Silent Scream

Fifty-Seven

Bryant wound the car through the maze of small streets to the triangle of high-rise buildings at the centre. The estate comprised a total of 540 dwellings with two key gangs responsible for instilling the required level of fear into the residents.

The ‘Deltas’ were a group of young men who hailed from the Dudley postcode. The 'Bee Boys' were from two streets over, where the Sandwell postcode began.

Bryant parked the car next to the playground. Although the area held a swing set, a see-saw and a few benches, the park had not seen a child in decades. It was known as ‘The Pit’ and it was where representatives from each group met and settled ‘business’. To Kim’s knowledge three bodies had been found in The Pit in the last two years and there had been no witness to any one of them.

By Kim’s count, almost seventy properties had a direct view of the area and still no one saw a thing.

Their access into Swallow Court was unfettered. Police presence, although unwanted, was not restricted. The community was closed off from the outside world and crimes that took place within the enclave were resolved in the enclave. Gang leaders were safe in the knowledge that any ordinary citizens would never speak openly to police.

‘Oh Lordy,’ Bryant offered, placing a hand over his nose. Kim had taken a good deep breath before entering the middle block. The foyer was dark and smelled of urine. The area was small and windowless. Two blown bulbs had not been replaced and the only source of illumination was one square ceiling grid shielding a yellowed strip light.

‘What floor?’ Kim asked.

‘Seven. Stairs?’

Kim nodded and headed to the foot of the stairwell. The lifts in these blocks were notoriously faulty and if they got stuck between floors it was unlikely anyone was coming to help.

Knackered or left for dead? It was an easy choice.

By the third floor Bryant had counted seven syringes, three broken beer bottles and two used condoms.

‘Now, who said romance is dead?’ he asked as they entered the lobby on the seventh floor. ‘Right there, Guv,’ Bryant said, pointing to flat 28C.

A fist mark was evident in the middle of a door that was opened by a girl Kim guessed to be three or four. She didn’t smile or speak and sucked juice from a baby bottle.

‘Rhianna, ger away from the fucking door,’ called a female voice.

Bryant stepped forward, moving the child out of his way. Kim stepped around her and closed the door.

‘Excuse me,’ Bryant called as they stood in the dingy corridor. ‘Police ... can we ...’

‘What the hell ...’ they heard amidst a commotion of activity.

‘Already smelled it,’ Kim called, walking past Bryant into the lounge. The curtains were closed but didn’t quite meet in the middle.

A girl with hoop earrings and a pasty expression stood and wafted the air with her hands. The atmosphere was thick with the smell of weed.

‘What the fuck yer doin in ‘ere? Yo ‘ain't got no right ...’

‘Rhianna invited us in,’ Kim said, almost tripping over a rocker holding a newborn. ‘We’re here to see Brian Harris.’

‘It’s me dad. He’s abed.’

It was after eleven thirty.

‘So, you’re Melanie’s sister?’ Bryant asked.

‘Who?’ she asked, with a sneer.

Kim heard a door open down the corridor. A half-dressed male headed towards them, raging. ‘What the fuckin’ hell yo doin?’

‘Mr Harris,’ Bryant said, affably, standing in front of her. He held up his warrant card and introduced them both. ‘We’re just here to talk to you about Melanie.’

He stopped short and frowned.

Kim was beginning to think they were at the wrong address. But Melanie had clearly inherited her height from her father. He stood over six feet tall. Every one of his ribs was evident and the waistband of his jeans rested around his skinny hips. His scrawny arms were busy with DIY tattoos.

‘What’s the little bitch done now?’ he said, looking over the back of the sofa. Kim followed his gaze. A dark brown Staffordshire bull terrier lay panting in a cage meant for a large Yorkie. Its teats were distended and red. A cardboard box next to the cage held four puppies snuggled close together. Kim couldn’t tell if the eyes on the puppies were yet open but they’d been removed from the bitch for a reason.

A puppy separated from its mother too soon would suffer behavioural problems later on; problems that could be exploited as a status symbol for The Deltas.

Kim looked into the eyes of the older dog who would be bred again at the earliest opportunity.

She looked at Bryant whose gaze also rested on the dogs. They exchanged a glance.

‘Whatever that girl’s done is fuck all to do with me. I gid ‘er away years ago.’

The baby beneath them started to cry.

The female sat down and placed her right foot on the back of the rocker. She took out a iPhone and began texting with one hand.

Brian Harris sat beside his daughter. He nudged her, hard.

‘Put kettle on, Tina.’

‘Do it yerself, yer lazy bastard.’

‘Do it or sling yer hook and tek yer damn kids with yer.’

Tina offered him a filthy look but headed into the kitchen. Rhianna followed closely behind.

Harris leaned forward and lit a cigarette, blowing smoke all over the baby’s head.

Bryant forced calm into his voice as he took a seat on the sofa opposite. Kim remained standing.

‘Can you tell us the last time you saw your daughter, Mr Harris?’

He shrugged. ‘Couldn’t say exactly. She was a kid.’

‘How old was she when you gave her away?’ Kim asked.

Brian Harris showed no emotion at the dig. ‘I cor remember, it's been a while.’

‘Was she a troubled child?’

‘Nah, she just ate a lot. Gutsy little cow,’ he said, smiling at his own humour.

Neither Bryant nor she said a word.

‘Look, I had two kids to tek care of when their slag of a mother walked out and I did the best I could.’

He shrugged as though his ‘Father of the Year’ title was just around the corner.

‘So, she was just the unlucky one?’ Kim asked.

He scrunched up his face showing a row of yellowed teeth. ‘She was a funny looking kid. All legs and no meat. She weren't no oil painting.’

Bryant sat forward. ‘Did you visit her at all once she’d been placed into care?’

He shook his head. ‘Woulda just made it harder for ‘er. Had to make a clean break. Don't even know where they shoved her. It mighta bin that place being dug up,’ he said, drawing on his cigarette.

‘And you didn’t think to contact police to see if one of the victims at Crestwood might be your daughter?’ Kim asked, exasperated. One shred of emotion would have restored her faith in mankind.

He sat forward. ‘Is Melanie one of the dead ‘uns?’

Finally, Kim thought, a flicker of interest in the wellbeing of the daughter he abandoned fifteen years ago.

His expression turned to a frown. ‘It ain't gonna cost me anything, is it?’

Kim clenched her hands deep into her pockets. There were times she wished she could lock them in there for her own sake.

Tina returned and handed her father a steaming drink. With the look on her face Kim wouldn’t trust anything in that mug.

‘Mr Harris, we are sorry to inform you that pending a formal identification we do suspect that Melanie is one of the girls recently discovered.’

Brian Harris attempted to look solemn but the selfishness in his eyes won through. ‘See, I gid her up years agoo so it ain't really nothing to do with me.’

Kim watched as Rhianna walked around the sofa to the cage. She put her fingers through the bars and began pulling on the jowl of the dog, who had nowhere to go. Kim moved sideways and nudged the child away with her right foot. The child moved towards the puppy box but Kim was saved from acting.

‘Tina, get her away from there.’

Tina growled again and stood. She reached for her daughter’s hand and led her to the bedroom. With the child out of the room, Kim could bear it no longer. She couldn’t use her fists but she had other tools available.

‘Mr Harris, I’d like to leave you with a picture in your head. A final memory, if you like. Your fifteen-year-old daughter was murdered horrifically. The bones in her foot were smashed so that she couldn’t run away while some sick bastard chopped off her head. She struggled and cried and possibly screamed out for you while the bastard hacked her into bits.’ Kim leaned down into the face of the disgusting excuse for a father. ‘And that information didn’t cost you a damn penny.’

She looked to Bryant. ‘We’re done.’

She stepped past him and headed to the door. Bryant followed but hesitated before closing the door behind them. ‘Wait here, I just wanna ask him one more thing.’

While she waited, Kim realised that hadn’t exactly been textbook practice for informing the family of the death of a loved one. But if she had detected just one ounce of love or attachment, even regret, she would have stuck to the rulebook. She decided that the other families would be notified by someone else. She didn’t trust herself to remain calm if she were faced with such familial indifference again.

The door to the flat opened again and Kim looked on in shock as her colleague exited the property.

‘Bryant, you really have got to be kidding me.’