Raven's Gate

escorted into a lift that needed a key to be operated. He was taken up to the second floor and down another corridor. Matt kept his head bowed, his eyes fixed on his feet. He didn’t want to look around him. He didn’t want to know where he was.
    They stopped again in an open-plan area, a meeting place of several corridors, painted green, with police information posters on the walls. There was an office with a window that had been wired off and in front of it a table with a computer and two chairs. They went in. The handcuffs were unlocked and he brought his arms forward with a sense of relief. His shoulders were aching.
    “Sit down,” one of the policemen said.
    Matt did as he was told.
    About five minutes passed. Then a door opened and a man in a suit and a brightly coloured open-neck shirt appeared. He was black, with a slim figure and kind, intelligent eyes. He looked a bit more friendly than the others and he was also younger. Matt didn’t think he could be out of his twenties.
    “My name is Detective Superintendent Mallory,” he said. He had a pleasant, cultivated voice. Like a newsreader on TV. “Are you all right?”
    “I’m all right.” Matt was surprised by the question.
    Mallory had sat down opposite him at the table. He pressed a few keys on the computer. “What’s your name?” he asked.
    “Matt.”
    Mallory’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to tell me your full name. I need it for the report.”
    Matt hesitated. But he knew he had to co-operate. “Matthew Freeman,” he said.
    The detective tapped in the letters and pressed ENTER, then watched as a dozen lines of information scrolled up on the screen. “You seem to have made quite a name for yourself,” Mallory said. “You live at 27 Eastfield Terrace?”
    “Yes.” Matt nodded.
    “With a guardian. A Ms Davis?”
    “She’s my aunt.”
    “You’re fourteen.”
    “Yes.”
    Mallory looked up from the computer screen. “You’re in a lot of 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