‘So, is someone born with NPD or does it develop?’
‘Interesting question.’ Dr Wells coughs into her fist lightly, clears her throat. ‘Excuse me. Well, that’s hotly debated actually. The general consensus is that it develops at a very young age, usually between the ages of two and seven and is a result of the primary caregiver either giving the child too much adoration, or not enough. It’s seen in some people who have suffered abuse as small children. It relates to emotional development.’
‘But if it’s learned behaviour, surely you can unlearn it? Not everyone who’s abused goes on to become an abuser?’
‘It’s incredibly complicated yet simple at the same time,’ she says paradoxically. ‘I couldn’t possibly explain it in detail in half an hour. But needless to say, people high on the spectrum usually share very similar traits, such as pathological lying, poor impulse control, being self-entitled, to name just a few. NPDs need to feel a sense of superiority over others and they support this self-aggrandisement by reducing people to little more than puppets jumping through hoops to please them. Because they lack character they need to keep bolstering their ego to feel anywhere near human. They also lack the ability to feel emotion on a deep level, which in turn doesn’t allow them to connect with people very well on a soul level. Paradoxically, underneath they feel incredibly inadequate and insecure. It was a classic case with Laurie and Robert Mills.’
‘Classic? In what way?’
‘Robert Mills was a manipulator, a sexual predator operating solely from the ego. He was about power and control. He was also a misogynist. But he needed women, much more than they needed him in fact. He could only feel something if he was in full control of any situation and the people in it. He collected women like some people collect stamps and was a bully, an abuser, who played a very typical game of seducing and grooming women using the love-bombing technique, whereby he mirrored back to them everything they had ever wanted in a person. Only it’s all a con job, like I mentioned before. He possessed little to none of the qualities he displayed sincerely. Once he’d hooked someone in, he then began to devalue them, tearing them off the pedestal he had first put them on and leaving them wondering just what the hell happened. I suspect his primary caregiver, his mother most likely, overindulged him as a child; she probably placed him on a pedestal, worshipped him. I didn’t ever get the feeling he’d been abused.’
I recall the conversation Davis and I had with Leanna George. How she had claimed Robert had gone from being the man of her dreams to a monster pretty much overnight.
‘It’s a vicious cycle of love bomb, devalue, discard, rinse and repeat. I’ve seen it go on in relationships that I’ve counselled for years, literally decades. Once the victim is sufficiently hooked into the cycle, then the dance can go on ad infinitum. But the narcissist is always, always Lord of the Dance. The game will go on for eternity until one person stops playing the game. Or dies.’
‘Like Robert Mills.’ We both say it simultaneously and smile, a little awkwardly.
I shake my head, trying to make sense of it all and I realise now how lucky I was that things were so uncomplicated with me and Rach.
‘So, tell me more about Laurie. Could what you’ve told me, about her years of suffering in this toxic “dance” as you call it, have sent her over the edge and made her capable of murder? Could she just have snapped and taken a knife to him?’
Until one of you dies.
Dr Wells looks thoughtful, as though she’s deliberately choosing her words very carefully because she recognises their importance.
‘It is absolutely possible that one of the individuals in such a relationship could end up killing the other when one is suffering from such a disorder. We are all of us simply human beings at the end of the day and psychological abuse is perhaps, in my opinion, the most damaging and the most insidious. The scars from physical abuse eventually heal, but emotional scars are much harder to conceal.’
Don’t I know it?
‘Narcissists don’t like the word “no”, Detective. And they can be quite dangerous, particularly if they experience a narcissistic injury which threatens their core self. Causing them an injury, such as unmasking them publicly, calling them out on their behaviour, catching them in a lie, challenging them in any way whatsoever, can send them into a rage which could potentially lead to violent behaviour. It’s possible that Laurie Mills ran to the end of the rope. Robert made her feel as if she was going mad. He attempted, and I would say on occasions succeeded, in making her believe that she was the unstable one, the unhinged one, the one who needed help. He projected his disorder onto her. Her self-esteem was through the floor when I first started working with her, almost non-existent in fact. He had brought her so low over the years that there was very little left of her. She came to me as a broken shell. Laurie still believed that she loved her husband, despite his undeniable cruelty and infidelities. In reality however, she had become trauma-bonded to him, addicted to the diabolical cycle. This is the ultimate name of the game of a narc however, to keep someone trapped by their own emotions, and tied to them. My job was to begin to unravel it all, to steer her out of the fog and back to herself.
‘Are you a spiritual person, Detective?’
The question catches me off guard. ‘As opposed to what?’
She smiles, doesn’t push it. ‘Most cult leaders are narcissists. They brainwash people. It’s done by intermittent reinforcement. Let’s say you kick a dog then give it a treat. The dog learns that to get the treat it has to first withstand the kick. Gradually the treats decrease while the kicks increase, but by then the dog has been conditioned to associate being kicked with receiving a treat so it will accept the punishment in the vain hope that one day it will get the treat again, just like it did in the beginning, do you follow? Anyway, tell me a little about the murders, Detective, some detail—’
‘Well, Robert Mills’ throat was savagely cut open. He was stabbed multiple times. It was frenzied, violent and brutal. But there was a different MO for Claire Wright. She was suffocated with a plastic bag and little Matilda, well’ – I take a deep breath – ‘she was alive but left lying next to her mother’s body.’
‘I see.’ She looks away and pauses for a few seconds, taking my words in. ‘Laurie talked about being free of Robert. Deep down, she knew she needed to get away from the relationship. She was well aware that it was toxic, that he was abusing her. She was almost the classic battered wife – emotionally battered I mean. It was going to be a slow and long process, extricating herself from his Svengali-like clutches.’
Dr Wells meets my eyes. ‘Laurie was – is, from what I deduced anyway, from the work I’ve done with her – naturally a gentle, kind soul. I certainly never had her down as someone suffering from overtly vengeful thoughts. The woman was grieving the loss of two almost full-term, unborn babies after being betrayed by her husband, a man she believed she could trust. It was a horrific tragedy, not something one easily navigates emotionally, as you can imagine, I’m sure.’
‘Yes. I can,’ I say, but decide against mentioning Rachel. She may start charging me and, frankly, I couldn’t afford her. ‘Do you know if Laurie ever suffered from blackouts? Did she ever mention anything like that? Memory loss?’
Dr Wells sighs. ‘Yes. Yes, I’m afraid she did.’ She glances at me nervously. ‘This is very common for people afflicted with PTSD though. Plus, she was alcohol-dependent, not a full-blown alcoholic but dependent on it, like medication. It’s a dangerous combination, together with the PTSD, prescription drugs and alcohol—’
‘So you think it’s possible that Laurie Mills may have killed her husband, and Claire Wright, and not remembered doing it? Blanked it out.’
She takes a sip of water from the plastic cup. ‘Possible, but unlikely, in my professional opinion. I believe we are all capable of murder, Detective, if pushed far enough. I could accept that perhaps Laurie snapped and killed Robert in the heat of the moment. But the murder of the mistress and
leaving the baby to potentially die, this is much harder to entertain. Laurie Mills was sad, not bad, or indeed mad. She was actually very focused on making a recovery, on trying to get better. She knew the pain of losing a child – two in fact. Claire’s murder was calculated, yes? Pre-planned, thought through? Not a spur of the moment slaying?’
I nod in the affirmative.
Dr Wells shakes her head. ‘Rage,’ she says. ‘Whoever committed these murders is full of rage, Detective. Filled with bitter hatred and thoughts of revenge. Laurie never came across as a vengeful or indeed particularly angry individual. It wasn’t revenge she wanted – it was peace of mind. It’s difficult to believe she’s a cold-blooded killer, a psychopath. Even during a blackout, the violence would be much more spontaneous, much more random – in my professional opinion, of course. What about forensics?’
I can see from Dr Wells’ expression that not only does she not believe Laurie Mills is capable of such an unspeakable act, but that she’s really hoping there’s evidence to support her theory.
‘Her fingerprints were on the knife used to kill Robert. They found her DNA in Claire Wright’s apartment. There’s CCTV footage that would suggest, though not conclusively, that Laurie went to Claire’s apartment on the night she was murdered. There’s a motive… and a sighting from a neighbour who claims to have seen Laurie getting into her car.’
‘I see.’ She sighs heavily. ‘So it doesn’t look good for Laurie?’
It’s a rhetorical question that neither of us needs the answer to.
‘Laurie Mills is a victim of years of psychological abuse. If, and I say if, Detective, because I am still unconvinced, forensics or otherwise, that she committed these murders, then it’s an all-round tragedy.’
‘Thanks for your help, Dr Wells,’ I say, moving to take my leave. ‘If this goes to trial, you may be called upon as a witness, just so you know.’
She nods with a resigned half-smile. ‘Of course.’
Forty-Seven
‘No. No. NO! You’ve got this all wrong! This is a mistake. I did not kill Claire or try to harm her baby. I was asleep. I went to bed last night and woke up there this morning. I didn’t go anywhere; I didn’t see anyone… I just slept… This is a mistake. You’ve made a mistake.’
Laurie Mills’ hands cover her thin face, her fingers touching the hollows of her sunken cheeks. She’s shaking her head in disbelief. It feels like she’s entered the twilight zone. Like this is all some kind of sick joke or diabolical nightmare. First Robert. Now Claire. They’re saying she’s killed them both, that she drove to Claire’s apartment and suffocated her with a plastic bag and then left the baby next to her.
The male detective starts placing photographs on the table in front of her. His aggression is simmering just beneath the surface. She senses it.
‘Look at the photographs, Laurie. It’s Claire Wright, your dead husband’s mistress. You killed your husband, Laurie. And then you went and killed his lover, didn’t you?’
It doesn’t sound like a question. It’s an accusation. A statement. She’s shaking her head.
‘You drove to Claire’s apartment. You spoke to her on the intercom system and she let you in. Did she know it was you, Laurie? What happened when you went upstairs?’
Laurie is still shaking her head, hugging her knees tightly. She looks to the female detective for some solidarity. Surely she doesn’t believe that she could’ve done this?
‘Look at the photographs, Laurie.’
She can’t bring herself to. She can see them from her peripheral vision. Claire’s body in the foetal position… the baby next to her. She can’t look. She doesn’t want to.
‘We have you on CCTV,’ the male detective continues, ‘and there’s a witness who saw you leaving Monica Lewis’s house around 10.30 p.m. last night. Can you explain that, Laurie? Talk us through it, yeah.’
Laurie rubs her gritty eyes. She’s groggy from the Valium Monica gave her last night. Groggy and confused as to what’s happening, or if it really is happening at all. She knows she didn’t get in her car last night: she’s sure of it. She wouldn’t have been capable of driving, certainly not alone. It scares her. She wouldn’t have been capable of killing Claire either and she would never, ever harm a baby. The baby is innocent. She couldn’t do such a thing. Never. There’s been a mistake, a dreadful, terrible, awful mistake, hasn’t there?
‘It’s not possible. No. No.’ She’s still shaking her head, like it’s about to come free of her neck. ‘Monica will tell you. I was asleep. She gave me a Valium to help send me off. Since Robert—’
‘Since Robert what?’ The male detective leans forward towards her. It feels menacing. She looks at the female detective again, her eyes darting between the two of them simultaneously.
The man sits back into his chair. ‘Come on, Laurie. Talk to us. Tell us what happened. You’ll feel better once you’ve told the truth…’
Her head is still shaking, compulsively now. All that’s going through it is the word ‘no’ on repeat, over and over in a loop.
‘I want to speak to Detective Riley,’ she says. She wants to tell him what she’s remembered about the night of Robert’s death. About the third person, the smell of perfume, the sensation of being carried up the stairs… If only her memory would give her an image, a face… She had to keep trying, to keep searching inside her mind – it would come to her eventually, wouldn’t it?
‘I’m afraid Detective Riley is otherwise engaged right now,’ Delaney says, dashing her hopes.
‘Listen, Laurie,’ the woman says; her voice is softer, almost soothing, comparatively. ‘We know about the accident. We know what happened, with the car crash, with Milo and Nancy. We know you almost died, Laurie. And we know why it happened. We know how distraught you were when you discovered the affair. It was a terrible thing, Laurie.’ She says it with such sincerity that Laurie automatically begins to sob. ‘No one could blame you for hating Robert, for hating what he’d done. It’s understandable that you felt angry, aggrieved… finding out about the baby, about Matilda. Those children, those babies you lost… it must have been dreadful.’
No, no, no…
‘You’ve suffered, Laurie. Really suffered. We understand that. I understand that – as a woman, I understand. He betrayed you. They both did.’
No.
‘You’ve suffered blackouts before, haven’t you? Where you can’t remember. Since the accident, you’ve experienced blackouts where you can’t account for moments in time?’ the man questions her again. She can’t remember his name, though she’s sure he’s told her.
Laurie’s head feels like it’s going to explode. This really can’t be happening. Only it is happening. Perhaps the policewoman is right. She blacked out and killed Robert and now she’s done the same with Claire. Only she knows, she knows she didn’t. She doesn’t even know where Claire lives. She looks up at the woman opposite her: young and pretty, fresh-faced, just like she’d been once upon a time. All she can think to say is, ‘No.’
Forty-Eight
‘She’s not talking, boss. Says she was at Monica Lewis’s house, asleep. That she’d taken a Valium. Never got into her car. Woke this morning, none the wiser.’
‘It’s as I thought.’
‘Well, Delaney’s been going at her for over two hours now and she’s not budging. Denies even knowing where Claire Wright’s apartment is. What did the shrink say?’
‘Is Delaney still with her?’ I ask.
‘She’s back in the cells, Gov. She could hardly string a sentence together by the time we’d finished with her.’
I nod. I can imagine Delaney enjoyed every second.
‘So, you’ve been with her, Davis. What do you think?’ I can’t help wondering if she’s pregnant with that shmuck Delaney’s child or not. She hasn’t mentioned anything since our candid conversation a few days ago.
‘Did the shrink shed any light on the blackouts?’
I sigh. ‘Well, she was aware that La
urie’s experienced them before.’
‘And?’
‘And she doesn’t think it’s likely that she’d become violent, though she can’t be sure. In her professional opinion, she doesn’t think Laurie is suffering from any kind of personality disorder, or that she’s psychopathic, or that she’s a murderer.’
Davis looks me in the eyes. ‘The hair, boss,’ she says. ‘Her DNA is there in the apartment. How else would it have got there?’
‘That’s what I’m trying to work out, Davis,’ I reply. ‘I suppose it could have been transferred from Robert Mills at some point. Maybe he had some of her hair on his shirt and went over there and it transferred?’ I remember the smell of the perfume in Claire’s flat. It was the same perfume I smelt on Laurie Mills – a strong, sweet, almost-chocolatey smell, very distinctive.
‘I think she’s suffering from some kind of disorder where she blacks out and commits these awful murders but has no recollection of it,’ Davis surmises.
I make to speak but Delaney enters the room and throws a packet of smokes down onto the desk. ‘She’s not coughing,’ he says. He looks pretty pissed off.
‘You will be if you carry on smoking those things.’
He smiles but I think I see a flash of irritation in it.
The Couple on Cedar Close Page 23