Page 25 of No Safe Place

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 a lunatic, 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 the Disordered Approach to Diagnosis paper 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.

‘It’s linked,’ she answered, grimly. ‘Our victim was found in the street by a Callum Mulligan. He told the skipper who was first on scene that he can’t leave the house – OCD.’

‘Fuck,’ Riley breathed.

‘I’ve only managed to get a few words out of him. He’s in shock, but he’s confirmed he was in the Maudsley with Sam. They were both part of the trial.’

‘So that’s two of our five missing kids—’

Field nodded.

‘Fuck,’ Riley said again.

He followed her gaze fifty metres up the road, to where the huddle of paramedics blocked the figure in the road from view.

Field lowered her voice. ‘Victim is a woman this time. Samantha Hughes. Still alive, but barely. It’s not looking good.’

‘So that’s two attacks in twenty-four hours.’

Field took a steadying breath. Everything was turned on its head, now they were looking for a serial offender. Prioritising the right lines of inquiry was crucial, when you had an attacker who could be poised to strike again.

Multiple attempted murders, potentially escalating. The only link between them a completely anonymous medical study from fifteen years ago.

Field turned back to Riley, and caught the gleam of excitement in his expression. ‘Where do you want me?’

She shot a glance back at the house. ‘Sit with Mulligan. Keep him calm, and don’t question him until I’m there, okay?’

‘Boss,’ he said.

Riley adopted a more solemn expression and hurried towards the house.

A tall, red-haired paramedic was in charge of keeping Field up to date. She kept her focus on him, and not the victim.

Field clenched her jaw as he put his hands on his knees and pushed himself up to standing.

A few paces, and he was next to her.

‘Anything?’ she asked in a low voice.

He shook his head. ‘No. No response.’

After twenty-five minutes of sustained CPR, defib, epi, fluids – the victim still had no vital signs.

‘Time?’ Field asked, simply.

He nodded. ‘I’m going to ring the medical director. He needs to call it.’

The CPR continued, the paramedics sweating – pushing themselves like it had only been thirty seconds, like there was every chance she’d pull through at any moment.

Field exhaled. She took out her notebook, flicked it open, made a note.

Time of death:

Her pen hovered over the page.