Dying Truth

by Angela Marsons

  ‘So, what brings you here to see me, Detective Inspector Stone?’ Alex asked, lacing her fingers.

  ‘I want to know more about the traits of evil,’ she admitted. ‘Especially when it comes to kids.’

  A slow smile spread across Alex’s face. ‘Well then, it looks like you’ve come to the right place.’

  Sixty

  Alex took a deep breath. ‘So, do you want the official version or mine?’

  ‘The official version,’ Kim answered.

  ‘There is no such thing, clinically, as an evil child or a child sociopath. It is felt that a child has not matured sufficiently to be labelled. Specialists will admit to sociopathic behaviour but that’s all. They are more likely to be diagnosed with conduct disorder which can be a precursor to sociopathy.’

  ‘“Conduct disorder”?’ Kim asked.

  ‘Starts in early adolescence, more common in boys. Typically selfish, don’t relate well to others, lack guilt, often aggressive. They’ll likely be bullies, cruel to animals, deceitful and rule breakers.’

  ‘Charming,’ Kim observed.

  ‘But a child won’t be diagnosed with conduct disorder unless they’ve first been diagnosed with oppositional defiant order which is a precursor for conduct disorder.’

  Kim frowned as a vision of Russian dolls sprang into her mind. ‘Hang on, so, you’re saying it’s like an escalation process throughout a child’s formative years. All of these criteria have to be met? Oppositional defiant disorder leads to conduct disorder leads to antisocial personality disorder?’

  Alex nodded. ‘And for a child to be diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder they require a conduct disorder diagnosis before the age of fifteen.’

  ‘Treatment?’ Kim asked, hopefully.

  Alex rolled her eyes. ‘There’s no cure or medication, Kim. You know that. Behavioural approaches don’t work as they target specific acts and minimise the bigger picture.

  ‘The diagnostic criteria ties itself up in knots. A child needs to have experienced three or more of the following in the last twelve months: bullying, fighting, use of a weapon, physical cruelty, mugging, extortion, armed robbery, forced sexual activity—’

  ‘Jesus,’ Kim interrupted.

  ‘There are more: fire starting, destruction of property, lying to obtain goods, shoplifting, staying out, running away or playing truant. And one of these must have occurred in the last six months.’

  ‘Sounds like passing the buck to me,’ Kim observed. ‘Everyone pushing the problem in another direction so they don’t have to make a difficult judgement.’

  A slow, lazy smile spread across Alex’s face. ‘Inspector, for once we agree.’

  ‘Enjoy it, Alex. It’s unlikely to happen again,’ she said. ‘Okay, talk to me about causes.’

  Perhaps if she at least understood that she could begin to narrow down the potential suspects.

  ‘Problems occur more in children of adults who exhibited problems. There may be deficits processing social information or they were rejected by peers as young children; eighty per cent of children outgrow it by adulthood.’

  Kim was relieved. She’d been after a number and that seemed like a good one to her. ‘That’s a reasonable—’

  ‘It’s rubbish,’ Alex said, cutting her off. ‘That’s an impossibly high figure of achievement, which doesn’t take into account a statistic that no one will ever be able to estimate.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘The ones who have learned to hide it.’

  ‘Like you?’ Kim asked.

  Alex smiled but there was no warmth. ‘Yes, Kim. Exactly like me.’

  ‘So, what are you saying?’ Kim asked, unsure she wanted to hear this answer. She suspected they were now wandering into Alex’s version of the truth.

  ‘What I’m saying, Kim, is that chickenpox doesn’t turn into measles once you reach the age of eighteen. The person I am now is the person I’ve always been since I was capable of a conscious thought. I have never loved anything in my life. I have never felt even a second of guilt for any of my actions, only disappointment at what went wrong. I care about no one and nothing. I have no bonds to anyone and every person I meet exists only to give me what I want.’

  The intensity of Alex’s expression held Kim in its thrall. She could not look away from the honesty she saw there.

  ‘Now, what you have to understand is that this didn’t happen on my eighteenth birthday when I could be diagnosed as a sociopath, psychopath or whatever else they call me. I was always this way. Even when I was a cute little toddler learning to walk or a sweet little girl starting at nursery, opening presents in a pretty dress on my fifth birthday. I was always a sociopath except no one had the courage to call it.’

  ‘Would it have made any difference?’ Kim asked, trying to fight the intrigue she felt.

  ‘Not to me,’ she said, honestly. ‘I am what I am, and a label wouldn’t have made me act any differently, but it might have persuaded my parents that the last thing I needed was more hugs, love and understanding. These were just more tools for my manipulation toolbox.’

  Kim was grateful for the woman’s honesty, despite how uncomfortable it made her. It was a side of Alex she’d never seen.

  The woman’s eyes suddenly fixed on a spot above her head.

  ‘Self-knowledge is a wonderful thing,’ Alex said wearily, as she travelled somewhere Kim couldn’t follow. Alex swallowed deeply. ‘But it doesn’t help when your parents gaze at your sister with uncomplicated adoration and view you with suspicious wariness. Do you have any idea what that does to a child?’ she asked, with a catch in her voice.

  Kim shook her head. Her own mother had hated both her and her twin equally. But it was only Mikey in which she had seen the devil.

  ‘Sweet little Sarah got it all,’ Alex continued, as a tear formed in her reddening eyes.

  Kim raised an eyebrow doubtfully, but Alex wasn’t even talking to her any more.

  ‘I knew as soon as Sarah was born that she was going to be the favourite. I could see it in my parents’ eyes. She was warm and sweet and loving: everything that I wasn’t.’

  She wiped away the tear and another formed instantly.

  ‘From that point on I was excluded from everything. My parents had their perfect little daughter, the one they’d always dreamed of, and the imperfect one, the broken one, was cast off and ignored, classed as weird, strange. Maybe if they’d just tried a little bit…’ her words trailed away as she stared down at the table.

  ‘Would that have made any difference?’ Kim asked.

  Alex raised her head. Her eyes were amused and clear of all emotion. ‘Of course not but look how quickly you were willing to believe it could have done.’ Alex appeared frustrated, as though Kim was a pupil that had not paid attention. ‘With all that you know of me and what I’ve done your own feeble emotions fail you and influence your logical mind. I don’t have that failing. You want to believe that there’s a part of me that can be reached. Even you, as emotionless and remote as you are, have the exploitable weakness of hope.’

  Kim shook her head. ‘You are unbelievable.’

  Alex smiled as though she’d just been complimented. ‘I learned very young that if I stared at a spot for long enough without blinking my eyes would water.’

  Kim felt frustrated at her own willingness to believe there was an ounce of humanity or regret in the woman.

  ‘The trouble is that you want to believe there is a part of me, however small, that craves normality. I didn’t want family bonds. I didn’t want to be part of a family. You got that and look at the good it did you,’ she said, pointedly. ‘You carry around guilt and hurt that has shaped every decision you’ve—’

  ‘Alex,’ Kim warned.

  Alex pulled a face. ‘Jesus, you really meant it when you said there was nothing in this for me, didn’t you?’

  Kim raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Okay, but do you get it? You’ve got to stop thinking that everyone can be saved.
It’s what gives people like me even more power to manipulate you.’

  ‘So, what should I be looking for?’ Kim asked.

  ‘A child that is disengaged, withdrawn from relationships with parents, family, peers, teachers. They may be socially isolated by choice. Little attachment and impervious to punishments.’

  Kim began to think of the people she’d met over the last few days.

  ‘But bear in mind, that if they have come to terms with who and what they are, some of these traits might be hidden.’

  Kim opened her mouth to respond when her phone vibrated the receipt of a message.

  She took out her phone and read it.

  She put the phone back and met Alex’s quizzical gaze.

  ‘Someone special?’ Alex asked.

  ‘No one you know,’ Kim said, pushing herself backwards from the table. ‘And I now find that I can stomach you no more. You truly are as deplorable as I thought.’

  ‘But now you understand that it’s not my fault.’

  Kim thought for a minute before answering.

  ‘What you are doesn’t let you off the hook, Alex. You’re here for the things you’ve done. As you just explained to me, all your decisions have been conscious choices. They have been your actions. You understand the difference between right and wrong and still do it anyway. So, it is your fault, Alex,’ she said, walking away.

  ‘You’re not ready, you know,’ Alex shouted after her.

  ‘For what?’ Kim asked, turning.

  ‘Whoever sent you that text message. I saw the smile on your face that you didn’t even feel forming. I don’t know who it was from, but I can tell you now that you’re nowhere near ready.’

  ‘Fuck off, Alex,’ Kim said, not bothering to explain that the text message had been nothing like that.

  It had been a request to meet at the Waggon and Horses for some urgent information.

  And the text had come from Joanna Wade.

  Sixty-One

  Kim turned into Cradley Heath High Street and headed towards the Waggon and Horses.

  She would give Joanna five minutes before heading back home. Alex had given her a lot to think about.

  The sound of a siren reached her ears. She checked her rear-view mirror but saw no lights. She motored through the traffic lights at the four ways intersection, onto Reddal Hill Road. Despite the darkness she could see a huddle of people in the middle of the road and a woman waving at her to stop. Right outside the pub she was heading for.

  Kim screeched to a halt and kicked the stand out to park the bike. She was off, and her helmet removed in a second.

  ‘Police officer, what’s happened here?’ she demanded as she pushed through the crowd.

  ‘An accident,’ someone said.

  ‘Hit-and-run,’ another voice offered.

  ‘Let me through,’ Kim cried as the siren of an ambulance grew closer. The feeling of dread in her stomach jumped into her throat as she reached the centre of the circle and her worst fears were realised.

  The person on the ground was Joanna Wade.

  ‘Get away from her,’ Kim shouted, as she bent down and appraised Joanna, who was lying on her back.

  The woman’s left leg was bent at an impossible angle, and Kim suspected at least two fractures. The left arm appeared to have been dislocated from the shoulder, and a couple of fingers were broken too.

  Kim’s immediate concern was that Joanna was far too quiet.

  No, no, no, her mind screamed.

  None of the injuries she could see were life-threatening, but they were all agonisingly painful. She should have been screaming the place down.

  ‘Joanna,’ Kim said, gently, touching the unbroken arm. She fought to keep the emotion from her voice.

  The eyes fluttered open and a slow smile spread across her face.

  She swallowed, and her voice was barely more than a whisper. ‘You came.’

  And that’s when Kim saw what she’d been missing. The blood from underneath Joanna’s head was pooling at her left ear like an oil stain.

  She wasn’t crying out with pain because she was beyond it.

  Kim swallowed down the building emotion in her throat as she took Joanna’s hand in her own.

  ‘Of course, I came,’ she said, gently rubbing her thumb across Joanna’s wrist.

  Their eyes met, and Kim prayed that Joanna could not see the truth there.

  Joanna licked her lips before speaking again.

  ‘Kim, look in…’

  Her words trailed away as her head lolled to the side and her eyes stared unseeing into the crowd.

  Kim allowed the paramedics to extricate her from the woman and move her away.

  There was nothing more that she could do.

  Joanna Wade was dead.

  Sixty-Two

  Kim took a deep breath before she started speaking.

  ‘Okay, so you all know that Joanna Wade was killed in a hit-and-run accident last night.’

  The room silently acknowledged her words with solemn nods.

  ‘But what you don’t know is that she was probably waiting outside for someone to arrive. And that someone was me.’

  She felt the surprise as they all looked at each other.

  ‘Joanna had sent me a text message earlier saying she had something to tell me, but I got there too late.’ She neglected to say where she’d been when she’d received the message. Knowing the effect the woman had on Kim, the rest of her team would not have been thrilled to know she’d visited Alex.

  ‘Was she still alive when you got there, guv?’ Bryant asked.

  ‘Briefly,’ she said, pushing the picture from her mind. She could still feel the sensation of Joanna’s warm skin on her palm.

  ‘Did she manage to…’

  ‘No,’ Kim said. ‘Traffic are still investigating, and it’s been categorised as a hit-and-run random attack.’

  ‘Surely they have to see it’s linked to our investigation?’ Dawson asked.

  ‘They’ll see nothing until they’ve completed their investigation,’ she replied. ‘In the meantime, Stace, I want you checking CCTV in the area, just in case Traffic don’t end up seeing it our way.’

  Stacey made a note.

  Kim pushed the image of Joanna’s face out of her mind. The only way she could help her now was to find the bastard who had done it. Her guilt at being the reason Joanna was outside would be dealt with another day.

  ‘Okay, updates from yesterday. We found out that Shaun Coffee-Todd’s death was not accidental, although we have uncovered no motive as yet. We have forensics on site but nothing from them so far.

  ‘Called the hospital first thing to check on Christian Fellows, who is conscious and stable but remembers nothing and didn’t see who attacked him. He doesn’t want to speak to us, and his parents are not going to force him to right now.’

  ‘He saw nothing?’ Bryant asked, disbelievingly. ‘Or recognise a voice?’

  Kim shook her head. ‘Apparently not and it’s too early to push. I’m guessing the kid is terrified. We’ll see how we go and may consider trying to talk to him later.

  ‘Also found out that Sadie was being fed her mother’s antidepressants, and that Saffie removed them from Sadie’s room.’

  ‘The mother’s own tablets?’ Stacey asked.

  Kim nodded. Bad enough that a thirteen-year-old girl was being medicated, but not even by a doctor.

  ‘We’ll be asking them about it later today,’ she said, turning to the detective sergeant.

  ‘Kev?’

  ‘Found a lot of shit connected with the school yesterday. Just not sure any of it’s connected to Sadie’s death,’ he said, honestly.

  ‘Share, anyway,’ Kim said. It was only just after 7 a.m. and still a bit early to be knocking on doors. ‘We know that Shaun was a member of the Spades, so I’d like to know what you found.’

  ‘There’ve been a lot of incidents there over the last few years that the school has worked hard to keep quiet and most of them see
m to have some kind of link to these bloody secret clubs,’ he said, glancing across the desk expecting a smart remark from Stacey. None came.

  ‘So, I got the names of three kids that had quietly left mid-year. No fanfare, no drama, no scandal, just disappeared from view. First kid I went to was removed by her mother after an initiation landed her in hospital fighting for her life. The girl was forced to do star jumps until she collapsed in a heap from an asthma attack.’

  Kim frowned. ‘To be honest, Kev—’

  ‘I know, I know,’ he said cutting her off. ‘Could have been nothing more than a prank gone wrong.’

  Yes, that was exactly what she’d been thinking.

  ‘I was on that thought train myself until I visited the second kid; a sixteen-year-old lad who lives with his grandmother. Except living isn’t really a word I’d use for Tristan Rock.

  ‘He was dared by the top card to drink four gallons of water in one hour. Kid videoed the whole thing on his phone and pretty much drank himself to death.’

  ‘He’s dead?’ Stacey asked.

  ‘Might as well be,’ he said. ‘Apparently drinking too much water in a short period of time means the kidneys can’t flush it out fast enough and the blood becomes waterlogged. Cells expand and well… it’s not pleasant. Tristan is completely brain dead. Only being kept alive by machines while his grandmother prays for a miracle.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Bryant said. ‘His parents?’

  ‘Accepted an undisclosed settlement and a gag order. No one was punished.’

  ‘Go on, Kev,’ Kim said.

  ‘There seems to be a culture at Heathcrest; a complete lack of accountability. No one even got a detention for the things I’ve mentioned never mind any kind of charges. That school is more terrified of scandal than anything else at all. And I don’t even know about the third family.’

  ‘Why not?’ Stacey asked.

  ‘They’ve moved in the few months since the kid left school. No forwarding address and contact with the neighbours through a third party only. The man next door with a scary dog spoke of an incident but wouldn’t elaborate.’