the Third Twin (1996)

The big difference between Dennis and Steven was in their socialization. Steven was a mature man with above average social skills—comfortable meeting strangers, prepared to accept legitimate authority, at ease with his friends, happy to be part of a team. Dennis had the interpersonal skills of a three-year-old. He grabbed anything he wanted, he had trouble sharing, he was frightened of strangers, and if he could not get his way he lost his temper and became violent.

Jeannie could remember being three years old. It was her earliest memory. She saw herself leaning over the cot in which her new baby sister lay sleeping. Patty had been wearing a pretty pink sleepsuit with pale blue flowers embroidered on the collar. Jeannie could still feel the hatred that had possessed her as she stared at the tiny face. Patty had stolen her mommy and daddy. Jeannie wanted with all her being to kill this intruder who had taken so much of the love and attention previously reserved for Jeannie alone. Aunt Rosa had said: “You love your little sister, don’t you?” and Jeannie had replied: “I hate her, I wish she would die.” Aunt Rosa had slapped her, and Jeannie had felt doubly mistreated.

Jeannie had grown up, and so had Steven, but Dennis never had. Why was Steven different from Dennis? Had he been saved by his upbringing? Or did he just seem different? Were his social skills no more than a mask for the psychopath beneath?

As she watched and listened, Jeannie realized there was another difference. She was afraid of Dennis. She could not put her finger on the exact cause, but there was menace in the air all around him. She had the sense he would do anything that came into his head, regardless of the consequences. Steven had not given her that feeling for one moment.

Jeannie photographed Dennis and took close-ups of both ears. In identical twins the ears were normally highly similar, especially the attachment of the earlobes.

When they were almost done, Lisa took a blood sample from Dennis, something she had been trained to do. Jeannie could hardly wait to see the DNA comparison. She was certain Steven and Dennis had the same genes. That would prove beyond doubt that they were identical twins.

Lisa routinely sealed the vial and signed the seal, then she went to put it in the cooler in the trunk of the car, leaving Jeannie to finish the interview on her own.

As Jeannie completed the last set of questions, she wished she could get Steven and Dennis in the laboratory together for a week. But that was not going to be possible for many of her twin pairs. In studying criminals, she would constantly face the problem that some of her subjects were in jail. The more sophisticated tests, involving laboratory machinery, would not be done on Dennis until he got out of jail, if ever. She just had to live with that. She would have plenty of other data to work with.

She finished the last questionnaire. “Thank you for your patience, Mr. Pinker,” she said.

“You didn’t give me your panties yet,” he said coolly.

Robinson said: “Now, Pinker, you been good all afternoon, don’t spoil it.”

Dennis threw the guard a look of sheer contempt. Then he said to Jeannie: “Robinson’s scared of rats, did you know that, lady psychologist?”

Suddenly Jeannie felt anxious. There was something going on that she did not understand. She began hurriedly to tidy up her papers.

Robinson looked embarrassed. “I hate rats, it’s true, but I ain’t scared of them.”

“Not even of that big gray one in the corner?” Dennis said, pointing.

Robinson whirled around. There was no rat in the corner, but when Robinson’s back was turned Dennis reached into his pocket and whipped out a tightly wrapped package. He moved so quickly that Jeannie did not guess what he was doing until it was too late. He unfolded a blue spotted handkerchief to reveal a fat gray rat with a long pink tail. Jeannie shuddered. She was not squeamish, but there was something profoundly creepy about seeing the rat cupped lovingly in the hands that had strangled a woman.

Before Robinson could turn around again, Dennis had released the rat.

It ran across the room. “There, Robinson, there!” Dennis cried.

Robinson turned around, saw the rat, and paled. “Shit,” he growled, and he drew his nightstick.

The rat ran along the floor molding, looking for somewhere to hide. Robinson went after it, lashing out with his nightstick. He made a series of black marks on the wall but missed the rat.

Jeannie watched Robinson with a warning alarm ringing in her mind. There was something wrong here, something that did not make sense. This was a humorous jape. Dennis was not a practical joker, he was a sexual pervert and a murderer. What he had done was uncharacteristic. Unless, she realized with a tremor of dread, this was a diversion, and Dennis had some other purpose—

She felt something touch her hair. She turned around in her chair, and her heart stopped.