Ken Follett - the Third Twin (1996)

She was unmoved. “The information you’ve given me about your address and so on will be checked by a pretrial investigator who will report to the court,” she said calmly. “You go for bail review tomorrow and the judge will make the bail decision.”

“I’m being kept in a cell with him!” Steve said, pointing at the sleeping Porky.

“The cells are not part of my responsibility—”

“The guy is a murderer! The only reason he hasn’t killed me yet is that he can’t stay awake! Now I’m formally complaining to you, as a court official, that I’m being mentally tortured and my life is in danger.”

“When the cells are full you have to share—”

“The cells aren’t full, look out your door and you can see. Most of them are empty. They put me in with him so he would beat me up. And if he does I’m taking action against you, personally, Commissioner Williams, for letting it happen.”

She softened a little. “I’ll look into it. Now I’m handing you some papers.” She gave him the charge summary, the probable cause statement, and several other papers. “Please sign each one and take a copy.”

Frustrated and downhearted, Steve took the ballpoint she offered and signed the papers. As he was doing so, the turnkey prodded Porky and woke him up. Steve handed the papers back to the commissioner. She put them in a folder.

Then she turned to Porky. “State your name.”

Steve buried his head in his hands.

18

JEANNIE STARED AT THE DOOR OF THE INTERVIEW ROOM AS IT slowly opened.

The man who walked in was Steven Logan’s double.

Beside her, she heard Lisa gasp.

Dennis Pinker looked so like Steven that Jeannie would never be able to tell them apart.

The system worked, she thought triumphantly. She was vindicated. Even though the parents vehemently denied that either of these two young men could possibly have a twin, they were as alike as her two hands.

The curly fair hair was cut the same way: short, with a part. Dennis rolled the sleeves of his prison fatigues the same neat way Steven did the cuffs of his blue linen shirt. Dennis closed the door behind him with his heel, the way Steven had when he had walked into Jeannie’s office in Nut House. He gave her an engaging, boyish smile just like Steven’s as he sat. She could hardly believe this was not Steven.

She looked at Lisa. She was staring bug-eyed at Dennis, her face pale with fear. “It’s him,” she breathed.

Dennis looked at Jeannie and said: “You’re going to give me your panties.”

Jeannie was chilled by his cool certainty, but she was also intellectually excited. Steven would never say a thing like that. Here it was, the same genetic material transformed into two completely different individuals—one a charming college boy, the other a psychopath. But was the difference merely superficial?

Robinson, the guard, said mildly: “Now behave yourself and be nice, Pinker, or you’ll be in bad trouble.”

Dennis gave that boyish grin again, but his words were scary. “Robinson won’t even know it’s happened, but you’ll do it,” he said to Jeannie. “You’ll walk out of here with the breeze blowing on your bare ass.”

Jeannie made herself calm. This was empty bragging. She was smart and tough: Dennis would not have found it easy to attack her even if she had been alone. Having a tall prison guard standing next to her with a nightstick and a gun, she was perfectly safe.

“Are you okay?” she murmured to Lisa.

Lisa was pale, but her mouth was set in a determined line, and she said grimly: “I’m fine.”

Like his parents, Dennis had filled out several forms in advance. Now Lisa began on the more complex questionnaires, which could not be completed simply by ticking boxes. As they worked, Jeannie reviewed the results and compared Dennis with Steven. The similarities were astonishing: psychological profile, interests and hobbies, tastes, physical skills—all were the same. Dennis even had the same astonishingly high IQ as Steven.

What a waste, she thought. This young man could become a scientist, a surgeon, an engineer, a software designer. Instead he’s in here, vegetating.

The big difference between Dennis and Steven was in their socialization. Steven was a mature man with above average social skills—comfortable meeting strangers, prepared to accept legitimate authority, at ease with his friends, happy to be part of a team. Dennis had the interpersonal skills of a three-year-old. He grabbed anything he wanted, he had trouble sharing, he was frightened of strangers, and if he could not get his way he lost his temper and became violent.

Jeannie could remember being three years old. It was her earliest memory. She saw herself leaning over the cot in which her new baby sister lay sleeping. Patty had been wearing a pretty pink sleepsuit with pale blue flowers embroidered on the collar. Jeannie could still feel the hatred that had possessed her as she stared at the tiny face. Patty had stolen her mommy and daddy. Jeannie wanted with all her being to kill this intruder who had taken so much of the love and attention previously reserved for Jeannie alone. Aunt Rosa had said: “You love your little sister, don’t you?” and Jeannie had replied: “I hate her, I wish she would die.” Aunt Rosa had slapped her, and Jeannie had felt doubly mistreated.

Jeannie had grown up, and so had Steven, but Dennis never had. Why was Steven different from Dennis? Had he been saved by his upbringing? Or did he just seem different? Were his social skills no more than a mask for the psychopath beneath?

As she watched and listened, Jeannie realized there was another difference. She was afraid of Dennis. She could not put her finger on the exact cause, but there was menace in the air all around him. She had the sense he would do anything that came into his head, regardless of the consequences. Steven had not given her that feeling for one moment.

Jeannie photographed Dennis and took close-ups of both ears. In identical twins the ears were normally highly similar, especially the attachment of the earlobes.

When they were almost done, Lisa took a blood sample from Dennis, something she had been trained to do. Jeannie could hardly wait to see the DNA comparison. She was certain Steven and Dennis had the same genes. That would prove beyond doubt that they were identical twins.

Lisa routinely sealed the vial and signed the seal, then she went to put it in the cooler in the trunk of the car, leaving Jeannie to finish the interview on her own.

As Jeannie completed the last set of questions, she wished she could get Steven and Dennis in the laboratory together for a week. But that was not going to be possible for many of her twin pairs. In studying criminals, she would constantly face the problem that some of her subjects were in jail. The more sophisticated tests, involving laboratory machinery, would not be done on Dennis until he got out of jail, if ever. She just had to live with that. She would have plenty of other data to work with.

She finished the last questionnaire. “Thank you for your patience, Mr. Pinker,” she said.

“You didn’t give me your panties yet,” he said coolly.

Robinson said: “Now, Pinker, you been good all afternoon, don’t spoil it.”

Dennis threw the guard a look of sheer contempt. Then he said to Jeannie: “Robinson’s scared of rats, did you know that, lady psychologist?”

Suddenly Jeannie felt anxious. There was something going on that she did not understand. She began hurriedly to tidy up her papers.

Robinson looked embarrassed. “I hate rats, it’s true, but I ain’t scared of them.”

“Not even of that big gray one in the corner?” Dennis said, pointing.

Robinson whirled around. There was no rat in the corner, but when Robinson’s back was turned Dennis reached into his pocket and whipped out a tightly wrapped package. He moved so quickly that Jeannie did not guess what he was doing until it was too late. He unfolded a blue spotted handkerchief to reveal a fat gray rat with a long pink tail. Jeannie shuddered. She was not squeamish, but there was something profoundly creepy about seeing the rat cupped lovingly in the hands that had strangled a woman.