Chapter 131

Doctor Lang folded her arms and examined Poe carefully, her eyes radiated an intense, uncompromising intelligence. She didn't look surprised at what he had said; resigned, maybe. Eventually she sighed and said, ‘I was afraid something like this might happen.'

‘Something like what?' Poe said.

‘You're a fighter, Washington. We've already established that. But we haven't yet discussed the other part of you. The part of you that wants to hunt, that needs to hunt. It's what makes you the detective your friends and colleagues say you are. But it also makes you vulnerable during periods of inactivity.' She paused a couple of ticks then added, ‘Periods of inactivity like, how did you put it, going out to sea on the "smallest, leakiest tug in the Royal Navy fleet"? Rooting around in fish guts instead of hunting the men and women who would hunt us.'

‘You think hunting serial killers is my seven per cent solution?' Poe said, referencing Sherlock Holmes's famous battle against cocaine addiction.

‘Do you not?'

Poe shrugged. ‘I've never thought about it that way,' he admitted.

‘And without it, you're lost, Washington. You say it was me who stopped Bethany killing you, I say you're in the middle of a psychotic episode.'

Poe didn't respond.

‘Do you know what a non-bizarre delusion is, Washington?'

‘I don't.'

‘It's the misinterpretation of an experience or perception that, while untrue, isn't out of the realms of possibility. I suspect there's an imbalance of neurotransmitters in your brain, almost certainly caused by your concussion. It's nothing to worry about, but it will need medical intervention. I'll speak to your GP and see if we can't get you on the right neuroleptics.'

‘I'm not ill, Doctor Lang,' Poe said.

‘You are ill, Washington. Your subconscious has invented a scenario where the case isn't closed yet. It means that, in your mind at least, you aren't "benched", as you called it earlier; you're still on an active case. You're still chasing leads, you're still talking to suspects, you're still hunting.'

‘I'm not ill,' Poe repeated.

‘What seems most plausible to you, Washington? Someone you met for the first time today is secretly involved in a case that you say yourself ended months ago, or the combination of your head injury, the trauma you have been through and the grief of losing the job you loved has caused you to suffer delusions? You're an intelligent man, Washington. Tell me what you think is most likely.'

‘This isn't the first time we've met, Doctor Lang.'

‘You have me at a disadvantage then,' she said gently, ‘because I don't remember you at all. This is all part of your delusion, Washington. You must see that.'

Poe said nothing.

‘OK, I'll play along for now. Tell me where we met for the first time.'

Poe gestured around the doctor's office they were sitting in. ‘I first saw Doctor Clara Lang in here,' he said.

‘In here?' she replied woodenly.

‘Yes,' Poe said. ‘This isn't the first time we've done this.'