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drove the minibus to take the elderly on day trips. His long-suffering wife, Millie Beck, hardly ever saw him. Reluctantly, she gave Faith his mobile number.

When Murray finally answered and Faith told him she was a detective constable with South Yorkshire Police, he spent the next five minutes trying to find somewhere private they could hold their conversation. Faith could hear noises in the background: Murray apologizing, saying this call was ‘incredibly urgent’, the sound of shuffling footsteps, doors opening and closing. Eventually, he found somewhere to settle. Judging by the echo on the line, Faith guessed he was in an empty room.

‘Mr Beck, thank you for answering my call. I promise I won’t take up any more of your time than I have to. You were a scoutmaster briefly; is that correct?’

‘That’s right. I gave it up about three years ago. I’m not as young as I was and I can’t keep up with the energetic pace some of these boys have. It’s my nephew who has taken over. If it’s a scout-related matter then I’m sure he’ll be able to help you. He’s a bit wet behind the ears but he’s a willing lad.’

‘No, Mr Beck, it’s you I need to speak to. It’s concerning Ryan Asher. I believe you knew him when he was in the scouts.’

‘Ah.’

‘Is there a problem, Mr Beck?’

‘Call me Murray, please. There’s not a problem as such, no. I just don’t like to talk ill of people.’

Faith found that hard to believe. A man who spent so much of his time within the community and had rebuked his own nephew probably enjoyed a gossip more than most. He was relishing the attention of a detective needing information and wanted it coaxed out of him. Faith had no intention of stroking his ego.

‘Mr Beck, I am investigating the murder of a teenager and I need to find out as much as I can about the victim so I can find his killer. Time really is of the essence here.’

‘I understand,’ he replied, swallowing loudly. ‘Well, Ryan Asher wasn’t with the scouts for long. When he started he was a very willing and capable lad but it wasn’t long before his attitude changed.’

‘Go on,’ Faith had to prompt when he stopped talking.

‘I remember speaking to his parents about it. They said he’d got some new friends, but they weren’t part of our scout group so I wouldn’t know who they were. Anyway, his whole personality seemed to change. He wasn’t as helpful, he slouched, he became cheeky and lackadaisical. And then he became violent.’

‘Violent?’ Faith’s eyes lit up. ‘In what way?’

‘He’d purposely pick fights with the other boys. He’d try and find their weaknesses and bully them into a reaction. I couldn’t have that among the other scouts. I gave him a warning. I even told his parents I might have to exclude him. Eventually I had no choice.’

‘How did he take it?’

‘I don’t think he was bothered. When I told him he was no longer welcome, he just shrugged. As he walked out of our meeting hall he kicked over a few things and smashed a window in the door, but, to be honest, I was just glad to be rid of him. He’d become … frightening.’

‘Do you think he may have started taking drugs?’

‘I did think that, yes. I even mentioned it to his father but he said Ryan wasn’t involved in that sort of thing.’

‘Did you hear of any other incidents Ryan may have been involved in?’

He scoffed. ‘Plenty. I’m assuming you know all about the Malcolm Preston incident?’

Faith had a copy of Ryan’s file from Norwich Police Force on her untidy desk. She quickly flicked through it. The name sounded familiar. ‘No, I don’t believe I do,’ she said.

‘Oh. Well you should look him up. I don’t like to say this about another person, especially a boy, but Ryan Asher was no victim. He was an evil and sadistic child. When it came on the news about him killing his grandparents I told my Millie that I wasn’t completely surprised. I had a feeling he’d commit murder one day. I just didn’t expect it to be so soon.’

‘You knew he’d commit murder?’ Faith was shocked. A community man like Murray Beck, a churchgoer, a scoutmaster – should he really be seeing evil in others?

‘Some people are rotten to the core. I’m not saying he was born evil. His parents tried their best for him, I know they did, but he got mixed up with some very dodgy young boys – boys who probably were born evil. Look up Malcolm Preston on that internet thing, there’s bound to be plenty of information about him. That’ll tell you what kind of a person Ryan Asher was.’

Faith thanked Murray Beck for taking the time to talk to her and hung up the phone. While he had given her more of an insight into what kind of a child Ryan was, Faith found she had more questions than answers. Clearing a space on her desk, she pulled her keyboard towards her and typed ‘Malcolm Preston Norwich’ into a search engine.

THREE YEARS IN LIMBO

John Preston spends every single day by his son’s bed. He reads to him from books, newspapers, and magazines. His conversations are one-sided but he believes his son can hear every word he is saying.

It will be three years next Tuesday since Malcolm Preston, then aged 12, was attacked, robbed, and left for dead in woodland surrounding Eaton Park, Norwich.

‘It was broad daylight and Malcolm was out riding his bike. It was something every normal twelve-year-old boy does. There was nothing for me or his mum to worry about. He was a sensible boy and we just assumed he would come home when he was ready for his tea.’

John continues, ‘When he didn’t come home his mother tried his mobile phone. It was answered but the person on the other end quickly hung up. She carried on trying but then whoever answered kept

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