The Dying Place (19 page)

Two Days Ago

The smell of manure lingered, an ever-constant presence, even though the farm had last seen cattle move through its fields three years previously. It was there in the walls, ingrained in the land. The wooden boards in the sheds holding a memory of the smell for a lifetime. Tyler was sick of the place. Wanted out right now. A week in and he’d already watched someone die in front of him. He didn’t think things were about to get any better. For any of them.

‘I still can’t get used to this stink, man.’

‘Well don’t bore me with it. Just fuc—just get on with it.’

‘Did you just stop yourself swearing, lad? They can’t hear us now, you know?’

‘How do you know? They could be listening, right now.’

Tyler sucked his teeth. Paranoia. He was sure of it. The lad he was speaking to had been in there longer than him, so it was only natural. ‘Does this look like the kind of place with hidden cameras and shit? I don’t think so.’

‘You know the rules. They’ve told you enough times now. No swearing. Just do what they say.’

‘What? You think they’ll let us go if we do that? Don’t be fucking stupid. We’re all locked up in here until they decide to get rid of us. Once they’ve had their fun, of course.’

‘I’ve seen others leave …’

‘You’ve seen shit, lad. You’ve got no idea what happens when they go.’

The lad opposite him, Craig, replied by folding his arms and turning away.

‘Craig, listen to me. We’ve got to find another way. We’ve got to get the fuck out of here.’

Craig mumbled something before standing up and going over to another bed, sitting down with his back against the wall where the headboard would be. If it wasn’t non-existent, of course. Tyler smacked his hands down onto his knees and stood up.

‘You’ve got to get fucking real here. We’re screwed if we stay. Literally. I mean, have you seen any girls other than that lezza with them here? ’Cause I fucking haven’t. It’s only a matter of time before they start with the paedo shit. Do you wanna get fucking passed around by a load of auld sweaty blokes before they off yers?’

‘Shut up.’

Tyler turned towards the corner where the voice had come from. Goldie, the oldest of the group of three lads who occupied the shed which was now their communal bedroom.

The Dorm, they’d called it.

‘You know I’m right.’

Tyler heard the bed creak as Goldie got up. Shifted nervously about as he listened to the gentle pad of sock-covered feet emerge from the shadows in the corner.

Six foot four, Goldie was. Same age as him, but by sheer size he had them all. He bore scars, though. Some healing, some now fading to silver. Tyler tried not to shrink back as Goldie reached him but instead found himself giving away even more height by dropping back to his bed.

Goldie stopped a foot away and leant forward, whispering into his ear.

‘There are rules,’ Goldie said, his neck cracking as he got closer, ‘and you’re going to keep your mouth shut and follow them. Otherwise, we’re gonna have a problem. You understand?’

Tyler swallowed, his mouth filling with saliva an instant later. ‘I’m just saying …’

‘I couldn’t give a f—I don’t care. We’ve been here longer than you. We know how it works. Unless you want us all to suffer, you’ll keep quiet. Follow their rules. Become a better person. Listen, do as you’re told and you might just survive.’

With that, Goldie straightened up, giving him one last stare before fading back into the shadows again.

Tyler could feel his heart beating against his chest wall, his hands shaking with adrenaline. No one spoke to him like that on the outside. He wouldn’t have it. He was the one in control out there. People did what he said, when he said it. He ran the street, had done since his older brother had passed on the reins when he was thirteen. For four years Tyler had been used to being the one everyone listened to.

And he had the tools to back it up. He’d lost count of the fights he’d been in, the amount of times he’d fucked up some other lad’s face, or broken a bone or two. Lost count of the times he’d been in trouble with the police. He was still paying the fine for the last conviction. Actual Bodily Harm for biting a chunk out of some dickhead’s arm. Hundred quid fine – a slap on the wrist really, given he was only seventeen. Wouldn’t happen the next time, but he’d hardly cared.

Before anything else happened though, he’d ended up here. Lessons, rules, discipline. This had been explained to him in the previous couple of days, but he wasn’t having any of it. Not him. He wasn’t a fucking pussy like the others.

Tyler was getting out of there. Fuck ’em all. He wasn’t waiting.

‘How’s our new boy?’

‘Got a mouth on him, Delta.’

Delta smiled. ‘They all do at first, Alpha. That’ll change after a few times on the rack.’

‘I guess.’

Delta leant over, placing a hand on the black-shirted shoulder of Alpha. ‘You okay?’

Alpha sighed, his shoulders slumping under the weight of Delta’s hand. Delta tried to make eye contact, but Alpha was staring at the floor.

‘I’m just disappointed,’ Alpha said after a few seconds of silence. ‘I honestly didn’t think it would need to happen. Plus, not returning them even in
that
state … it just seems wrong.’

Delta moved his hand up, tapping it against the back of Alpha’s head. ‘Look, we can’t fix them all. But we’re doing the right thing.’

Alpha finally looked up at him. ‘I guess you’re right.’

‘Good,’ Delta replied, smiling again. ‘Now go and have something to eat. Tango has made a big pan of scouse. I’ll watch the boys.’

Delta watched Alpha leave, before turning back to the TV screen. The picture was quite good, not as grainy as he’d expected when they’d first set it up months previously.

Six beds, only four boys occupying them. Not even maximum capacity.

The mood had changed since they’d watched the Norris Green kid die. No late-night planning what they’d do when they got out of there, what changes they’d make.

Now it was just quiet.

Goldie knew what they were all thinking. Fuck it, he was thinking the exact same thing.

Which one of them was next.

It wasn’t fair. Sure, when he’d first been picked up … kidnapped … whatever … he’d been well pissed off. How fucking dare they? Didn’t they know who he was? No fucking respect. But the time there had gone on. The beatings, the lectures which lasted hours, it seemed. The darkness of the room. It wore him down.

Now he could see something else. Knew he could make a change.

The way he saw it, life was too fucking short. And he’d been wasting his. Getting pissed, getting stoned. Wasting time on girls who weren’t interested.

His mum would be made up if he got home and actually did something with his life, instead of throwing it away. She could stop fretting all the time about where he was, what he was doing. The economy was still fucked, but he could find something to do. An apprenticeship, a labouring job, something. They were always building stuff near town, maybe he could get in there somehow.

Work his way up. That’s what they’d told him. How long since he’d left school? Almost three years? He could have been earning all kinds by now if he’d just got his head down.

They’d filled his head with ideas. Of things he could do. Of other things that would be stupid to try.

You wanna be a DJ? So do a million other kids. Pick something else.

In media? You don’t even know what that involves. Pick something else.

Each revelation punctuated with another beating.

It was working though. He was coming around to their way of thinking. When he got out, he’d be so glad to be out of that stinking nightmare, he’d do whatever he needed to do to make sure he never went back there.

Then they’d killed the Norris Green kid. And now he knew the reality. He wasn’t getting out of there. They weren’t going to let him go, no way. None of them.

He had to do something. The others were shit-scared, just like he was, but there was still enough of that anger inside all of them to get out of there. Tyler would be well up for it, he knew that. But they would need someone to lead it.

Him.

‘We can’t go on like this. It’s gone too far.’

‘What do you want to do then? It’s not like we can go to the police. It won’t just be him getting done, it’d be all of us. Can you imagine how this would look to someone coming in from the outside … we’d get life.’

Gamma shook her head, leant against the back door, desperate to take the balaclava off, even if it now revealed her identity. ‘It’s not right. Maybe if we explained …’

‘Explained what,’ Tango
replied, his voice raising, causing Gamma to look quickly behind her into the empty kitchen and breathe a sigh of relief. ‘That we’ve been taking kids – because that’s what they’ll call them, you know – taking kids off the streets and beating them? And for what? Because we thought we could break them?’

Gamma
sighed, itching at her scalp, the heat underneath the balaclava perched on top of her head making the sweat stick. ‘We’re not just beating them up. We’re teaching them.’

‘Listen to yourself. We’ve been taken for fucking fools. It’s his game. His plan. Fuck knows what he gets out of it, but the other night should have made the point well enough.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘That he’s a fucking psycho and we’re all in this mess he’s created. There’s no getting out of it for us. We either all go down, or he goes down.’

‘What are you saying?’ Gamma
whispered, still looking around her.

‘That maybe … maybe it’s time he went away. For good. Rather than us. We let those other four go. Then we go our separate ways. The only one who knows who we are behind these masks is him. I’ve got no fucking clue who the rest of these people are. He’s the only one who can make a problem for us.’

‘There must be another way.’

Tango
chuckled, the sound muffled slightly. ‘Believe me, I’ve tried to think of something. There’s nothing. Maybe before that lad was killed, but now … no. If we try to go, he’ll drop us in it. Guaranteed. He has enough to fit us up for that lad.’

Gamma tapped her foot against the muddy path, her shoes sinking into it. ‘Have you spoken to anyone else about this?’

‘You’re the first.’

‘Then we need to speak to the others. See how they feel.’

17

Murphy stretched out in his office chair, trying to bring some life to bones which were softening from the combination of little sleep and the few hours he’d already spent sitting at his desk. It was coming up to mid-morning, Tuesday already in full swing. The vultures had begun circling as word reached the powers that be about the phone call they’d received the previous day. He’d already been on the receiving end of two ear-bashings via telephone; first from Detective Superintendent Butler, and after that from DCI Stephens, who was away from the station but wanted to make sure the message was clear.

Rossi was still in the world of maps she’d created for herself on his instruction. The man on the phone the previous night had mentioned a farm, so she was tasked with finding possible locations – which was proving difficult, given they didn’t know how wide to search.

‘He definitely sounds local,’ DC Harris said from his small desk off to the side, shucking off his headphones. ‘Can’t hear anything in the background. He’s outside, that’s as best as I can do.’

DC Harris had been listening to the phone call repeatedly all morning, attempting to locate something which they may have missed previously.

‘How local?’ Murphy replied.

‘I don’t know what you mean …’

‘Like housing estate Scouse, or middle-class Scouse?’

DC Harris shook his head. ‘Definitely not scally Scouse, but still hard. More on the Mel C spectrum than Jamie Carragher.’

Murphy scratched at his beard. ‘Ah, the official Scouse-o-meter. We’re really grasping at bloody straws now.’

DC Harris shrugged in reply and turned back around. Rossi looked up from her maps. ‘I suppose you’ll want an update from me an’ all?’

‘Of course.’

‘Well … I don’t really have one. It could be bleeding anywhere. Once you get out of Knowsley and the East Lancs Road, it’s all frigging farms and woods. That’s just east. North, there’s more, south … God knows. Then you’ve got over the water, and half of that place is bloody green. Without a team of people checking property records an’ all that, never mind physically visiting these places, there’s little point. I’m wasting my time really.’

Murphy nodded slowly. ‘I agree.’

‘You do?’

‘Yeah,’ Murphy replied, standing up from his desk. ‘Get your coat on. We’re off out.’

The traffic was a little better heading out of town, so they reached the youth club within fifteen minutes, Murphy being keen to get there. He got pissed off trying to turn off Dwerryhouse Lane, as the traffic kept coming at them from the opposite direction, but eventually they managed to park up in the same place as the day before.

‘Not sure they’ll be rolling out the red carpet this time,’ Rossi said to Murphy as they got out of the car.

They were turning up unannounced, and without DS Brannon, Murphy explaining on the way down to his car that he wanted to
exert
a little more pressure. Rossi had made fun of him for using the word ‘exert’, which eased the tension a little, but Murphy was starting to feel the strain. The possibility of there being more victims somewhere in the city and a killer walking free … it wasn’t how he’d imagined the murder enquiry moving forward twenty-four hours earlier.

They walked into the youth club, their footsteps echoing back at them in the quiet of the building. Kids were supposed to be in school, the older teenagers probably not out of bed yet. They signed in at reception, after showing their ID cards and explaining why they were there to a different bored middle-aged woman sitting near the entrance, her weathered face seeming to sag a little more with each breath. She pointed the way to Kevin Thornhill’s office, but Murphy was already walking, Rossi moving quickly to catch up to him.

‘What’s he like?’ Rossi said, as she caught up to him, speaking low so as not to be heard.