Tony had always liked the room where he visited Dr Jacob Gold. Nothing in it reminded him of anywhere he’d spent any significant amount of time; it was emotionally neutral. The walls were lemon yellow, broken up by four large paintings of beaches, seascapes and tidal estuaries. Two armchairs at an angle to each other sat on either side of a gas fire, separated by a striped rug in muted colours. In the shallow bay window sat a chaise longue with another armchair close to its head. A low table sat in the centre of the floor displaying an exotic collection of polished sea-shells.

It was the kind of calm space that was perfectly suited to the supervision sessions most psychologists saw as a key part of their professional lives. The relationship was all about helping them to develop skills and become better practitioners, which was something Tony took seriously. The problem he had with supervision was that he didn’t have a whole lot of respect for most of the supervisors he’d encountered. He was well aware that his was an unconventional mind. It wasn’t arrogance to acknowledge he was also smarter than most of the people doing his job. Then he’d heard Dr Gold speak about damaged lives at a symposium. This, he thought, was the man for him. He’d approached him afterwards, but Dr Gold had refused. ‘I don’t do supervisions,’ he’d said in a tone that left no space for discussion.

That had never stopped Tony. ‘I know why,’ he said. ‘Compared with your patients, practitioners are boring. Well, I’m not. I’m the one passing for human.’

Dr Gold frowned, turning his attention properly to the little guy in the ill-assorted clothes and the bad haircut. That had been back in the days before Carol had made some subtle changes that Tony had barely noticed happening. ‘Who are you?’

‘You remember that serial killer in Bradfield last year? Young male victims?’

Something shifted in Dr Gold’s expression. ‘You’re the profiler.’ Tony nodded. There was nothing more to be said. Either Jacob Gold would bite or he wouldn’t. They stood, eyeing each other up, heedless of the conference bustle around them. ‘Come and talk to me next week. I’m based in Leeds. You can contact me via the university.’

And so it had begun. After that first session, Tony knew he’d found someone who could help him live with himself and his work, his achievements and his mistakes. Luckily for him, Jacob Gold had also discovered someone worth breaking his own rules for.