The Third Twin - Ken Follett [116]
She looked blankly at Steve for a moment, almost as if she were not sure what he was doing there. Then she said: “I have to take a shower.” Naked, she walked past him. He looked hungrily at her back, drinking in the details of her shoulder blades, her narrow waist, the swelling curves of her hips, and the muscles of her legs. She was so lovely it hurt.
She left the room. A moment later he heard water running.
“Jesus,” he breathed. He sat on her black couch. What did it mean? Was that some kind of test? What was she trying to say to him?
He smiled. What a wonderful body, so slim and strong and perfectly proportioned. No matter what else happened, he would never forget the way she looked.
She showered for a long time. He realized that in the drama of her accusation he had not told her his mystifying news. At last the water stopped. A minute later she returned to the room in a big fuchsia pink terrycloth robe, wet hair plastered to her head. She sat on the couch beside him and said: “Did I dream it, or did I just strip off in front of you?”
“No dream,” he said. “You dumped your clothes in the trash.”
“My God, I don’t know what came over me.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for. I’m glad you trust me so much. I can’t tell you what that means to me.”
“You must think I’m out of my mind.”
“No, but I think you’re probably shocked after what happened to you in Philadelphia.”
“Maybe that’s it. I just remember feeling I had to get rid of the clothes I was wearing when it happened.”
‘This may be the moment to open that bottle of vodka you keep in the freezer.”
She shook her head. “What I really want is some jasmine tea.”
“Let me make it.” He got up and went behind the kitchen counter. “Why are you carrying a garbage bag around?”
“I was fired today. They put all my personal stuff in that bag and locked me out of my room.”
“What?” He was incredulous. “How come?”
“There was an article in the New York Times today saying that my use of databases violates people’s privacy. But I think Berrington Jones was just using that as an excuse to get rid of me.”
He burned with indignation. He wanted to protest, to spring to her defense, to save her from this malicious persecution. “Can they dismiss you just like that?”
“No, there’s a hearing tomorrow morning in front of the discipline committee of the university senate.”
“You and I are both having an unbelievably bad week.” He was going to tell her about the DNA test when she picked up the phone.
“I need the number of Greenwood Penitentiary, it’s near Richmond, Virginia.” As Steve filled the kettle, she scribbled a number and dialed again. “May I speak to Warden Temoigne? My name is Dr. Ferrami.…Yes, I’ll hold.…Thank you.… Good evening, Warden, how are you? … I’m fine. This may sound like a silly question, but is Dennis Pinker still in jail? … You’re sure? You saw him with your own eyes? … Thank You And you take care of yourself, too. Bye.” She looked up at Steve. “Dennis is still in jail. The warden spoke to him an hour ago.”
Steve put a spoonful of jasmine tea into the pot and found two cups. “Jeannie, the cops have the result of their DNA test.”
She went very still. “And … ?”
“The DNA from Lisa’s vagina matches the DNA from my blood.”
In a bemused voice she said: “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Someone who looks like me and has my DNA raped Lisa Hoxton on Sunday. The same guy attacked you in Philadelphia today. And it wasn’t Dennis Pinker.”
Their eyes locked, and Jeannie said: “There are three of you.”
“Jesus Christ.” He felt despairing. “But this is even more unlikely. The cops will never believe it. How could something like this happen?”
“Wait,” she said excitedly. “You don’t know what I discovered this afternoon, before I ran into your double. I have the explanation.”
“Dear God, let this be true.”
She looked concerned. “Steve, you’re going to find it shocking.”
“I don’t care, I just want to understand.”
She reached into the black plastic garbage bag and retrieved a canvas briefcase. “Look at this.” She