Page 91 of No Safe Place

Sunday | Evening

Field

‘Fuck.’ Field slammed the door to her office, and it rattled the hinges.

‘It wasn’t him,’ Riley said, again. ‘It wasn’t Levey.’

Field tried to marshal her thoughts.

They’d wasted a full day tracking him down, pouring all their efforts into finding him. It’d felt too easy to track him down because it was. He wasn’t hiding from the police; he was hiding from his attacker.

‘Unless he’s lying,’ Riley said, and she opened her eyes. He was pacing in front of their main board, one hand over his eyes. ‘Could he be lying?’

The door opened and Wilson stepped in, breathless. She’d been watching the interview over the CCTV. ‘Boss, you’ll want to see this.’

She held up an image on her phone. ‘The Brighton team just found it in his room, shoved behind the bed.’

It was another page of the Disordered Diagnosis paper. Page three, for the third attack in three days.

‘I think he’s telling the truth.’ Field stared at the newly printed photograph of Andrew, underneath the heading “PATIENT C”.

She picked up the whiteboard eraser and wiped away the word “Suspect” below his photo.

‘Riley, get hold of the Old Vic. See if they had a ticket booking for Thursday night under his name, and then I want someone in Waterloo, looking at the CCTV from that night. Wilson, put out a call for witnesses on Blackheath for between 10 p.m. and 1 a.m. And get onto the CCTV from that area. There’s got to be decent coverage – it’s high footfall. ’

Andrew Levey wasn’t their perpetrator. He was the third victim.