‘Not only do they not hate or blame him, they actually seem to have great affection for him,’ Kim said, shaking her head.
‘Natascha Kampusch demanded to see her captor’s body after he took his own life. She broke down in tears and hugged his body. She later bought the house in which she’d been held captive and keeps a photo in her handbag.’
Kim had heard something like that but hadn’t believed it.
Alison continued, ‘Stockholm syndrome often dissipates after the trauma of the event, although it is possible to never fully recover.’
‘Is that why they still have such deep feelings for him?’ Penn asked.
‘Very few victims acknowledge they suffered Stockholm syndrome. The steps to recovery require intense therapy, and recovery is different for everyone depending on the severity of abuse, length of time held and the psychological mindset before the event occurred.’
Alison paused for a moment as she appeared to digest everything she’d been told.
‘A year in captivity is a long time. It’s understandable that they developed these feelings of affection and loyalty. They’re not going to tell you anything useful.’
Kim had already worked that one out.
‘Believe it or not you’re gonna have better luck getting it from him.’
‘And you can help us with that?’ Kim asked.
‘Hold my beer, Inspector. Hold my beer.’
Twenty-Seven
‘What exactly do you want the boss to do?’ Stacey asked her friend as they watched on the monitor.
‘I’m going to watch everything back, but now I just want to see some live interaction to get a feel for his behaviour and traits.’
Alison had asked the boss to go in and let him know about the Hawne Park discovery. The boss had gone to brief Woody first.
‘What are you doing, Penn?’ Stacey asked as he drew a line down the middle of the whiteboard.
‘Dates and names,’ he answered without turning. ‘All getting a bit confusing and I like to see stuff in black and white.’
She watched as he worked quickly forming tabulated columns.
Libby Turner taken 1992 returned 1993
Suzie Keene taken 1994 returned 1995
Melody Jones taken 1996
‘So what went wrong?’ Stacey asked as Alison busied herself with notebooks, pens and a couple of textbooks.
‘With what?’ Alison asked.
‘Melody. If these three cases are the work of one person—’
‘I think they are,’ Alison interrupted, looking at the board.
‘Why do you think so?’
‘Look at the regimentation of the timings. The abductions occur every two years. The girls are kept for one year and then released, unharmed.’
‘So I ask again: what went wrong with Melody? Why wasn’t she returned unharmed after a year?’
‘Maybe she saw him,’ Penn offered.
‘Or perhaps she didn’t get into the van as easily as the others and there was a struggle,’ Alison said.
‘Could he have escalated?’ Stacey asked.
‘From what?’ Alison asked. ‘He wasn’t being violent to them in the first place. We don’t actually know why he kidnapped them. We know it wasn’t sexual so my guess at this stage is some kind of twisted voyeurism.’
‘No camera in the bathroom and a lockable door,’ Penn offered. ‘He wasn’t watching them bathe or undress.’
Alison shrugged. ‘I got nothing yet. I mean is there anyone else you can talk to, any victims prior to Suzie and Libby? If there was a change in his behaviour with Melody it might—’
‘There are no similar incidents prior to ’92,’ Stacey offered.
‘We really need to know why he killed Melody and not the others, and we need to know why it stopped.’
‘Shit,’ Stacey said as a cold shiver passed over her.
‘What?’ Penn asked.
‘What if Melody was the first one he killed? What if that became his new MO? What if Melody wasn’t his last.’
‘Oh shit,’ Penn said, returning to his desk.
Twenty-Eight
‘Hope your lunch was okay,’ Kim said, stepping back into the interview room with Bryant right behind her.
Alison had instructed her not to bait him, and her boss had warned her to go gently. Do whatever it takes to find Grace Lennard had been his instruction.
It was clear that she was expected to play nicely with a man who, in her mind, had kidnapped two girls, killed Melody Jones and knew the whereabouts of Grace Lennard. She’d certainly give it her best.
‘It was fine,’ he answered. ‘Not enough salt in the potatoes but it filled a gap.’
It was on the tip of her tongue to assure him she’d pass his comments to the chef. But knowing Betty Miles in the canteen, she could imagine the response and it would contain a couple of fingers.
‘Good to hear,’ she said, linking her fingers together on the table before her. ‘Let’s talk about your involvement with Hawne Park.’
‘Of course, but it was so long ago that my memory might not be as accurate as you’d like.’
She wondered if his memory loss would include the bones that had been buried there.
‘How did you become involved with Hawne Park?’ she asked.
‘I’m hardly involved with them, Inspector. I made a small donation to their cause many years ago, after reading about their plight in the newspaper.’
‘You read a lot of papers, don’t you, Steven?’
Kim felt Bryant knock her foot gently beneath the table.
No goading.
‘I think it’s good to keep abreast of events in your local area,’ he answered.
‘And what did you learn about the project?’
‘That it was a small community initiative trying to make their surroundings a little more attractive.’
‘And that kind of project appeals to you?’ Kim asked.
‘Inspector, I have been fortunate in my business dealings over the years. I have made much more than I ever need to spend. I’ve always known when to retreat from a situation so that I don’t get caught… out.’
Kim felt the muscles in her jaw tense. He was playing with her. She knew that, and she had been shackled in how to respond.
‘You donated a few thousand pounds to their nature programme and that’s it?’
‘Yes, that was the extent of my—’
‘How about your connection to Butler—’
‘Oh, wait a minute. How could I have forgotten? I also instructed the builders in some excavation work.’
Damn it. She’d been about to call him on a lie, but his sketchy memory had saved him at the last minute.
‘That’s Butler’s builders?’
‘Oh yes. There’s no one better locally for digging… stuff up.’
Again, she felt the pressure of Bryant’s foot against her own. Even he knew that Harte was trying to bait her.
‘Well, he certainly dug up something interesting today.’
‘Really, what?’ he asked, leaning forward.
Oh, how she wanted to lean forward, grab him by the throat and squeeze until he told her where Grace Lennard was.