Police! King half shouted, before lowering his tone. Everybody stay where you are.
Fuck, one of the girls announced, dramatically clutching her chest. Its just the police. You nearly scared the hell out of us.
Nobody do anything stupid, King warned them. You, he spoke directly to the youth holding the joint. Put that out and drop it on the table. Everybody else lets have any drugs, cigarettes or booze on the table too. He gave them a couple of minutes to search themselves, but they produced little to add to the collection that theyd already made.
Is that it? he asked once they were no longer fidgeting in their pockets.
Thats it, man, the one whod brought the cannabis resin answered. What dyou expect a whole soap or something?
Watch your mouth, Renita scolded him, ensuring the silence of the others too.
Right then, King shone his torch in their faces one by one. Who do we have here?
I recognize chatty boy here, Renita told him. Darren Stokes, right? Been causing trouble round here for years. And that one, she pointed to a pretty girl with long, straight blonde hair, but the eyes of a battle-hardened street fighter, thats Crissy OSullivan. Dont be fooled by the angelic face. Crissy gave them her best sarcastic smile before her face again turned to stone.
Who else? King asked, but no one answered. He tapped the nearest one on the shoulder with his torch. You. Name?
The small, unhealthily slim boy sighed before answering, his translucent skin shining in the light. James.
James what? King snapped at him.
James Mulheron, he admitted with another sigh as King moved to the next girl.
And you?
She brushed her short brown hair from her young face. He could see the fear in her eyes and guessed she was new to the group. The weak link. Kimberley Clarke, she almost whispered.
Your parents know youre hanging around with these clowns? King asked. Kimberley just shrugged. Thought not, he told her and turned his attention to the last of the group who, despite his boyish appearance and slight build, had a look of feral viciousness about him. King instinctively knew that if this was the boys first contact with the police it certainly wouldnt be his last. He shone the torch directly into the boys face, making his eyes appear black and red like a trapped rats. And you?
I dont have to tell you anything, the boy snarled, summoning some fight from his urban, animal instinct.
Have it your way then, King warned him. If you wont tell me who you are well have to arrest you for your own good, you understand.
Just fucking tell him, Mulheron demanded, but the boy stood firm his face a mixture of fear, defiance and hatred.
And obviously if I have to arrest you then well have to arrest all of you, King threatened, immediately turning the entire group on the isolated boy as they took turns to tell him to say his name their fear of arrest making their young faces twisted and ugly until Mulheron could take no more.
His names Billy Easton, Mulheron told them. Its fucking Billy Easton.
King saw the fire burning in Eastons eyes. Betrayal on the estate to the police had clearly long been installed in the boys fabric as the greatest of sins even if it was just a name to save them from arrest.
Billy Easton, eh? King nodded, tapping the boy on his shoulder with his torch. Ill be sure to keep an eye on you.
The boy never flinched his eyes intense flames of intent that momentarily unnerved King.
All right, you lot, King suddenly barked. Leave all your shit here and fuck off. The children looked to one another, unsure suspicious of Kings motives. I said fuck off, he repeated, this time drawing a look of concern from Renita.
Sarge? she checked. You sure?
Im sure, he told her. Now go, all of you. Just go and tell all your friends this place is now out of bounds understand?
Yeah, yeah, Mulheron agreed. Well tell em.
They hurriedly scrambled to their feet and scampered off towards the corridor all except Easton, who took his time getting to his feet, his eyes never leaving Kings.
Got something to say, Billy? he asked, but the boy didnt answer as he turned towards the corridor and strolled after his fleeing friends. Ill see you around, Billy, he tried to wrestle the initiative from the boy, but it was already too late.
Once the sound of their retreating feet had faded King examined the table, taking the remains of the resin and unsmoked joint before carefully placing them in a pouch on his utility belt.
Better not leave this behind. He spoke more to himself than anyone.
No, Renita agreed, sounding a little confused. I guess not.
Come on, he told her. Lets get out of here.
A few minutes later they were back in the bright sunshine that overheated the microclimate of the estate and made everything shimmer and dance the warmth giving Kings fading hangover new life.
We should find a drain, Renita told him.
A drain? he asked. What the hell dyou want to find a drain for?
You planning on booking that resin and joint in as property found when we get back to the station?
No, he laughed. Got enough paperwork to get through without wasting my time booking this in.
Exactly, she explained. So chuck it down the nearest drain.
Not this time, he replied casually.
Oh, she said, sounding a little suspicious. Youre not planning on getting stoned, are you?
No, he laughed again. I dont even smoke cigarettes.
So why dyou want to keep it?
Id just rather keep hold of it, he smiled. You never know when it might come in handy when we might need it to encourage someone to tell the truth.
Thats a route fraught with danger, she warned him. Every little toe-rags got a mobile they can record shit on these days.
Dont worry about it, he reassured her a call coming through on his radio saving him from any further questioning.
PS 42. The voice on the radio used his shoulder number as his call sign. PS 42 receiving Control over.
Now what, he complained, before answering professionally. Go ahead, Control.
Can you take a domestic dispute, the male voice from Control Room back at Newham Police Station asked, at number 24 Millander Walk? Thats your patch, I believe. Informants a Debbie Royston says her boyfriend is drunk and wont leave the house.
He froze for a second. It was his first domestic since the incident. The familiar images from his nightmares rushed him the girl in the white dress staggering towards him, the maroon blood spreading through the pristine material. The mother and son lying together in a scene of carnage, but always worst of all the tiny figure of the girl no more than six years old, lying still and peaceful, her eyes wide open in death with barely a mark on her body. His radio blared again and brought him back to the present.
Can you deal, 42? Control over.
Yes, King answered, his voice almost too weak to hear. Yes, he repeated more strongly. Show me as dealing. Im with 274.
Thanks, the voice acknowledged. Ill show yourself and 274 as assigned.
You all right? Renita asked.
Im fine, he lied as they began to walk to the location of the domestic.
Is this your first domestic since you know?
Yeah, he answered. Cant avoid domestics for the rest of my career. Ill be fine.
I can handle it on my own if youd rather, she offered. No one need know.
No, he snapped at her slightly before gathering himself. No. I want to deal. I have to.
As they approached the scene of the reported domestic, King was relieved to hear the normal sounds associated with such an occurrence a man and woman screaming at each other dispelling his fear that he was about to walk into another silent trap of horror.
Sounds like things are in full swing, Renita joked before they had to dive head first into other peoples misery and anger.
Great, he replied through gritted teeth as they approached the front door and found it already open the sounds of exchanged profanities spilling out onto the communal walkway. King knocked on the door once, called inside, Police, and then entered without waiting to be invited, quickly taking in his surroundings looking for any immediate dangers, obvious or hidden. Other than the duelling couple he saw none, although he was surprised by the size and clever open-plan design of the kitchen and living area of the maisonette, noting that it was clean and ordered, with no shortage of decent mod-cons, least of all the oversized LED TV dominating the space. He was relieved the fight was taking place in the living area and not the kitchen where deadly weapons always lurked close to hand, denying the attacker time to think time to take stock before they committed a serious armed assault or worse.
Someone call the police? he added to get everyones attention.
The man looked in his direction and grimaced before continuing to shout at the woman standing only inches in front of him. Why did you have to go and call this fucking lot?
Because youre a drunken arsehole thats why, the woman King assumed to be Debbie Royston answered him.
All right, King said calmly as he moved towards them. Thats enough. Who called us?
Me, Royston answered, and I want this fucking drunk out of my house.
You Debbie Royston? he asked.
I aint going fucking anywhere, the man interrupted.
You, King pointed a finger into the mans chest, be quiet and dont interrupt me again.
Yeah, Im Debbie Royston, she now answered, and this is my house and I want him out of it.
Ill get to that, King assured her, but right now we need to know if anyone else is in the house?
My kids, she answered, still shouting everything she said. Hiding upstairs scared half to fucking death because of this bastard.
Shut up, you stupid slag, the man began again.
One more word, King warned him. One more word. He took a breath before continuing, but suddenly paused as he felt a strong presence for the first time since entering the home. It was strangely powerful and alluring, but dangerous too. He turned his head towards the source of whatever it was that had been strong enough to distract him from the couple whod already started screaming at each other again and saw a teenage girl, no more than sixteen or seventeen. Intelligence and sexuality blazed from her almond-shaped eyes that were so brown they appeared quite black. Her strikingly angular face was covered with flawless olive skin and framed by long deep brown curls. Her tight jeans and top showed off her curved hips and full, shapely breasts. Despite the complete lack of style or subtlety in her appearance, she was undeniably beautiful.
Whos this? he asked the screaming woman, before realizing his virtual whisper was being drowned out. I said, whos this? he shouted loud enough to match them as he continued to stare at the girl standing halfway up the stairs. She looked straight into his eyes, a slight smile of seduction on her lips as she seemed to ignore everything in the house but him.
The couple momentarily stopped shouting and looked in the direction he was facing. Thats my eldest, Royston told him. Kelly. She looked to King and then back to Kelly before bellowing at the girl. I thought I told you to stay upstairs and watch your brother and sister. Kelly casually shrugged and began to climb the stairs, looking back over her shoulder as she did so, her eyes never leaving his as she seemed to float from step to step with the grace of an old movie star.
How old is she? he asked Royston once the girl was out of sight.
Why dyou want to know? she asked, suspicious.
For my report, he told her, not even sure if he was lying or not.
Shes seventeen, Royston finally answered. Be eighteen in a couple of months.
And the other children in the house? he asked, recovering from the distraction of Kelly.
Jasons thirteen and Sharmanes eleven, she told him, before re-igniting the battle with her boyfriend. Not that its got anything to do with the fact that I want him out of my house. She stabbed an index finger at the mans chest.
I aint going nowhere, he shouted back as King and Renita got in between them, easing them further apart. I paid for everything in here, so why the fuck should I go anywhere?
Cause its a council house and its registered in my name, she screamed back with an ugly smile.
All right, King spoke loudly enough to be heard and silence the bickering couple. You, he talked to the man. Whats your name?
Chris OConnell, he answered truthfully. King could smell the alcohol on his breath.
Is the house registered in your name? King continued.
No, OConnell admitted.
No, it bloody isnt, Royston refused to remain silent for long. I told you its in my name.
So fucking what? OConnell called to her over Kings shoulder.
Do you want this man to leave? King went through the procedural questions he needed to ask.
Course I want him to bloody leave, she confirmed loudly.
Then, Mr OConnell, he told him, you have to leave.
I aint fucking going nowhere, OConnell hissed.
I was hoping you were going to say that, King replied before moving faster than OConnell could anticipate, spinning him around and pushing him up against the nearest wall as he twisted an arm up behind his back, making OConnell call out in pain. Chris OConnell, King began, Im arresting you for causing a breach of the peace. You have the right to remain silent, blah, blah, blah, he continued as he pulled OConnells other arm behind his back and locked quick-cuffs around his wrists.
Argh, OConnell complained. Get the fuck off me.
Be quiet, Renita told him as she helped King restrain the struggling man.
Oi, what you doing to him? Royston tried to come to OConnells aid.