‘Any physical evidence of abuse?’ Maria wanted to know.
‘On two of them’ said Nikki.
‘One’ Janice added.
‘Three of them I interviewed’ Juliana said.
‘Val? What about yours?’ Maria asked.
‘Just the odd scratch or bruise’ Val Weston said.
‘I saw one boy who was scarred quite badly’ Maria confessed. ‘He told me how it happened but he wouldn’t show me the injuries below his waist.’ She swallowed hard. ‘He said that a stick had been pushed into his bottom, that it was painful when he went to the toilet.’
‘When’s the doctor arriving?’ Nikki asked.
‘He’s here now’ Maria replied. ‘He’s examining all of the children.’
‘A three-year-old boy and a six-year-old girl I spoke to reported having objects pushed into them’ Val added. ‘The girl drew that when I asked her to describe the object.’
Val pushed a piece of paper towards Maria.
On it was a cylindrical object scrawled in red crayon, round tipped and about six inches long.
Maria nodded slowly.
‘There were no physical signs, though,’ Val continued.
‘And you’re all sure that none of the children had a chance to speak to each other before you interviewed them?’ said Maria, looking at the other women.
‘There’s no way they could have worked out stories between them?’
The others shook their heads.
‘All right’ Maria said, wearily. ‘We’ll look at the statements now. I’ll start.’ She lifted the top sheet from the pile of papers at her left elbow and scanned it, her eyes narrowing slightly. ‘This is from a four-year-old, Alex Cutler.’ She traced the words with the tip of her finger as she read: ‘“They make you stand in a circle and they laugh at you and sometimes I cried but then some more uncles and aunts come and they put the baby on the floor and then everyone walks around with their arms up and they shout. And you can see their willies. And then one of my uncles jumped on the baby.”’
‘Aunts and uncles,’ murmured Nikki. ‘The children I spoke to called them that.’
‘It’s common. The abusers make the children feel as if they’re some kind of extended family members. Aunts and uncles covers a multitude of sins,’ said Maria, cryptically. In more ways than one.’
She flipped through the sheaf of papers before her.
‘This is from a six-year-old’ she said, sucking in a tired breath. ‘“I loved my puppy but they killed it. They cut off its head and put the blood in a cup.”’
‘“Sometimes they used animals and they stuck a knife in them and then they put the blood in a jug’” Nikki read, holding a piece of paper before her.
‘“They stick swords in the cats and kill them and they made me drink the blood,”’ Janice added.
Maria ran a hand through her hair and sat back in her seat.
‘Nearly every statement mentions the killing of animals,’ she murmured.
‘Not the usual paedophile pursuit, is it?’ Juliana offered.
Maria shook her head.
‘Why animals?’ Janice asked.
Maria had no answer. She had her eyes fixed on the sheet of paper in front of her, the drawing on it.
‘The children I spoke to mentioned cameras’ Val Weston said. ‘That one of the uncles always had a camera, that he was taking pictures of them when they had no clothes on.’
‘I saw one of those video cameras taking pictures of the baby’ Juliana read.
‘They made me touch Uncle Paul’s willy. I had to put my hands on it and he put it in my mouth and it tasted funny and they took photos’” said Nikki, quietly.
‘That statement is from a six-year-old boy.’ Her jaws were clenched tightly together, the knot of muscles there pulsing angrily.
‘We’ll finish interviewing the other children today,’ Maria told her colleagues. ‘Once we’ve been through all the statements and I’ve got the medical reports from the doctor, we’ll run through what we’ve got again.’
‘I would have thought it was obvious what we’ve got, Maria,’ Nikki said, scathingly. ‘A paedophile ring. How much proof do you need?’
Maria Goldman kept her gaze fixed on the sheet of paper before her, eyes tracing the outlines of the shape which had been drawn there.
‘I have no doubt that you’re right, Nikki’ she said, touching the scrawled image with her finger. ‘I just hope that’s all we’ve got.’
As she looked at what had been drawn on the paper, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
Fifty-four
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ said Frank Reed, a broad smile spreading across his face.
Cath raised her eyebrows as she slipped inside his office and smiled back.
‘I thought you’d have been out gathering information for some Pulitzer Prize-winning article’ Reed chuckled, offering her a seat.
‘Not quite, Frank’ she answered, accepting it. ‘But this isn’t a social call.
I need your help on something.’
‘So, what else is new?’
‘You’ve seen the papers this morning? The news?’
‘The police raids, you mean?’
She nodded.
‘I didn’t expect things to go quite this far’ he said, softly.
‘Jesus, Frank, what did you think was going to happen? You scream child abuse and it warrants more than a few polite enquiries by the neighbourhood bobby on the beat.’
‘I heard somewhere they’d raided twenty-three houses.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Cath, what I did, I did for the good of those children. It had to be reported. What the hell was I supposed to do, sit around and let it just happen?’ he said, challengingly. ‘Anyway, what’s your problem? It’s given you something to write about, hasn’t it?’
‘Look, take it easy, I’m on your side, right?’
He sat back in his seat, glancing out of his office window. There was a group of children crossing the playground, chattering loudly until the teacher leading them called for silence.
‘So, what can I do to help?’ Reed said, finally.
Cath reached into her handbag and pulled out the computer print-out which had spent most of that morning stuffed into her glove compartment. She stood up and walked around the desk so that she was standing next to her brother; then she laid the print-out down before him, smoothing out the creases as best she could.
‘It’s a list of the families whose houses were raided this morning’ she told him. ‘I want to know how many of the kids go to school here.’
Reed looked up at Cath, then at the print-out.
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘I’m looking for links, Frank, anything that ties these cases together.’
He spotted one name immediately.
Paul O’Brian.
Reed jabbed a finger at it.
‘I know. I’ve already been there this morning. The parents, well, the father at any rate, wasn’t very cooperative’ she informed him.
Reed studied the list.
He pointed to another name.
‘What about the address?’ said Cath.
The door to Reed’s office opened unexpectedly and both he and Cath watched as Noel Hardy entered.
The Headmaster glared at Cath, then at her brother, paused in the doorway a moment, then slammed the door behind him and strode across to the desk.
‘Haven’t we had enough of the press already today?’ the older man said, acidly.
T hate to tell you, Mr …’
‘Hardy’ the older man snapped. ‘In case your brother hadn’t told you, I’m the Headmaster here. This is my school. I’d appreciate it if you’d leave.’
‘You said that other members of the press had been here today. I think I’m entitled to the same courtesy you may have extended to them’ Cath said, officiously.