves downstairs. There were none on display anywhere.
PolSA hadn’t made it upstairs yet. There were two doors on either side of the hallway, leading to the bedrooms. The first Field tried smelled of perfume, and the floor was covered in women’s clothes. She found Callum’s book on the windowsill, sandwiched betweenPerks of Being a WallflowerandLooking For Alaska–both novels she recognised from Toby’s teenage reading.
Field picked up the slim purple paperback.
Darlings, Obsessedby C. Mulligan.
She turned it over. Instead of a blurb on the back cover there was a long list of praise from newspapers, and people Field had never heard of. She opened it to the dedication page.
For P
Chapter 29
