Page 79 of No Safe Place
Chapter 52
Friday | Afternoon
Field
Maxwell’s office was barely bigger than a supply cupboard. Field’s glass box at the station was palatial, in comparison. They’d had to relocate when the patients started filing in for lunch.
‘Callum is settled now,’ Dr Maxwell said with a sigh, dropping into his chair. ‘What happened to a few gentle questions?’
Wilson squirmed, but Field stayed still in her hard plastic chair.
‘This is a double murder investigation,’ she answered, finally.
‘Yes,’ Maxwell replied, with forced politeness. ‘And that’s an extremely traumatised young man, whose mental health was already in a precarious state, to put it mildly.’
‘You signed him off for interview,’ Field snapped, wound up by his tone. ‘You claimed he wasn’t “too anxious” to talk to us.’
‘No, I did notclaimthat,’ Dr Maxwell said, his fist clenched on the desk. ‘Callum is always anxious. Patients with OCD can’t choose to switch off. He was facing his anxiety, because he wanted to help you.’
Field didn’t speak and the doctor held out a packet of custard creams. She shook her head, and he gave a little sigh, as if offended.
His officious attitude was pissing her off. His assumption that she was totally ignorant, a stone-hearted copper who couldn’t fathom doing his job, even though she’d been called out to help hundreds of ordinary people with psychosis or delusions or depression, over the years.
Behind the desk was a wall of thick patient files, organised alphabetically in neatly labelled brown folders. Everything in the room was old or badly repaired. The computer monitor was chunky and the blinds on the small window hung at an odd angle. The cords to straighten them were curled neatly on the windowsill, patiently waiting to be reattached.
‘How is he?’ Field asked, finally, accepting a biscuit.
‘Bottom line is: he’s coping. Still counting, but I think with his usual medication and some rest, he’ll be okay.’
There were no photos on his desk, although there were personal touches. A few thank-you cards, a stress ball in the shape of a llama.
‘And you’re convinced he’s genuine?’ Field asked.
‘Yes.’ The lines between his eyebrows deepened.
‘Because—’ Field paused. ‘Callum had the same therapist for a long time. My understanding is that he was one of Moore’s private patients, so you don’t have access to those notes, is that correct?’
A curt nod.
‘So, with all due respect, Doctor, you don’t have much experience of Callum to draw on, do you?’
Wilson shot her a sharp look.
The doctor exhaled fussily and shook his head. ‘I’ve carried out an assessment. Callum is lucid. He’s witnessed something incredibly traumatic. Add the news about Dr Moore to that, and he’s now grieving. Overall, his emotional response is completely in keeping with what I’d expect to see.’ Maxwell smiled, expression cold. ‘I’m not going to sit here and pretend to know anything about running a murder investigation. I’d appreciate it if you’d extend me the same professional courtesy.’
She resisted the temptation to roll her eyes.
‘I’ve also spoken to Callum about his experience at his house, before he was brought here,’ Maxwell said. ‘You should know that he would find it potentially triggering, dealing with that officer again.’
Field saw no point in lying. ‘DS Riley is on desk duty for the rest of this case.’
To his credit, Maxwell just nodded. ‘I’ll let Callum know. Are we done?’
Maxwell and Wilson got to their feet, but Field stayed in her uncomfortable chair.
‘No. I’ve been told you’re considering releasing him.’
‘Releasing?’ Maxwell scoffed. ‘I think you mean discharging. This is a hospital. Your lot seem to have forgotten that.’
