Killing Mind: An addictive and nail-biting crime thriller (Detective Kim Stone Crime Thriller Book 12)

by Angela Marsons

  She watched as Tiff appeared and headed to the vending machine. Ten seconds later the police officer exited the toilets and left through the other door.

  They’d been talking in there. Britney knew it.

  She had no choice but to tell Jake.

  And he was not going to like it one little bit.

  Seventy-Six

  ‘Feel better now you’ve seen her?’ Bryant asked, as they got in the car.

  Kim had known that Britney wasn’t going to reveal anything about Eric Leland or his time at the Farm. She’d used it only as a way to get the phone to Tiff.

  And actually, yes, she did feel better knowing the girl now had a phone and could be contacted. More importantly Tiffany could call her if she needed to.

  She took out her phone and called Stacey.

  ‘You got anything on Kane Devlin yet?’

  For their second meeting, she wanted to be better prepared.

  ‘Boss, there is absolutely nothing. No social media profiles, no mentions, no news reports. Absolutely bugger all.’

  ‘Stace, this is not smelling so good. How is he completely off your radar?’

  ‘I don’t get it, boss, even searching for Bryant brings up a few results.’

  ‘Thanks, Stace,’ her colleague called out having heard her.

  ‘I’m really starting to think we’re not being given the right name.’

  ‘Okay, Stace, leave it with me,’ she said, ending the call.

  Immediately, the phone rang again.

  ‘Myles, I was just going to call you.’

  ‘Kane has agreed to meet again. Same place at four o’clock. Same conditions.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, we’ll see but I want to know something else. How did you make contact with Kane in the first place?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I thought I told you. It was Kane that contacted me.’

  Seventy-Seven

  ‘You okay, Brit?’ Tiff asked for the third time. She’d been quiet since the boss had left. Had it unnerved her being asked about Eric Leland?

  ‘I’m, fine,’ Brit said, not looking at her. ‘Just feel a bit sick. Must be something I ate.’

  Tiff doubted it. They’d both eaten the same thing from the prepared sandwich box; a ham sandwich, a packet of crisps and a nutrition bar.

  ‘You’re not letting that copper bother you, are you?’

  Britney shook her head. ‘I just don’t like being reminded of the folks who have left. Makes me sad.’

  Tiff could understand it. Her own family drove her mad but there wasn’t one of them that she didn’t want to see again. Even Ryan.

  Tiff looked around. Nothing made Brit smile more than a big group of students who might be receptive to her pitch.

  ‘Hey, Brit, look at that group of…’

  ‘Nah, not right now, Tiff. I’m not in the mood. I think, right now, I just wanna go home.’

  Seventy-Eight

  ‘Hey, Keats, shall I save these for the next one?’ Penn asked, holding up his protective suit for the second time in as many days.

  ‘Yes, you do appear to have moved in,’ Keats answered. ‘Although I’m not sure your presence here today was warranted.’

  Penn had been thinking the same throughout the post-mortem of the victim retrieved from the lake the previous day.

  The procedure had been completely different to the examination of Tyler Short. There had been much more of Tyler to examine.

  Today there had been no removal or weighing of organs, no sawing of bones to access the inner workings of the human body. There had been no stomach contents to analyse. Instead, Keats had laboured silently and diligently to work around the tissue-paper-skin to find clues underneath. He had been advised from the outset that given the condition of the body many of his findings would be approximate.

  That hadn’t stopped the pathologist examining every inch of what he had available to make determinations.

  ‘So, there you have it,’ Keats said, consulting his clipboard. ‘We have a male victim aged between twenty-five and fifty who has been submerged anywhere from three months to three years. He was below average height at five feet four, with an old fracture to his right femur. There are no other obvious fractures, broken bones or serious injuries and in the absence of any soft tissue, no obvious cause of death.’ He paused and looked over his notes once more. He frowned and Penn took a step closer. Had he missed something?

  Keats shook his head. ‘No. That’s definitely it.’

  ‘So, this death could have been accidental?’ Penn confirmed.

  Keats nodded. ‘Or he could have been stabbed forty times, but if the knife didn’t hit one bone I wouldn’t know it. And when your boss makes that face she does when she’s dissatisfied with the results please tell her that’s all she’s going to get.’

  ‘Oh yeah, I’ll be sure to pass that along,’ he replied, drily.

  ‘Joking aside, Penn. There is nothing more I can tell you about this poor fellow.’

  Penn nodded and reached for his jacket. He understood. Sometimes the crime scene of the body yielded a plethora of clues and leads, but what amassed to little more than a bag of bones had very little left to say.

  ‘Well, thanks for the…’

  ‘Ah, Penn, just the man,’ Mitch said, stepping into the morgue. ‘The divers did one last sweep of the area. They found this.’

  Mitch held out a plastic evidence bag.

  Penn took it and turned it around. It was a burgundy velvet jewellery gift box.

  ‘Not sure if it means anything.’

  Penn was reminded of something his boss often said when it came to things uncovered at a crime scene.

  Everything meant something.

  Seventy-Nine

  ‘Want me to stay in the car again?’ Bryant asked, pulling up outside the Brierley Hill café.

  ‘No, you’re coming in,’ she said, getting out of the car.

  This time it was her rules and if Kane Devlin didn’t like it he could walk right back out again.

  ‘Looks like he beat you to it,’ Bryant said, as they approached the door.

  Kane sat in the far corner. Only one other table was occupied by a woman with a pushchair.

  Kim noted there were two cups already on the table.

  ‘I got you a latte,’ he said, coolly, glancing at Bryant. ‘I didn’t realise we were going to have company.’

  ‘That’s fine, I’m not thirsty,’ Bryant said, taking a seat.

  Kim sat before the drink and took a sip. ‘Thank you for agreeing to meet again. Could we start by finding out your real name?’

  As before he was unruffled.

  ‘No,’ he said, simply.

  Kim felt the frustration travelling along her nerve endings.

  ‘You do realise we’re police officers?’

  ‘And you do realise that I know my rights and that I am presently assisting you with your enquiries with full co-operation which, of course, can change any minute I choose.’

  Oh, how Kim would have loved to be having this conversation over a square metal table with a tape recorder whirring in the background. Without any shred of evidence to tie him to any murders the option to arrest him was not in her near future.

  It had been worth a try and there was more than one way to skin a cat. She hadn’t expected him to tell her but she did want him to know they’d been looking.

  ‘So, what can you tell me about Eric Leland?’

  ‘That he was the most indoctrinated individual I’ve ever come across,’ he answered, without hesitation. Was there no question or statement she could make that would incite an ounce of surprise in this man?

  ‘You were asked to snatch him by his mother?’

  ‘That’s who we worked for, yes.’

  ‘Does it pay well?’ Kim asked. Both families he’d helped were reasonably well off.

  ‘None of your business.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  She was beginning to feel that poor people caught up in a cult could just s
tay there and rot.

  ‘Back to Eric. How long did you keep him?’

  ‘Almost a month.’

  ‘I thought Samantha was your longest?’

  ‘She was.’

  ‘But you lied. Eric took longer.’

  ‘Your question was what was the longest it had taken to crack someone. We never cracked Eric, so I didn’t lie.’

  Kim swallowed her irritation at his semantics. ‘So, one of your clients is dead and the other is in a psychiatric facility. Way to go on your success rate.’

  ‘Yeah, cos that’s why we do it.’

  ‘Why do you?’ Kim asked, pushing him as hard as she could.

  ‘For the money,’ he said, raising his eyebrows. It was a lie and he was just echoing her earlier comment.

  ‘What made Eric such a challenge?’

  He sat back and folded his arms. ‘Have you bothered to research anything about cults since we last spoke?’

  ‘Well, no, Kane, I’ve been a bit busy.’

  For a second she thought she saw a hint of amusement in his eyes.

  ‘Then I’ll take a moment to explain a few things to you. People are more vulnerable to social influence when they are made to think, sense and feel differently than usual. The human affinity for close-knit groups is an innate trait. We don’t even realise how much we want to belong to something that is bigger than ourselves, which is a simple trait to exploit. A new member is poised between reward for closeness and punishment for alienation. Each minor episode of reward and punishment, on moving closer to the group or further away, is a learning experience.’

  ‘Like training a dog?’ Kim asked.

  ‘You’re learning, Inspector. You see there are common mechanisms of group influence. Firstly, they have a shared belief system which comes from the leader of the group. They sustain a high level of social cohesiveness, and they impute a charismatic leader with divine knowledge or leadership.’

  ‘Eric thinks of Jake as a god,’ she stated.

  ‘Which is a view we couldn’t shake him from, regardless of what we told him. Jake Black could murder a whole classroom full of kids and Eric would think they deserved it.’

  ‘Eric doesn’t seem to like anyone except Jake. Even his own mother is the enemy,’ she said, recalling the last words Eric said to her.

  ‘Group members are intensely concerned about each other’s well-being; shared beliefs bind members together. When one joins a group like this they give up the opportunity for independent decision-making. New members are always accompanied by someone. It’s their special person without even realising it, a close bond forms between them.’

  Kim thought of Tiffany and Britney. She was sure Tiff had the sense to see what was going on.

  ‘These groups promote distress and then offer relief. The world is going to end, but not if you join with us. The world is a shit and dangerous place, but we’ll take care of you. Most newbies are recruited by invitation to workshops, to creative classes. Many young people are looking for something. Mind control involves little or no overt physical abuse. The individual is deceived and manipulated. There’s a circle; behaviour, thoughts and emotion. If you can change one the others will follow.’

  ‘I don’t get it,’ Kim said.

  ‘Okay, imagine controlling behaviour through environment: food, sleep, jobs, schedule. Having to ask permission for everything. You’re eating and working with the same people. You’re given a buddy. There are punishments: cold showers, fasting, being forced to stay up all night.

  ‘Leaders can’t command someone’s inner thoughts, but they know if they command behaviour, hearts and minds will follow. Same with thoughts. They train members to block out information that is not critical to the group. They practice thought stopping of negative emotions. Chanting and meditating all play their part. When thoughts are controlled feelings and behaviours are controlled too, but by far the cruellest and the hardest to unlock is emotional control.

  ‘A leader has the ability to manipulate the range of a person’s feelings. Members are taught to fear outside enemies: fear punishment. They’re kept off balance, praised then punished. Some can be made to have a panic reaction to the thought of leaving. There is an elitist mentality. There is strict obedience and people are manipulated through fear and guilt.’

  ‘What about people who decide to leave?’

  Kane shook his head vigorously.

  ‘Actively, and I mean actively, discouraged. Anyone who leaves shows that the system is broken. How can they be unhappy and how was that not fed back to the relevant people so that it could be addressed?’

  ‘Is that why no one will talk about them?’ she asked.

  ‘Once a member is gone they are dead to the whole group. No one is allowed to dwell on it or examine their reasons. It may lead to others having doubts about the whole movement. Their rooms will be cleared and any evidence of their time will be removed. No reminders of failure. Never forget that a cult only has two objectives: recruit and make money. That’s it.’

  ‘But how do people not see this?’ Kim asked, frustrated.

  ‘For a start they don’t really want to. You really want me to tell you how unhealthy the pizza is when it tastes so good?’ he asked, referring to their earlier conversation. ‘Groups engage new members by creating an atmosphere of unconditional acceptance. They then build a wall between them and us. The group’s behavioural norms structure all areas of members’ lives: work, sexuality, socialisation, et cetera.’

  Kim thought about the ‘no relationship’ rule at the Farm.

  ‘It’s all designed to keep control. Outsiders are shunned and all activities are carried out with other members. You see, membership is characterised by levels of sanctity so that a member is continually striving to achieve a higher level of acceptance by conforming all the more with the group’s expectations. All information into the group is managed, boundary control is exercised and suspicion towards all non-members is exaggerated.’

  ‘Does all of this come from one man?’ Bryant asked.

  ‘The personality of the leader is important as cult structure is authoritarian. Charisma is less important than skills of persuasion and ability to manipulate. Most cult leaders are male and self-appointed. They claim to have a special mission or special knowledge. All cults make the claim their members are chosen, select or special.

  ‘Eventually, the group expects members to devote increasing time, energy and money to the cause. They dictate what members wear and eat, when and where they work, sleep and bathe as well as what they should believe or think. They promote black and white thinking. All or nothing. Isolation and food are the cult’s most common mechanisms of control and enforced dependency.’

  ‘Rice and beans?’ Kim asked.

  ‘The most basic rations are reserved for underperformers. It’s a clear message that hits at our basic need to survive.’

  ‘That’s what we found in both Sammy’s and Tyler’s stomachs.’

  He didn’t look surprised.

  ‘They were both free of Unity Farm, so were they punishing themselves?’ Kim asked as the thought occurred to her. No one had forced that food into their stomachs.

  ‘Very likely. Although Sammy was on the road to recovery she still carried the guilt for not going back.’

  ‘Both Sammy and Tyler were at low points in their lives. Were they actively targeted for that reason?’ Kim asked.

  ‘Research indicates that approximately two thirds of joiners come from normal functioning families. Only five to six per cent had major psychological difficulties. Please understand that cults offer instant, simplistic solutions to life’s problems. Young adults can feel overwhelmed with too many decisions to make. They’re fertile but normally not wealthy. People not in relationships are more susceptible to persuasion. They target foreign students alone with flags on their backpacks; seek out the elderly with pensions and money. Widowed middle-age women have clear titles to houses, cars, et cetera.’

  Kim immediately t
hought of Sheila Thorpe.

  ‘There are thousands of different tactics used to tap into the psychology of the individual but they all fall into one of six categories.’

  ‘Which are?’

  ‘As humans, we like to be consistent. If we’ve made a commitment then break it, we feel guilty. If someone gives us something we try to repay it in kind, so once you accept food it should be repaid. We try to find out what other people think is correct. We want social proof so we imitate what we see. We have a deep-seated sense of duty to authority figures.’

  ‘Some of us do,’ Bryant chirped in.

  ‘So, members accept the leader as authority. We obey people we like so as the object of love bombing you feel like you should do as you’re told. And finally, scarcity. If we come to want something we can be made to fear that if we wait it’ll be gone, so without the group you will lose your stress-free life.’

  She thought of Tiff and the fact she’d been with these people for over twenty-four hours.

  ‘But, well-balanced, sensible people are immune to all the smoke and mirrors, right?’ feeling a sickness grow in her stomach.

  Kane sighed heavily.

  ‘If that’s what you think, after all that I’ve said, you haven’t heard a word that came out of my mouth.’

  Eighty

  Tiff was guessing that a taxi was not a normal occurrence for Britney, who seemed eager to get back to the Farm. She pushed away the anxiety in her stomach that it was somehow linked to her or the boss’s visit and told herself that Britney just felt unwell.

  She told the taxi to stop at the external gate like the previous day, but this time there was no excited chatter or pausing at the top of the hill to watch the lights come on. Shame, Tiff thought, she would have liked to see that again, but Britney didn’t seem in the right frame of mind for her to ask.

  And, a part of her was relieved to see Britney’s bad mood. After the consistent smiling and happy chatter, it was good to know she had another emotional level. She just hoped it didn’t last for too long. She was hoping to meet more of the family tonight and maybe find Sophie Brown.