Page 67 of No Safe Place
‘I didn’t think that was a thing,’ Wilson said. ‘So she was like, cured?’
‘Yeah. They think David is a hero,’ Field added.
Riley drew patterns in the condensation on his glass.
Field was so relieved to have got the meeting with Mr and Mrs Hughes out of the way, she was practically melting into the cushions.
They tried, for a while, to talk about something other than the case. Once Riley realised Field wasn’t here to bollock him again, he relaxed.
One of the recently retired DCIs had been working on a crime novel, starring himself. He’d asked everyone to read it, and to Field’s surprise, Riley had said yes.
‘I thought it’d be shit and I could post bits of it on the fridge in the tearoom.’ He grinned. ‘But it’s actually pretty good.’
They laughed easily, swapping stories and upcoming holiday plans.
Wilson and Riley were more at ease with each other in the informal setting, shoulders almost touching in the booth. Field was full of warmth for her two imperfect detective sergeants, already ruing the day they’d fly the nest, when all three phones on the table pinged in unison.
Wilson got to it first.
‘The super wants an update.’
Field rubbed her temples. ‘I’ll call him on the walk home.’
A loud groan from the football crowd. Field glanced up at the clock in the corner of the screen. The ninety minutes were almost up. The clock made her think of Callum, on the ward – trying to sleep away from home for the first time in years.
‘So – do we think there’ll be another attack later?’ Wilson asked, setting her glass down. ‘If he’s escalating, our man, there’ll be a third victim come one o’clock this morning.’
‘Depends,’ Riley said, turning back from the football. ‘Whether they’re planning to do one a night, or they just got lucky, jumping out on them on their way home.’
‘Although we don’t know how they got Sam to walk down Callum’s road,’ Field countered. ‘That would take planning. They wanted Callum to find her, because they knocked on his door.’
‘So Callum says,’ Riley said, darkly.
Wilson rolled her eyes.
‘I’m telling you,’ Riley said, leaning back into his booth. ‘There’ll be no attack tonight – nothing until he’s out of the loony bin.’
‘Riley—’ she snapped.
‘Sorry, boss.’ He held his hands up. ‘Shouldn’t have said that. But the point stands.’
‘It wasn’t him,’ Field said, matter-of-fact. ‘You’re missing the obvious.’
Riley turned his head, and Field noticed his neck was pink above the collar of his T-shirt.
Wilson was frowning in thought.
‘The attacker was bleeding. Callum wasn’t injured, was he? Not a scratch on him.’
They sat in ominous silence for a few minutes. The football ended, and people hurried to the bar, jostling to be served first.
‘I still think there’s something off about the wife,’ Wilson said, eventually. ‘You haven’t seen her yet, Riley. She went weird after we told her about Sam. Couldn’t get a straight answer out of her.’
It gave Field a thought, and she checked her phone. No response from Dawes, when she asked him to stay with Penny tonight. If there was another attack, she wanted Penny alibied.
She put the phone back down. ‘We’ll speak to Penny tomorrow, even if we have to go to her.’
‘I’d caution her for obstruction, if she refuses to come in.’ Wilson folded her arms. ‘It’s weird. She didn’t want to go tothe hospital yesterday, but as soon as we have questions about Sam, she’s desperate to be by his bedside?’
