Unless…
‘Ms Turner, would it help your memory if I told you we think he’s taken another little girl?’
He was shocked to see what he thought was annoyance cross her face.
‘It wouldn’t help my memory at all. I can’t recall what I can’t recall. And even if he has, I don’t think you should be unduly concerned. If he has her, he won’t hurt her.’
Penn almost said that the bones found at Hawne Park were likely to say otherwise.
Twenty-Six
‘Yeah, I didn’t get a lot else from him in there,’ Kim said, once Penn had finished recounting the details of his meeting with Libby Turner. ‘Although I think Bryant was close to flooring him once or twice.’
‘I’m not a violent man but he really does test my patience,’ Bryant admitted.
Kim could see his point. Frustratingly, Steven Harte was only giving her details that he could have read or learned during the time or since. And yet there was an intimacy to his recollection, a smile here or a frown there that hinted of involvement in the events as more than just an observer.
‘Now we have two victims that want to shake his hand,’ Kim said as a welcome figure appeared in the doorway. ‘Well, you took your time,’ Kim offered as a greeting as Alison Lowe, consulting behaviourist, stepped into the room.
‘The urgency was communicated to me in no uncertain terms by your boss.’
‘Sorry if we disturbed yet another day of you doing nothing useful except—’
‘I got home at 2 a.m. this morning after consulting on a rape profile in Glasgow.’
‘Good to see you’re back to doing what you do best. Now take a seat,’ Kim said, pointing to the spare desk.
Kim was pleased the woman was back out again consulting, after her absence from the field following a near-death experience with her team.
‘Ooh, who’s that?’ she asked, peering at the screen that showed Steven Harte drinking his sixth cup of sweet tea.
‘Guys, fill her in,’ Kim said, checking her phone.
An email from Keats informed her that Doctor A and her team were now set up on site at Hawne Park.
‘So, what do you think?’ Kim asked, once the team had brought her up to date.
Alison fixed her with the customary emotionless stare. ‘I’ve been here five minutes. I haven’t asked one question or reviewed one minute of tape and you’re asking me what I think. Jeez, I bet you’re a cheap date.’
Kim raised a questioning eyebrow.
‘Forget the glass of wine, bypass the starter and let’s get to the main course.’
‘You do know we’ve got a little girl missing?’ Kim reiterated.
‘Only seven minutes in and you’re giving me attitude,’ Alison said, shaking her head. ‘That may even be a record.’
‘Much as I’d love a chat and a catch-up over a leisurely coffee and Danish, we need to press on.’
‘You’re saying there was no contact of any kind?’ Alison asked.
‘Neither victim even saw him,’ Kim offered.
‘Is there any chance he was doing it just for them?’ Stacey asked. ‘Both victims benefitted some way from his intervention.’
Alison thought for a moment before shaking her head.
‘Unlikely. Just because it wasn’t sexual doesn’t mean he wasn’t getting something out of it.’
‘Before we start on Harte, explain to me why both victims feel their abductor was some kind of god,’ Kim said, pouring herself coffee. ‘He took them from everything they knew and isolated them for twelve months. How can both victims forgive that fact so easily?’
‘Stockholm syndrome.’
Kim groaned. ‘Too easy.’
Alison rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, how I love having to prove myself to you every time you request or rather demand my involvement in a case. I enjoy this part of the process so much.’
Bryant placed a coffee on Alison’s desk. She nodded her thanks.
‘Yep, I think I’m gonna need it.’ She took a gulp. ‘Right, just because you don’t believe in something doesn’t make it any less real.’
‘My issue is that it’s become a term bandied about all over—’
‘As I said. It’s a real thing and comes from an emotional attachment to a captor formed by a hostage as a result of continuous stress, dependence and a need to cooperate for survival.’ She took another swig of coffee. ‘Every hostage that was held captive in the Kreditbanken building in Stockholm in 1973 refused to testify in court, and some even attempted to raise money for their captor’s defence lawyers.’
Kim folded her arms. ‘Were they all vulnerable in some way?’
Alison shook her head. ‘Strong bonds can be formed through negative experiences, just like soldiers on the front line. There are four major factors in order for Stockholm syndrome to develop. Number one, was there any previous relationship between captor and captive?’
‘Not that we know of.’
‘Two, is there a refusal by hostages to cooperate with police forces or other authorities?’
‘Neither of them has offered us anything remotely helpful.’
‘Three, did the hostages believe in the humanity of their captor?’
‘Oh yeah,’ Kim and Penn said together.
‘And four, were they aware either consciously or unconsciously that their captor had their own skewed reasons for keeping them alive?’
‘They both seem to think it was for their own good.’
Alison thought for a moment and then nodded. ‘Yes, that makes sense.’
‘In what universe?’ Kim asked.
‘Our natural instinct for survival rushes to the forefront of our subconscious. This becomes the driving force for our actions, beliefs and emotions. The victim’s need to survive is stronger than the impulse to hate the person that has created the dilemma.’
‘Oh, bloody hell, can someone get Foggarty back?’ Kim asked.
‘Not sure who Foggarty is, but in any situation where two opposing parties are reduced to the status of victim and offender, such as victims of domestic violence who stay with their abusers or sex workers regularly punished by their pimps, deep affection develops, as the captor is responsible for survival.’
‘I get that but there must have been opportunities to try to escape. He brought food every night,’ Kim argued.
‘First of all, they were kids,’ Alison said. ‘Secondly, the hostages in Stockholm were there for only five days and formed deep emotional attachments to their captor. But imagine this. You’re being held captive, and you anticipate that when the door opens, you’re going to die. If your captor then brings you food and drink, it elicits a primitive gratitude for the gift of life.
‘An American girl named Jaycee Lee Dugard was held for eighteen years. She had many opportunities to escape. She’d been given a false identity by her captor which she maintained until Garrido confessed. She explained it succinctly when she said that she had adapted to survive. How often do you think Bear Grylls goes home and drinks a glass of his own urine? But would he do it to stay alive? Of course he would. Our need to survive trumps almost everything else and that’s emotionally as well as physically.’