Chapter 134

‘I take it you know what dissociative identity disorder is?' Poe said.

‘It's a formally recognised psychiatric diagnosis,' Doctor Lang said mechanically. ‘The patient must show at least two identities, which routinely take control of the individual's behaviour. Almost without exception, patients have had significant attachment-based trauma, usually occurring in their child . . .'

She didn't finish.

‘Yes, Doctor Lang,' Poe said. ‘I'm told most DID has its genesis in childhood, and although everyone has a unique experience, it often manifests as competing and conflicting identities.'

She shook her head. Poe wasn't sure if she was denying what he'd said, or just clearing her mind. ‘This doesn't make sense,' she said.

‘Doesn't it?' Poe replied. ‘Because it makes perfect sense to me. Your parents hated you, then they sacrificed you. Your sister betrayed you and your brother tried to stone you to death. Your biological father slit your throat. I'd say taking a break from being Bethany was an entirely rational choice, wouldn't you?'

‘But DID isn't how it's portrayed in the movies,' she protested. ‘It's never the case that one personality is evil while the other is kind and gentle. The characteristics of the separate personalities already have to exist.'

‘No one is suggesting Bethany is evil, Doctor Lang.'

‘But she murdered people. She tortured people.'

‘Bethany's a survivor. She's fierce and protective and she loves you very much. In times of great stress or danger, dissociation is triggered. Doctor Clara Lang disappears and Bethany Bowman the survivor takes control. We think up until recently you were, as you've said, living a peaceful life in Germany. You were practising as a trauma therapist and you had put Bethany's experiences behind you. You were happy. But something happened. Something happened and it was on the news. You must have seen it in Germany and, for reasons you probably didn't understand, it made you anxious. Scared even. And when you're scared or anxious your dissociation is triggered. And Bethany doesn't feel scared, Bethany acts. She does what she has to do to keep Clara safe. We've spoken to the people you believed to be your parents and they told us that you simply disappeared one day. The German police have been able to track your movements though. They know the trains you took and they know the shop where you legally purchased your stun gun. They know the ferry you took at Rotterdam. We were able to track you from Hull to Cumbria. When Superintendent Nightingale's police officers turned up at Eve's house, they didn't find Bethany in the basement, they found Doctor Clara Lang. The danger had passed; there was no one left to punish. You had dissociated back.'

She eyed him suspiciously but offered no commentary.

‘I had thought there were two people arguing about what to do with me in Eve's basement, but I was wrong; there was just the one. One person, two identities. And for a while your two identities had argued about what to do with me. Bethany thought killing me was the best way to protect you, but Doctor Clara Lang is too good a person to allow that to happen. Eventually she wrested back control from Bethany, which is why it was Doctor Lang the police officers found when they arrived.'

‘And I'm sure you believe—'

‘And where we are now,' Poe continued, waving his arms around, ‘this is so Doctor Lang can feel safe. Not just this office, the whole corridor. Because when you don't feel safe, well, that's when bad things happen.'

‘Bad things?' she asked, her voice hoarse.

‘Four months ago, Doctor Clara Lang was eating her lunch. She was, as she always did, keeping herself to herself. Not bothering anyone. A woman called Jeanie didn't like that. She took your pudding.'

‘What happened?'

‘Bethany took Jeanie's eyes. She grabbed her by the hair and jammed her thumbs into her eye sockets. Pushed them all the way up to the knuckle. A minute later Doctor Lang was back. I've seen the CCTV footage; she seemed confused by all the commotion. She had no idea what had just happened. You've been on multi-professional continuous observation ever since – that's when you are kept within eyesight of at least two staff members at all times, and one of them must be within arm's length – and you're no longer allowed to mix with other patients.'

There was a long delay before she responded.

‘There must be another explanation,' she said. ‘I accept I must not be well, but if I was the one the police found, how do you know Bethany hadn't disappeared somewhere? How can you be sure I'm Bethany? Even if you've matched my fingerprints to the clasp knife Eve framed Bethany with, I could have known the Bowmans. Who's to say I hadn't touched the knife at some point?'

‘You remember me saying Tilly had put a photograph of fourteen-year-old Bethany through her age progression program?'

She nodded.

‘And when Israel Cobb, your father, saw this likeness, he immediately came clean about the mercy chair? Tried to convince us you had died in it?'

She nodded again.

‘May I?' Poe said, pointing to the file on the table.

‘Be my guest.'

He started flipping through the documents. What he was looking for was at the back.

‘I thought you hadn't seen what was inside?' she asked.

‘Actually, I said I didn't need to see what was inside, not that I hadn't. This is the sixth time I've sat down with the most dangerous patient in this hospital, and I know what's in the file because I wrote most of it.' Poe found what he was looking for. He unfastened the plastic treasury clips and detached it. He slid it across the table. ‘Does this look like anyone you know, Doctor Lang?'

She picked up the age-progressed image of Bethany Bowman and studied it. A flush started in the nape of her neck and travelled up to her face.

‘This isn't proof,' she said. ‘These programs are open to interpretation.'

‘They are,' he nodded. ‘Tilly's, not so much, but I take your point.' He reached into his pocket and removed a rolled-up piece of paper. He held it in the air so the people observing the session through the covert CCTV cameras could see. ‘I haven't told you about this,' he said loudly. ‘But I want to use it.'

‘What is it?' a voice said through an equally covert speaker.

‘A mirror.'

‘A mirror, absolutely not! Move away from the patient please, Sergeant Poe.'

Poe didn't budge. ‘It's safe,' he called out.

A pause, then, ‘How?'

‘It's just a reflective sheet. A flexible one with an adhesive back. I've fixed it to some A4 paper I took from the work printer.' Poe didn't wait for permission. He unrolled his makeshift mirror and passed it to Doctor Lang. ‘You want proof,' he said. ‘Here's your proof.'

‘I don't understand,' she said. ‘I know what I look like.'

‘Do you?'

‘Of course I do.'

‘Have a look then.'

She did. ‘I agree, there is a likeness to the image Tilly produced,' she said eventually. ‘But this isn't proof. If we walked down the high street we'd see half-a-dozen people who look like this.'

‘Possibly,' Poe said. ‘But I don't want you to look at your face.'

‘You don't?'

‘No. I want you to look at your neck.'

Confused, she angled the mirror down.

And saw the scar that ran from ear to ear.