‘There’s no point in me pretending I’ve got no skills,’ Tony said. ‘That would be really stupid, trying to make out I’m just another one of the lads. I’ve been listening to Razor, and it’s equally clear to me that you’re not stupid either. I don’t want to be arsey about this, but I can give you a programme that could make a difference to people’s lives. Maybe help them not to come back here.’
Spoony froze. ‘You really think so? You’ve been in here, what? Five minutes? And you know how to fix us? Think you’re fucking Coldplay, do you?’
‘I don’t even know what that means,’ Tony said. ‘All I do know is I’ve got some ideas that I think are worth trying.’ He pulled a small notebook from his pocket. Another gift from people in the justice system who knew that he knew where some of the bodies were buried. ‘I’ve drafted out ten minutes. Just to give you a flavour.’
Spoony turned, bending sideways from the waist so he could see past Tony and go eye to eye with Kieran. ‘You did right, bringing him along. We’re pitifully short on comedy.’
The geek with the screwdriver looked up. ‘Wouldn’t hurt to give the man a chance.’ Judging by the looks of surprise on the others’ faces, he wasn’t given to expressing opinions.
Spoony blew out a noisy breath. ‘Come on then.’ He nodded towards a chair with a foam-covered mic in front of it. ‘Sit your arse down and lay it on us.’
Tony obeyed, squeezing past the Tweedle twins to get to the chair. He cleared his throat. ‘I am prisoner number BV8573. I’m also a clinical psychologist called Tony Hill. I’ve spent the last twenty-five years working with people like you and me, trying to figure out the reasons why things went wrong for us.’ He looked up from his notes. Spoony was leaning back in his chair, fingers locked behind his head, staring at the ceiling.
‘I don’t believe people are born evil. I think we end up on the wrong side of the law for a variety of reasons and most of them are not our fault. I’ve said it before and I will probably say it again: Societies get the crimes they deserve. Build a society based on greed, for example, and robbery will become your default crime. Turn sex into a commodity and bingo, sex crimes spawn like tadpoles. So if that’s the underlying cause of crime, logically the remedy must lie in our own hands. If we change the script people live by, then surely we should be able to alter our outcomes? I want to talk to you about ways we can change our scripts. And the first thing we have to talk about is fear. Because in here, we’re all afraid.’
Abruptly, Spoony jumped up. ‘Right, that’ll do. You’ve got balls, I’ll say that for you, Doc. Coming in here and making out we’re all fucking bricking it.’
Tony sighed and stood up. ‘OK. I get the message. I’ll just fuck off back to my cell and forget I ever wanted to be the Zoe Ball of HMP Doniston.’
‘What are you on about?’ Spoony demanded, head thrust forward, all brittle aggression. He snatched the clipboard from Tweedledum. He ran his finger down the page. ‘Yeah. Let’s cut the Catholics down to half an hour on Friday. You’ve got fifteen minutes a week for the next month, Doc. If you can cut it, the slot’s yours. Now fuck off, we’ve got programmes to make.’
Tony was halfway out of the door when he heard Spoony’s valediction. ‘You don’t want to disappoint me, Doc. Druse don’t cut no ice with the people I know.’
Just like that, the fear ratcheted up the dial again. No such thing as a place of safety here.
5
Every crime scene has its retinue of specialists. Police officers, medics, photographers, forensic specialists, profilers. Just as we all read the same book differently, taking different messages from it and finding different echoes in its pages, so it is with crime scenes. Every specialist reads the scene in their own way. When we put our heads together, it’s like a symposium on the dead person.
From Reading Crimes by DR TONY HILL
Paula took a cautious step forward. ‘Time to put the knife down,’ she said conversationally. ‘There’s better ways to sort this out.’
The man started, casting a quick glance over his shoulder. But his grip on the woman didn’t slacken, nor did he move the knife.
‘Let her go. You can walk away from this.’ Paula kept her voice level and her body still. ‘It’s the only way out.’
‘Why don’t you fucking walk away? This is none of your business.’ His voice was less assured than his words. The woman squirmed, and he turned away from Paula to push harder against her.
Paula dredged her experience for the right thing to say. ‘If you don’t stop now, it’s your life that ends here,’ she said gently. ‘There’s no going back from this. I don’t believe you want that. What’s your name? I’m Paula.’
Now his head whipped back to face her. ‘What’s it to you? Who the fuck do you think you are?’
‘I’m just somebody that hates to see a man throwing away his life chances.’
‘You sound like a fucking cop,’ he exclaimed, outrage in his voice. ‘Only a fucking cop talks like that.’ And all at once he let the woman go and sprinted across the clearing towards Paula, the knife held out in front of him. The woman ran stumbling in the opposite direction.
‘Stacey, get her,’ Paula shouted, never taking her eyes off the man. He drew his knife hand back as he came near, preparing to strike. She waited till the last possible moment then stepped smartly to one side, lashing out sideways with her foot.
She’d been hoping for
