Stalker

  ‘What if he’s just faking his memory loss?’ she says.

  ‘He isn’t, but—’

  ‘He’s involved. He’s mixed up in this somehow.’

  ‘If I could just continue,’ Erik says, running his hand over the surface of the table. ‘The real murderer was never caught, and has suddenly started killing again … Both in conversation and under hypnosis, Rocky keeps coming back to a preacher who—’

  ‘A priest?’ Adam says.

  ‘A preacher who there’s probably good reason to take seriously, in light of the alibi.’

  ‘But you’ve got no name, no location …’

  ‘It takes time to find a way through the chaos … but under hypnosis he described how the preacher killed a woman by chopping her arm off … the problem is that I’m not completely sure how much of that is nightmares and how much genuine memories.’

  ‘But you believe there’s some truth in this?’ Adam asks, leaning forward.

  ‘He’s mentioned the preacher several times, even when he’s not hypnotised.’

  ‘But nothing about the murder?’

  ‘Rocky says he’s prepared to help the police if he can – at least, he was prepared to do so before, even if it was actually a fairly absurd situation. I’m trying to help him remember, but I don’t know anything.’

  ‘Everything is strictly confidential,’ Margot explains.

  ‘If you want his help,’ Erik says, ‘then you’re going to have to go and see him, and give him some details: names, locations, things that could trigger the process of remembering.’

  ‘It’s probably best if you carry on talking to him,’ she says.

  ‘I can do that, but—’

  ‘What do you need to make progress?’ Margot says.

  ‘That’s your decision.’

  ‘We’re still trying to hold the media at bay, even if our press officer doesn’t think that’s sustainable any more,’ Adam says.

  ‘It’s just that … We have no idea how the serial killer will react to a load of publicity,’ Margot says. ‘He might simply vanish, or—’

  ‘So we need to move fast,’ Adam says.

  ‘You can have some pictures of the victims to show Rocky,’ she says. ‘We’ve done a perpetrator profile, and I can tell you about his modus operandi and specific characteristics.’

  ‘Will you be including any fake information?’

  ‘Of course,’ she says.

  ‘As long as I know,’ Erik says.

  Margot takes a deep breath, then begins to describe the killer’s methods and choice of victim.

  ‘So far it’s been women who are alone in their homes,’ she says quietly. ‘First he films them through a window, then he plans his attack, and then, once he’s decided to murder them …’

  ‘He sends the video to us,’ Adam says, in a heavy voice. ‘The killer finds his murder weapon at the scene and always leaves it behind.’

  He leans over and takes three photographs out of his case, and puts them on the table, picture-side down.

  ‘As soon as you’ve shown these to Rocky, we need you to destroy them.’

  Erik looks at the back of the pictures, which are inscribed with the names of the victims: Maria Carlsson, Susanna Kern, Sandra Lundgren.

  ‘Sandra Lundgren?’ Erik says, turning the picture over and gasping.

  ‘What is it?’ Margot asks.

  ‘She’s a patient of ours … God … She’s dead?’

  ‘You knew her?’

  69

  Erik’s mouth is completely dry as he sits in the meeting room and stares at the large colour photograph. It’s a recent picture, and he can see that Sandra is struggling to look happy. The light is reflecting off her glasses, but her green eyes are clearly visible. Her dark blonde hair is slightly longer, settling on her shoulders.

  ‘God,’ he repeats. ‘She was in a car accident … her boyfriend was killed and … We were a bit late starting her treatment … she was very badly depressed, survivor’s guilt, kept having panic attacks …’

  ‘She was your patient?’ Margot says slowly.

  ‘To start with … but one of my colleagues took over.’

  ‘Why?’

  He forces himself to tear his eyes from Sandra Lundgren’s symmetrical face and looks up at Margot again.

  ‘That often happens,’ he tries to explain. ‘It’s to do with different stages of the treatment.’

  He turns over the next photograph and his heart starts beating faster when he sees Maria Carlsson. He recognises her too. Before he met Jackie, he had a brief fling with Maria. She used to go to the same gym as him, they started walking to the bus stop together, went to the cinema, and slept together once. He remembers her pierced tongue, and the hoarse laugh he found so attractive.

  A sudden lump of discomfort makes it hard for him to breathe and he knows that if he hadn’t taken a Mogadon earlier his hands would be shaking and he wouldn’t be able to hide how upset he is.

  ‘I … I think I’ve seen her too, at the gym … This feels a bit creepy,’ he says, and tries to smile at Margot.

  ‘Which gym do you go to?’ Adam asks, taking out a notebook.

  ‘SATS, on Mäster Samuelsgatan,’ he replies, and swallows hard, but the lump of anxiety keeps growing.

  Adam looks at him with a blank expression.

  ‘And you’d seen her there?’ he says, pointing at the picture of Maria Carlsson.

  ‘I’ve got a good memory for faces,’ Erik says hollowly.

  ‘It’s a small world,’ Margot says, without taking her eyes off him.

  ‘Have you met Susanna Kern as well?’ Adam asks, reaching for the last photograph.

  ‘No,’ Erik laughs.

  But when Adam turns the picture he’s sure he’s seen her before somewhere. He doesn’t know where. The name Susanna Kern meant nothing to him when he heard it, but he recognises her face.

  Erik shakes his head and tries to make sense of this. He was brought in to talk to her husband after her murder. He hypnotised Björn Kern and went with him into his memories of the blood-soaked villa, but he never saw a picture of her.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Adam says, holding up the photograph.

  ‘Yes,’ Erik replies.

  The picture of Susanna smiling folds back over Adam’s hand. Erik takes it and looks at her face, then shakes his head as his mind races and the room shrinks around him.

  He realises that he’s on the verge of a panic attack. His mouth is getting drier, and he slowly puts both hands on his lap to stop them shaking.

  ‘Tell me about … about the perpetrator profile,’ Erik says in a voice that sounds like it belongs to someone else.

  He forces himself to sit still while they explain that the evidence suggests that the perpetrator is divorced, with a relatively high socioeconomic status.

  He tries to concentrate on what they’re saying, but his heart is pounding and thoughts are racing through his head in an attempt to find some sort of pattern, some sort of sense.

  How is this possible? he asks himself, trying to see any kind of system in this. He had a brief affair with Maria Carlsson, Sandra Lundgren was his patient, and he knows he’s met Susanna Kern.

  Three pictures of three women he’s met.

  It’s like a recurring dream; he can’t work out what it is that he recognises in this terrible situation. Across the table Margot picks up her ringing mobile. Adam stands and walks over to the window. Someone’s left a coffee cup on the windowsill.

  Suddenly Erik realises that the feeling of similarity is to do with Rocky.

  During hypnosis Rocky described how the unclean preacher had shown pictures of Tina and Rebecka.

  Rocky had blamed himself, bellowing with pain and repeating words from the Bible: I should pluck out my eye, for it has offended me.

  And now he’s lied to the police again. It felt impossible to say that he’d met all three of them.

  When Erik feels he can control his voice and body, he stands up.

/>   ‘I have to go, I’ve got an appointment with a patient now,’ he says quietly.

  ‘When can you next talk to Rocky?’ Margot asks, looking at him.

  ‘Tomorrow, I think.’

  ‘Don’t forget the pictures,’ Adam reminds him, passing them to him.

  As Erik reaches out his hand to take the photographs from Adam he sways slightly, as it strikes him that he’s a mirror-image of Rocky. Damnation brushes past him like a wind presaging a storm, and for a moment he sees himself gazing out through the six-metre-high fence surrounding the exercise yard at Karsudden.

  70

  Joona is practising his knife techniques, his fist and elbow exercises, as well as skipping, weight-training and running. He’s still a long way from his old level, but is getting stronger all the time. His hip ached after his five-kilometre run, and he walked the last bit.

  It’s seven o’clock when he sees Erik’s BMW turn into the drive. Joona puts the meat in the oven and pours two glasses of Pomerol as he hears the front door close and the sound of keys being put down on the chest of drawers.

  Joona takes the glasses and goes to the library. Pushes the door open with his foot and walks in.

  Erik’s jacket is lying on the floor. He’s in his study, searching through the papers on his desk.

  ‘Food will be ready in forty minutes,’ Joona says.

  ‘Great,’ Erik murmurs, glancing up with a stressed look in his eyes. ‘You’ve shaved … nice.’

  ‘It felt like it was time.’

  ‘How are you?’ Erik asks, switching his computer on.

  ‘Good,’ Joona says, walking into the room.

  ‘How’s your hip?’ Erik says, looking at the screen.

  ‘I’ve done some exercise, and I’m—’

  ‘Can we talk?’ Erik interrupts, looking Joona in the eye. ‘I’ve just had a meeting with Margot and Adam, and … I’m not prone to paranoia … but I’ve met all three victims … It’s crazy, I don’t understand anything, but that can’t be a coincidence – can it?’

  ‘How do you know—’

  ‘What are the chances of that?’ Erik asks, staring at Joona.

  ‘How do you know the victims?’ Joona prompts, and puts the glasses of wine down on the desk.

  ‘It feels like this is directed at me. Maybe it’s just my imagination, but if that is the case, then …’

  ‘Sit down,’ Joona says gently.

  ‘Sorry, I’m just … I’m pretty shocked,’ Erik says, sinking down on to his chair and taking a deep breath.

  ‘How do you know the victims?’ Joona repeats, for the third time.

  ‘I had a brief fling with Maria Carlsson earlier this summer … Sandra Lundgren was a patient at the clinic … And I recognise Susanna Kern … I’ve met her, but I don’t know where.’

  ‘What does Margot say?’

  ‘Well, I was so surprised that I didn’t say anything about Susanna Kern … but I’m going to, obviously …’

  His mobile rings, making Erik jump.

  ‘It’s work. I’ll leave it,’ he mutters, clicks to reject the call and drops his phone on the floor.

  ‘And I couldn’t tell her I’d slept with Maria,’ he goes on, picking up his phone. ‘I just said we went to the same gym.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘I said that Sandra had been a patient of mine, but not … I still don’t think this is relevant,’ he smiles, scratching his forehead. ‘But I’ll say it anyway … It’s not unusual for patients to want to control the situation by trying to seduce their therapist … There’s always a connection, that’s only natural, but in this instance the patient went so far that I passed her on to Nelly.’

  ‘But nothing happened between you?’

  ‘No …’

  Erik’s hand is shaking as he picks up the wine glass, raises it to his lips and takes several large gulps.

  ‘Could it be a patient taking revenge on you for—’

  ‘I no longer work with dangerous patients,’ Erik interrupts.

  ‘But when you were doing research on—’

  ‘That’s fifteen years ago,’ he says.

  ‘How far back do your records go?’

  ‘I record and archive everything.’

  ‘Can you go through it?’

  ‘Only if I know what to look for.’

  ‘Some sort of parallel, a connection, anything – stalking, violence directed at the face, the arrangement of bodies … And we’re probably dealing with trophies of some sort …’

  Erik is standing up now, and starts walking back and forth across his study. He runs his hand through his hair and is muttering to himself:

  ‘This is crazy, it’s completely sick …’

  ‘Sit down and tell me what—’

  ‘I don’t want to sit down!’ Erik snaps. ‘I’ve got to—’

  ‘Listen,’ Joona says. ‘You’re welcome to stand, but I need to know as much as possible … and, to be honest, you look like you need to sit down.’

  Erik reaches for his glass, drinks on his feet, then pulls a pack of pills from his inside pocket, presses a couple out and swallows them with some more wine.

  ‘Shit,’ he sighs.

  ‘Have you started on the pills again? I’d never have believed that,’ Joona says, looking at him with sharp grey eyes.

  ‘I’m keeping an eye on it, it’s fine.’

  ‘Good.’

  Erik sits down on his desk chair, wipes his forehead and tries to breathe more calmly.

  ‘I can’t get my thoughts together,’ he mutters. ‘I’ve been trying to work out if Rocky had an accomplice or an apprentice.’

  ‘You’ve only just seen him.’

  ‘Trying to uncover real memories is one of my areas of expertise … but hypnotising Rocky was unusually complex. I managed to get past his organic amnesia, and ended up in a world of heroin highs and delirium …’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I don’t really know how to interpret it,’ Erik says in an unsteady voice. ‘But today, when I was sitting there with Margot and Adam and realised that I’d met all three victims, when I saw the photographs … I started to think back to the hypnosis again … This is completely sick.’

  ‘I’m listening,’ Joona says, sipping his wine.

  Erik nods, and screws his eyes up as he tries to describe what happened.

  ‘Rocky was in a state of deep hypnosis when he said the preacher had shown him a picture of a woman he had already killed in front of his eyes … and after that he showed him a picture of Rebecka Hansson … I could have sworn that was just a nightmare.’

  ‘But it’s the same killer,’ Joona says. ‘The preacher is back, it’s the same pattern.’

  Erik’s face has turned grey.

  ‘In that case, I’m playing Rocky’s role this time,’ he whispers.

  ‘Did Rocky have relationships with the two women?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Call Simone at once,’ Joona says seriously.

  Erik picks up his phone, clears his throat, then stands up anxiously.

  ‘Simone,’ the familiar voice says in his ear.

  ‘Hi, Simone, it’s Erik.’

  ‘What’s happened – you sound upset?’

  ‘I need to ask you for a favour … Are Benjamin and John there?’

  ‘Yes, but why do you—’

  ‘I think I’ve got a patient who’s stalking me, and I just don’t want you and Benjamin to be on your own at home until this is sorted out.’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I can’t tell you.’

  ‘Are you in danger?’

  ‘I just don’t want to take any risks, please, just do as I say …’

  ‘OK, I’ll try to bear it in mind,’ Simone says.

  ‘Promise.’

  ‘You’re scaring me, Erik.’

  ‘Good,’ he replies, and hears her laugh wearily.

  71

  Erik has washed his face and is standing in the kitchen reco
unting everything Rocky said about the unclean preacher – that he wore make-up over his stubble, was a heroin addict and showed him pictures – while Joona puts the food on the table.

  He’s roasted the lamb in the oven with root vegetables and garlic. He scatters some herbs over the dish, then pours more wine in their glasses.

  ‘This is great,’ Erik says, sitting down.

  ‘I just wanted to say … Summa’s last months,’ Joona begins, and looks up at him. ‘We had half a year together, the whole family … That wouldn’t have been possible without you, Erik, without the medication you prescribed for her and everything … I knew I could trust you, and I’ll never forget that.’

  They touch glasses, drink, and then chat about how they first met, but are soon back on the subject of Rocky and the photographs.

  ‘Margot needs to take the preacher seriously,’ Erik says.

  ‘She will,’ Joona assures him. ‘The profilers have come up with a—’

  ‘I’ve seen it.’

  ‘I’m not involved in the case, obviously, but Anja told me that they’ve done a first sweep … She started with the parish of Salem, then nearby parishes and congregations,’ Joona says, pushing the serving dish towards Erik. ‘Roman Catholic, Assyrian, Russian and Greek Orthodox … the Scientologists, Mission Church, Salvation Army, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Latter-day Saints, Methodists, Pentecostalists … and now they’re expanding the search to look at all the priests in the country that work with drug addicts, in prisons, institutions and hospitals …’

  Erik’s hands have almost stopped shaking, but he’s moving slowly, as if he doesn’t quite trust himself as he helps himself to food.

  ‘How many names are there on the list?’ he asks, pushing the dish towards Joona.

  ‘More than four hundred, already. But if you can get Rocky to remember the preacher’s name … a first name, a description, a parish, then—’

  ‘It’s just so difficult,’ Erik interrupts. ‘His brain damage and addiction—’

  ‘Why don’t we talk about it tomorrow?’ Joona says, and starts to eat.

  ‘His memory follows its own patterns,’ Erik says, cutting his meat.

  ‘But he seems to remember much better under hypnosis.’

  ‘Yes, although the door between nightmares and memory seems to be open …’