Page 29 of Dream a Little Dream

Heather’s mouth dropped open. “JesusChrist.”

Kenny breathed out a laugh, held up his glass. “Honestly, it’s all behavioural statistics.”

“And her? My so-called best friend?”

“Oh, that one’s easy. I imagine you have a complicated history. She carries her own grievances. Maybe she’s harboured an envy toward you. A competitive tension that could go back to the smallest things. Even something as trivial as you becoming the netball captain could feed a subtle resentment. That sort of history could easily turn into a situation where she saw an opportunity for payback. Aligning herself with him, in that sense, made her feel as if she were levelling the field, if not asserting her own power.”

Heather was silent. Kenny let her absorb it all, taking the time to enjoy the wine with the quiet satisfaction of his years of studying behaviour and motivations, uncovering hidden patterns people rarely saw in themselves, could come into good use on a first date.

Heather’s eyes narrowed in thought before she spoke. “He’s a middle child.”

Kenny nodded, unsurprised.

“Older brother’s a GP, little brother plays for Watford F.C. He’s a labourer.”

Kenny shook his head, masking a wry smile. “Classic.”

Heather gave a bitter laugh, then downed the rest of her wine. “And yes, I was elected class prefect back in school, and Britney—well, she never got over it.” She slammed back her wine. “So, are you saying he would have cheated on me no matter what? That it was inevitable?”

“Not inevitable. It’s not written in his genes or wired into his DNA. Think of it as a set of influences. All our experiences, formative relationships, internalised beliefs shape our motivations. The choices people make are like a convergence of patterns. His just led him down that path. With his particular combination of unmet needs and adaptive behaviour, he found validation through an immediate, if destructive, source.” Kenny twisted the wineglass in his hand. “Had he been raised differently, with different support systems and value structures, he could have made a different choice. Someone with an opposing coping style might have sought connection by opening up a dialogue with you. Another person would have slain you in your sleep.”

Heather widened her eyes, choked on her wine.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that last part.”

Heather grabbed a napkin and wiped her mouth.

“Probably more of a third date conversation.”

Heather coughed over an amused laugh. “I’ll say.”

“Can tell why I’m still single.”

“Dom said you work with criminals. Get into their minds.”

Kenny knocked back the rest of the wine in his glass. “Yes. Although, I focus mainly on lecturing now. Trying to move away from crime scenes and work on the academic professorship.”

“You seem awfully young to be a professor. Forty?”

“I followed the path early. Having known what I wanted to do since I was fourteen, I worked hard and got myself in front of the people who could make that happen.”

“Fourteen is still very young to want to get into the minds of disturbed individuals. What on earth made you want to go into that?”

Kenny inhaled a sharp breath, wishing he had more wine, but also not wanting to prolong this anymore by asking for another glass. He was about to kill the mood, anyway. “Because at fourteen, my twin sister, Jessica, was abducted, raped, and murdered.”

Heather fell back in her chair, mouth agape. “Fuck…Kenny, I’m so sorry.” She leaned across the table to place her hand over his.

“From that point on, I dedicated my life to finding out what would make a person do that and, most importantly,whythey would do that. Because ever since then, I’ve had half a heart.”

Heather said nothing. There wasn’t anything she could say. Kenny didn’t want her to. Superficial apologies and pity never helped. What helped was keeping busy.An idle mind is the devil’s workshop.

“Fuck.” Heather slipped her hand from Kenny’s, falling back in the chair. “I think we should have stuck to those bland first date interview questions.”

Kenny chuckled, ghosting his fingers over the imperfections in the wood on the table. “Like what?”

“What animal would you be, and why?”

“A fish.”

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