Page 94 of Silent Scream

Confusion creased the girl’s features. ‘I don't fuckin’ know the ...’

‘See, if you went to school, look how much more you’d be able to extort.’ Kim leaned in closer so that their faces were an inch apart. ‘Now get out of the way before I drag you by your nose ring.’

Kim kept her voice low and allowed her eyes to do the work.

The girl stared back for a full minute. Kim didn’t blink.

‘Come on, girls, this bitch ain’t worth it,’ she said, moving to the left. The posse followed.

Once the doorway was clear, Kim turned. ‘Hey, lady; a tenner to watch the car.’

The girl hesitated but a second girl nudged her from behind. ‘Deal,’ she growled.

Bryant followed her into the shell of a building. Anything of value had been removed, including the ceiling tiles. A seven foot crack travelled from the right hand corner towards the middle of the back wall.

Three men stood in the opposite corner. They all turned. Two looked instantly panicked and headed past them to the door. Career criminals were like bloodhounds and could smell police from the neighbouring county.

‘Something we said, boys?’ Bryant asked.

One of the boys sucked air through his teeth as a sign of disrespect and Kim shook her head. The feeling was mutual.

The remaining man Kim recognised from the crematorium on the day they chased the body of Mary Andrews.

‘Pastor Wilks, I didn’t recognise you with your clothes on,’ Bryant quipped.

Victor Wilks smiled with barely concealed tolerance to a comment he must have heard many times. Although Bryant was not far wrong.

Dressed in robes, Wilks had been an instant figure of reverence, respect, familiarity. Here, in normal surroundings, he looked ordinary, just an average man. Her initial assessment at the crematorium had put him in his late fifties but without the uniform he dropped ten years. The casual clothing of light jeans and blue sweatshirt accentuated a build that was more muscle than fat.

‘May I offer you a drink?’ he asked, pointing to a silver urn.

Kim noted the last two fingers on his right hand. They curled underneath like a hook. It was an injury she'd seen before in bare knuckle fighters. Together with his above average height she was guessing he'd boxed at some point in his life.

Kim looked at the urn and nudged Bryant, who responded. ‘No thank you, Pastor ... Minister ...’

‘Victor, please.’

‘What the hell do you do here?’ Kim asked. No sane person would enter this place by choice.

He smiled. ‘Try to offer hope, Detective. This area is one of the most deprived in the country. I try to show them there is another way. It’s easy to be judgmental but there is good in everyone, you just have to look.’

Aha, there it is, she thought as his voice changed to sermon mode.

‘What’s your success rate?’ Kim asked, irritated. ‘How many of these souls have you saved?’

‘I don’t deal in numbers, my dear.’

‘Luckily,’ she said, wandering around the room.

Bryant began to speak about the investigation. ‘We understand that you would visit Crestwood regularly; speak to the girls, conduct short services?’

‘That’s correct.’

‘We also understand that now and again you would cover for William Payne?’

‘That is also correct. All of us offered cover for him now and again. His situation is unenviable, I’m sure you’ll agree. His commitment to his daughter is admirable. He is eternally grateful for the life of Lucy. He cares for her tirelessly. All the staff did their best to support him.’ He thought for a moment then added, ‘well, most of the staff.’

Kim completed her circuit of the room and stood beside Bryant. ‘Talking of the staff, can you tell us who was there during the time you were involved with Crestwood?’