Chapter 31 Thursday | Afternoon
Thursday | Afternoon
Field
The meeting was bigger than yesterday’s. For the first time since she made DCI, members of Raynott’s team were being loaned to their MIT. Only DCs, but even so.
Riley was leaning against a desk, chatting to a couple of the newer uniformed recruits, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. He was putting on a brave face after his semi-public bollocking, but he wasn’t wincing over the split lip anymore.
Wilson was firing off emails on her laptop.
‘Afternoon, all,’ Field barked.
She held up a hand and indicated everyone should sit down.
‘First things first, David Moore is still in critical condition at King’s, but he’s stable.
The initial report from the forensic medical examiner should be with us by tonight.
Due to catastrophic blood loss, he was technically deceased for several minutes, which could mean permanent brain damage.
We can’t rely on him waking up and telling us who did this.
’ She glanced at Sam’s file on the desk.
‘Today I want to focus on our second victim.’
The room was silent.
Field pulled the file towards her and took out Sam’s photograph, pinning it to the centre of the whiteboard, next to David’s work headshot.
‘Samantha Hughes, or Sam to her friends. Thirty-two years old, healthy, no criminal record. She worked at a local pub and was studying for an English PhD at Goldsmiths.’ Field steeled herself.
‘Her parents live in Rickmansworth. Hertfordshire police delivered the death notice this morning. They’ll be here this evening. ’
Field uncapped a marker and wrote “PATIENT B” above Sam’s photograph. ‘According to Callum Mulligan, she was a patient in Moore’s study, and Dr Young found scarring consistent with Patient B’s described dermatillomania.’
Field held up a photograph of Callum, cropped close onto his face.
‘She was found by this man. Callum Mulligan, also thirty-two. The ambulance was called by a neighbour.’
A few frowns around the room.
Field glanced at Wilson, who cleared her throat and said: ‘From some interviews and articles he’s written, I think Callum is Patient D. Something called magical thinking – about numbers.’
‘Thanks,’ Field said, adding the label “PATIENT D” above Callum’s photograph.
‘Any leads on the other three kids?’ A voice – Field didn’t catch who it belonged to.
‘No. As soon as Callum Mulligan is fit to be interviewed, he may be able to shed light on that. Either way,’ Field said. ‘Any of the other three patients could be our perpetrator, or our next victim.’
Wilson nodded, and opened her mouth to ask a question, before sticking her hand in the air.
‘Yes?’
‘We should go through the hospital admissions in the local area, in case this person has committed other stabbings, but not on our patch.’
‘Yes, good point, Wilson.’ Field paused. ‘Early blood-spatter analysis suggests that the perpetrator cut themselves during the attack. It’s unlikely they’d seek medical attention, but it’s also worth pursuing.’
Wilson nodded and made a note.
‘I also want us to look for any link between David Moore and Samantha Hughes. If they have been targeted in connection to each other, let’s not take for granted it’s solely related to the 2010 trial.
We didn’t find anything on Samantha’s phone download, but I’d like to get a download of her home router, too.
We need to search Samantha’s home for a second phone, and I’d like cell-site mapping done on her and David in the past three weeks, to see if they were together at any point. ’
She directed most of this to a red-haired digital forensics specialist at the back of the room.
Field turned back to the board. ‘We need to expand door-to-door to include more streets, in all directions, from both scenes. Even if no one saw or heard anything, there’ll be something on one of those bastard doorbells.
I want everyone and anyone who was out walking or driving on the streets of Plumstead at that time of night traced, interviewed and ruled out.
We have a violent, unstable perpetrator out there. ’
‘Unless they’re not “out there” anymore,’ Riley said, in a low voice.
‘Right.’ Field snapped. ‘Yes – Callum is, of course, a person of interest.’
Field had seen him, shaking in the middle of his living room. The state he was in, the state of the house. That animal fear – it wasn’t something you could fake. Field’s gut said that he was caught up in something much bigger, which none of them understood yet.
Field tapped the board marker against her palm. ‘Mulligan is currently undergoing an assessment in a psychiatric unit. If he did it, he’s not going anywhere, but right now we have no motive and nothing concrete placing him at David’s murder.’
‘And why is he in the unit?’ Wilson muttered.
Riley flushed. ‘Does he need a motive? He’s had a breakdown, lost it and stabbed his therapist. Then, what if Sam guessed Callum attacked the doctor, and went to confront him about it?’
He shot a look at Field, knowing he was pushing it. Wilson opened her mouth to retort, but Field put a hand up.
‘I know none of you listen to anyone round here, but if you pay attention to any instruction I ever give you, then let’s make it this one.
Do not make assumptions. Let’s not assume that because Mr Mulligan has a mental illness that he’s somehow taken leave of his senses and decided to attack people—’
Wilson nodded, emphatic.
‘And at the same time, let’s not assume that Mr Mulligan is a blabbering, incompetent wreck. It could be a very clever, considered ploy for diminished responsibility, if he is guilty.’
Field’s gaze moved between Wilson and Riley.
‘Let’s make sure this case is dictated by the evidence, shall we? DS Wilson, you’re with me. Dismissed.’
Wilson followed Field out of the room. With all their officers back in the briefing room, only DCI Raynott’s team were sat at their desks. A few of the DIs eyed Field as she walked past.
Wilson shut Field’s office door behind her. ‘What’s the plan, boss?’
Field checked the time. ‘We’re going to inform Penny Moore about this second attack. It’ll have to be brief, though. I want us to be back here when Mr and Mrs Hughes arrive.’
Wilson scratched the back of her neck. ‘Am I going to be handling that—’
Field shook her head. ‘It should be me.’
She scanned her desk for anything she would need. Notebook, a lip balm and Young’s concealer were all plucked from the mess and thrown into her bag.
‘I guess it means more, hearing from another parent.’
Field’s stomach dropped at the mere suggestion of Toby having a bearing on the case.
‘It’s not that.’ She sighed, and allowed herself a brief sit-down in her chair. ‘I need to ask them to refrain from talking to the press. We need to keep a lid on Sam’s identity.’
There had been some coverage about David, but it hadn’t caught the attention of the nationals.
A pretty thirty-two-year-old stabbed to death? That would be a front-page story.
The thought of speaking to the parents tonight was like a physical weight on her chest. She was already scanning for phrases, condolences.
‘Right. Let’s get out of here.’