Page 58 of Killing Me Softly

Aaron reached into his bag and handed her the sheet he’d been working on earlier. She slipped on a pair of glasses and read through, fingers steepled over the edge of the desk as she scanned the page.

“‘The psychology of guilt and innocence’.” She read aloud. “’How do children of notorious criminals navigate feelings of inherited guilt and innocence, and what psychological strategiesenable them to construct their own identities?’” She peered over her glasses. “A fascinating topic, Mr Jones. What inspired you to choose it?”

Aaron had hoped to be having this discussion with Kenny. It’s why he’d chosen the bloody topic. So he and Kenny could explore it together. He wouldn’t have to hide behind lies. He could be open. Call it therapy. Addressing the wounds he carried. But he couldn’t do that in front of this woman. Nor anyone else.

“I’m interested in the ones people forget,” Aaron said, his voice steady but tight. “The families left behind. Everyone focuses on the criminals. Turns them into celebrities, makes documentaries, writes books, creates sensationalised Netflix series. They become pinups. The victims, too, are glorified, put on pedestals. But there’s this whole other group of people. The ones caught in the crossfire. The families. They’re victims, too, but no one talks about them.”

Dr Pryce leaned back in her chair, resting her chin on her steepled fingers. She wasn’t just listening. She was analysing. Dissecting every word as if cataloguing it for later use.

“An interesting viewpoint,” she said at last. “Do you have any relevant experience in this field?”

“In what respect?”

“Where will you source your research?” Her tone was casual, almost conversational, but there was an edge underneath it. “It might be difficult to find willing participants to interview. Many families of notorious criminals prefer to remain anonymous. Understandably so.”

“You mean I can’t just Google where they all are?”

Dr Pryce’s lips quirked, though the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sure you’re being facetious, Mr Jones. But no, it’s not that simple. Still, I think your project has great potential. An opportunity to delve into a group of individuals society oftenoverlooks. It could lead to some fascinating insights into how we support those affected by inherited trauma.” She tilted her head. “Perhaps even stop the cycle.”

“The cycle?”

“That children of abusers often go on to abuse. That the children of criminals, particularly those who’ve committed heinous acts, frequently struggle with a fractured sense of morality. They’ve been taught, either directly or indirectly, that the rules of society don’t apply to them.”

“That’s not always true.”

“Of course not.” Pryce softened just enough to sound agreeable. “But statistically, there’s a pattern. Generational cycles of violence, chaos, and trauma perpetuate themselves. My work at Ravenholm showed me that firsthand.”

Aaron’s stomach dropped at the mention of Ravenholm, but he forced himself to keep his expression neutral. “What do you mean?”

Dr Pryce’s smile widened, though it felt more like a challenge than a reassurance. “I spent years working with some of the most troubled children. Children who have committed atrocities themselves. Many of them were the offspring of criminals, addicts, or worse. Killers.Serialkillers. Some of them were bright, resourceful, even charming. But there was a darkness in them, one that shouldn’t be ignored. It was as though they’d inherited the shadows of their parents’ choices.”

Sheknew. She had to know. This wasn’t a coincidence. Her being here. Knowing Ravenholm. The veiled references. It wasn’t just him being paranoid. She was playing a game. Poking him. Daring him to react.

Did he react? Did he challenge her? Ask her?

Fuck. He needed Kenny.

“That must’ve been… challenging work,” Aaron said carefully, though his voice wavered slightly.

“It was. But also enlightening. You learn to see the signs. The way certain behaviours emerge, no matter the environment. How some moral and ethical viewpoints just don’t exist in some people. As if they think it’s a game to step over boundaries. To ruin other people’s lives. And you have to ask yourself whether some people are simply… wired differently. Irredeemably so.”

“And what’s your conclusion?”

“That not everyone can or should be saved, Mr Jones. And sometimes, trying to save them does more harm than good.”

Aaron had no comeback to that. None at all. If someone were to ask him right then, how did that make him feel? He’d sayfurious. Because she’d just implied, whether she knew it or not, thathewas a liability.

“Anyway!” Pryce’s tone turned brisk again, as though the conversation hadn’t just taken a razor-sharp turn. “Your dissertation proposal is well-written, and I’m happy to approve it. Do you have any additional questions?”

Aaron shook his head, gathered his things, and stood. As he reached the door, her voice stopped him.

“Oh, one last thing, Mr Jones?”

He turned, gripping the strap of his bag as if it was the only thing keeping him steady.

“You’ll be reporting to me from now on.”

“Why? Where’s Dr Lyons?”

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