Page 111 of Stolen Ones
‘Okay, Alison, with all due respect, that was a shit plan. You told me to go in there and appeal to the side that wanted to talk and, as you saw, that side of him has left the building.’
‘It’s not left. It’s still there. He wants to talk. He wants to tell the truth, but something is holding him back.’
Alison turned back to her computer. ‘Look at this,’ she said, clicking on the footage of the last interview. ‘He knows full well about Butler’s past. There’s not one element of surprise in his reaction, and check out his steepling fingers when you start talking about Butler and his past: there’s a confidence, a superiority. But when you start talking about the girls, his micro-expressions and leakage go off the chart.
‘Every time you mention a new name, there’s a flash of wistfulness, tenderness because the name instantly conjures the memory, so he can’t hide his first emotional reaction to it. There’s a brief softness, a kindness around his eyes at the first mention of all the girls. He briefly relives his feelings for them.’
‘He killed them.’
‘He didn’t want to.’
‘What? Are you on drugs?’
‘Sorry if you don’t like what I’m telling you, cos I love how you demand my services to disagree with me, but hey ho. I’m telling you that the man is full of conflict, but not one time have I detected any anger or irritation or annoyance in his demeanour in relation to his feelings towards any of his victims.’
Alison sighed heavily. ‘I don’t know what changed with Melody Jones. I don’t know why he killed her; I don’t know where he buried her, but I can tell you that when he killed the girls, he got no pleasure from their deaths.’
Kim crossed her arms. This was not what she wanted to hear. ‘Anything else?’
‘What, you want more insights from me that you can disagree with?’
‘It’s nothing personal. I disagree with everyone.’
‘I know, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.’
‘Give me your gut, Alison. You’ve studied the motivation and behaviour of some of the worst minds in the world. Take out the—’ Kim stopped speaking as her phone rang.
Kim groaned before she answered it. Inspector Plant at Wyley Court.
‘I know what you’re going to say. The light has gone and digging has stopped because of visibility.’
‘Digging has stopped but not because of the light. We’ve found something. Just another twelve inches or so down, and we found bones that look like a foot. A very small foot. Oh and the wall is still intact.’
‘Fuck,’ she said.
‘Thought you’d be happy about the wall,’ Plant offered in his second attempt at gallows humour. He was on site, he had seen the bones, and she could hear the emotion in his voice. He knew full well her reaction came from being right about something when you really wanted to be wrong.
Maybe a part of her was hoping that Paula Stiles had run away from the care home and was living a fantastic life somewhere.
For Lexi Walters, Kim had been able to console herself that a family was going to get closure. For Paula, it was a case of finding a care worker that still gave a shit after twenty years. In her experience, it was unlikely. Kim couldn’t even put into words the depth of sadness that evoked in her.
‘Make the calls. Get her out of there as soon as possible.’
‘Her?’ he queried, not privy to their investigation.
‘We suspect so.’
Kim ended the call and growled. Inspector Plant would call Keats, who would call Doctor A, and the process for removal would commence. Both of them would treat her with dignity and respect.
‘No need to explain,’ Alison said sombrely.
‘We have to nail him,’ Kim said. ‘This man has caused immeasurable pain to so many families. That’s why I want your honesty. Take out all the finite details of micro-expression, leakage and squelching. When you watch him, what does your instinct tell you about the man?’
‘Okay, I think he’s highly intelligent, devious, with a healthy dose of ego thrown in. I do believe that he thinks he has you beaten and that you will only get the information through his confession. I absolutely believe that he kidnapped every one of these girls and has stashed Grace somewhere safe.’
‘So he’s an evil bastard?’
‘Well, yes and no. I don’t think it’s as clear-cut as that.’
