Raven's Gate Read Free Page A

trouble,” he said.
    Matt took a breath. “I know.” He was almost afraid to ask, but he still had to know. “Is he dead?”
    “The guard you stabbed has a name – Mark Adams. He’s married with two kids.” Mallory couldn’t conceal his anger. “Right now he’s in hospital. He’s going to be there for a while. But he won’t die.”
    “I didn’t stab him,” Matt said. “I didn’t know anyone was going to get hurt. That wasn’t the idea.”
    “That’s not what your friend Kelvin told us. He said it was your knife and your plan, and it was you who panicked when you were caught.”
    “He’s lying.”
    Mallory sighed. “I know. I’ve already spoken to the guard and he’s told us what happened. He heard the two of you argue and he knows that you wanted to stay. But you’re still responsible, Matthew. I have to tell you that you’re going to be charged as an accessory. Do you know what that means?”
    “Are you going to send me to prison?”
    “You’re fourteen. You’re too young for prison. But it’s quite possible you could be facing a custodial sentence.” Mallory stopped. He had seen dozens of kids in this room. Many of them had been thugs, ranging from openly defiant to snivelling and pathetic. But he was puzzled by the quiet, good-looking boy who sat opposite him now. Matt was somehow different and Mallory found himself wondering what had brought him here. “Look, it’s too late to talk about this now,” he said. “Are you hungry?”
    Matt shook his head.
    “Is there anything you need?”
    “No.”
    “Try not to be too scared. We’ll look after you tonight, and tomorrow morning we’ll try to make sense of all this. Right now, you’d better get out of those clothes. I’m afraid someone will have to stay with you while you undress – your clothes are evidence. You can have a shower, and then a doctor will look at you.”
    “I’m not sick. I don’t need a doctor.”
    “It’s just routine. He’ll give you a quick examination and maybe something to help you sleep.” Mallory glanced at one of the policemen. “All right.”
    Matt stood up. “Will you tell him I’m sorry,” he said. “The security guard. Mark Adams. I know it doesn’t make any difference and you probably don’t believe me anyway. But I am.”
    Mallory nodded. The policeman took Matt’s arm and led him back down the corridor.
    He was taken to a changing room – bare wooden benches and white tiles. His clothes went into a plastic bag that was stapled shut and labelled. Then he showered. He had no privacy, just as he had been warned. There was a policeman in the room with him the whole time but he still managed to enjoy the shower; the rush of water, scalding hot, shuddering down on his head and his shoulders, washing away the blood and the horror of the last hours. It was over all too quickly. He dried himself, then pulled on a grey T-shirt and undershorts that had been laundered and pressed as flat as paper. Finally, he was taken to a room which could have been a ward in a hospital, with four metal beds, four identical tables, and nothing else. The room felt as if it had been cleaned fifty times. Even the air felt clean. It seemed that he was the only occupant.
    He climbed into bed, and before any doctor could arrive he was asleep. Sleep came as quickly as a train in a tunnel. He simply lay back and kept on falling.
    Meanwhile, in a room downstairs, Stephen Mallory was sitting opposite a crumpled, sullen-looking woman who was managing both to scowl and to yawn at the same time. The woman was Gwenda Davis, Matt’s aunt and legal guardian. She was short and drab, with mousey hair and a pinched, forgettable face. She wore no make-up and there were heavy bags under her eyes. She was dressed in an old, shapeless coat. It might have been expensive once but now it was frayed at the edges. Like the woman who was wearing it, Mallory thought. He supposed that she was about forty-five. She seemed nervous, as if it was