Child's Play (D.I. Kim Stone #11)(42)

‘Too strong, as usual.’

He returned from the kitchen and poured extra milk into his mug and at her colleague’s agreement into his drink too.

‘Wimps,’ she muttered.

‘So, how may I help?’ Ted asked, folding his hands in his lap.

‘You know anyone by the name of Barry Nixon?’ she asked, figuring that the world of child counselling wasn’t endless and that the two men might have encountered each other.

He thought for a second, his brows furrowed. ‘The name is familiar.’

Kim got the impression he was working back through his memories. Although semi-retired now he was still called upon for the occasional tough nut to crack.

‘Yes, yes, I think I recall a fellow by that name. Worked for the department about twenty years ago. Not for very long if I remember correctly.’

Kim offered Bryant a triumphant smile. This man was like an oracle.

‘Hmm… case chaser he was, I remember him now. Tall, slim, fair hair, owlish features.’

Yep, that was their guy. ‘Case chaser?’ she asked.

‘Yes, there were a few of them but he was particularly ambitious. There were certain cases that came in that caused some hands to go in the air quicker than others. He chased the juiciest, nastiest, most high-profile cases that came through the department. We’re talking the most damaged, broken, angry kids the care system had to offer.’

Kids like you, she heard in the tone behind the words.

‘But why particular cases?’ Kim asked. ‘Surely helping any child that was suffering was enough.’

‘Thought he could mend anyone. But he wanted the high-profile cases for two reasons. He wanted to write papers, journals, books. He wanted to build his CV and gain a reputation as a field leader before going into private practice. There’s a lot of money to be made in the private sector but a lot of competition too.’

‘Go on,’ Kim urged, fascinated yet horrified that treating vulnerable children had been such a calculated ambition to the man.

‘A lot of counselling work involves listening, or not listening in your case,’ he added, with a smirk. ‘Different types of trauma require different types of approach: child abuse, neglect, PTSD, abandonment, all require a different toolkit but they all require one common denominator. Patience. You go at the speed of the child. That is—’

‘She’s right, Ted,’ Bryant said. ‘I do have a bit of a man crush on you.’

Both she and Ted laughed out loud.

‘Sorry, I just couldn’t keep it in any longer,’ Bryant apologised.

‘Thank you,’ he said, continuing. ‘It was a trait he didn’t possess. He got into trouble a few times for rushing cases to conclusion too soon.’

‘Is that why he left Children’s Services?’ she asked.

Ted shook his head. ‘He left because he was asked to.’

‘Why?’ Kim asked, leaning forward.

‘Tammy Hopkins.’

‘Who?’

Ted took a sip of his drink. ‘That’s not her real name. We all called her Tammy Hopkins so we knew who we were talking about and didn’t slip-up and reveal her true identity. Tammy was the eleven-year-old daughter of the singer-songwriting couple from Glasgow.’

‘I remember something; about fifteen years ago?’ Bryant asked.

Ted nodded.

‘Murder suicide of parents. Mother stabbed father and then cut her own wrists. Tammy was ten years old and saw it all. Terrified, she hid in the outside shed for two days until a neighbour stopped by with a wrongly delivered parcel and found the whole bloody mess.’

He shuddered. ‘Well, Tammy was moved down here to live with her aunt and you can guess who was first in line to take that case. Anyway, it became clear after a while that Tammy had been abused by her father making her a rape victim and…’

‘Giving her lifelong anonymity.’

‘Meaning he would never be able to write about or mention the case outside of the service again. He couldn’t capitalise on her misery and so cut her treatment short claiming he’d helped her as much as he could.’

‘And?’

‘She cut her own wrists two weeks later. She died.’

Kim felt the rage build inside her for the pain of that little girl.

‘How the hell was he not prosecuted?’

Ted shrugged. ‘One of the most subjective areas of counselling is when to let a patient go. There’s no way of knowing for sure if you’ve done enough. To be safe you’d have to treat them all for life,’ he said, looking at her pointedly.

She laughed and felt the tension ease out of her.

‘I have no idea what happened to him after that.’

‘Have you heard of some kind of event called Brainboxes?’

His frown returned. ‘Don’t tell me he’s been involved in that? If so I’m sure there are plenty of poor damaged souls there to keep him busy. Not that I know a lot about it. Some kind of mental gladiators’ thing but for kids. I wouldn’t like to say more as I’ve never been.’

She sipped the last of her drink and stood. Bryant reluctantly followed her lead.

‘Can I come back without her and just listen to you?’ Bryant asked, offering his hand.

‘Of course,’ Ted replied, smiling and patting him on the arm. ‘I’m surprised you don’t need extensive counselling yourself given the hours you spend with…’