‘On the eleventh of July, a patrol car spotted someone answering Shane’s description on New Park Street. They gave chase, but he got away. He had, though, left behind a knife. Fingerprints on the knife matched fingerprints found in Joe’s flat. We knew beyond any doubt that Shane was the intruder.’
Around the table, people look at Joe as though expecting him to argue. He doesn’t.
‘The case went cold,’ Delilah says. ‘Then, a week ago, we found the body of Dora Hardwick, another homeless person, in a drain near Silver Street. From the last sighting of her alive, the finding of her belongings in the river, and from an appointment that she didn’t keep, we assumed her most likely date of death was Friday the twenty-sixth of July. That same evening, Felicity Lloyd not only crashed her car and fled the scene of the accident, but was seen running around the streets of Cambridge, in some distress, and wearing a dress that appeared to be severely bloodstained.’
‘You haven’t actually found the dress, have you?’ asks Torquil.
‘She had plenty of time to get rid of it,’ someone says.
‘This coincidence enabled us to run fingerprints we had on file following an alleged break-in at Dr Lloyd’s house,’ Delilah continues. ‘From that we were able to confirm that Felicity Lloyd’s fingerprints and Shane’s fingerprints are the same. She broke into Joe’s flat. She is Shane.’
‘I’d like the meeting to acknowledge that she is extremely convincing as a man,’ Joe says.
Several puzzled faces turn his way.
‘Duly acknowledged,’ says Downey.
‘This next bit is circumstantial,’ Delilah says, ‘but significant. Felicity Lloyd was admitted to hospital with minor injuries and claiming amnesia on the same night that Bella Barnes was found stabbed to death.’
She stops to take a breath, then hurries on.
‘We had enough to apply for a warrant to search Felicity Lloyd’s house.’ Delilah has the air of someone wanting to get a difficult task over with. ‘She’d cleaned it well, but there was enough DNA left to give us a further match to Shane. And significantly, we found the distinctive hoody that Shane was seen wearing.’
She holds up a photograph of the sweatshirt. ‘That’s it, sir,’ she says. ‘I’m done.’
‘The isolated location of South Georgia presents us with some difficulties.’ Downey takes over again. ‘The nearest police force is on the Falkland Islands, some three to four days distant by boat, and even they aren’t well resourced for apprehending and extraditing violent criminals. My plan is to put in a request to the RAF and the governor of the Falkland Islands for a joint police–RAF operation that arrests Lloyd on South Georgia and flies her home under military escort.’
‘That would be the very worst thing you could do,’ Joe says.
He feels the people around him knuckling down. They are ready for him. They have expected him to argue.
‘The floor’s yours, Dr Grant,’ Downey tells him.
‘Felicity Lloyd is seriously mentally ill,’ Joe begins. ‘She isn’t responsible for her actions and she isn’t fit to stand trial. If you have her arrested by the military, the consequences could be disastrous.’
‘On what are you forming that judgment?’ Downey asks.
Joe can sense Torquil, silent but supportive, by his side. ‘Felicity came to see me in late June last year,’ he begins. ‘She was suffering from fugue states – periods of time when her recollection of events was entirely lost. She was unusually anxious and afraid, torn between the belief that someone was entering her house and rearranging her possessions, and believing she was doing it herself and then wiping it from her memory. She was a very confused and unhappy young woman.’
Faces stare back at him, impassive, but not hostile. One woman makes a note on her pad. They are being polite, possibly for his mother’s sake.
‘She also reported hearing voices, which led both me and Dr Bane to suspect schizophrenia as a possible diagnosis. Under hypnosis I discovered she believed she was being stalked. I think she was right to think that.’
‘Stalked by who?’ someone asks.
‘A man called Freddie, whom she believed to be her husband. Towards the end of her therapy with me, Felicity was starting to open up about Freddie. She told me about serious abuse that she’d suffered at his hands. In any event, there can be no doubt that someone broke into her house shortly before she left and attacked her. If her neighbour hadn’t heard the disturbance and called the police she could have been seriously hurt.’
‘She claimed she’d been mistaken about that,’ someone says.
‘Someone went for her with a knife,’ Joe says.
‘I saw the lass the next morning,’ Delilah adds. ‘For what it’s worth, I do believe she was attacked. And we found a lot of fingerprints in the house that we haven’t been able to identify. Including on a knife that was lying on the kitchen floor.’
‘But even if Dr Lloyd was being stalked by a man who may or may not have been her husband, it doesn’t alter the fact that we can link her to Shane and the two murders,’ Downey says. ‘Or do you doubt that conclusion?’
Joe cannot doubt it. He has tried and failed.
‘I think Felicity is suffering from a serious psychiatric condition,’ he says. ‘I’m furious with myself for not diagnosing it while she was still my patient. If I had, she could have been helped.’
‘In Joe’s defence, the condition he’s talking about is extremely rare and very difficult to spot,’ Torquil interrupts. ‘I doubt anyone would have diagnosed it on the basis of what little evidence he had.’
‘What condition?’ the assistant chief constable asks.
‘Dissociative Identity Disorder or DID,’ Joe says. ‘Previously known as Multiple Personality Disorder.’
Around the table, people are frowning, faces screwed in concentration or puzzlement.
‘And what is it, exactly?’ the assistant chief constable asks.
Joe glances at his supervisor. They have agreed that Torquil will take the technical questions.
‘It’s a rare and complex condition,’ Torquil says. ‘Case studies are few and far between and, to be perfectly candid, a lot of psychiatrists doubt its existence.’
‘It’s believed to be caused by severe trauma,’ Joe steps in. ‘Extreme physical, sexual or emotional abuse, nearly always in early childhood. We know that something very disturbing happened to Felicity when she was three years old, although I haven’t managed to get to the bottom of it yet. What I do know is that her mother was killed and her father sentenced to life imprisonment.’
Joe sees his mother making a note.
‘When she was in her teens, she got a letter from her father that, I think, triggered the onset of the Dissociative Identity Disorder,’ he goes on. ‘She ran away from home and lived on the streets for a while. We learned this from a former social worker. Felicity herself has no memory of it but her time on the streets could explain Shane’s interest in the homeless.’
‘She appears to have lived normally for quite some time,’ Torquil says. ‘She went to university and built a successful career. But Joe and I think something happened a few months before she left Cambridge – probably some reminder of what happened to her as a child – that triggered the onset of DID again.’
‘People who have DID develop an ability to take themselves away from difficult situations,’ Joe says. ‘They step outside the room if you like. The body remains but the person inside goes to another place entirely. It’s a coping mechanism.’
‘And this is key,’ Torquil says. ‘Another personality steps in.’
Faces around the table register surprise, interest, doubt.
‘The new personality, known as an alter, is more able to deal with the difficult situation,’ Joe says. ‘When things are reverting to normal, he or she leaves and the original personality, the host, resumes control. Significantly, the host has no knowledge of what has happened in the interim. It’s disorientating and extremely frightening. I’m now
sure that that’s what was happening to Felicity while I was treating her.’
Encouraged by their attention, Joe talks them through the fugue states that Felicity experienced, and her memories, awoken under hypnosis, of what happened to her during one of them. ‘She believed Freddie was stalking her,’ he says. ‘When she thought he was close, she became very afraid, and it triggered another personality to take over her body for several hours. When she came back to herself, she had no memory of it.’
‘But she could recall under hypnosis?’ someone questions.
‘That shouldn’t be surprising,’ Joe says. ‘Felicity was still in her body while all this was happening, so the memories were there, just buried quite deep.’
‘It’s a bit like someone else took over driving the car for a while,’ Torquil adds. ‘Felicity was still in the car, but in the back seat. She wasn’t in control.’
‘Maybe she was in the boot if she couldn’t remember the journey,’ someone quips.
‘Twice, I saw Felicity change,’ Joe says. ‘The first was under hypnosis, when she became a child that she referred to as “Little Bitch”. I’m guessing that was a regression to whatever abuse she suffered as a child. Her voice and her demeanour changed completely. It was very disturbing to witness.’
‘Curiously, the child called Little Bitch exhibited extreme fear of her father,’ Torquil adds. ‘Again, a reference to her childhood trauma.’
‘The other time was the last occasion I saw her,’ Joe says. ‘She rang to invite me out to dinner, something she’d never done before. She behaved very differently. She was flirtatious, much more rough and ready in her manner. She almost ordered a steak and then remembered she was vegetarian. I called her Felicity once and she didn’t acknowledge me. I think now that I was actually having dinner with one of her alters.’
‘Hold on, I’m confused.’ One of the detectives speaks up. ‘Does Felicity know that she has this condition?’
Joe and his supervisor share a look.
‘I don’t believe so,’ Joe says. ‘The fugue states were totally bewildering to her. I also think her symptoms have only emerged very recently. If they’d been occurring for any length of time, she and we would know about it. I think something happened, last summer, to trigger their onset.’
‘Something pretty worrying,’ his supervisor adds. ‘Possibly connected with her husband.’
‘No, hold on.’ The same detective interrupts. ‘Felicity doesn’t know about the others, about Little Bitch and whoever else she turns into, is that right?’
‘That’s my belief,’ Joe confirms.
‘But they know about her? They must do, or how else could one of them pretend to be her? This woman you had dinner with didn’t say, no actually, my name is, I don’t know, Kimberly?’
‘No, she was definitely pretending to be Felicity.’
‘Why would she do that?’
Delilah has her eyes fixed on the tabletop.
‘She was trying to draw me into an intimate relationship,’ Joe says. ‘She knew that if she and I were involved, my credibility would be seriously undermined. I wouldn’t be able to stop her taking up a new job she desperately wanted.’
‘With this condition, the alters typically know more than the host,’ Torquil says. ‘All of them will know of Felicity’s existence, they will know that they share a body with her. Some of them might know each of the alters who comes and goes. Others might only be aware of one or two.’
‘So, to cut to the chase,’ Downey says, ‘are you saying that the person we believed to be called Shane is one of Felicity’s – what did you call them – others?’
‘Alters,’ Joe replies. ‘Although “others” is also used by the various personalities to describe their cohabitees. And yes, I’m sure that Shane is one of her alters.’
‘Nearly always with these cases, at least one of the alters will be much more streetwise and aggressive than the host,’ Torquil says. ‘From what Joe has told me, Felicity is rather a gentle personality, somewhat lacking in self-confidence and a little shy. I think Shane is the personality that goes into battle when Felicity is afraid. Shane takes care of her.’
‘Shane’s a man,’ someone says. ‘How can she turn into a man?’
‘The alters can appear to be very different to the host,’ Torquil says. ‘They believe themselves to be different ages, sexes, races and act accordingly. They can have different levels of sight or hearing. One alter can be a very fast runner. Another might believe he can’t possibly drive. One might speak a foreign language. I know this sounds far-fetched but there is so much about this condition we don’t yet understand.’
‘Remember how convinced you were that Shane was a man,’ Joe says. ‘He fooled the experts you brought in. When she’s Shane, she completely believes she’s a young man with that name.’
‘None of this changes the fact that whoever she believed she was at the time, Felicity murdered Dora Hardwick and Bella Barnes,’ Downey says.
‘Not necessarily,’ Joe argues. ‘We know Felicity and Shane are the same person, but we don’t know that Shane killed Dora and Bella. Shane stood in my bedroom while I was asleep, with a knife that could have slit my throat. He didn’t touch me.’
‘Joe, there’s something you need to know,’ Delilah says.
‘What?’
‘We found blood on Dora’s coat that isn’t hers. It is Felicity’s. There is no doubt that she and Dora had a close encounter the night Dora died. She may not know it, love, but she is a killer.’
‘And a very dangerous woman indeed,’ Downey adds.
‘She’s only dangerous when she’s Shane,’ Torquil says. ‘When she’s Felicity, she probably wouldn’t harm a fly.’
‘So, what is it you want from us?’ Downey says.
‘You can’t send a team of strange police officers and soldiers to arrest Felicity,’ Joe says. ‘She won’t have a clue what’s going on and it will terrify her. She’ll almost certainly become Shane—’
‘Or someone even worse,’ Torquil interrupts.
‘And someone will get hurt. Probably her.’
‘What’s the alternative?’ Downey asks.
‘Send someone she knows and trusts,’ Joe says. ‘Send my mother. And me.’
Part Four
SOUTH GEORGIA
Present Day
‘I seemed to vow to myself that someday I would go to the region of ice and snow.’
Ernest Shackleton
65
Joe
The windows of the harbour master’s office look out towards emerald hills tumbling into an azure blue ocean. Joe can see a waterfall like a silver ribbon, slicing a snow-tipped summit in half, and the rusting carcass of a wrecked steam ship stranded in the bay. On the northern horizon, a berg lies like a fallen mountain and the air above it is alive with seabirds.
The eardrum-splitting cacophony of noise has softened since he, Delilah and Superintendent Skye McNair have come indoors, but even through the reinforced glass Joe can hear the bird screams and the grunting of seals. All the while, the wind uses the building and its surrounds as musical instruments: whistling, singing, moaning. Every few minutes, the structure trembles as a stronger gust hits it.
South Georgia is incredible. In spite of everything, Joe feels a moment of joy that he’s been able to share it – albeit briefly – with Felicity. And yet, darker clouds are rolling in from the west, as though to remind him that nothing good can come from this visit. He’ll see her again, and his mother will arrest her for murder.
The pre-fab exterior of King Edward Point’s administrative centre hasn’t prepared him for the scale of the technology on the inside. The harbour master’s desk, close to one of two huge windows, holds four large computer screens, each showing satellite images of different points on the islands. A further monitor on another desk shows a constantly updating weather report, and a screen hanging from the ceiling displays the visiting ship’s it itinerary. Noticeboards hold tide tables, work schedu
les, equipment requisitions.
The man who introduced himself as Nigel and who revels in the combined titles of harbour master, fisheries officer, post master and tourism manager is making coffee. As he adds milk and sugar, he chats to Superintendent McNair about events on the Falkland Islands. Joe is only half listening. Sick with nerves himself, he is anxious about his mother. Delilah, at his side, is slumped in a chair. The seasickness that has plagued her since they left Stanley isn’t letting a detail like solid land get in its way.
‘How did Rob Duncan’s hip operation work out?’ Nigel is asking. ‘They were flying him out when I left.’
Skye pulls a face. ‘He was seen on horseback last week. Rachel went nuts.’ She glances over at Joe. ‘Oldest resident of the Falkland Islands. Drives us all to distraction.’ Turning back to Nigel she says, ‘Oh, and did you hear Jennie Taggert’s youngest qualified for—’
Joe sees his own impatience mirrored on his mother’s face but she has already made it clear that McNair is in charge of the operation to find and apprehend Felicity. So far away from the UK, they will need her co-operation, and that of the officials here. Even so, he lifts his eyebrows in a silent question. Delilah shrugs, as though the effort of anything more is beyond her. Outside the black clouds are low in the sky, almost touching the sea.
He spots a photograph of Felicity pinned to a noticeboard. Taken from above it shows her scaling a wall of ice. Below the safety helmet, her face is strained with effort and yet she is smiling for the camera. A few feet below her is a man of about her own age. He too is smiling. It takes several seconds for Joe to realise why the picture depresses him. He’s never seen her looking happy before.
Behind them, the external door opens. Papers dance in the air and the window blinds rattle against the glass. Nigel says, Ah, here she is!’
The Split Page 24