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Detective Chief Inspector Andrew Fenwick is investigating some information that came originally from the USA. It would seem that there is a paedophile ring operating in his locality and, worryingly, it's been in existence for a number of years and might well be involved in the murders of local boys. One body, buried twenty five years ago, has recently been discovered and another boy, missing for nearly as long, has presumably met the same fate. There's additional pressure because an eleven-year-old schoolboy has recently gone missing from his home.
His friend and Colleaguecolleague, Inspector Nightingale, has problems of her own. She's looking into a potential charge of attempted murder. Major Maidment is hailed as a hero by the local community for his spirited attack on a con man who pulled a knife on a policeman. Unfortunately it's the Major who is being charged with attempted murder as the con man nearly died. Nightingale is certain that the Major is hiding something and she's determined to find out what it is. Life isn't being easy on her. A superior officer feels that her promotion might not have been a good idea, some junior officers are resentful of her rank and her friendship with Fenwick is causing gossip.
For the first time in my life I was grateful that I wasn't the parent of a small boy. The children who disappeared came from average homes, perhaps a little cloying or over-protective, but none of them bad homes. The boys wanted a little excitement, a little adventure and if what they did wasn't very pleasant they were well-compensated financially. They slipped easily into a life of abuse, into a world where they really merited nothing in the way of care because they were little tarts, no better than they ought to be, deserving of everything that they got.