White is the coldest colour: A dark psychological suspense thriller (11 page)

‘Can you tell us more about the farm.’

‘Dad used to take us to pet club.’

Where the hell was this going? ‘Pet club?’

‘That’s what the doctor told us to call it. Everyone called it that.’

‘Who’s the doctor?’

Silence.

‘Do you know the doctor’s name, Donna?’

Donna looked at the floor and whispered, ‘Yes.’

‘What is it?’

‘Do I have to say?’

Come on girl. This matters. ‘It would be very helpful if you could, Donna.’

‘What if he finds out I’ve told you?’

The poor girl’s absolutely terrified. ‘We can make sure you're safe, Donna.’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘You're not sure of his name, or you're not sure if you should say?’

She shook her head slowly and deliberately, and squinted as the afternoon sun broke through the clouds and filled the room with winter sunshine. ‘I’m not sure if I should say.’

The WPC adjusted the dark-blue curtains. ‘This is really important, Donna.’

She didn't respond for a second or two, and then whispered, ‘Dr Galbraith,’ ever so quietly.

‘Did you say Dr Galbraith, Donna?’

Silence.

‘We need to be certain what you said, Donna?’

Silence.

‘Did you hear what Donna said, Alan?’

‘No, could you say the name again, Donna?’

Silence.

The WPC reached forward and touched the girl on the shoulder. ‘Say the name again please, Donna.’

The young girl raised two fists to her face and closed her eyes tight shut.

Should she push it? Should she ask again? No, she may clam up completely. ‘Was the doctor at the farm?’

Donna lowered her hands but kept her eyes closed. ‘Yes, always, he told everyone what to do’

‘Like a boss?’

‘Yes, like a boss.’

‘Was he one of the men who assaulted you, Donna?’

She opened her eyes and shook her head vigourously. ‘No, he only ever hurt the boys.’

It had to be worth a try. ‘Do you know the doctor’s first name, Donna?’

Silence.

‘You never heard anyone call him by his first name?’

‘No, everyone called him, Doctor.’

‘Could you tell me what he looked like?’

She grimaced. ‘Yes, I t-think so.’

Time to move on. She was in danger of blowing it. ‘That’s good, Donna, we’ll come back to that later.’

‘Okay.’

‘Who else was at the farm?’

‘Lots of grownups and other children.’

‘Were there men and women, or just men?’

‘Mostly men.’

‘Could you tell us who the adults were? Do you know their names?’

‘I know some of their names.’

‘That’s good, Donna, I’ll ask you about each of them in turn in a short while. But I want to ask you some other questions first. Is that all right?’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’

‘Do you know any of the other children, Donna?’

‘My brother and sister were always there.’

‘Did bad things happen to them as well?’

A tear ran down the young girl’s cheek as she replied in the affirmative.

Alan Garret moved nearer to the edge of the settee. ‘Do you need to take a break, Donna?’

‘No, I want to finish.’

Pam Forsyth nodded. ‘All right, Donna. We’ll carry on for a while, and then stop for drink and a biscuit when you're ready. Is that all right with you?’

‘Will you talk to my brother and sister like this?’

‘We’ll need to talk to my sergeant and Alan’s team manager first. But I’m sure we will interview them either tomorrow or on Sunday.’

‘Okay.’

‘You said other children were at the farm?’

‘Yes.’

‘Could you tell us any of their names?’

‘Some.’

‘That’s really helpful, Donna; I’ll ask you more about that in a little while and we’ll make a list.’

‘Okay.’

‘Do you know where the farm is?’

‘No.’

‘How did you get there?’

‘We were all taken in the back of a van or a big lorry. ’

‘Do you know what kind of van it was?’

‘It was white.’

‘Anything else?’

‘No.’

‘What about the lorry?’

‘I only saw the inside of the lorry, and it was always dark when they shut the door.’

‘Where did you start the journey?’

‘Dad used to put tape over our eyes before taking us somewhere in his car to meet the others.’

‘And you don’t know where that was?’

‘No.’

‘So, your father used to take you somewhere, and then you went in the van or lorry with the other children?’

‘Yes, we were all crammed in. It was horrible.’

‘Did you ever take the tape off your eyes when you were on the journey?’

‘Yes, once.’

‘Did you see where you were going?’

‘No.’

‘Why was that?’

‘The windows were all covered up at the back of the van, and there weren't any in the lorry.’

‘Ah, I understand. How long did it take to get to the farm?’

‘I’m not really sure. But it was quite a long way.’

‘About how long do you think?’

‘I suppose about half-an-hour.’

‘What happened when you arrived at the farm?’

‘One of the men opened the doors and told us to get out.’

‘They told you and the other children to get out of the van or lorry?’

‘Yes, and they hit us and shouted at us if we didn't move quickly enough.’

‘You're doing very well, Donna. Tell us what happened next?’

‘We all went into a big building.’

‘What sort of building was it?’

‘We called it the barn.’

‘That’s very helpful, Donna; would you recognise the barn if you ever saw it again.’

‘Yes, but why are you asking that?’

WPC Forsyth winced… The question was insensitive. She had to choose her words more carefully. ‘You won’t ever be taken there again, Donna. I just need to know if you’d recognise the place in photographs for evidential purposes after we find it.’

Donna wiped a tear from her cheek. ’Yes, I think I would.’

WPC Forsyth silently admonished herself for the ill-advised use of investigative jargon. ‘Do you remember what I said when I explained what evidence is the last time you were interviewed, Donna?’

‘Yes, I remember.’

‘That’s good, Donna, I just want to ask you one last question before we take a break.’

‘Okay.’

‘This may seem like an odd question. But were you ever taken to a white room?’

The young girl looked at her quizzically and said, ‘No.’

‘What, never?’

‘Never.’

‘Thank you, Donna. Let’s take a break now and go downstairs for drink.’

Chapter 13

H
elen Frost, Mel Nicholson's bright and efficient admin officer, immediately recognised the caller’s high pitched voice with its musical West Country tones. ‘Hi, Karen, it’s Helen. Hold on. He's here somewhere.’

‘Thanks, Helen.’

She peered out through the office door and shouted loudly down the corridor. ‘Mel, Karen's on the phone!’

Nicholson, who was in the kitchen making coffee, called back, ‘Tell her to hang on. I'll be there in two-minutes.’

Helen sighed. ‘He won't be long, Karen.’

Karen Smith, a social services department child care team manager, sounded unusually irate. ‘I heard him, Helen. Tell him to get a move on. It's urgent!’

Helen passed on the message and her boss trotted down the corridor. He knew Karen well and had learnt to respect her judgment… If she said it was urgent, it was urgent. ‘Karen, it's Mel. What's up?’

There was a brief silence before Karen spoke. ‘You're not going to believe this, Mel. I think we've got a paedophile ring operating in the area.’

Nicholson swallowed hard. ‘You think we’ve got a paedophile ring operating in our area?’

‘Okay. If you want to be pedantic about it. We’ve got a paedophile ring operating in our area. Is that clear enough for you?’

‘Hold on, Karen.’ He turned to his assistant who was organising some files in a grey steel cabinet next to his desk. ‘Helen, I need some privacy. Close the door on your way out please.’

She sensed that something serious had happened and left without complaint or comment.

‘Karen, it’s Mel. Are you alone?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What exactly have you got for me?’

‘Are you sitting comfortably?’

‘What?’

‘You're weren't a Jackanory fan then?’

‘Karen!’

‘Sorry, Mel, just trying to stay sane in a mad world. We’ve been working with a family with three kids: two girls of eight and six, and a boy of four. We applied for place of safety orders after the alleged rape of the eight-year-old girl by the father. She said the mother was also involved. All three children are with foster-carers pending care proceedings.’

‘Where’s the father now?’

‘He’s remanded in Swansea prison pending trial.’

Nicholson scratched his head. ‘When you say the mother was involved, what exactly are we talking about?’

‘It's not great to be honest, Mel. The eight-year-old said her mother held her down to facilitate the assault. She even supplied the condoms he used.’

‘How’s the investigation progressing?’

‘We've already undertaken further joint interviews with each of three children. They've described being sexually assaulted by multiple adults: sometimes alone and sometimes along with other children.’

‘All three of them?’

‘Yeah, I’m afraid so.’

‘Not just by the father?’

‘By their parents, several members of the extended family, and others.’

‘Others?’

‘Family friends, acquaintances, strangers!’

‘Were they able to name any of the other children and abusers?’

‘They were, Mel. Quite a few as it happens. The investigation’s been on-going for several weeks already, but it's only now we’re realising the scope and organised nature of what's going on. It took some time for the kids to feel safe enough to start giving details. Not surprising really, when you think about it. It’s growing all the time. It’s big, Mel. I should probably have contacted you sooner?’

Nicholson spoke in a barely audible whisper. ‘Don't say any more for now, Karen. I'll be with you in about twenty-minutes.’

Nicholson drove the sixteen-miles to the team manager's office far faster than usual despite the increasingly inclement winter weather. Karen already had a cup of warming strong black coffee waiting for him when he opened her office door. ‘Have a seat, Mel, where do you want me to start?’

‘I’m not in any hurry, Karen. Take your time. Give me the entire picture.’

‘It’s horrendous, Mel. I’ve never heard anything like it. Once the three Bevan children started talking, they really started talking. Alan Garret, my senior practitioner, and Pam Forsyth from the police were focussing on the father initially, but then there was mention of an uncle. It all came to a head on Friday. The oldest girl started talking about other adults, and subsequently her younger siblings confirmed her disclosures over the weekend. If what they've said is accurate, and we've got absolutely no reason to think it isn't, a great many children and numerous offenders are involved. It’s not like anything I’ve dealt with before, Mel. We've already got the names of seventeen children. And they're only the ones the Bevan children know by name.’

‘And they've named some of the abusers?’

‘A few, and they've described others.’

‘Anyone we know?’

‘Yeah, I’ve started going back over the files. Some of the families involved have got a long history with the department. A lot of thing’s make sense now. I don't know how we missed the links for so long, to be honest?’

‘Don’t beat yourself up, Karen. Hindsight tends to make things seem a great deal clearer than they were at the time.’

‘Mel, there’s one more thing I need to discuss with you.’

Nicholson laughed, but his expression portrayed his concern. ‘Just when I thought I’d heard it all.’

‘Do you know David Galbraith, the psychiatrist?’

‘Dr Galbraith, yes, of course I do. Do you want him to work with the Bevan kids? I can talk to him for you, if that helps?’

‘The two oldest children have named him, Mel.’

‘Named him?’

‘He’s a part of the ring, Mel.’

‘What? That sounds highly unlikely?’

‘He’s an abuser, Mel. The children have named him. They've given accurate descriptions. They've given details of offences against several young boys. He’s one sadistic bastard by the sound of things.’

‘Galbraith?’

‘Yes, Mel, Galbraith!’

‘For fuck’s sake, I’ve heard it all now. He’s the last person I’d have suspected.’

Karen rose from her chair. ‘Time for another coffee?’

‘Please.’

Nicholson sat back in his seat desperately trying to compose himself… He’d thought he could no longer be shocked. He’d been wrong. But, like it or not, he was the operational head of the county’s child protection services. It was time to step up and assume the lead however uncertain he felt inside.

Karen soon reappeared balancing two mugs of coffee and a plate of chocolate digestive biscuits on an old battered tin Guinness tray. Nicholson thanked her profusely, ate two digestives ravenously, and attempted to exude an air of confidence he didn't feel. ‘Right, Karen, this is what we need to do. Firstly, and this is important, we need to keep this on a need to know basis. Don't talk to anyone unless we agree to it in advance. I'll get the director up to speed straight away, and talk to Trevor Simpson later today. Do you know him?’

Karen shook her head and took another biscuit from the plate.

‘He’s my opposite number in the police. He’s sound. Knows what he's talking about. We need him involved.’

‘Okay.’

‘We need to arrange an initial planning meeting as soon as practicable. Grab a pen, and I'll give you a list of who needs to be there.’

Karen picked up a clear plastic Biro and glanced pensively at her boss.

‘It’s the usual suspect’s really: the police, education, health, legal, ourselves, any other key agencies directly involved. I don't want the foster-carers there. It wouldn't be appropriate in the circumstances.’

‘Makes sense, Mel.’

He stood up and spoke as calmly as he could manage. ‘I'll leave it with you, Karen. We can use the children's resource centre. It's as good a venue as any. Let's get together this afternoon: after three if at all possible, or tomorrow morning at the very latest. Tell everyone it's urgent, and ring me if anyone has a problem attending. I’ll have a quiet word if necessary. Let me know as soon as you've got a time. I'll get off now and let you get on with things.’