And then she spots someone on his own at the far end of the beach. He’s too far away to see his face, but his gait, his profile, is sickeningly familiar.
‘Binoculars?’ she says, trying to sound professional.
Hart is still distracted by gannets. Strover nudges him. ‘Boss?’
He passes them over. Her hands are trembling again as she focuses on the man who wants her dead.
‘That’s him,’ she says, lingering on his face, the features that he attempted to hide from her yesterday. Large forehead. Herman, as in Munster. Does a part of her remember him from the Bluebell, that night of the accident? Or does she just recognise him from the café and the photo?
She hands the binoculars back to Hart. ‘To the right of the steps,’ she says. ‘Far end of the beach.’
Hart adjusts the focus. ‘Ugly bastard, isn’t he?’
‘It’s definitely him,’ she says, watching as Strover pulls out the CCTV photo and passes it to her. Seeing the image again just makes her more sure. She misses this, the satisfaction of a match. It masks the fear. The professor who tested her said that super recognisers tend to peak in their mid-thirties. She should be in the zone.
‘Let’s have a little chat with him,’ Hart says to Strover. ‘Ask if he’s ever worked at the Bluebell.’
They return the binoculars to the Coastwatch volunteer in the lookout and set off along the path at the top of the cliffs, heading back towards the beach. Herman is still there, but he’s not settled and their pace quickens, Hart walking out ahead. It will take them a good ten minutes to reach him.
‘Can I ask you something?’ Kate says to Strover, who is beside her, one eye on the beach. ‘About facial-recognition software?’
‘Not exactly my favourite subject at the moment,’ Strover says.
‘Really?’ Kate’s surprised. Strover used to live and breathe technology when they worked together.
‘It keeps getting it wrong,’ she says.
‘I thought you were the tech expert?’
‘It’s all relative,’ Strover says, nodding at Hart ahead.
‘I heard that,’ Hart says.
‘I just want to know how easy it would be to find your double – you know, your lookalike.’
‘Aren’t there apps that can do that?’ Hart asks, chipping in. ‘“Find My Doppelgänger”.’
Hart’s not helping here. Kate’s trying to have a serious conversation with Strover, distract herself from Herman up ahead.
‘In theory, it should be easy,’ Strover says. ‘As you know, the software relies on metrics – the distance between eyes, ears – and data. The more of it, the better. Apps only have access to a limited number of photos. But law-enforcement agencies can draw on millions of images – the UK custody database is getting bigger every day.’
‘And in reality…?’ Kate asks.
‘You might get a rough match, but finding your long-lost twin is by no means a given. Someone who looks identical might not share the exact same facial geometry.’
‘It’s why we turned to people like you,’ Hart says. ‘Faces are uniquely human. They need to be interpreted emotionally, intuitively, not just measured. At least that’s what I told the boss.’
‘Can I ask you a favour?’ Kate says. ‘In return for helping you guys out with the photo.’
‘Depends what it is,’ Hart says.
‘I want you to look for a match for Rob. My partner.’
‘Isn’t that a bit weird?’ Hart says.
Strover gives him a look.
‘He used to have this fear, a phobia, of meeting his double,’ she says. ‘I need to put his mind at rest, tell him there isn’t anyone out there who has the same distance between his blue eyes.’
If Strover and Hart know she’s not being honest, they don’t show it.
‘What if there is?’ Strover says. ‘We’re all meant to have a doppelgänger, aren’t we?’
Kate’s about to reply when Hart interrupts them. ‘Hold up,’ he says. ‘Our man’s on the move.’
They all focus on the far end of the beach, a steep flight of steps that runs up to the coast path. Herman is taking them two at a time. Has he seen them? At the top, he turns and looks back across the bay. And then he starts to sprint.
33
Jake
Jake stares at the French TV footage on Bex’s desktop computer in a small room adjoining the kitchen. It’s on a sliding desk, built into a bookcase. Bex said he could use it, which is helpful as he doesn’t have any data left on his phone. As far as he can tell, the geek being interviewed is Rob. And it makes for painful viewing. Rob not only comes across as intelligent and successful but charming too. And he’s speaking fluent French. Jake leans in closer. The man looks like the Rob that Jake met briefly at the hospital, but it’s not a face that he cares to remember.
He pulls up his notes on Capgras syndrome. Ever since Bex rang earlier, he’s been researching the delusion and thinks he’s found something important.
He calls Bex again on his mobile. Crazy. She’s been avoiding him in the village for the past six months, but now they’re like besties, bonding over the possibility that Kate might have Capgras.
‘Give me a sec,’ Bex says.
He hears her talking to Stretch, Kate’s dachshund. ‘Are you with Kate?’ he asks. It’s important he talks to Bex when she’s on her own.
‘She’s still with the police.’
‘She’s not going back to the old job, is she?’
Her police work was a far cry from portrait painting, but it gave her some independence – and money too. And it was Jake who originally introduced her to DI Hart.
‘No chance,’ Bex says. ‘Have you seen her house down here? The life she has now?’
Jake falls silent. He’s often thought about visiting, trying to talk to Kate, but he has so far stayed away.
‘Sorry,’ Bex says. ‘That wasn’t kind. Tell me what you’ve found?’
‘Listen to this,’ he says. ‘“Capgras is a full-blown psychiatric disorder caused by anything from dementia to paranoid schizophrenia.”’
‘So why would Kate have it?’
‘Bear with me,’ he says, glancing at his notes again on the screen before switching to an academic paper he’s just found on the Internet. ‘From what I can gather, a super recogniser like Kate has a more developed fusiform gyrus.’
‘What’s that when it’s at home?’
‘The area of the brain that processes faces – the same area that was affected by her accident.’
‘And how does that relate to Capgras?’ Bex asks. Jake’s in danger of losing her.
‘Because Capgras can also be caused by traumatic brain injury – specifically, lesions in the fusiform gyrus.’
‘Bloody hell, that must be what she’s got then. It would explain everything.’
Jake can hear the relief in Bex’s voice. ‘Except that it’s an extremely rare and unusual disorder,’ he says, reading from the article again.
‘Someone’s got to have it.’