Kim held up her hand to stop him from continuing, she’d read the accounts of the torture and had been unable to remove the images from her mind for months.
‘Although before your time, I’m sure you’ve heard of Mary Bell. In 1968 she killed a four-year-old and a three-year-old when she was only eleven herself. Her own mother had tried to kill her on numerous occasions and forced her to perform sexual acts from the age of four.’
‘I know the case,’ Kim said. She’d researched it after the woman’s lifelong anonymity and that of her daughter had been threatened by the release of a new book.
Ted continued. ‘There was a thirteen-year-old kid named Eric Smith who abducted a four-year-old boy. He strangled him, dropped rocks on his head and then used a tree branch to—’
‘Thanks, Ted. I get the picture. So are these kids evil, the ones that get a thrill from killing?’
Ted’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, my dear, that is a very big question and I’ll attempt to answer it as best I can.’
He took another sip of coffee, and so did she.
‘It is generally felt that it is possible for kids to grow out of the behaviours that led them to kill in the first place, and there is evidence on both sides of this argument. The court-appointed psychiatrist for Mary Bell said she displayed classic signs of psychopathy but has never re-offended, and Eric Smith still has no ability to express emotion after twenty-four years, leading the courts to believe he will never be rehabilitated.’
‘You said there were three types,’ Kim said.
He nodded. ‘The second type targets their prey for innocuous reasons – annoyance or anger.
‘Also before your time was Brenda Ann Spencer, a sixteen-year-old girl who used a rifle to shoot eight children in San Diego. The school was right opposite her house. When asked why she’d done it she claimed that she just didn’t like Mondays. She showed a complete lack of remorse and no serious explanation. She was annoyed. For her it was that simple.’
Kim found it difficult to comprehend that eight children had lost their lives because a kid had got out of the wrong side of bed.
‘And the last group?’ she asked.
‘These are the ones that kill specific targets out of anger, hurt or wounded pride. Just in 2014 there were two girls, not named, who were dubbed the ‘Snapchat Killers’. They tortured and murdered a girl named Angela Wrightson and took photos while they were doing it. They even took selfies from inside the police van.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Kim said.
‘So, how many victims do you have?’ Ted asked.
‘I have two children dead, in a few days. One definitely murdered and made to look like a suicide and the other I’m not sure yet.’
‘Are the two of them linked?’ he asked.
‘Not obviously,’ she said, as her thoughts returned to something he’d said.
‘You mentioned Mary Bell being potentially labelled psychopathic or showing tendencies. Even as a child?’
‘Oh, we’re getting into dodgy ground now, my dear,’ he said, draining his mug. ‘No mental health professional will be bold enough in this day and age to fix such a label to a child while there is still the possibility they will grow out of psychopathic behaviours.’
‘So, does it exist, Ted?’ she asked, pinning him for a straight answer.
‘It’s not something I can—’
‘Ted, can a child be a psychopath, sociopath or whatever it is you want to call them?’
‘Kim, it’s not as cut and dried as that.’
‘Come on, Ted. You’ve treated enough kids in your time. Did any of them fulfil these criteria? Were any of these children evil?’
‘I’ve never treated an evil child,’ he said.
‘But they do exist?’
Ted looked at her long and hard. ‘Kim, I’m really not qualified to say.’
Kim knew there was no point pushing him any further.
On the subject of evil in children he might not be qualified to say.
But she certainly knew someone who was.
Forty-Two
Dawson sat outside the address of Carrie Phifer and wondered if he’d made some kind of mistake.
Heathcrest Academy charged more than thirty thousand a year. Not a fee that seemed accessible for the three-bed semi with a box porch in Hasbury. He checked the details he’d logged into his phone. Yep, he was in the right place.
He walked around a Skoda Fabia before knocking on the door.
A tidy woman dressed in jeans and a shirt opened the inner door. A casual smile on her lips turned to a frown. She did not open the porch door before asking who he was.
Finally, a woman with the sense to keep a closed door between her and a stranger.
He held up his identification while saying his name.
Her expression turned to alarm as she reached for the key and opened the door.
‘Is anything… has something…’
‘There’s nothing wrong,’ he assured her quickly. ‘Mrs Phifer?’ he added, as a question.
She nodded and although some of the anxiety had left her face it was still etched with concern.
‘May I come in?’ he asked, although he was beginning to suspect he knew the answer to his question.
‘Is your daughter home, Mrs Phifer?’
She shook her head, as she guided him into a tastefully furnished lounge.
‘No officer, she’s at school,’ she answered. ‘Has something happened?’
‘Your daughter is fine, I’m sure,’ he reassured.
‘So what…’
‘Carrie attended Heathcrest Academy until a couple of years ago,’ he said.
The tension that filled her jaw was immediate.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said, warily, as she took a seat and motioned for him to do the same.
‘She left mid-year?’ he asked.
Mrs Phifer simply nodded.
‘May I ask why?’ he urged, although the answer was pretty obvious. If the family had been able to afford the fees once they certainly couldn’t now.
‘I removed her from the school,’ she said.
‘Would you mind telling me why?’ he asked. He didn’t wish to humiliate the woman by pressing her to discuss finances, but he just had to be sure.
‘Of course, if you’ll tell me why you want to know.’
He smiled. ‘I’m sorry but I can’t really—’
‘You’re here for a reason, officer. What is it?’ she asked.
‘I can’t help but wonder why your daughter was removed part way through the year,’ he admitted. He looked around and then stood. ‘I think I understand,’ he said. ‘And it must have been very difficult for you.’
He had no wish to force this woman into an uncomfortable position of admitting she had been unable to continue her daughter’s education at Heathcrest because she couldn’t afford it.
‘Oh, you’re wrong, officer,’ she said. ‘Removing Carrie from Heathcrest was the easy part. Losing my beautiful home and lifestyle, along with my marriage not so much, but I don’t regret it for a minute.’
Dawson faltered. He’d read the situation and he’d read it wrong. He sat back down.
‘My husband tried to insist that Carrie return to Heathcrest, but I wouldn’t budge and that was the end of my marriage.’
‘Your marriage broke up because of your daughter’s education?’ he asked, incredulously. Surely there could have been a compromise?
‘No, our marriage failed because only one of us cared about the safety of our daughter.’
Dawson sat forward. ‘Please go on, Mrs Phifer.’
‘Carrie did not wish to return to the school, but Douglas was insistent. It was his old school and he believed heartily in their ability to educate. I hated boarding schools but went along with it as long as Carrie was happy, but she didn’t want to return. She was terrified, and Douglas was unused to not getting his way. His lawyer was much better than mine,’ she said, looking around the room. ‘What broke our marriage was his insistence she go back even though she became hysterical at the very mention of it.’
‘Mrs Phifer, what happened at Heathcrest to make your daughter so frightened?’
‘She received a card. The ace of diamonds. They have exclusive clubs there that—’
‘I know about the clubs,’ he said.
‘Then you’ll know that most kids will do anything to join these groups?’