Free The Third Twin by Ken Follett Page B

maker.
    Mish said: “Do you two work together?”
    “Yes,” Jeannie replied. “We study twins.”
    “Twins?”
    “We measure their similarities and differences, and try to figure out how much is inherited and how much is due to the way they were raised.”
    “What’s your role in this, Lisa?”
    “My job is to find the twins for the scientists to study.”
    “How do you do that?”
    “I start with birth records, which are public information in most states. Twinning is about one percent of births, so we get a set of twins for every hundred birth certificates we look at. The certificate gives the date and place of birth. We take a copy, then track down the twins.”
    “How?”
    “We have every American phone book on CD-ROM. We can also use driving license registries and credit reference agencies.”
    “Do you always find the twins?”
    “Goodness, no. Our success rate depends on their age. We track down about ninety percent of ten-year-olds, but only fifty percent of eighty-year-olds. Older people are more likely to have moved several times, changed their names, or died.”
    Mish looked at Jeannie. “And then you study them.”
    Jeannie said: “I specialize in identical twins who have been raised apart. They’re much more difficult to find.” She put the coffeepot on the table and poured a cup for Mish. If this detective was planning to put pressure on Lisa, she was taking her time about it.
    Mish sipped her coffee then said to Lisa: “At the hospital, did you take any medication?” “No, I wasn’t there long.”
    “They should have offered you the morning-after pill. You don’t want to be pregnant.”
    Lisa shuddered. “I sure don’t. I’ve been asking myself what the hell I’d do about it.”
    “Go to your own doctor. He should give it to you, unless he has religious objections—some Catholic physicians have a problem with it. In that case the volunteer center will recommend an alternate.”
    “It’s so good to talk to someone who knows all this stuff,” Lisa said.
    “The fire was no accident,” Mish went on. “I’ve talked to the fire chief. Someone set it in a storage room next to the locker room—and he unscrewed the ventilation pipes to make sure the smoke was pumped into the locker room. Now, rapists are not really interested in sex: it’s fear that turns them on. So I think the fire was all part of this creep’s fantasy.”
    Jeannie had not thought of that possibility. “I assumed he was just an opportunist who took advantage of the fire.”
    Mish shook her head. “Date rape is usually opportunistic: a guy finds that the girl is too stoned or drunk to fight him off. But men who rape strangers are different. They’re planners. They fantasize the event, then work out how to make it happen. They can be very clever. It makes them more scary.”
    Jeannie felt even angrier. “I nearly died in that goddamn fire,” she said.
    Mish said to Lisa: “I’m right in thinking you had never seen this man before? He was a total stranger?”
    “I think I saw him about an hour earlier,” she replied. “When I was out running with the field hockey team, a car slowed right down and the guy stared at us. I have a feeling it was him.”
    “What kind of a car?”
    “It was old, I know that. White, with a lot of rust. Maybe a Datsun.”
    Jeannie expected Mish to write that down, but she carried on talking. “The impression I get is of an intelligent and completely ruthless pervert who will do whatever it takes to get his kicks.”
    Jeannie said bitterly: “He should be locked away for the rest of his life.”
    Mish played her trump card. “But he won’t be. He’s free. And he will do it again.”
    Jeannie was skeptical. “How can you be sure of that?” “Most rapists are serial rapists. The only exception is the opportunistic date-rapist I mentioned before: that type of guy might offend only once. But men who rape strangers do it again and again—until they’re caught.” Mish looked