He’s still not convinced. ‘And it doesn’t seem to affect the auditory cortex, just the visual.’
‘Say that bit again,’ Bex says, a sudden curiosity in her voice.
‘Someone with Capgras only thinks their loved one is a double if they can see their face,’ he explains. ‘If they can only hear their voice, it doesn’t seem to affect them.’
‘When they’re talking on the phone, you mean?’
‘I guess so. Why?’
‘Because Kate says she’s fine when she’s chatting to Rob on her mobile. It’s when he facetimes her and she can actually see his face that she freaks out.’
Jake sits up in his chair, trying to get his head around what Bex has just said. ‘You really need to speak to her about this,’ he says. Up until now, the Capgras theory has seemed interesting but a little fanciful. He now thinks they might be onto something, given her past as a super recogniser. It would be a cruel irony if a high-performing fusiform gyrus, once responsible for Kate’s exceptional powers of recognition, was now tricking her into seeing doubles.
‘She’s seeing a neuropsychiatrist regularly,’ Bex says. ‘Paid for by Rob. I’ll get her to ask him about it. I don’t think she’s mentioned seeing doubles to him yet.’
Jake hangs up and starts to search for more information about Capgras: case studies, related delusions like Fregoli (different people are in fact a single person who changes his or her appearance), but something’s still nagging him about Rob. He’s just not sure what. He begins to google him, repeating a search he’s done many times in recent months. Brought up by two doctors in Douglas, Cork, entered the Sunday Times Irish Rich List when he was twenty-three. Always considered a bit of a loner. After a few minutes, Jake is on the Companies House website, looking at a list of all Rob’s directorships: technology start-ups, mostly medical, an online art gallery. He’s been here before and found nothing suspicious. The only controversy was when he briefly invested in a company that made electric-shock collars for training dogs. The product was banned before it even hit the shelves.
This time, though, a new company is listed, the one mentioned in the news report. He pastes its name into a separate Google tab, calls up the website and clicks on ‘About’. The company appears to specialise in something called ‘direct neural interface technology’. It’s currently raising capital for electrodes implanted in the brain that can help to operate artificial limbs or control epilepsy.
A window asks him to accept cookies. He clicks on it and is about to drill down further into the site when he notices a green LED light on Bex’s computer, just to the right of the camera. He’s sure it wasn’t on a moment ago. His first thought is that maybe Bex does a lot of facetiming and someone’s calling her. But FaceTime isn’t open. He closes the company website, quits Chrome and backs away from the computer. The light is still on, the camera watching him.
34
Kate
‘You go on ahead,’ Hart says, calling out to them. ‘See where he goes.’
Kate’s walking fast beside Strover. They glance at each other and both slip into a run. Hart’s heavy breathing fades behind them.
‘This really isn’t part of my Cornwall retirement plan,’ Kate says as they stride out together on the coast path.
‘You do the identifying, let us do the rest,’ Strover says. ‘Just like the old days.’
Kate’s glad she’s been getting fit. As well as the swimming, she’s tried to run two or three times a week, on the same stretch of coast path as they’re on now. Strover seems fit too, though she’s not exactly in running gear. Light trousers and those telltale sensible black shoes that only plainclothes cops seem to wear.
‘I’ve lost him,’ Strover says, coming to a halt. ‘Can you still see him?’
The coast path ahead broadens out into a wide grassy track, ridged with trails left by sheep. There are one or two walkers, but most people are enjoying the sea and the sand below. It’s what Kate should be doing on a beautiful day like today, not running beside a detective in pursuit of a man who keeps trying to kill her. Beyond the grassy expanse, where the steps come up from the beach, the path weaves its way through gorse bushes. For a moment, she can’t see Herman either and then he appears again from behind a bush, close to where the path enters the village.
‘He’s up by the first houses,’ she says, getting her breath back.
‘If he’s got a car, we’re stuffed,’ Strover says.
Five minutes later, they’re walking quickly through the village, scanning every side road and alley for the man. Strover’s already called Hart, given him an update. They try not to draw attention to themselves as they pass holidaymakers coming up from the beach laden with chairs and spades and buckets.
‘He could be anywhere,’ Kate says.
‘Problem is, we’re not officially here,’ Strover says. ‘Otherwise I’d call for back up.’
‘How do you mean?’ Kate glances at Strover.
‘We’re off duty.’
She gives Strover a puzzled look. She’d assumed they were down on official business.
‘Sad, I know,’ Strover says. ‘Daytrip to the seaside with my boss at the weekend. Such is the miserable state of my social life.’
‘Why are you really here, then?’
Strover looks out to sea, her neat, petite face glowing from the exercise, and then turns to Kate. ‘He was devastated when you were injured. We all were. When we saw the CCTV footage yesterday of you at the pub that night, he felt he had to investigate. In his own time.’
‘Because his boss wouldn’t have sanctioned it?’
Strover nods. Kate remembers his boss, the one who never believed in the super-recogniser unit, despite their results, and closed it down soon after her accident.
‘Why now, though?’ she asks. ‘How did you suddenly get the CCTV footage?’
She doesn’t expect Strover to answer. She learnt quickly that as a civilian she was not allowed to know the operational details of the cases she worked on.
‘Jake didn’t mention it, then?’ Strover says.
‘Jake?’
‘It was him who was sent the video.’
Why would Jake be sent CCTV footage of her at the pub that night? ‘Who by?’ she asks, her head spinning.
‘We don’t know.’
‘When?’
‘Yesterday.’
‘And someone sets fire to his boat last night?’ There must be a connection. Kate lets her words hang in the air, hoping Strover will join the dots.
‘I can’t tell you any more. I’m sorry,’ Strover says. ‘Trust me, we’re working on it.’
They jog down into the village, stepping out into the middle of the road to avoid a crowd of children coming up the other way. They’re all eating ice creams, peering into a small beach bucket. That’s why Kate loves it here, a reminder of her childhood, of innocent days spent rock-pooling, building sandcastles. She just wishes that her past hadn’t caught up with her. The spiked coffee, Jake’s fire, the CCTV image of her at the pub. And a crazy, nagging sense that Rob’s been replaced by a double. Overnight her idyllic life’s become a nightmare.