My Name Is Lydia (Jack Nightingale short story) Read Online Free

the train home.” The Kia pulled up outside the station.
Nightingale climbed out and gave Father Mahoney a final wave before heading
inside.

 
    * * *

 
    Nightingale was
sipping coffee and frowning at the Daily Mail’s Sudoku puzzle when the office
doorbell rang. Jenny had popped out to get toner for the printer so Nightingale
crushed out his cigarette and headed for the door. His visitor was a tallish
grey-haired man of around sixty, wearing a dark suit and a rather garish red
spotted bow-tie . He studied Nightingale through a pair
of gold-rimmed bifocals, before clearing his throat and speaking. “Mr Jack
Nightingale?”
    “Just like it says on
the door. Can I help you?”
    “My name is Matthew
Warren. I’m Christine’s father. You were at my house yesterday with Father
Mahoney.”
    Nightingale showed him
into his office and sat down. He reached for his pack of cigarettes but dropped
them when he saw the look of disapproval that flashed across the doctor’s face.
    “My wife told me about
your visit yesterday,” said Dr Warren.   “I wasn’t aware she’d asked him to see Christine...much less that he was
planning anything as ridiculous as an exorcism.”
    “He isn’t planning on
it. He doesn’t really believe in demonic possession, and Christine has none of
the recognised symptoms.”
    “So my wife says. She
says you recommended psychiatric help.”
    “It’s not really my
place to recommend anything. I’m a private detective , I’m no doctor . I have to say I’m a little surprised that you
didn’t go the psychiatrist route. Presumably you know people, professionals.
From the little I’ve seen, it’s as if there are two personalities inside her. I
wondered if you’d considered schizophrenia?”
    “Christine is not
schizophrenic, I’m sure of that. It’s as if she has multiple personality
disorder, but outside of cheap novels that’s incredibly rare. Almost
non-existent as far as proven cases go.”
    “Could Christine be
inventing all this?”
    “No, I really can’t
see that. She’s a normal eleven year old, the ‘other’
personality seems far older, more sophisticated as well as more cunning and
malevolent. Did my wife tell you what she did to our dog?”
    Nightingale nodded.
“She did.”
    “Christine loved that
dog. I mean really, really loved it.”
    “So you are sure there
is a different personality at work?”
    Doctor Warren’s eyes
seemed not to want to meet Nightingale’s, focusing on different parts of the
scantily furnished office as he spoke. Nightingale recognised the signs. The
man was hiding something.
    “I think you have a
theory, Doctor,” said Nightingale. “Why not tell me? I’m a good listener.”
    Doctor Warren clenched
his fists, took a deep breath before speaking. “Christine was...is a very
special child. My wife and I had tried to conceive for over twenty years
without success. Finally we tried IVF. Three courses on the NHS and then three
more that we paid for ourselves. We decided to give up after the last one
seemed not to work. Then, suddenly, almost later than seemed possible, the
final try worked, and Christine was the result. I couldn’t begin to describe
how thrilled we were, especially since she seemed so happy and healthy. Never
any of the childhood illnesses, I can’t remember her ever even having a cold. And now this. It’s devastating.”
    Nightingale nodded,
but didn’t interrupt.
    “What I am going to
tell you is in strict confidence, Mr Nightingale.”
    “Of course,” said
Nightingale.
    Dr Warren took another
deep breath before continuing. “Last week I wanted to rule out anything
physical, so I took a blood sample from Christine and had it analysed. I did it
without telling my wife.”
    “And was there
anything wrong?”
    “No sign of any
physical problem. She’s perfectly healthy. Except that her blood contains two
different groups, and she has two separate sets of DNA.”
    Nightingale gaped at
him. “But that’s not