Dying Truth: completely gripping crime thriller (Detective Kim Stone) (Volume 8)

Parkes shook her head. ‘You know Alex. Always trying to get a rise out of someone. Got her own little bunch of cronies led by her cellmate, a kid called Emma Mitchell, who hangs off her every word.’

‘Is there anything in particular that—’ Kim began to ask and then stopped herself. She’d been in the prison less than ten minutes and was already becoming embroiled in Alex’s world, fearing for the safety of everyone she came into contact with.

‘We keep a close eye,’ Parkes said, knowingly.

Kim wished that she felt reassured, and she didn’t doubt the diligence of the staff, but she knew Alex. And much as she would love to keep a permanent eye on the woman there were others that needed her attention more.

Hence the reason for her visit.



Kim felt her heart rate quicken as she approached the entrance to the visitor’s room. She almost faltered as she heard Alex’s familiar voice.

‘Officer Parkes, is that you? Are you bringing me my surp—’ Alex’s words trailed away as Kim stepped into view.

In a nanosecond Alex’s irritation turned to confusion followed by a slow smile of pleasure that spread across her face.

‘Mitchell, out you come,’ Parkes said to the girl sitting on the tabletop next to Alex.

‘Up yours, Parkes,’ she said, looking to Alex for guidance.

Alex didn’t even glance in her direction.

‘Get lost, Emma,’ she said.

The girl waited for a couple of seconds as though she’d misheard, but Alex’s gaze didn’t falter as she appraised Kim.

The girl huffed and offered Kim a murderous expression.

Kim wondered if this was the girl’s first experience of being dismissed by her idol. She was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

‘Kim, how lovely to see you,’ Alex said pleasantly, as though they’d met for coffee only last week.

The woman looked exactly as she had the last time they’d met. Her blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail exposing a face that was stunning despite the absence of expensive cosmetics. The icy blue eyes were fixed on her, and Kim offered her a smile as she sat.

‘Those additional ten years look good on you, Alex,’ Kim said. It had been almost two years since her initial sentence and the additional time deemed it unlikely she’d see freedom before her fiftieth birthday. And that was the price you paid for attempting to murder the people that stood in the way of your appeal.

Kim had learned long ago that the best form of defence with Alex was attack.

‘Were you missing me?’ Alex asked, ignoring her jibe. ‘I could always send you a weekly visiting—’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Kim said. ‘This is a one-off visit, I can assure you.’ Kim raised her eyebrows. ‘There will be no questions, no games and no attempts at manipulation.’

‘So, basically there’s no fun in this meeting for me at all?’ Alex asked, tipping her head.

‘Nothing at all,’ Kim confirmed, feeling a little uncomfortable at the ease with which they had both slipped into their battle positions and the feeling of familiarity that surrounded them both.

Already Kim knew she had to be cautious. This woman could read her better than anyone. Even the slightest deviation from her script or demonstration of emotion would give Alex every bit of ammunition she would need. Alex had once taken her to the edge of sanity and dangled her over the edge. Kim had to make sure she never got that chance again.

‘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.’

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