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had a plate of pastries presented to her. Had Sian been baking again?

‘Erm … thank you,’ Matilda replied, gingerly taking one.

‘We can all do with a sugar rush from time to time.’

Matilda took a small bite. It tasted nice: moist and fluffy. But Matilda was suspicious and that tasted foul.

‘I’m sure you already know about Sally Meagan’s book being released tomorrow. Have you seen the adverts and interviews in the newspapers?’ Valerie began, settling herself in behind her oversized desk.

So it’s a ‘sorry to hear your reputation is being dragged through the press’ Danish.

‘I’ve seen the adverts, yes,’ was all Matilda could say with a mouthful.

‘I want you to know that you have my full support on this. I’ve had a journalist from the Daily Mail phone – they’re running a feature tomorrow. He wanted to know if we want to reply. I said no. Once the book is finally out it will all die down. By next week the world will have moved on. You can cope with that, can’t you?’

Matilda swallowed but the pastry stuck in her throat. ‘I have to.’

‘The feature seems to focus on you and the investigation. I suppose from the press point of view you’re a more interesting aspect of the story. I’m sure the book will focus more on Carl.’

Don’t you believe it. I’m mentioned on pages 3,4,7,12,28,35,55,61 …

‘Now,’ Valerie clapped her hands together, ‘how’s everything going with Starling House? Have you identified a suspect yet?’

‘Not yet. Do you know anything about the woman who runs it? Kate Moloney?’

‘Not a thing. I know she’s been there since it opened but it’s a building shrouded in mystery.’

‘You can say that again. I think she’s hiding something, but I don’t know what. I get the feeling Ryan Asher’s death could have been avoided if it wasn’t for a lack of something.’

‘A lack of what?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe a security issue. I’ve got Christian out there now going over the whole place.’

‘It’s got to be one of the other boys, surely.’

‘I’m not ruling anything out.’

‘We’ve managed to keep the press at bay so far but, once they find out, I’m going to have the council, the government, the Home Office, victim support groups, you name it, calling me and demanding answers. This cannot run and run.’ The sheen of sweat on her forehead and the dark circles under her eyes were evident this case was causing Valerie a great deal of distress.

Matilda frowned. It was unusual for the unflappable ACC to allow a case to get to her. If there were any failings at Starling House then it would be Kate Moloney and her staff who were to blame.

‘How are your team dealing with it?’ Val asked, taking a long drink of coffee with a shaking hand.

‘They’re fine. Professional, as always.’

‘There’s no resentment, no feelings of animosity towards the inmates?’

‘No. Should there be?’

‘Starling House has seven violent young men living there. It can have a serious effect on people when they’re dealing with child killers, especially when they have children of their own. Is Sian coping?’

Matilda almost sniggered. ‘Sian is one of the most capable people I know. If she—’

‘If she what?’ Val asked.

‘No. It’s nothing.’ A thought had struck Matilda. If Val is worried about the effects of being surrounded by killers on her officers, what about the staff at Starling House? It would affect them in the same way too. Maybe one of them has finally snapped. Kate Moloney had been there from the beginning. In twenty years, what had being surrounded by murderers done to her state of mind?

Thomas Hartley enjoyed being in the library. He preferred being here to the recreation room with its loud voices, clacking of pool balls, banging of the table football, and the television at high volume. He liked the peace and quiet the library offered. However, that peace was shattered now it was being used as a free-for-all. A battered table tennis table had been dragged out of storage and set up in the centre of the room.

‘Thomas,’ Callum Nixon called out, ‘we want a fourth for table tennis doubles. Get your arse over here.’

Thomas looked up over the book he was reading and shook his head.

‘Come on, don’t be a tosser. What about you, Jacob?’ he asked the sixteen-year-old in the corner of the room flicking through a magazine.

‘No, thanks. I smashed my wrist on the table last time. It still hurts.’

‘’Course you did. Too much wanking you mean. Come on, one of you poofs had better come and play. Lee, get up here and play, and I’ll let you blow me off later.’

‘Fuck off, Callum.’ Any comment on being gay was always thrown at Lee Marriott. It was completely unnecessary, but his very smooth complexion and long blond hair gave him a feminine look which made him the target for homophobic jibes, and Callum used it as another way to get under Lee’s skin.

‘Come on, lads. If you don’t play, I’ll do to you what I did to Ryan Asher.’

A heavy silence fell on the room and everyone turned to look at Callum. He had a cruel smile but his eyes were cold and staring. Was he serious? The boys looked at each other and put their heads down. They didn’t want to be a part of this. If Callum really had killed Ryan then they would rather not know any other details so they wouldn’t have to lie when questioned further.

‘I’ll play, Callum, if it’ll shut you up,’ Jacob said, throwing his magazine down.

‘Good lad.’

The foursome began playing table tennis but nobody’s mind was on the game. Callum was enjoying himself, but the others kept exchanging steely glances.

Thomas continued to read, but he wasn’t taking in the plot. Lewis tried to concentrate on some maths Call Me Fred had given him but he was making simple errors. The atmosphere was dark and heavy. They all wanted to leave, go to a different part of the building, but none of them were allowed. Thomas looked

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