Page 110 of Psychopath

“There’s no substantial difference,” he said. “He didn’t react how we might expect. It’s as if the activity is muted, unaffected.”

Quinn wasn’t surprised. Harris had never reacted to anything he’d been shown during their interviews, no matter the disturbing nature.

He brought up another programme on his laptop and spoke to Harris again. “Next, I’m going to play you some sounds. You don’t have to react verbally.”

Harris yawned in the scanner. “Got it.”

The sounds, like the images, started off tame and progressively got more disturbing. Screaming babies, gunfire, aggressive shouts, Harris didn’t react to anything. The nurses and Doctor Hart all pulled pained expressions at the more torturous sounds. One of the nurses even put her hands over her ears at a woman screaming in pain.

A few times, Harris rolled his eyes.

“He’s numb to all of it,” Doctor Hart said. “It doesn’t affect him at all. He’s desensitised to the good and the bad. How fascinating…”

Quinn agreed, but he didn’t have time to dwell on any of their findings, not when he was aware Richard was waiting outside in the van on one of the hottest days of the year. He pushed on, completing the word association tasks with Harris. It didn’t take long to finish, and then the scanner whirled again.

Gemma was quick to unstrap Harris, and Cleo cuffed him as soon as his arms were free.

Harris stretched as he sat up and slipped from the bed onto the floor. He blinked at Quinn, and Quinn tensed, expecting him to ask about what he’d seen, but he didn’t.

“Richard’s turn,” he said.

“Richard’s turn.” Quinn agreed.

Richard’s scans didn’t reveal any obvious abnormalities. The frontal lobes lit up, flashing brightly compared to Harris’s, whose brain had only brightened with a flitter.

He, like Harris, didn’t respond to the images, but unlike Harris, Richard gave a running commentary, which gave an insight into his mind. When presented with an image of a woman cowering in the corner, scared, Richard frowned and muttered, “What’s her problem?”

He scoffed at the photograph of a crying man and called him pathetic, and he quirked his eyebrow at bruises and blood. His biggest response came from a picture of a woman’s bruised and battered ankles bound in rope. His brain activity spiked in his Amygdala, indicating an emotional response and he groaned out, “Now we’re talking.”

Doctor Hart shook his head. One of the nurses in the room with Quinn walked out to take a minute in the corridor.

“I’m now going to play you some sounds,” Quinn said, clicking the file. It began with ocean waves lapping at the beach.

“You trying to send me to sleep?” Richard asked.

“Not at all.”

Richard smirked, then fell silent. Unlike Harris, he reacted to some of the harsh sounds, and he winced at barking dogs and shouting voices, but the biggest response came from the screaming baby. His face tightened with a snarl. He looked savage in a way Quinn hadn’t seen before and stared right at the camera, directly at Quinn.

“Change it,” he demanded.

Quinn did so immediately, and Richard sighed. His furrowed brow relaxed, and he closed his eyes.

“Thank you.”

Richard continued without having to skip another track and completed the word association task.

Quinn gathered his things, including print-offs of Harris’s and Richard’s brain activity, tucked them in a folder, and neatly slipped them into his laptop bag. He shook Doctor Hart’s hand, thanked all the nurses and followed behind Richard as Cleo and Simon led him back to the waiting prison van.

“See?” Cleo said when Quinn took his seat inside the van and slumped. “I told you it would be fine.”

He shot her a weak smile as he picked open the top button of his shirt. Cleo reached into the bag she’d left in the van and threw him a bottle of water.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” She smiled.

“Did you see what you expected?” she asked.

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