“Jesus.”
“This boy is one of thirteen children they detained, ranging from six months to eight years. He was caring for all of them. Feeding them, dressing them, creating makeshift diapers out of old bedsheets, doing the best he could to keep them clean considering there was no running water and the trailer the children were kept in had a floor that was sagging straight into the dirt.”
“And nobody knows who he belongs to?”
Allen shrugged. “Nobody is claiming him. We haven’t sent DNA swabs yet. Even if he does belong to one of those tweakers, they’re not going to see the light of day for years. The others are young, easy to place. But this one… I saw him and I knew.”
“Knew what?” Thomas asked, riveted by the boy on the other side of the window.
“They had him evaluated by a psychiatrist. He’s intelligent, well-spoken, fastidious, very particular about his things. Shows a surprising level of education given his living conditions and even speaks fluent Spanish, though that likely has to do with the migrant workers on the farm. The psychiatrist gave him a glowing report other than a diagnosis of obsessive compulsive disorder.”
“So, why am I here, Allen?”
“Because he fooled a board certified psychiatrist, Thomas. When he’s not interacting with another person, he’s observing. He watches them, mirrors them, does what they do. He’s teaching himself to fake emotions he doesn’t have. And he’s learning very quickly.”
“You’re saying…”
“ He has no sense of fear, no anxiety, no guilt. He steals from the other kids, hoards food, money, clothes. Admits guilt when caught but feels morally righteous about his crimes. He’s not violent. At least, that we’ve witnessed. But if he’s placed in the wrong hands, imagine what he’ll pick up. The behaviors he would mirror. Make no mistake. That boy is a psychopath.”
The gears in Thomas’s head were already turning. Allen was right. The boy was perfect for his purposes. A gifted mimic who could blend seamlessly into polite society, while also lacking the remorse or guilt others might have at committing violent acts, no matter how deserved they might be. Nobody knew how to train this child better than Thomas. It would almost be a crime not to take him.
“And nobody knows about him?” Thomas asked sharply.
“Nobody but those of us who have worked with him. It would be easy enough to fabricate a transfer to another facility on paper. Nobody would question his disappearance.”
Was he truly doing this? This was the point of no return. If he took this child, he had to put his money where his mouth was, literally. He’d have to forge documents, bribe officials, and raise a child under rigorous moral guidelines. He was barely more than a child himself.
Still, he knew this was the right thing. It had to be. If he could prove that psychopaths weren’t a plague on society but a gift, an evolutionary tool that could be harnessed to cull the monsters of their society, he’d change the world.
Dr. Molly Shepherd had proven it could be done once. She’d raised a sociopath, had turned him into a productive member of society. But she did it as a mother, not as a scientist. No peer review board would approve a study with children as lab rats, but science required proof via replication. And that started with study subjects like the boy in there.
“Does he have a name?” Thomas asked.
Allen nodded. “He says his name is Christian.”
Thomas nodded. “We’ll have to change that. We’ll have to make him disappear and reappear as somebody else entirely. New name, new birthday, new birth certificate.”
Allen nodded. “We’ve been putting these things into place for months now, Thomas. This one is your first. I know it.”
Thomas swallowed audibly, feeling like there was dust in his throat. “May I speak to him?”
“Of course.”
Allen led him around to the room’s entrance and beckoned the woman within. “That’s all, Nancy. Thanks for humoring me.”
“No problem, Allen. What a sweet boy. This was probably more fun than the dinner I’m being forced to sit through tonight.”
She was gone with a wave and a nod.
Once more, the boy sat quietly, picking at something beneath his fingernails.
Thomas approached him slowly. “Mind if I sit with you?”
The boy looked up at him with solemn blue eyes and shook his head. Thomas took a seat.
“I’m Thomas.”
“I’m Christian.”
