Twisted

Chapter 40

Professor 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.’

Reid sat back, his jaw open, as the voice Lena had adopted was guttural and coarse. Jackson was equally disturbed, but he refused to even acknowledge that he was suddenly hearing another one of the personalities emerge.

‘Who am I talking to, Lena?’

‘The boss, you motherfucker, I am the boss and I will not have her upset, or asked any more questions about her bastard father, you hear me? He is long dead. You had better not ask any more questions about the way he came into her room and screwed her up the arse.’

‘Is this for real?’ Jackson whispered and Reid declined to answer. Even though he was aware that Lena had been abused, seeing the effect on her made his whole body tense with repulsion, but what came next was even more shocking.

Cornwall had moved on to her teenage years and another character emerged, flirtatious and sexual. She giggled, explaining in a lisping voice that she had managed to lock her father out of her bedroom and he had been weeping and crying to be allowed in, and she would make him kiss her feet and lick them clean.

‘I trod in dog shit so he would have to lick it off.’ She shrieked with laughter.

Cornwall laughed with her, gently encouraging her to tell him who he was now talking to, and she said that it was nobody. She suddenly sat upright and shouted that she should be careful or she would tell them about her mother.

‘Don’t you dare ask her about her mother!’ It was the ‘Boss’ character again.

Lena flopped back, exhausted, as Cornwall signalled for a glass of water. He remained silent, sipping it as she began to curl her legs up and wrap her arms around her knees. He sensed, as he had anticipated, that Lena was beginning to tire and they had not even touched on the poisoning or any details about her daughter.

‘Oh God, please, Daddy, don’t make me do it, please…’

‘What is he making you do, Lena?’

It was hard to determine which character she had become; she seemed exhausted and had started crying again. Cornwall persisted, repeating his question, and she began to make a strange motion with her hands as if washing them, and her face turned from tears into a grimace of distaste.

‘Smell, she smells, horrible smell, she smells out the whole house.’

She persisted in the wringing motion, and her face grimaced as if she were smelling something hideous.

‘Who is it that is making this smell, Lena?’

‘Mother, it’s mother, the cancer, I have to wash her cancer out, and feed her. I hate to do it, but he refused to let anyone else take care of her because they might find out.’

The odd wringing motion took over again; she seemed to be trying to clean her hands, and her face was twisted with disgust, and then there was a low moaning and she began crying even more loudly than before. She turned over with her face buried in the pillow as she sobbed; her hands were clenched into fists as she pummelled the mattress.

‘Sorry, Mummy, sorry, Mummy, sorry, Mummy.’

Cornwall leaned closer and his voice was hardly audible as he asked why she was sorry as she had been a good girl taking care of her mother. He told her there was nothing to be sorry about as her mother had been very ill.

Lena slowly turned over and once again it was the coarse voice that came out. ‘I stuffed it into her mouth, you dumb bastard, I STUFFED IT INTO HER MOUTH.’

Cornwall leaned away from her, as her breathing became erratic and her chest heaved as she gasped for air. The nurses moved closer, concerned at the state of panic she was in.

‘Take deep breaths, in and out, breathe in, and breathe out, that’s a good girl, I am right beside you, nothing you are telling me disgusts me or makes me not care for you.’

She sighed and slowly her breathing returned to normal. He took hold of her hand and checked her pulse, then gently rinsed out a cloth and began to wipe her face.

‘I am so tired,’ she said quietly.

‘I know, and we will stop now and you can have some nice soup and then a long sleep. You have done very well, you are a good girl.’

Cornwall told the nurses to leave them and brought Lena round from her hypnotic state. She clearly didn’t remember or have a clue what had just happened in the room and told Cornwall that she felt as if she had been out on a lovely walk along a beach on a warm summer’s day. Cornwall said that she had, because that was where he had taken her subconscious mind as therapy for her problems. Lena thanked him and Cornwall said he’d get a nurse to help her to her room, but she was insistent that she make her own way there.

Jackson was on his feet, angrily gesturing towards the window. ‘He can’t fucking stop now – he hasn’t even asked her about her daughter. Jesus Christ, this is not acceptable.’

The door opened, Cornwall entered and came over to Jackson, pushing at his chest. ‘She cannot continue; as I said this will require more sessions, and as you just witnessed the emotional stresses she’s been through have exhausted her.’

Jackson stepped back, jerking his head from side to side.

‘In the meantime, Professor Cornwall, what do you expect us to do? We suspect her of murder, multiple ones at that. Dear God, we just heard her admit to stuffing her dying mother’s mouth with Christ only knows what!’

Cornwall somehow managed to maintain his dignity and control as he said that for him it had been a very positive session, and one that gave him and anyone with any sense of propriety an indication of Lena Fulford’s condition. Clearly her sexual abuse for such a lengthy period, from an eightyear-old to a teenager, had triggered the need to protect herself by forcing her mind to split into multiple identities. Added to the abuse by her father, she had also, he was certain, been encouraged to end her mother’s life. The emergence of the strident identity was covering her deep guilt at what she had done.

Jackson became less aggressive, even slightly apologetic, as he said that he understood, but it still left him with unanswered questions.

‘I can’t bring charges against her for killing her mother – what I have to get clarification on is the reason we are here. I need to know if that poor woman did as we suspect poison innocent people. No matter how sorry I feel for her, we still have not been able to discover if she also murdered her own daughter.’

Cornwall rubbed his eyes and sighed, he was so tired.

‘I will require more sessions, and will obviously allow you to be present, but I cannot at this stage say when I feel she will be able, or in my estimation well enough, to continue. I will require detailed lists of questions you wish to be answered, but as I have just said I cannot give you any confirmation that they will be answered in the near future.’

Jackson, still on edge, asked if he felt Lena could be questioned with a solicitor present. Cornwall gave a resigned sigh and abruptly reminded Jackson she was now his patient and he would not allow her to be subjected to any police interrogation until he was satisfied she was mentally capable of answering as herself.

‘Detective Jackson, just what do you expect me to do? Release her into police custody when she is clearly unfit and requires treatment?’

Jackson shuffled his feet, and looked to Reid.

‘Have it your way, but I will need answers. If you say she will be unfit to answer the allegations against her I will need not just your confirmation but a second medical opinion.’

Cornwall gave a brief nod and walked out, at which Jackson picked up his coat and suggested to Reid they go for a drink. Reid didn’t want to spend any more time in the DCI’s company, but it was impossible to refuse, and they left together.

Sitting in the Nelson’s Arms, which was the nearest countryside pub, with a pint of Guinness each, they found it difficult to even talk to each other. Eventually Jackson muttered that he had never in his entire career had to deal with such a screwed-up investigation. Slurping his drink, he observed it might be easier all round if they just left the case closed, as it had been before Reid’s meddling.

‘But we can’t do that, can we, Vic? We are just going to have to sit with our thumbs up our arse until that pompous shrink gives us the heads-up that she’s not away with the fairies and calling up an army of Christ knows what in her head. It’s beyond belief, and another thing we need to get clarified is who the hell is going to pay for all these sessions he’s intending doing? I mean we are going to have to sort all that out and get some coherent answers for the Commander, never mind the Commissioner, and God forbid she doesn’t walk out of the unit and top a few more buggers off.’

Reid still gave no answer, knowing that Jackson wouldn’t listen anyway, as he appeared more interested in stuffing his mouth with the meat pie he’d ordered. He spat out bits of crust as he continued. ‘It’s going to be a real lesson in diplomacy getting ourselves out of this mess, never mind explaining the overspend on the budget. The way out for a quiet life is to have her deemed unfit to plead, we bury the whole fucking mess and she can rot in the nuthouse where she belongs.’

Reid downed his pint and carefully placed the glass onto the beer mat on the counter. As he had paid for the first round, and the meat pie, he felt he could now leave, but Jackson dug into his arm.

‘Same again, Vic?’

‘No thanks, I’ll get off home. Tomorrow I’ll make out a list of questions that Cornwall can use.’

‘You think we’ll get answers?’

Reid sighed. ‘I’m not like you, sir; what I just witnessed will give me nightmares as I have never experienced anything like it.’ He shook his head. ‘At the same time, no matter how much I pity Lena Fulford, I also feel that her victims deserve justice, and I can’t walk away from knowing what happened to her daughter. If we do get closure and discover that she poisoned Simon Boatly, Harry Dunn, and her husband, that’s three murders, and it’s possible Marcus Fulford was innocent.’

‘They’re fucking dead,’ Jackson snapped.

‘I cannot and will not agree to this case being put to bed. For me, burying it is nothing more than a cop-out.’

Jackson grabbed hold of his coat sleeve and pulled him closer.

‘Maybe it’s not just a suggestion, Vic, but an order. I am up for retirement in six months and I am not going to let this screw my pension, because I am warning you, if this whole shambolic investigation becomes public it’ll be your career blown along with mine. People died because you didn’t read the recipes in the back of the journal at the get-go.’

‘Well, I’ll just have to learn to live with that, won’t I?’ Reid said and eased his arm away. He brushed his coat sleeve down and walked out, leaving Jackson seething and staring into the dregs of his pint.

Back at home Reid sat up most of the night going over the entire investigation. When had Lena Fulford made the decision to poison her so-called enemies? How had she done it, and had she conspired with her husband to kill their daughter? Where was Amy’s body? Buried or dismembered? He underlined this query as being the most important. By the time he was ready to go to bed, all he could think about was what he had seen at Cornwall’s hypnotherapy session with Lena and what Jackson had said about their careers being over.

He slowly ripped up the lists of questions and felt totally and utterly drained, and so tired his head ached. In the morning he would have to complete his report of the search at Lena Fulford’s house. He was ashamed because although he had made a decision that he would make himself available to watch the forthcoming sessions between Professor Cornwall and Lena, in the interim he could do nothing further. It was as if the investigation was as good as over.