CHAPTER 48
The SS were as good as their word, and half an hour after I had rung a young woman was being escorted into my sanctum. Khan was already there, Darren in his cell devouring the two mars bars I had bought for him. The social worker, Miss Armitage (‘call me Polly’) was straight to the point.

“Sergeant, what exactly brings you to believe that Darren is at risk?”

“Polly, Adam. I have seen Darren very many times over the last couple of years, and it is always the same. He carries out some theft, some petty crime, something to get him picked up and brought here, after absconding from his secure accommodation. It’s never anything major, never violent, and then he always does the same trick, defecates–“

“Shits. You can say shits. I am a big girl”

“–he shits in his cell, but never where it will be difficult to clean. No smearing the walls, nothing like that, just a neat log on the vinyl. He does it to prove what a man he is, thumbing his nose at The Filth, but it’s tokenism. aye?”

“So what made you think differently today?”

“Ah, Polly, it was what he had nicked. Even for him it was pathetic, and the place he lifted it from is a nightmare for a thief. He wanted to be nicked. Then, I asked him, on a hunch, aye, if someone was hurting him and that was the answer. He threatened to stab them, or rather he predicted that he would. I have a duty of care to my prisoners, and I am now stating as formally as I can that I have concerns for the health of this one and believe that a proper medical examination should take place”

She grinned. “Nicely put, Adam, shall we go and see what he wants to tell us?”

I opened the cell, and the turd was there, and Darren was sat on the floor, eyes red from his tears..

“Darren, this is Miss Armitage, she’s from Social Services”

“Don’ want no soshal workah”

“Darren, it’s the law. I can only do so much without having her here. Do you want to talk to her?”

Polly interrupted. “Do you want the Sergeant to stay?”

Darren looked up, and I could have wept at the depth of pain in his face. As softly as I could, I asked him what he needed to hear.

“Darren, have I ever messed you about?”

“Na, Sarnt Price, you has always been straight wiv me, lahk”

“Will you trust me today? Please?”

“All raht, but you stay here, yeah? I don’ trust no soshal workah, they put me in the house, innit?”

Polly sighed . “I have no intention of leaving you there if you are being hurt, son. If there is anything going on, I will have you removed today. Now, we have a Doctor here to see you”

“Don’ want no doctah neever”

I did what I could. “You trust me, you said, Darren?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, this doctor, Doctor Khan, is my own doctor, he looks after me for all sorts of problems. If I say he is a good man, will you trust me on that?”

“OK”

Thank god for that. Polly chipped in. “Do you want the sergeant to go while the doctor sees you?”

“Na, I lahk want you to go, innit? Don’ want no girly seein’ ma tackle”

Skinny, undernourished, eyes red from his crying, he was still clinging on to the last of his machismo. Polly nodded.

“I think in this case that the spirit of the law is served by having Doc Khan in, if that is OK with you, Adam?”

“Fine. Want to come in, Doc?”

As Polly exited, Dr Khan came in, Pakistani silliness in full flow, and after a couple of mangled phrases I actually heard a giggle from Darren.

“Adam, is it that you are having a room that is private for an examination?”

I took him to the medical room, and he made a few basic checks before asking the big question, and then Darren stood, and after taking off his baseball cap he pulled off his shirt, revealing a grubby vest. There were bruises on his arms, black finger-marks where he had been held with considerable force, some of them old but some very fresh. As his clothes came off, first revealing that his legs were like his arms, he started to weep. No sound, no shuddering, just tears rolling down his face. The bruises extended across his torso, many of them that dark colour that made it look as if the damage extended through the flesh to the other side of the body. He stood for as short a time naked as we could manage, as Khan checked the obvious place, the one I had been so apprehensive about, and over Darren’s shoulder gave me a little head shake, not so. I thanked everything I could that the child seemed to have been spared at least that much, but as he pulled his stained boxer shorts back on I asked the question.

“Darren, son, would you let us take some photographs, please? We won’t be able to do anything without proof, and this is evidence”

“Don’ need no evvy dense, gonna shank him, yeah?”

“And end up banged away with dozens like, him, yeah?”

The floodgates burst, and the sobs came on, and I had no choice but to hold him to me as he wailed.

“I can’t go back to that fucking place! He gonna kill me one day! Can’t I just stay here? Please, Sergeant Price, please, just let me stay , I won’ shit no more, promise”

Polly was beside me. “No, Darren, you’re not going back there, and if I catch my boss neither is any other kid. It’s Ok….”

I sent the good doctor to ask for a civilian support worker to come to the cell, and had a call put out for Kirsty. Half an hour later, as Darren slept exhausted in the medical room with Doc Khan, Ruth and I had a chat.

“Kirsty, were there any other kids about when you lifted him?”

“Yeah, Sarge, I think three or four”

I filled her in on what had come up, and she was nodding. “Faginism? Makes sense. Question is, Sarge, who’s running the kids….oh shit.”

She had a look I hadn’t often seen on her face, not even when the drunk had pissed down her leg that night. “Yeah, Ruthy, I wonder what some CCTV might show in that area. I think you might be right, it’s just working out who the organiser is. I am going to see if we have any details of the people running the home, see if we can get a face, you pull a couple of PCs and lift any recordings of the area around that time. I have a boy to look after, see if he can give us any hints”

I popped back round to see my doctor, who was writing his notes.

“Annie…thank you for your humanity. That boy has been beaten systematically for a long time, beaten so that the marks are all in clothed areas. There are also a number of cigarette burns, but thankfully I could see no trace of what you so clearly feared, though of course that does not mean it has not happened”

“Doc, what happened to your English?”

“Bugger it, Annie, I use that to keep patients relaxed. This is deadly serious. I suspect there may be some old breaks under there, and he is definitely malnourished. He cannot go back to that place, and I am apprehensive as to his welfare if he is placed among other similar children.”

The door opened, and Polly came in, having spent some time reviewing the photographs. “Jesus wept, Sergeant, how could this have got so bad?”

The Paddington stare I gave her was far from funny, because she knew exactly as I did, that the responsibility was, if not hers, that of her colleagues. I laid down my rules.

“He does not go back there. Ever. I am not having another death on my conscience, certainly not that of another child. Now, you will please assist me in this matter. I suspect, and I can make this more formal if you wish, I suspect that we have what is called faginism going on here, where children are sent out to steal to order. What I want from you is some information, particularly any photos you have of people who work at that home, or older residents. Can you do that for me?”

“She looked weary. “Yes, I can and I will, but we have another problem. There are no safe placements available just now. We have nowhere to put him.”

I thought for a second, and an idea came up. “If we could find a safe home, people easily vouched for, would you be able to allow us to take him there?”

“Give me half an hour. I want to ring the office to dig out the Faygate Place file, and I will put that suggestion to them.”

Kirsty was back a little later with the discs, and when Polly came back in, grinned and nodded, I made the call.

“Steph? Hiya, it’s Adam Price. We have a bit of a situation at work, and I was wondering if you could let me have Naomi’s number”