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‘How about you. Have you finally retired – or are you still poking your nose into other people’s business?’

He smiled. ‘Ooh, nicely done, my dear. Misdirection and an attempt at humour all in one sentence. You have come a long way, but I’ll let it pass seeing as you came to see me and your reasons will become clear eventually.’ He took a sip of coffee. ‘I suppose I’m semi-retired. I see two or three patients at any one time and sometimes more if needed.’

Kim guessed that the ‘if needed’ occurred when social services asked him. Ted had always worked for the state, primarily on child abuse and neglect cases. Kim could only imagine the tales of horror that he’d heard, the disturbing pictures he’d had to endure.

‘How do you do it, Ted?’

He thought for a moment. ‘Because I like to think I’ve made a difference. Because then I can sleep at night.’

It certainly wasn’t for the financial rewards, Kim thought. He lived in the two rooms on the upper floor. He really was one of the good guys.

He chuckled. ‘You know I remember once, I had this little girl who was so angry, so defensive, that for three whole sessions she refused to say a word. I think she was six at the time. Nothing worked. I tried lollipops, toys, a walk into the garden, but she simply refused to speak.’

Kim stiffened. This was a place she did not wish to go.

‘The next time I saw her she was nine and in between foster homes, unable to settle or adapt. When I offered her a Wagon Wheel, the first words I ever heard her utter were, “What’s up, Doc, run out of lollipops?” And then I saw her again aged fifteen when she categorically refused to discuss what had happened in that last foster home even though …’

‘Ted, I need your help,’ she interrupted. She trusted this man’s abilities without question, but she could not allow him anywhere near those fenced-off areas. He was too good at what he did.

He caught her gaze and held it. ‘I only wish you would let me help. Your life could be …’

‘Doc, please.’

He took a pipe from the side table and held a match to the tobacco. The smell of sulphur filled the room. ‘You can ask me anything, Kim.’

Kim felt herself relax. He had never pushed her too hard and for that she was grateful.

‘I’ve been working on a murder case. You may have seen it on the news or read about it.’

‘The rape victim?’

Kim nodded. ‘This may seem completely ridiculous, but the female was under the care of a psychiatrist; a very accomplished and intelligent woman. During our first meeting something pricked at the hairs on my neck but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I think the psychiatrist was somehow involved.’

Kim saw the doubtful look on Ted’s face.

‘I know, I know it seems doubtful. But after that initial meeting, I met her at the cemetery. It all seemed accidental but was like she’d set it up. We’ve met a couple of times since and after each meeting I felt that she knew everything about me, that she’d taken the time to research me.’

‘You may have simply overreacted to someone who might be insightful and intuitive. Do you not wonder if you have an aversion to people like her? You’ve been scrutinized all your life by people wishing to analyse you.’

Kim shrugged. ‘Her sister thinks Alex is a sociopath, and there’s a part of me that thinks she’s right, but at this point I have no idea what I’m dealing with.’

Ted let out a long whistle. ‘And if she is, how exactly can I help you?’

‘I need to get in the mind of a sociopath so I can try and play her game.’

‘That would be a foolhardy expedition for anyone, but for you it is positively suicidal. You’re not equipped to deal with this woman, Kim, and I cannot condone your plan.’

Kim’s eyes blazed at his lack of faith. ‘So, you’re refusing to help me?’

Ted thought for a moment. ‘If you’re right that she knows of your past, then her only motivation can be to use that information against you somehow. And this would be dangerous enough if it were a past you had dealt with. So, to answer your question, the advice I’d give to anyone else would be to run and don’t stop. To you I’d say, run faster.’

She stared him down. ‘I ask again, are you refusing to help me?’

He held her gaze. ‘Yes, my dear, I am.’

Kim grabbed her jacket and stormed out of the door.

FIFTY-THREE

Kim counted the fish as they circled the pond looking for food.

‘Moby died,’ Ted said, offering her a fresh coffee. ‘Do you remember?’

Kim took the drink and nodded, recalling another time she’d stormed out and headed for the garden.

‘You asked me what their names were and I told you they didn’t have names. Oh, you weren’t happy with that and insisted that everything should have a name.’ He chuckled. ‘If I recall it was Moby, Willy and …’

‘Jaws.’

‘Of course. And then the collar doves came and you wanted to name every …’

‘Ted, I’m gonna do it anyway, with or without your help.’

‘I know.’

She turned to face him. ‘So, will you help me … please?’

‘Let’s sit down.’

He guided her to the companion set beneath a parasol that was never lowered, keeping the wooden chairs dry, whatever the weather.

‘Let’s play two for one.’

Jeez, this man forgot nothing. One of his techniques was to let the patient ask so many questions before he could ask any. The number was the ratio of questions.

‘Three for one,’ she stated.

During their brief time together she had learned more about him than he ever had about her, or so she’d thought at the time.

She knew the love of his life had lost her fight with cancer at the premature age of thirty-seven. She knew that he was a keen gardener and took the odd cutting from overpriced garden centres. She knew he hid his collection of Terry Pratchett novels in his bedroom so as not to unsettle his patients, and that he stayed up until all hours watching late-night poker. She also knew he was the closest she’d ever come to sharing her past with another human being in her entire life.

He nodded his acceptance. ‘One pass.’

‘Three passes.’ There were certain things she would not discuss anywhere.

‘I accept the rules of the game. Let us commence.’

‘Okay, first question, what exactly is a sociopath?’

‘It’s a person without a conscience. It is simply missing from their genetic make-up. They are unable to feel concern or love for any other living thing and it is surprisingly present, in about four per cent of the population.

‘These people are often charismatic, sexy, entertaining and have a superficial charm that allows them to seduce people.’

Kim recalled how initially Bryant had been bowled over by the charisma Alex had radiated and she herself had to admit that she’d become intrigued by the woman.

‘It’s all a front. Sociopaths have no interest in bonding emotionally despite their ability to draw people in.’

‘Do they understand the difference between right and wrong?’

Ted nodded. ‘Intellectually, of course, but they have no inner guide advising them to adhere to it. Conscience is not a behaviour. It is something we feel. You have police officers that report to you?’

‘Of course.’

‘And after a day working longer hours than normal, what do you do?’

‘Tell them they should have worked quicker.’

Ted smiled. ‘Amusing, my dear, but answer the question.’

‘Buy them supper and tell them to come in later the next day.’

‘Why would you do that? It’s their job.’

‘Just because.’

‘Do you do it to become popular with the team?’

‘Oh yeah, ’cos that keeps me up at night.’