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

by Angela Marsons

  Tiff followed Britney into the farmhouse and straight into Jake.

  ‘Evening, ladies, good day?’ he asked, with a smile.

  ‘Yeah, great day, Jake,’ Britney answered quickly. ‘Can I have a quick word before…’

  ‘Maybe later, Brit,’ he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘I believe that Tiff and I have a pre-arranged meeting to continue our discussion from last night.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Whatever it is can wait, Britney,’ he said, more firmly.

  Brit got the message and offered Tiff a half-smile and held out her hand. She nodded towards the backpack.

  Tiff removed it and thanked her for taking it to their room. The phone from the boss was still nestled down the front of her trousers.

  ‘Follow me,’ Jake said, leading her up the stairs.

  After many smiles and waves, they arrived at a door marked ‘Private’.

  Tiff stepped inside and immediately felt as though the room was welcoming her into a big, warm hug. Dark furniture softened by throws and blankets, walls filled with what looked like first edition books.

  ‘Please, take a seat,’ he said, pointing to the plush sofa. She sat facing a roaring fireplace with scented candles flickering on the hearth.

  Jake sat in the single chair and rested his forearms on his knees. His shirt sleeves gathered at the elbow revealing a Rolex watch on his left wrist.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind but Brit told me a little about your home situation. She wasn’t speaking out of turn but she’s grown very fond of you in a short time.’

  Tiff shook her head. She didn’t mind. She often wondered if she was overreacting to her mother’s blatant favouritism, and she’d welcome his view on the subject.

  Tiff knew what she was here to do but the reason she’d been upset yesterday was still very real. She hadn’t contacted her mother and she hoped Ryan was nice and comfortable in her room.

  ‘You blame them, don’t you?’ Jake asked, gently. His expression was full of warmth and understanding.

  She’d never spoken to anyone about her feelings about her family. There were people with much bigger problems than hers. So what if it made her feel like shit. She’d get over it. She was a grown woman.

  ‘You’ve always blamed them for your feelings, from that very first injustice that you couldn’t justify or explain away to make yourself feel better. Do you remember what it was?’

  ‘Steven’s birthday,’ she said before she could stop herself. And then realised it was true.

  ‘Tell me about it,’ he said, sitting back.

  ‘My birthday was in June. I was nine years old. I had a pair of roller skates. I loved them. A month later it was Steven’s birthday and he got a bike, chocolates and we went to McDonald’s for tea.’

  Something inside her expected him to laugh. The words sounded ridiculous to her own ears.

  He didn’t laugh.

  ‘Was it the disparity in gift value that stayed with you?’ he asked, tipping his head so that the candlelight danced across his face.

  She thought about the question. It was what had always stayed in her mind. Her roller skates versus a shiny new bike. And yet it wasn’t that that rattled her even now, she realised.

  ‘No, I don’t think it was the gift, I think it was the occasion. From the moment he woke up the whole day was about him. Presents, balloons, cards, a rare treat for tea. It was the difference in importance, in priority.’

  ‘So, you began to wonder why you hadn’t received the same level of attention. What had you done wrong? Why weren’t you good enough?’

  She nodded and felt the tears prick at her eyes.

  He leaned over and touched her wrist, gently. ‘Please don’t be upset, Tiff, that’s the last thing I want but I do want you to understand. May I continue?’

  Tiff swallowed back the emotion and nodded.

  ‘It’s hard to look back objectively without the emotion but basically you began to feel inadequate before you were ten years old because of someone else’s actions. I bet from that point on you were looking for examples, events that proved your point, things that solidified your view that you were somehow less than your brothers, less important, less worthy?’

  She nodded.

  ‘And you found them, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered, trying to stop all the memories from flooding her brain.

  ‘And do you know why you found so much reinforcement of your beliefs?’

  She shook her head. Now he was going to tell her what she’d always told herself. He was going to rationalise her childhood by explaining that there was balance, that there were positives too, that there were times she’d received more attention than the boys and that the brain hung on to the negative more than the positive. He was going to tell her that her memories were distorted and that the love had been equal.

  ‘Tiffany, you found so many examples of favouritism because they really were there to find. Your mother obviously treated you differently to your brothers and it has stayed with and affected you your whole life. You were right in your feelings and you were justified.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, surprised.

  ‘But what adds weight to your feelings is your wish to change the facts. You want your mum to wake up and start apportioning her affection equally and that’s what holds you back. You’re still waiting for a change and it’s not going to happen. You can’t make it happen.’ He paused. ‘Because they’re your blood family you feel obliged to keep trying, to throw yourself against the wall, but it’s not working and every time it doesn’t work you suffer the humiliation and hurt all over again. The only one suffering here is you, which makes me incredibly sad, not for you, but for them.’

  All kinds of thoughts were going around in her brain.

  ‘I’m sad because I don’t think they see just how special and unique you are. We saw it straight away. You’re intelligent, energetic, enthusiastic and warm. Any family would be truly blessed to have you in their lives. It’s just a pity that your blood family doesn’t see what we see.’

  He shook his head. ‘I hope I haven’t upset you but I did want you to understand that there are people here that get it. They also know that the first step to recovery, to discovering the real you, is distance. You have to help yourself to care less about their opinion and, more importantly, their actions. Does that make sense?’

  Tiff nodded her understanding.

  ‘It’s something we can help you with here but it has to be your choice.’

  ‘I don’t… I…’

  ‘Don’t think about it now. Give yourself time to think and process what we’ve discussed. There’s no rush,’ he said, smiling. ‘Now head down to the dining room where you’ll find a nice hot meal waiting for you.’

  She thanked him and left the room. She was still in a daze when she reached the dining room, trying to examine the feelings that were whizzing around her head like fireworks. She was aware of and returned all the smiles and waves which, while pleasant, felt strange not having Britney beside her. She’d come to think of the two of them as a bit of a team.

  For the first time she entered the dining room to the hubbub of the panpipes already playing and people chattering as they ate. The room was already on the second serving.

  Oh, well, never mind. She was hungry and would probably eat anything right now. She joined the back of the line.

  ‘Hi, you’re Tiffany, aren’t you?’ asked a voice from behind the tables.

  It was the woman who had served her pork chop and mash the night before.

  ‘Yes, yes, that’s me.’

  The woman reached beneath the table and produced a plate with a cover.

  ‘From the first sitting. Jake asked for a meal to be held aside. Be careful, the plate is hot,’ she said, pushing it forward.

  ‘Thank you so much…’ Tiff said, as a warm glow spread through her. But she didn’t even know the woman’s name.

  ‘You’re welcome, love,’ she said with a
smile. ‘And just so you know, my name is Sheila.’

  Eighty-One

  ‘Cults are hard to leave because people feel loyal,’ Kane continued, once fresh drinks were before them all. ‘There are peer pressures, they believe in the group. They may be exhausted and confused already separated from their past. They now fear a world without the group. If you put all these things together it’s a powerful force. As exit counsellors we have our own processes but…’

  ‘They don’t always work,’ Kim finished.

  ‘Of course not. In your own field, Inspector, someone will manufacture a new lock and within hours a savvy criminal will have it open. Same with computer protection. The moment it’s written you’ve got some kid that can hack it. A person resisting exit counselling might say “yes, they told me you’d say that”, so you have to remember that the very idea of leaving is terrifying. After leaving people feel guilty, shameful, full of self-blame, fears and paranoia. Many feel depressed, lonely, have low confidence and no longer trust themselves to make good choices.’

  ‘And that’s why you thought Sammy Brown wasn’t ready?’

  Kane nodded. ‘She’d been there for two years. In cult years that’s half a lifetime. She wasn’t ready to address the practical issues related to daily living. They have to face psychological and emotional stirrings that can cause intense agonies, develop a new social network and attempt to repair old relationships. It can take anywhere from six months to two years to get their lives functioning again, and once they do see what went on they suffer a whole new batch of guilt for the people they left behind. They have fear of retribution from the cult and have an inability to trust. They closely watch any family and friends. An ex-cult member can take years to come to terms with the anger and resentment, even if the deprogramming is successful.’

  ‘How does deprogramming work?’

  ‘There’s no magic formula or potion. It’s about getting a member to question and examine their beliefs. Show them similarities to other groups. Read them books and articles they can identify with. Show them videos on cults. Demonstrate that they’re in a trap. Show them they didn’t originally choose to enter the trap.

  ‘We focus on the present, not what they’ve done but what they can do. We have to build rapport and trust. We have to try and access the pre-cult identity. Put them back in touch with the people they were before. We have to get them to visualise a happy future to undo phobia indoctrination. We have to offer concrete definitions of mind control and characteristics of a destructive cult. We have to be patient and persevere. Some ex-cult members describe it as having fallen deeply in love then finding out you were just being used.’

  He sat back in his chair. ‘You know some people never recover from the experience of being in a cult. They’re changed for ever and some would even rather die than try to readjust to normal life.’

  ‘So, suicide is a very real threat?’ Kim asked, thinking how Sammy’s death had almost been classified as such.

  ‘Very real,’ he said, looking at his watch. ‘And I’m pretty sure there’s nothing more I can tell you.’

  ‘How about your real name?’ she asked.

  ‘Not relevant.’

  It had been worth a try.

  ‘Well, thanks for your time,’ she said, offering her hand.

  He shook it in return. ‘You know, I really hope you find who is responsible for these murders.’

  ‘Oh, we will,’ she assured him.

  He nodded and headed for the door. The two females behind the counter watched him go.

  Kim waited for five seconds before getting to her feet. ‘Be back in a minute,’ she said to Bryant over her shoulder.

  Did he really think she was as green as she was cabbage-looking?

  As she stepped outside the door she saw him disappear around the hairdressers on the corner. There was a small car park fifty metres down.

  She stayed behind him by a good thirty metres allowing other shoppers to get between them. His height ensured he didn’t blend into the crowd. Okay, so he wouldn’t give them his name, but his car had to be registered to someone and from that information they could follow a trail. She was surprised he hadn’t worked that out.

  Suddenly he took a sharp left into a small side street that led back onto the main road.

  ‘What the…’ she said, speeding up.

  She reached the corner just in time to see the man folding himself into a cab.

  Damn it. He had given it thought after all.

  Fuck it, she thought realising she wasn’t giving this man enough credit. Everything really was on his terms.

  She seethed. She would find him. She was now more determined than ever.

  ‘Well?’ Bryant asked, as she got into the car.

  ‘He got a taxi.’

  ‘Clever guy. So, where to now?’

  Kim held up her finger as she received a text message from Tiff.

  She read it and then looked at her colleague.

  ‘Well, I wasn’t expecting that.’

  Eighty-Two

  Tiff entered the bedroom with Jake’s words still swirling around her brain. Could it be as easy as just letting go of her expectation of change? There was something exhilarating in the notion that she had the power to lessen the effect of other people’s actions on her by simply caring less.

  ‘Good chat?’ Britney asked, with a smile that by now Tiff could tell was forced.

  ‘Yeah, it was actually. Jake gave me a lot to think about.’

  ‘Yes, he can do that. It’s why we all listen to him. He knows the workings of the mind so well.’

  Tiff smiled as she saw a change of clothes piled neatly on her bed. She’d been wearing the same jeans and sweater since the day before.

  ‘Ooh, lovely. I’ll grab a quick shower and get changed.’

  ‘Great, we’ve got open chat this evening and I’d love for you to come along.’

  ‘What’s that?’ she asked.

  ‘As many people who want to come along to the great hall and open up about how they’re doing and how they’re feeling. It’s a great opportunity to meet some of the others.’

  ‘Sounds great,’ Tiff said, reaching for the clothes which she was not surprised to see were her size.

  ‘You weren’t talking to her, were you?’ Brit asked quietly.

  Tiff stiffened. She could only be talking about one person.

  ‘Who?’ she asked, turning to her friend.

  ‘That police officer.’

  Tiffany frowned. ‘You were there. She barely looked my way; never even spoke to me, bloody rude and…’

  ‘I mean afterwards, in the ladies’ toilets.’

  Tiff continued to stare at her.

  ‘She was in there too,’ Brit continued.

  So, Britney had seen them both leave the toilets. Damn it. Her only option was outright lying.

  ‘Brit, I didn’t even know she was in there but if I had what exactly would I have said?’

  Brit shrugged. ‘I dunno. Maybe bad things about Jake and the—’

  ‘Hang on, you think I’d bad-mouth a place and people that have taken me in when I needed it, fed me, clothed me and made me feel good about myself?’

  Tiff saw the tension start to drop from her face and tried to drive the point home.

  ‘If she’s after negative stuff she’s not gonna get it from me,’ Tiff said, nudging Brit in the ribs.

  Britney laughed as she nudged her back.

  ‘So, you definitely didn’t speak to her?’

  Tiff rolled her eyes.

  ‘Brit, I swear to you, I didn’t speak to anyone.’

  Britney smiled widely back at her, and Tiff swallowed the guilt she now felt for lying to her friend.

  Eighty-Three

  ‘Okay, folks, so we now know that Sheila Thorpe is alive and well and cooking up a storm at Unity Farm,’ Kim said to two thirds of her team; but by the looks of Stacey’s frown she hadn’t got the full attention of her reduced audience.

  Br
yant had dropped her at the door before heading over to Worcester. He had updated her on the developments with Peter Drake and for his own sanity she wanted him to see this thing out.

  ‘Do you mind if I go and tell Sheila’s daughter?’ Penn asked.

  Kim briefly wondered if the woman would be relieved or dismayed to learn about her mother. But she deserved to know the truth.

  ‘Yeah, and if Stacey would like to join us in the conversation…’

  ‘Sorry, boss, but I was just checking a land registry entry, and I can now confirm that Unity Farm is definitely not Jake Black’s first cult.’

  ‘What?’ Kim asked, surprised. She’d never considered the possibility.

  ‘It was something Penny Hicks said in her message. She said she’d been with Jake for twelve years, and we know that Unity Farm has only been going for ten years. Turns out he started a group when he was twenty-eight years old. It was a religious group with only about twenty members. They clubbed together to buy a small holding in Somerset. Everything was fine until an eighteen-year-old kid named Graham Deavers died under suspicious circumstances when he fell off a roof, while doing repair work. The authorities weren’t convinced but could find no proof of murder. An accidental death was recorded by the coroner. Five months later there was a second death. A man in his late twenties named Christopher Brook committed suicide. Twenty people attested to the fact he’d been depressed and had spoken of ending his own life.’

  ‘Which could be true,’ Kim said, trying to remain objective.

  Stacey nodded but looked dubious. ‘This second incident broke the group up and the property was sold. Jake Black then disappeared for just a few months until Unity Farm was born.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Stace. Good work. Pick that up again first thing,’ she said.

  This new information prompted even more questions about Jake Black. If his previous cult had been religion based why had he changed to wellness for Unity Farm? Did he truly care about anything as much as he cared about being adored?