Читать книгу One Little Lie - Sam Carrington, Sam Carrington - Страница 28

‘I’m Connie. I don’t know if you remember me – I saw you when you first arrived at Baymead two years ago …’

Kyle Mann’s eyes were cloudy, red-rimmed. He looked as though he’d just woken up after a heavy drinking session. Or, as was more likely in prison, he’d taken drugs. The mass of blond curls he’d had when Connie first met him were gone: a shaved scalp now replaced them, giving his features a harder edge. He looked more like the criminal he was than the younger butter-wouldn’t-melt appearance he’d entered the prison system with.

Connie tilted her head in the direction of his gaze, seeking his attention. He didn’t give any sign he’d heard her, or that he was even aware of her presence. He was sitting opposite her, a table separating them, with Connie closest to the door. And the alarm. He appeared relaxed: his legs loosely positioned, knees splayed – very close to Connie’s – and hands resting on the table.

Jen had said that he hadn’t spoken a word to any of the staff since his imprisonment. She wondered if he kept this vow of silence with other inmates. She’d get Verity to take her to the wing later so she could speak to his personal officer to find out who he associated with, and if they’d had any evidence of him communicating in any way.

‘I am a forensic psychologist. I’m here today to carry out an assessment that will be used together with a number of other reports and will be compiled for the parole board in relation to your progression through the system. Do you understand, Kyle?’

Nothing.

Jen was right; it was unlikely he would start talking now, not after all this time. Connie needn’t have worried about a conflict of interest, any ethical dilemma in working with Alice. She’d have to carry on with this meeting regardless though, get what she needed, and then call for Verity to come back and escort her to the psychology office.

‘I’m an independent psychologist, which means I don’t work in the prison, or for the prison service. My role is to work with you, talk to you about your offence, your risk factors, and give recommendations for rehabilitation programmes. I’ll do a written report, which will be provided to the parole board. Okay?’

Connie thought she saw a flicker in Kyle’s eyes. A quick glance in her direction. But still she was faced with the wall of silence. She moved her chair along slightly, lining it up so that she was in his direct line of vision. He lowered his head, purposely avoiding catching her eye. So, he did know she was there. He was well aware of why she was there, she felt sure.

‘Right, well, I’m going to read through some of these notes I have here,’ Connie said as she placed his file on the table and opened it. ‘And you jump in whenever you want. Tell me if there’s anything you want to clarify, or add. Anything you don’t agree with.’

Connie started to read out the description of his offence. Every now and then she paused, looking up to observe his body language, to see if his expression had altered. He remained closed. He’d had a few years to perfect this routine. He was good at it. It was highly improbable Connie would crack him without something new, something to give him cause to wobble – a reason to speak.

During her last visit to the prison, when she’d studied the files of the men she’d be assessing, Connie had reread the police transcript of their interview with Kyle prior to him being charged with murder. He’d been incredibly vague, often giving one-word responses, but had spoken. However, as soon as they charged him, further interviews had been ‘no comment’ ones or he’d simply remained quiet – supposedly at the advice of his solicitor. She’d also read the lengthy transcript of the interview with Kyle’s parents. With Alice, and her husband, Edward. How they’d been so certain their son would not have committed this crime without serious coercion. His mother in particular had been totally convinced he’d been targeted, manipulated and groomed by someone. She’d said he was an easy target because of his behavioural difficulties. She’d said he suffered with mild Asperger’s and had some learning difficulties growing up. None of this could be substantiated in court later – there was simply no hard evidence to back up her claims. No assessments, no input from services, school, or any doctors able to confirm anything Alice Mann had asserted.

As Connie began reading from the notes she’d taken from the transcript, Kyle’s eyes closed, and she noticed his knuckles turning white as he clenched his hands into fists.

Just talking about what his mum had said to the police had touched a nerve.

‘Your mum really believes in you. You know that, don’t you?’

There was a scraping sound as Kyle drew in his legs, tucking them under the chair.

‘You know she doesn’t believe you would be capable of such a crime. Of murder.’ Connie was on a roll. Her passion for forensic psychology was reignited in that moment; she wanted to do a good job, like she always felt she had prior to the Hargreaves incident. Looking at Kyle now, she was suddenly eager to get something from him. A reaction. Even if she couldn’t get him to speak. She picked up a piece of paper containing her scribbled notes and, holding it so she could see it and Kyle’s face easily above the paper, began reading:

‘Kyle wouldn’t purposely hurt anyone. He’s always been a kind, considerate boy, but he was used. People took advantage of him, of his vulnerability. He couldn’t have done this on his own. It’s impossible.’ Connie read the words loudly, leaning in towards Kyle’s face. She was pushing it, she knew – but something made her feel safe; she didn’t sense he was a risk to her.

Kyle’s breathing rate increased; Connie could hear the flow of air as it pushed through his nostrils and was quickly drawn back in again.

This was the most reaction she’d ever known Kyle Mann give. His mum was the key. The way she could get him to speak, she was convinced of that now.

Without much thought of the consequences, Connie played her trump card.

‘I know your mum feels incredible guilt about you being here. She believes she’s let you down, that she could’ve done something to prevent it.’

His eyes were wide now. Focussed on Connie for the first time.

She continued. ‘I know this, Kyle, because she told me. The other day in fact, when she came to see me for my help.’

Kyle lurched forwards. Connie’s pulse banged in her neck.

‘You’re lying,’ he shouted, before slamming his back against his chair, the plastic bouncing with the force.

Connie’s mouth slackened. She’d done it. Made him utter actual words.

She stalled in her shock, but quickly recovered; she had to keep it going now she’d made a breakthrough.

‘I wouldn’t lie to you, Kyle. I think you should know what your mother is going through.’

A pang of guilt struck her. She shouldn’t have told him, she’d really compromised herself now. In her eagerness to get Kyle to speak, she’d broken the code of conduct.

Dammit.

What if Kyle’s stony silence didn’t stretch as far as his mum? He could call Alice, tell her what Connie had said. She’d be in all kinds of trouble. Again. But she’d done what no one else had been able to: she’d made Kyle Mann talk. She may only have this one chance. She had to continue – and deal with the consequences later.

‘She’s not the only one who thinks you didn’t act alone, is she? The police also suspected you were with someone else that day. That another person was as responsible, if not more so than you, for the murder of Sean Taylor.’

‘They’re wrong.’ His voice was a quiet rasp, as though not speaking for all this time had dried his vocal cords and stringing a whole sentence together was challenging.

‘Are they, Kyle? Even your mum?’

‘Especially my mum. I’m not the son she thinks I am.’

Connie sat back, turning over in her mind what Alice had revealed so far about Kyle during her sessions. The aggressive, almost bullying nature she’d described as part of the behaviour she’d endured from Kyle at home, prior to his offence, was not the same picture Alice had painted at the time of his arrest. Didn’t sound like the Kyle she’d spoken of in the transcript Connie had read. Had Alice lied in the interview with the police in an attempt to protect him?

‘I would really like to hear an account of what happened in the lead-up to Sean Taylor’s death. How did the day begin for you, Kyle?’

He snorted and shook his head. ‘I’ve done all this.’

‘Well, actually you haven’t. If your records are correct, you gave “no comment” interviews. Where did you spend the day, Kyle?’ Connie laid her notes down and rested her elbows on the table.

Kyle shrugged his shoulders. Had he verbally communicated all he was willing to? An unexpected sense of disappointment swept through her.

‘Who else did you see that day? Did you meet up with someone?’

He averted his eyes from Connie’s. She was losing him.

‘Who was it? Someone you used to game with online?’ Connie immediately regretted her question. She was using things arising from Alice’s session as a way of forcing Kyle to speak. It was so unethical, she felt her face grow hot with the knowledge of what she was doing.

Kyle’s own face flushed, his eyes growing wider, darker; his pupils dilating.

Connie swallowed hard as he pushed violently up from his chair.

He left the room without saying another word.

Someone else had been involved with Sean’s murder, she felt sure now. The one that got away. And for some reason, Kyle was protecting him.