Silent Scream

‘What are you frightened of, Mrs Croft? Why are you so terrified that I will get the answers? And what the hell did your husband do back then?’

Nina stepped back and crossed her arms. ‘You will never prove that he did anything untoward.’

‘Interesting that you don’t state he did nothing wrong ‒ only that I will be unable to prove it.’

‘A play on words, Detective.’

‘Your husband knows something about what happened at Crestwood ten years ago and whilst he is managing to hang onto life right now, there are others that have not been so lucky.’

The woman looked unmoved. Kim wasn’t sure when she’d met a woman less lacking in empathy than Nina Croft.

Kim shook her head with disbelief. ‘You have obstructed this investigation at every turn. You tried, unsuccessfully, to have me removed from the case. You used your legal influence to file objections to the dig ...’

Kim’s own words trailed away as the truth dawned. ‘You were the one who killed the professor’s dog! When the legal objections failed you decided to try anything to prevent that dig from taking place. Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you?’

Nina shrugged. ‘Feel free to arrest me for inappropriate use of staples, Detective.’

A movement beyond Nina Croft’s head told her that Bryant had exited the side room.

Kim stepped forward into the woman’s face. ‘You are a ruthless, cold, miserable excuse for a woman. You care nothing for anyone or anything. I think you know exactly what happened back then and the only person you're interested in protecting is yourself.

‘And I promise you this, the day is coming whereby I will visit you again and it will be a very public arrest for obstructing the course of justice.’

Kim paused as Bryant came through the first set of double doors.

‘And now you have a reason to make a genuine complaint. So, please, give it your best shot.’

Bryant came to stand beside her.

‘Get what you wanted?’ she asked.

Bryant nodded and turned to Nina. ‘Your husband is asking for you.’

Nina looked from one to the other, realising she’d been tricked. The colour flooded her face. Nina Croft did not like to lose.

‘You devious little bitch ...’

Kim turned and walked away.

‘Hearts and minds exercise, there, Guv?’

‘BFFs now. What did you get?’

‘Absolutely bugger all.’

Kim stopped walking. ‘Are you joking?’

Bryant shook his head. ‘Nope.’

‘We have a live victim. Our one survivor of a bastard that’s killed at least two people and Croft can give us nothing?’

‘Guv, he can barely get two words out but by a yes and no system I managed to work out that he was standing up, and facing away from the door when the knife was plunged into his back. He fell forward and lost consciousness immediately.’

Kim blew air through her lips. ‘Minutes, Bryant. We must have missed him by bloody minutes. Whoever it was knew they had a small window of opportunity while Marta was out shopping and knew the only way to get in and out undetected.’

It was dark as they stepped out of the hospital building.

‘Look, I’ve already told Kev. Take the day off tomorrow. On Saturday we’ll try and piece everything together. It’s been one hell of a week.’

For once Bryant didn’t argue.

Kim headed around the side of the hospital to where she’d parked the bike. She turned the corner into the darkness.

As she reached for the helmet which was locked to the wheel her phone began to ring.

Sixty-Three

She hit the call button. The battery flashed red.

‘What's up, Stace?’

‘Guv, I've been trawling back through some old posts on Facebook and I've come across something I think yer should know.’

‘Go on.’

‘About eight months ago one of the girls spotted Tom Curtis at Dudley Zoo with his family. She posted on the board commenting on his weight and wondering what they'd all seen in him back then.

‘A few childish jokes followed about him putting his hot dog in someone's bun and crap like that but then they started mentioning our three girls as well.’

Kim closed her eyes against what she knew was coming.

‘It's clear he was having sex with one of 'em, Guv.’

Kim thought about the pregnant fifteen-year-old. ‘Was Tracy mentioned by name?’

‘No, Guv, that's the thing. Tom Curtis was sleeping with Louise.’

Kim shook her head as the rage built within her.

‘You okay, Guv?’

‘I'm fine, Stace. Good work, now get off ...’

Her words trailed away as her phone charge ran out.

She put the phone in her pocket and kicked out at the wall.

‘Damn, damn, damn,’ Kim growled.

The anger that ripped through her veins had nowhere to go. These bastards had been entrusted with the safety of these girls and they had failed them badly. It seemed that every single one of them had found some way to further abuse these kids.

Child abuse was categorised into four main areas; physical abuse, sexual abuse, emotional maltreatment and neglect. By Kim’s count, the staff at Crestwood had pretty much scored a strike on all four. The irony lay in the fact that most of the girls at Crestwood had been placed there to remove them from mistreatment.

No girl at Crestwood had been there by choice. She knew from her own experience that homes like this were dumping grounds; a civic amenity, like a landfill site. A place for unwanted and broken individuals where at best, kids were dehumanised and stripped of identity and at worst, they were abused even further.

Kim had seen it herself. Poor treatment became an expectation. And slowly, like a stump being hammered into the soil, your head could only remain above ground for so long.

Kim walked around the bike, trying to expel the heat from her veins. She clenched and unclenched her hands to relieve the building tension.

Each girl had arrived at Crestwood for various reasons, and none of them good.

Melanie had been discarded by her father so easily. Gifted to the state so there was one less mouth at his table. The selection criteria being that she was the less attractive child. How could Melanie not have known that to be the case? How did she reconcile that in her head? Thrown away by the one man who should have cared for her, all because she was ugly.

The child had begged for any scrap of attention, some validation that she was a person worthy of affection. Even trying to buy friendship to find her place. Happy to be the runt of the litter, just as long as the litter accepted her.

That was Melanie's story. But there was not one story. All the children in the system had a story. Kim herself had a story. But hers had not started alone.

A vision of Mikey swam before her eyes. It was not the picture she wanted but it was the one she always got. She stepped back into the darkness of the corner as the emotion thickened her throat.

Three weeks premature, Kim and Mikey had both been born with fragile health. Very soon Kim's health had improved, she had gained weight and her bones had strengthened. Mikey's had not.

Their mother, Patty, had taken them home when they were six weeks old, to a high-rise flat on Hollytree.

Kim's first memory dated back to three days after her fourth birthday and was a vision of her mother holding a pillow tightly over the face of her twin. His short legs had thrashed on the bed as his lungs fought for air. Kim tried to pull her mother away but her grip was firm.

Kim had thrown herself to the floor, opened her mouth wide and sunk her teeth into her mother's calf like a rabid dog. She applied every ounce of pressure she could muster and wouldn't let go. Her mother had spun around and the pillow fell from the bed, but still Kim didn't let go. Her mother had staggered around the room, screaming and trying to kick her free, but only when they were a safe distance from the bed did Kim unlock her jaw.