by Luca Veste
‘Amanda, you know why we’re here?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You realise how important it is to tell us everything you know, okay?’
Amanda nodded, eyes still on the edge of the coffee table, rather than on either her parents or Murphy and Rossi.
‘Good. Did you know Dean well?’
She sniffed, ‘Not really. Just from around and that.’
Around and that. Seemed a popular answer. ‘Were you seeing each other?’
‘Not really.’ Her eyes shifted finally, looking nervously at her parents. ‘He wanted to take me out, but I wasn’t that interested.’
Amanda’s father bristled in his chair, tutting quietly. Rossi caught the motion and cut in. ‘Young girl like you, I bet you have a fair few lads after you?’
She shrugged. ‘Suppose. Doesn’t mean I do anything though. I’m not a slag or nothing.’
The tut of admonishment came from the mother this time. The father was shaking his head.
‘What we need to know, Amanda, is if Dean and you were close.’
‘A bit, like. Not really. We’d talk and stuff. He’d text me a lot. WhatsApp and that.’
‘Did you talk the night he disappeared?’ Murphy asked.
‘Not much. He was just normal. Messing about with the lads, showing off, that kind of thing. I don’t remember much about it, to be honest.’
‘That’s because you had too much to drink,’ Jim Williams said, leaning forward, brow furrowing.
‘Please, Mr Williams,’ Murphy said, raising a hand. ‘We’ll get to that.’
Jim sat back in the chair, chewing his lip.
‘Was everyone drinking, Amanda?’ Murphy said.
‘Yeah. It was a Friday, so there were a few of us. We all chipped in and got a load of cider.’ She shot another look at her parents. ‘I don’t drink normally, but I did that night.’
‘Apparently you got yourself into a state,’ Rossi said, smiling, her tone on the jokey side. ‘Been there a few times.’
Amanda smiled for the first time since they’d arrived. ‘Yeah … guess I wasn’t used to it.’
‘So what do you remember then?’ Rossi said.
‘Just laughing a lot. Some of the lads were taking the piss out of one of the girls, and it was well funny. I was supposed to be staying at my mate’s house, but she disappeared at some point. I reckon it was with Aaron, but she denies it.’
‘What time was that do you think?’
‘Can’t really remember now. It was ages ago.’
‘At some point you ended up alone with Dean though?’ Murphy said, enjoying the way he and Rossi were in sync.
‘Yeah, but I was wrecked by then. Nothing happened. We was just talking, I think.’
‘Do you remember anything he said?’
‘Not really,’ Amanda said, stretching out her legs, the bones cricking in them as she moved. ‘Just talking shi—rubbish and that.’
‘Was he scared, afraid, anything like that?’
She considered it. ‘I don’t think so. It was so long ago. I think he talked about the youthy a bit. Wanted me to go down there in the week.’
There was something she was holding back, Murphy thought. Happy to discuss things she thought were safe topics, but there was something ringing in his mind. ‘Amanda, are you still okay with your parents being here? Only, if there’s something you want to tell us, but would rather do it privately …’
‘There’s nothing she can’t say in front of us, Inspector …’ Jim said.
‘I’m sure that’s the case, Mr Williams,’ Murphy replied, ‘but sometimes a little discretion is needed.’
He and his wife shared a look. ‘Five minutes. And we’re just in the kitchen. Don’t be forcing her to say anything she doesn’t want to. We know our rights.’
‘Of course,’ Murphy said, waiting for them to leave the room. Faye left first, the father looking behind as he walked out of the living room. ‘Okay, Amanda, is there something you want to tell us?’
‘I don’t know …’
Rossi took over, sensing the same thing Murphy was. ‘It’s okay, Amanda. If something happened between the two of you when you were on your own, that’s not your fault, we’ll listen.’
Amanda sat forward. ‘No, it’s nothing like that.’ Her voice raised upwards, into a higher pitch. ‘God, he wasn’t like that.’
‘Okay,’ Murphy said, his hands out in front of him, ‘what is it then?’
‘The drink. Like, we didn’t exactly pay for it.’
‘What do you mean?’
Amanda sighed, leaning back into the settee. ‘I wasn’t there though. It was nothing to do with me. I got told later. Dean and a couple of the other lads nicked it from an offy. That’s what I heard anyway, later on like.’
Murphy scratched at his beard and looked at Rossi. Got a blank look in return. ‘Which offy?’
‘Think it was the one on the Strand.’
‘Right. Anything else?’
Amanda shook her head.
‘Well, if there is anything more, just let us know, okay?’
Murphy felt there was more being unsaid – maybe about the exact nature of what happened once the two teenagers had been alone. He knew they weren’t about to be told anything else right then though. Amanda had retreated back into her shell, chewing on the end of her jumper, looking years younger than her seventeen. A little girl, thrust into the world of adults and death. The shock of the real world etched across her young face.
The Farm
Three Months Ago
It was becoming almost crowded in the Dorm now, Goldie thought – what with Dean, Bootle, another new lad who had arrived the week before, and himself. Four teenage lads, none of them older than nineteen, and Goldie reckoned the new lad was lying when he said that was how old he was. Looked more like sixteen, with bum fluff on his top lip which would probably disappear in a strong wind.
Bootle had tried to be the big man again when the new lad showed up. This time he’d been ignored, rather than beaten up like Goldie had done to him. Seemed to work just as well, from what Goldie had seen.
‘What’s your name, mate?’ Goldie had asked when things had calmed down after that first night, when the new lad had stopped banging against the door trying to get out.
‘Craig,’ he’d replied, from the bed he’d now taken to sitting rigidly upright upon. ‘What’s yours?’
‘Goldie. Over there is Bootle …’
‘It’s fucking MC Cray-Z …’
‘Whatever,’ Goldie replied, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. ‘Call him what you like, but I’m sticking with Bootle. In the corner, that’s Dean. He doesn’t say much, but don’t worry, Bootle more than makes up for him.’
Craig didn’t say much the first few days. Things started happening in shifts now, their lessons taking place one after the other. Always in the evenings, which Goldie had begun to realise was because they, them out there, probably had jobs and stuff during the day. He thought it meant he had more chance of escape during the daytime, the idea that less of them out there made his odds better. It didn’t matter though. Turned out the odds were pretty shitty when you were looking at a shotgun.
‘How long have I been here?’ Goldie had asked at some point.
‘How long do you think it’s been?’ The answer had come back from Omega. Goldie had learnt all their names and could tell who was who even without being able to see their faces. There was a woman in amongst them. Gamma. Goldie had counted five of them, including Alpha. He’d been shocked at first, not thinking it was possible that a bird could be involved in something like this. Then she’d called him a lazy, thick, fat twat, and he’d stopped wondering about her.
Omega was the only one he could tell wasn’t from Liverpool. Sounded more pie-eating country than proper Wool. At least he wasn’t a Manc. Goldie didn’t think he could handle being kept locked up by a Manc.
Goldie’s days were mostly the same … as were all the lads’. Wake
up, or rather, be woken up by the banging on the door. The door would open and food already dished out on trays would be thrown on the floor. Porridge, which ranged from being too sweet to far too bland, depending on the day. The usual argument over who was going for a piss first, before the boredom set in. The only thing to do was read the books that were provided for them. Goldie wasn’t sure all four of them were exactly big readers on the outside. Dean would lie on his bed, just waiting for the evening, he guessed, whilst they sat around, sometimes talking, sometimes telling stories of the outside. Dreaming of what they’d do when they were finally let out.
‘I’m gonna fuck everything that moves, mate,’ Bootle would say constantly, endlessly. ‘Seriously, it’s going in every fucking hole, lad.’
‘Surprised you can find the fucking thing to stick it anywhere,’ Goldie had replied, the look of anger on Bootle’s face disappearing as they heard laughter from the direction of Dean’s bed.
That was about as much as they got out of him. Goldie would have been worried, but he was more interested in how he was in himself. The weight was draining from him. He could afford to lose some but didn’t want to end up as some lanky streak of piss.
No one spoke of how scared they were. Scared of every bang on the door, scared that every time they left that small dorm room, it would be for the last time. Goldie had almost become used to the way his throat would close up in fear when they arrived. When they were alone it was all bravado. Just a show.
The days would drag, only broken up by the arrival of some more food during what they guessed was the afternoon. Someone would have a shit and stink the place out for a bit. Get moaned at, but then forgotten.
No one looked forward to the evenings. Yeah, it was nice to get out of the Dorm, but it wasn’t worth it.
Goldie went first or second, usually. Frogmarched out, guns trained on him all the time … and him not suddenly becoming that bloke in those action films, Jason something, able to take out four guys holding weapons and making a run for it.
He’d be taken into a different building than the one which held the rack. This was slightly bigger, more sparse. Dirty floor and wind blowing through the gaps in the wood-covered walls. He knew the drill now. Walk to the middle, as the three men lined up in front of him. Then the exercises would begin.
Push-ups, sit-ups, jogging on the spot, star jumps. Those were the easy parts.
‘I’m not doing this,’ Goldie had said after he’d started feeling dizzy in the first few days.
‘Then you’re no use to us. We’ll put a bullet in your head and bury you out there in the farmland. No one will ever find you.’
It was amazing the energy that could suddenly be found when you believed someone would have no problem with digging a hole for your dead body.
After the warm-up, it was time for the hard part, holding himself in the push-up position with just his fingers, waiting for them to buckle so he would fall face first into the floor. Then, if they weren’t happy with how long you had done it for, starting all over again. Squatting down, all your weight on your thigh muscles, burning, stretching. Agony setting in quickly.
All the time, he had Gamma or Delta shouting at him for any wrong move he made. For any time they believed he wasn’t putting in enough effort. It didn’t matter that he never had time to rest his body, other than on the odd days they didn’t show up in the evenings.
Being made to lie face down on the floor, raising his hands and feet until they told him he could put them down.
The stretching was the worst. Being forced into unnatural positions, which caused him to cry out in pain every time. Placing his hands into the small of his back and squeezing his elbows together, stretching out his chest. Then, inevitably, one of them would come over and force his elbows together.
Those were the easy parts.
‘Pull your arms back.’
‘You’re not trying hard enough.’
‘You fucking piece of shit, move.’
Voices getting louder all the time. Screaming by this point, right into his ear.
Then he’d do something they didn’t like.
It started out weird. Like they were scared or something. It got worse quickly though.
Goldie didn’t know how long it had taken for the first time. Maybe a week. Ten days maybe. He’d noticed Dean coming back into the Dorm, wincing a little, a little crusted blood under his nose. Goldie had put it down to not being up to the physical part of it.
Then he’d felt it himself. The build-up.
‘Why are we even bothering ourselves doing this?’ he’d heard Tango say one day. Whispered for effect. ‘He’s just a scally no-mark. This isn’t going to do anything.’
Goldie had made the mistake of replying. ‘Fucking right, mate.’
He felt a crack as he was lifted off the floor, halfway through another press-up, flipping over onto his back.
‘What are you doing?’ Goldie had heard the other one say.
‘The only thing these pricks understand.’
Goldie tried bracing himself, but it didn’t matter. A boot came into his side, making him double up. Trying to breathe, the wind taken out of him. A hand grabbing him by the ear, stretching, pulling his head up as he still struggled to get his breath back.
Tango’s fist pounding into his face. Dull weight crashing into him, over and over.
That was just the first time. Now it was an excuse for a couple of blokes to do him over every few days. Working out their frustration. Him forced to lie there and take it. Not able to fight back.
At least it was just being beaten up. That’s what got him through it. No one had tried to do anything else. Sexual, or whatever. He wouldn’t have been able to take that, he decided.
He could take the physical part. That was exhausting but easy. It was never knowing when they were going to start. If they were going to start.
Being afraid wasn’t easy for him.
Afterwards, he was allowed a shower, and then it was his time with Alpha. Back in the rack room. It was covered now, but Goldie knew what lay beneath the cloth. At that point, the other lads had all been on there except Craig, but Goldie knew he’d get his turn eventually.
‘How are you today, Joshua?’ Alpha said as he sat down in the chair opposite him. Goldie hated that he’d told him his real name, but he was sure he knew anyway. Was sure they knew all they could about him.
‘I’d like to go home,’ Goldie replied. The same thing every time. Hoped that one day he’d get the answer he wanted.
‘Well, you’re making good progress, but it’s still a little early for that I think.’
Goldie sat back, folded his arms, but then let them hang loose as he earned a withering look from Alpha.
Every day was the same. Over and over, drummed into them, the errors they’d made. Some days they had lessons, of a kind. How to manage money, how to look for jobs.
‘You’ve got to be willing to work from the very bottom level. The nastiest, scummiest job you can think of can lead to anything you like. It’s all experience. You have to get out there, show tenacity and persistence. We all had to do it years ago. There was no dossing around, living on benefits and just popping out a kid if you wanted a bit more money. No big flat-screen TV bought on HP from bloody BrightHouse or wherever. You worked hard for the luxuries. You worked hard, full stop. That’s what you’re going to do if you ever leave here.’
Goldie understood the message, even if sometimes they used words he’d never heard before. They made it sound easy, like he could just go out there and work his way up the ladder just by working hard. He doubted they really knew the score these days. It was shit jobs, for shit money.
He nodded along and said yes in all the right places though. Sometimes his eyes would betray him and Alpha would cock his head. That was a cue for Goldie to brace himself as the whip was used on him. Welts appearing across his face for the other lads to stare at. Occasionally his mouth would get him into trouble, but for the most part he w
as keeping his head down. Just waiting.
‘Last night we spoke about what you had been doing since you left school.’
It was all they ever spoke about, Goldie thought.
‘Yes.’
‘What do you think about your behaviour now you’ve had some time to reflect?’
Goldie went into standard mode. ‘It was really terrible, what we did to those people. I would never do it again, swear down.’
Alpha tutted in response. ‘There’s that “we” word again, Joshua. You’re not accepting full responsibility for your actions. You did these things. Tell me some of them again.’
Goldie almost sighed, but eyed the handgun in Alpha’s hand – finger resting on the trigger as always – and thought better of it. ‘I dunno … we … I robbed some kids of mobile phones. Got pisse—I mean drunk, in the street outside people’s houses and then shouted stuff at them when they moaned …’
‘Not moaned.’
‘Sorry, yeah, I mean … erm … complained.’
‘What else?’
Goldie had gone through the list so many times it should have been easy to remember all the things, but he didn’t want to. It sounded so stupid when he said them out loud. Kid stuff, really.
‘Gone on the rob too many times. From shops and that. Fuc—beat up other people for a laugh.’
Alpha shifted the gun from one hand to the other, seeming to relax a little. Goldie had waited over the previous months for a single slip, one mistake that he could use. He was always too slow though, too scared to take any chance of escape.
‘You’re still holding back on me.’
Goldie’s eyes shifted left. He rubbed his palms together, sweat making them feel greasy.
‘I’m not …’
‘You are. And I’m tired of it.’
Goldie thought for a few seconds. Tried not to think about the worst things he’d done.
‘It’s written all over your face. I’ll say it again. We can’t move forward here until you’re completely honest. So, tell me what is it that you don’t want to tell me.’