rooms themselves did not have the grandeur of high ceilings and cornicing of the original building. It was obvious these had been adapted from a once larger room. The small, soulless boxes were all plasterboard, faux sash window frames and watered-down magnolia paint. The smell was of stale air. These rooms were rarely used. It wasn’t difficult to understand why.
Sian and Aaron were to each lead separate interview teams and report back to Matilda.
‘Are we all set up?’ Matilda asked.
‘Yes. Aaron and Scott are at one side of the room, myself and Rory at the other. Some of the officers are acting as appropriate adults as everyone here is under eighteen.’
‘Aaron, I hear congratulations are in order,’ Matilda said on seeing the sprightly detective bounce into the room.
‘Sorry? Oh, Katrina, yes. Thank you.’ Aaron’s face lit up. He was beaming and delighted at the thought of impending fatherhood. ‘It’s still early days but we’re both very happy.’
‘I’m pleased. Send my love to Katrina, won’t you?’
‘Of course. Thank you.’
Matilda and Aaron stood smiling at each other. Neither of them knew which way to progress this conversation. When it came to small talk, they weren’t in the same league as mothers at a school gate. The awkward silence grew. It was getting embarrassing.
‘Right, shall we get on then?’ Matilda asked.
Aaron and Scott sat close together at one side of a small table. Opposite was fifteen-year-old Callum Nixon. He was slouched in his seat. Sitting next to him, but at a safe distance, was one of the officers, bolt upright in clean, crisp uniform.
It was no exaggeration to say Aaron and Scott felt slightly uneasy in Starling House. They were away from their home ground so didn’t feel in complete control. Although they had quickly glanced at Callum’s file, they had no idea who the boy sitting across from them was and how he was going to react to their questions.
Aaron cleared his throat. ‘Callum Nixon, yes?’
‘That’s what it says on my birth certificate.’ His accent was thick Scouse.
‘How long have you been at Starling House?’
‘Since February.’
‘How are you finding it?’
‘It’s a palace. I’m loving every minute of it. Could do with having room service though.’ His reply dripped with sarcasm.
‘Do you get on with the other lads?’
He shrugged. ‘They’re all right.’
‘What do you talk about?’
‘The pros and cons of Brexit—’
‘That’ll do, Callum,’ the officer chimed up.
‘Did you meet Ryan Asher yesterday?’ Aaron asked.
‘Yes. He seemed like a sound lad. We played a bit of table tennis.’
‘What did you think of him?’
‘Like I said, he seemed sound.’
‘Do you know why he was here?’
‘On a £9.50 holiday from the Sun?’
‘I won’t tell you again, Callum,’ the officer scorned.
‘No. I don’t know why he was here. He didn’t say.’
‘And you didn’t ask?’
‘It’s nothing to do with me.’
‘Did you notice Ryan talking to anyone else yesterday?’
‘Just the other lads?’
‘Which ones?’
‘I don’t know. He spoke to Lee and Craig a bit, I suppose.’
‘Did any of the other lads say anything to you about Ryan?’
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know. That they didn’t like him, maybe?’
‘He was only here five minutes. We didn’t get chance to like him.’
‘What did you do last night?’
‘The usual: dinner, theatre, then off to the club for a nightcap.’
‘Final warning, Callum,’ the officer raised his voice this time.
‘We had tea. We went into the rec. room from six till nine then we were locked up in our cells until this morning.’
‘Did you hear anything during the night? Anything wake you up?’
‘Well, Scarlett Johan—’ he looked at the officer who raised an eyebrow. ‘No. Nothing. I sleep like the dead.’
‘What did you think when you found out Ryan had been killed?’
‘Nothing. Jammy bastard doesn’t have to serve his sentence though now, does he?’
Aaron and Scott exchanged glances.
‘Who do you think could have done it?’
‘No idea. Have you asked Officer Phipps here what he was doing last night?’ He leaned back in his seat and let out a loud throaty laugh.
On the other side of the thin partition wall, Sian and Rory made themselves as comfortable as they could on hard chairs. They waited patiently while an officer brought an inmate for them to interview.
‘Do you ever wonder why kids kill?’ Rory asked.
‘I try not to, seeing as I’ve got four of my own.’
‘That’s what I mean. You’ve got kids; all of them are decent, law-abiding and do well at school. What turns a child from that into a killer?’
‘I’ve no idea, Rory,’ she answered quickly, not wanting to dwell on the subject.
‘I mean, when I was fourteen I didn’t think about setting fire to my grandparents. I was always out on my mountain bike and trying to get Rosie McLean to go out with me.’
Sian looked over at Rory and noticed the intense look of sadness on his young face. ‘Background, upbringing, I honestly don’t know, Rory. You’d need to ask a psychologist that one.’
The door opened and a female officer brought in a fifteen-year-old taller than she was. Sian wondered whether she should really be left alone with someone who could so obviously overpower her.
‘Name?’ Sian asked.
‘Craig Hodge.’
