Page 31 of Silent Scream

In one fluid movement she put the toe of her left boot on top of the slat and used Bryant’s shoulder to push herself up. She grabbed the stable post to her left, threw her right leg over the top of the fence and into the gap on the other side. As she straddled the top of the fence she took a second to steady her balance before bringing her left leg over the top and into the gap. She jumped down backwards, bending her knees to absorb the impact.

The grass around the building was tall and full of nettles. Kim navigated her way to the only cracked window she could see on the ground floor. The height of the fencing had protected the lower windows but all the glass on the upper level had been smashed through.

She spied a grey tin rubbish bin. She removed the lid and smashed it against the damaged window pane.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Bryant called.

She ignored him and knocked out another couple of pieces of glass, then took the bin, turned it upside down and stood on it. She carefully folded herself in through the broken window onto a formica unit top that ran the entire length of the wall, pausing only for a double sink.

She looked inside and saw the fire-damaged walls of the kitchen. Kim read that the fire had originated in there. The walls were blackest near the door that led into the corridor. Cobweb curtains adorned every corner of the room.

From somewhere in the building she could hear the sound of water dripping. The water supply would have been turned off at the stop tap. She guessed it was residual rainwater from a roof damaged by fire and time now exposed to the elements.

As she stood in the doorway she saw that the corridor ran the length of the building, splitting it in half. When she looked to her right the walls were painted an off-white. A film of dust was visible in places but was untouched by the fire.

To her left, the wooden beams supporting the floor above were exposed and blackened. The door frames were charred and only a few patches of paint remained on the walls at low level. Wires and cables hung exposed from between the beams.

Debris and fallen ceiling tiles littered the corridor floor. The damage appeared to worsen as it travelled further towards the edge of the building.

Kim stepped back into the kitchen and surveyed the damage again. The wall units closest to the door were mottled with the marble effect of scorched wood. The doors of the fridge and freezer had buckled and were hanging off but the area closest to the six ring cooker sat beneath a light covering of soot.

She opened the door of the wall unit closest to the cooker. Rodent droppings fell onto the hob. A piece of A4 paper was tacked on the inside of the door. The print was still visible. It listed the names of girls on the left hand side and a grid indicating the allocated chore for the week.

Kim paused for a moment. Her hand reached up and touched the first few names. She had been one of these girls, not here and not then but subconsciously she knew every single girl on the list. She knew their loneliness, their pain, their anger.

Kim was suddenly struck by a memory from foster family number five. In the small box room at the back of the house she would hear gentle coo-cooing all through the night from the house next door.

Each time the racing pigeons were released she would watch them, willing them to fly away, escape their captivity and be free. But they never did.

Places like Crestwood were the same. Occasionally the birds would be set free but they always seemed to fly back.

Like prison, release from a children's home came with farewells that held hope and good wishes but never finality.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a siren in the distance. She clambered onto the work surface and bent herself through the window onto the top of the bin and down on to the ground.

She dragged the bin to the fence just as the siren and the car engine died.

‘Morning, Kelvin, why the blues?’ Bryant shouted.

Kim rolled her eyes and stood against the fence.

‘Had a report that someone was seen inside this building.’

Great, the police were here for her.

Bryant chuckled. ‘Nah, it’s just me snooping around. Caught a shit job today babysitting this bloody digging crew and I was just curious about what was behind here.’

‘But you’ve not been in the building?’ the constable asked doubtfully.

‘No, mate, how stupid do you think I am?’

‘Fair enough, Detective. I’ll leave you to it.’

The constable began to walk away but then turned and took a couple of steps back. ‘Shit job from your boss, Detective?’ he asked.

‘Who else?’

‘Gotta tell you, Sir, you have the condolences of most of the station having to work with that ballbreaker.’