The Reckoning on Cane Hill: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

being looked after.
    As I wandered half lost along seemingly identical corridors, searching for clues on the signs hanging down overhead, it began to feel like a mythical destination. After returning to what appeared to be the same junction I’d just left, I toyed with the idea of scrawling chalk arrows on the floor. It also didn’t help matters that the walls were a particularly sickly shade of green. The bright sunshine on the drive over here had caused my receding hangover to return with a vengeance.
    My contact was a Dr Fredericks, and after eventually signing in at the Baines Wing reception, I was directed to a waiting area. There was nobody else there, which was fortunate, as it was claustrophobically small, with cheap black chairs lining the walls around a low table. There was a spread of tatty magazines, a couple of books. I sat down and breathed slowly and steadily. The air in here tasted warm and recycled, and the back of my head thudded in time with my heartbeat, like an angry neighbour hammering on a wall in protest.
    On the drive over, I’d decided I was a little pissed off withPete for sending me on this adventure. I’d scanned enough of the file to know that Charlotte Matheson was most certainly dead. Whoever the woman here was, it was someone else. Establishing who she was didn’t seem like a fantastic use of my time and experience, and Pete knew it. It was hardly likely to be a criminal matter. On top of that, if this woman turned out to be seriously disturbed, there were also ethical considerations to bear in mind. Call me high-minded, but I prefer to see the people I interview as people, rather than the butt of an office joke.
    ‘Detective Nelson?’
    I looked up to see a man I presumed was Dr Fredericks. He was old and tall, and dressed in a brown suit. Looming over me and looking down, he inclined his head curiously.
    ‘Are you okay?’
    ‘No,’ I said. ‘Not really, no.’
    ‘Right. There’s a water cooler round that corner.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    I poured myself a cup from the ice-cold nozzle, drained it, then got myself a second and wandered back round. By the time I’d returned, Fredericks had taken a seat in the corner of the waiting area, balancing his clipboard awkwardly on his knees. His legs were so long that the size of the area was even more of a problem for him than it was for me.
    ‘Join me,’ he said. ‘You’re going to want to sit down.’
    ‘Okay.’ I sat across from him, eager to get this over with. ‘I know a little about why I’m supposed to be here. A woman was picked up yesterday and gave her name as Charlotte Matheson. That’s right, isn’t it?’
    ‘Yes. This is Charlotte Matheson’s file.’ Fredericks showed me the bundle of sheets on the clipboard, separated out with paper clips. ‘Her older records. According to this, we’ve treated her a number of times in the past.’
    I held up the folder I’d brought with me.
    ‘According to mine, Charlotte Matheson died two years ago.’
    Fredericks nodded. ‘According to ours too.’
    ‘We’re in accordance, then. So it’s a different Charlotte Matheson.’
    ‘That’s the thing. Obviously it is – or else she has a different name altogether. But she certainly believes that she is this Charlotte Matheson. She’s given us the correct birth date, home address, everything.’
    ‘She’s confused?’
    ‘Yes, she’s certainly confused. And in fact she was dressed very oddly when she came in: a white gown and trousers. It looked at first as though she was a patient somewhere.’
    ‘That would make sense.’
    ‘The problem is, if that’s the case, I don’t know where. There are no identifying marks on the fabric, and it isn’t standard-issue clothing from any hospital I’m familiar with. Plus, I’ve made enquiries. None of the facilities nearby have a patient missing.’
    I sipped the water, taking all this in.
    ‘Presumably you’ve confronted her with the fact that she can’t be who she claims to