The Third Twin - Ken Follett [49]
The phone rang.
Jeannie picked it up. “Hello.”
It was Lisa, sounding upset. “Jeannie, it was him!”
“Who? What?”
“That guy they arrested with you. I picked him out of the lineup. He’s the one that raped me. Steven Logan.”
“He’s the rapist?” Jeannie said incredulously. “Are you sure?”
‘There’s no doubt, Jeannie,” Lisa said. “Oh, my God, it was horrible seeing his face again. I didn’t say anything at first, because he looked different with no hat. Then the detective made them all put on baseball caps, and I knew for certain sure.”
“Lisa, it can’t be him,” Jeannie said.
“What do you mean?”
“His tests are all wrong. And I spent time with him, I have a feeling.”
“But I recognized him.” Lisa sounded annoyed.
“I’m amazed. I can’t understand it.”
“This spoils your theory, doesn’t it? You wanted one twin to be good and the other bad.”
“Yes. But one counterexample doesn’t disprove a theory.”
“I’m sorry if you feel your project is threatened by this.”
“That’s not the reason I’m saying it’s not him.” Jeannie sighed. “Hell, maybe it is. I don’t know anymore. Where are you now?”
“At home.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine, now that he’s locked up in jail.”
“He seems so nice.”
“They’re the worst kind, Mish told me. The ones that seem perfectly normal on the surface are the cleverest and most ruthless, and they enjoy making women suffer.”
“My God.”
“I’m going to bed, I’m exhausted. I just wanted to tell you. How was your evening?”
“So-so. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”
“I still want to go to Richmond with you.”
Jeannie had planned to take Lisa to help her interview Dennis Pinker. “Do you feel up to it?”
“Yes, I really want to go on living a normal life. I’m, not sick, I don’t need to convalesce.”
“Dennis Pinker will probably be Steve Logan’s double.”
“I know. I can handle it.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I’ll call you early.”
“Okay. Good night.”
Jeannie sat down heavily. Could Steven’s engaging nature be no more than a mask? I must be a bad judge of character if that’s so, she thought. And maybe a bad scientist too: perhaps all identical twins will turn out to be identically criminal. She sighed.
Her own criminal ancestry sat beside her. “That professor is a nice-looking guy, but he must be older than me!” he said. “You having a thing with him, or what?”
Jeannie wrinkled her nose. “The bathroom’s through there, Daddy,” she said.
13
STEVE WAS BACK IN THE INTERROGATION ROOM WITH THE yellow walls. The same two cigarette butts were still in the ashtray. The room had not changed, but he had. Three hours ago he had been a law-abiding citizen, innocent of any crime worse than driving at sixty in a fifty-five zone. Now he was a rapist, arrested and identified by the victim and accused. He was in the justice machine, on the conveyor. He was a criminal. No matter how often he reminded himself that he had done nothing wrong, he could not shake the feeling of worthlessness and ignominy.
Earlier he had seen the woman detective, Sergeant Delaware. Now the other one, the man, came in, also carrying a blue folder. He was Steve’s height but much broader and heavier, with iron gray hair cut short and a bristling mustache. He sat down and took out a pack of cigarettes. Without speaking, he tapped out a cigarette, lit it, and dropped the match in the ashtray. Then he opened the folder. Inside was yet another form. This one was headed
DISTRICT COURT OF MARYLAND
FOR (City/County)
The top half was divided into two columns headed COMPLAINANT and DEFENDANT. A little lower down it said
STATEMENT OF CHARGES
The detective began to fill out the form, still without speaking. When he had written a few words he lifted the white top sheet and checked each of four attached carbon copies: green, yellow, pink, and tan.
Reading upside down, Steve saw that the victim’s name was Lisa Margaret Hoxton. “What’s she like?” he said.
The detective looked at him. “Shut the fuck up,” he said. He drew on his cigarette