Twisted (55 page)

‘Did she kill her daughter?’ Jackson growled.

The question threw Reid and he took a moment to think about it. ‘I don’t know, but considering this latest outcome I have even stronger doubts that Marcus Fulford murdered his daughter, or even sexually abused her.’

‘What about the fucking incriminating evidence against him? The maroon sweater, the watch, how long before she was declared missing – he could have killed her and in retrospect so could her psychotic mother. They could even have done it together and disposed of her body between them.’

Reid hated the way the bullish man’s voice grated on his nerves. He did not truthfully believe that Lena would have killed her daughter, but he had to take on board what Jackson was implying and consider her aggressive alter might be responsible.

‘I think, sir, we need to wait for Professor Cornwall to talk with Lena Fulford. She’s at the secure unit and he is talking with her now, and will hopefully soon start the hypnotherapy sessions. Rest assured, sir, I will keep you updated.’

‘Fucking brilliant, we wait for this trick cyclist to “TALK” to a woman we believe – correction, you and Cornwall believe – wrote that bloody journal. If she is suspected of murdering three people she should be interviewed at the police station and fucking charged with murder, then let a jury decide whether she is guilty or not. I suggest when Cornwall’s finished farting about you bring her back here for questioning, or I will go and get her from the nuthouse myself.’

‘I still think we would be wise to wait to hear from Professor Cornwall,’ Reid persisted.

‘I am not waiting – do you realize if this ever got leaked to the press it would create a media frenzy, far and above what we already had to deal with?’

It was at this moment Reid’s desk phone rang, and he snatched it up, grateful for a reason to deflect Jackson’s anger.

Professor Cornwall was on the line and Reid told him DCI Jackson was in his office and he’d put the call onto speaker.

‘I’ve had a long talk with Mrs Fulford and she’s currently resting in the therapy room, having taken a mild sedative,’ the professor began.

Jackson leaned in towards the speakerphone. ‘What did she say? Did she kill her daughter and—?’

‘I haven’t got anywhere near that far yet, DCI Jackson. I can however tell you that she understood that she may be suffering from something more than a bipolar illness, and she has agreed to undergo the hypnotherapy treatment.’

Reid felt relieved. ‘Thank you, Professor, that is very positive news.’

‘When will you start and how long will it take?’ an impatient Jackson asked.

‘When I feel she is ready,’ Cornwall replied smoothly, ‘and it will certainly take more than one session to uncover all of her multiple personalities. I will firstly have to attempt to take her back to the beginning of her childhood trauma and this alone will be a very highly charged and emotional session. Everything will be recorded onto a DVD and you are both welcome to watch the procedure via the large monitor in the next room.’

Jackson sucked in his breath and shook his head. ‘Very well, Professor Cornwall, as long as your methods get results. What sort of time frame are we looking at? I want her back in police custody to interview and charge her.’

Cornwall sighed with disdain. ‘As I just said, it’s impossible to say how many treatments Mrs Fulford will require at this stage. I will let you know when I think she’s ready to be interviewed by police.’

‘This is a murder investigation and I make the decisions about her, not you, Professor Cornwall!’

‘Let me remind you, DCI Jackson, that Lena Fulford has been sectioned and detained under the Mental Health Act and I am her appointed psychiatrist.’

‘So fucking what!’ Jackson bellowed, leaving Reid disgusted at the way he spoke to Cornwall, who remained totally calm.

‘So that means I alone decide if and when she should be released to police custody for an interview. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a patient to attend to,’ he replied with an air of aloofness and ended the call.

‘Who the hell does that jumped-up little prick Cornwall think he is? This bloody shambles is a waste of taxpayers’ money and all your fault, Reid. Having that woman sectioned was a bad move – you should have just nicked her for murder then interviewed and charged her. The judge would have banged her up for life anyway and done us all a ruddy favour.’

Jackson slammed the door hard as he left the room. Reid smiled to himself; he didn’t care what Jackson thought as he knew he’d done the right thing and Cornwall would decide when and if Lena was fit to be formally interviewed.

In the tastefully furnished therapy room Lena was sitting flicking through a
Vogue
magazine. She smiled at Cornwall as he came back in, closing the magazine and placing it neatly in line with the others on the coffee table. She frowned, tapping the edges until she was satisfied it was perfectly straight. As she turned to him, he noticed she had the most extraordinary eyes, thick lashes, and her skin was flawless – she really was a very beautiful woman. He had not tricked her, or made any promises; he had been kindly and intuitive, as he had explained that he believed he could help her, and that he knew she needed to find peace.

She said, ‘Thank you very much’, adding she was tired and closed her eyes, her hands holding onto her clutch bag, like a child with a comfort toy. When she was settled, her bag would be taken from her and the contents checked and kept in a locked cabinet. Cornwall decided it would be best to let her rest for the time being and showed her the room she would be staying in while at the ‘Guesthouse’, as Miss Jordan had put it. Lena was very appreciative and seemed to really like the room.

Cornwall knew it was going to be a long and emotional journey if the outcome of the sessions was to be positive for both Lena and the police investigation. He firmly believed that what he was going to do could relieve her torment, and he was confident that under hypnotherapy her many alters would reveal themselves. His only fear was if the dominant alter, number three, did reveal itself, then he would be seen as an enemy and the alter might try and attack him. If that were to happen, there would be no knowing how much damage the alter could inflict on him, or for that matter on Lena Fulford herself. However, he would have two female staff watch in the monitor room, just to be on the safe side.

Chapter 40

P
rofessor Cornwall’s nurses had been shocked by the amount of scars they had seen when Lena was taken to the showers. Her inner thighs were covered in the small marks of self-abuse made by the nail scissors, some of which were still raw and scabbed. Even so, she had remained calm and appreciative to everyone. Due to his prior commitments Professor Cornwall had only been available to begin the procedure that evening. Both DCI Jackson and DI Reid were present and had been waiting in the monitor room.

Cornwall settled himself opposite Lena, who was lying on a couch dressed in her own nightdress and dressing gown. The fingers of her hands were interlinked and resting on her stomach. He took his time with her, firstly talking to her in a calm relaxing manner. His intention was to bypass her critical, logical mind, and gain access to the most powerful part of her brain, her subconscious mind, which in turn would allow him access to all her memories, habits and feelings, but most importantly her alter personalities. He needed first to get to the root of her problems and sort out the emotional baggage, so he could have a better understanding of why she suffered from DID. As Cornwall spoke softly and took her through a series of relaxation exercises, Lena looked as if she was falling into a pleasant daydream.

Jackson glanced at Reid. ‘I hope he knows what he is bloody doing,’ he hissed.

Reid said nothing, as he was finding it very difficult seeing how calm Lena was, especially around Cornwall. He knew Jackson wanted to arrest and interview her, but it was clearly evident she was mentally unwell and any interview might be deemed illegal and not allowed in evidence. Reid also knew that even if she was charged with multiple murders, a report from Cornwall would probably state she was unfit to plead, and result in the court sending her to a secure psychiatric institution for a nonspecific length of time, or until it was considered she was better and no longer a threat to herself or anyone else.

He knew deep down that the sweet smiling patient had administered lethal dosages of poison, and that she might also have murdered her own daughter, especially in the absence of other suspects, but Reid had no proof or witnesses to any of it. Although there were poisonous mushrooms discovered in her house and garden, he could not prove Lena grew them, and she could claim it must have been Amy, who from her schoolbooks was clearly knowledgeable on the subject. The contents of Lena’s handbag had been searched and nothing incriminating was found, so even if she had intended to harm Agnes she hadn’t been going to the meeting armed with poison.

Jackson sat on the edge of the low leather chair, and Reid on an identical one beside him. They were uncomfortable and by now they had been waiting for over an hour. It was another ten minutes before Cornwall signalled that Lena was now in a state of hypnosis and the two nurses could enter the room. He began to speak to her very quietly, so much so that Jackson leaned ever closer to the speakers beside the large monitor.

‘I can’t hear him,’ Jackson muttered.

‘Do you recognize my voice, Lena?’ Cornwall asked.

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

‘You know who I am, don’t you?’

‘Yes I do.’

‘You know that you can trust me, and that anything you tell me will help me to help you – does that make sense to you, Lena?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘What I am going to do is ask you some questions and see if you can answer and prove that you can hear me clearly, because it is important that I know you are listening. Are you listening to me, Lena?’

‘Yes, I can hear you.’

‘So you know that I am close, and there is no need for you to be afraid, because I am right beside you and I will not move away from you.’

Jackson sighed and pushed his fat butt further back into the chair. He glanced towards Reid with a shake of his head, and deliberately looked at his wristwatch.

Cornwall had plainly decided to take his patient to a point after the suspected abuse by her father and then regress her back through time.

‘I am going to ask you about where you went to university, can you remember?’

Reid found Jackson’s impatience irritating and his constant shuffling about made it hard to hear Lena, so he turned up the volume and listened as Lena in a soft cultured voice spoke about Oxford, describing her degree course, lecturers, friends and hobbies in amazing detail. It went on for a considerable while as she was asked what appeared to be mundane questions, and she answered without appearing to be in any way distressed. It took over half an hour as Cornwall continued speaking softly and Lena replied coherently as he gradually took her further back into her childhood. Still she appeared to be relaxed and had turned to lie with her hands at her side, her head resting back on the pillow.

‘I am going to ask you to go back to something that perhaps frightened you, something that maybe you have never told anyone else, something that you have never wanted to remember.’

The two detectives now became mesmerized by what was happening in front of them. Lena’s body began to twist, and she started to curl up into a foetal position, and it was obvious she was becoming very distressed. Cornwall kept up the soft encouraging dialogue as he asked her to tell him what was happening. She flayed her arms, kicking out with her legs, and she began to beg and plead, saying over and over, ‘No, please not in my mouth. I can’t breathe, I CAN’T BREATHE.’

Cornwall calmed her before asking what was being put into her mouth. Lena spoke in a childlike voice, saying it was a dirty word, she wouldn’t say the word, and when he asked her how old she was she lisped that she was eight. When he asked her where she was, she said she was in her bedroom at home.

It became painful to listen as Cornwall got her to tell him it was a ‘penis’, and she started sobbing and flaying her arms again as if to ward off someone; she gagged and it seemed she would vomit, as she yet again screamed for it not to be forced into her mouth.

Cornwall asked if she knew the person who was hurting her and making her feel sick, but she curled up and hid her face. It was a while before he eventually got her to tell him that she knew who it was, but she refused to identify him, and it was hideous when she turned her body over so her abuser could put his penis up her vagina and her backside. The strain of recalling the abuse made her cry out that it was hurting her; she even tried to fend off the abuser – twice the nurses had to step forward and gently restrain her from punching out at Cornwall and nearly falling from the therapy couch. She still refused to say who it was, and no matter how quietly Cornwall tried to persuade her, she would not give a name. As she was so distressed, he now moved her forward in time away from the little girl who said it always happened in the bedroom. Her body stopped writhing and twisting, and she had a different high-pitched voice, now describing how very special she was and the presents and pretty clothes and cashmere sweaters she was given because she was a good girl.

‘Did you get these presents because you were just a good girl or did you have to do something for them?’

‘Yes I had to do it, Monday, Wednesday and Sunday after chapel.’

‘What were you made to do?’

‘Oh I can’t tell you, I never can tell anyone, and it’s a secret.’

‘Why is it a secret?’

‘Because no one must ever know or I will die, and I know this is true because he told me with my hand on the Bible.’

‘Who told you?’

‘Oh no, you can’t trap me, I have to obey the rules.’

‘How long did you have to obey the rules, Lena?’

‘Mind your own business, you dirty fucking bastard, you try and trap me and I will make you sorry, you listen to me or I will cut your dick off.’