Ларс Кеплер - Stalker

Erik wonders if he ought to bring the patient out of hypnosis, he can feel Rocky moving too quickly through his memories, and no longer knows if it’s possible to keep him at the right level.

‘Tina coughs over the basin and looks at me in the mirror with fear in her eyes... I know she’s in a bad way, but...’

‘Is Tina your accomplice?’ Erik asks, looking at Rocky’s open face.

‘For fuck’s sake, they owe me a hundred thousand, I’ll be getting it next week,’ he mutters. ‘But right now I can only afford... shitty brown shoe-scrapings, have to dissolve it in acid so I can shoot up.’

Rocky starts to shake his head anxiously, and is breathing unevenly through his nose.

‘There’s no danger here,’ Erik says, as calmly as he can. ‘You’re quite safe, you can talk about everything that happens.’

Rocky’s body relaxes again, but his face is lined and sweaty.

‘I sit there, let her have the spoon... I’m not getting a kick any more, but I feel great and start to nod off, and I see her use a cable as a tourniquet round her arm... the adapter’s whirring and getting all tangled, and she can’t sort it out afterwards... I’m too out of it to help her, I hear her ask for help with a sob in her voice...’

Rocky whimpers slightly and the atmosphere seems to contract to a single dark pinprick.

‘What’s happening now?’ Erik asks.

‘The door opens,’ Rocky replies. ‘Some bastard has picked the lock... I shut my eyes, I’ve got to rest, but I know it’s the preacher, the preacher’s found me...’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I can tell because of the filthy smell of old gear. It’s withdrawal, it smells metallic, like fish-guts...’

Rocky shakes his head again, his breathing is getting too quick, and Erik thinks he should start to bring Rocky out of his hypnosis, but holds back.

‘What’s happening?’ he whispers.

‘I open my eyes and the preacher looks a fucking wreck,’ he says. ‘Hepatitis, probably, completely yellow eyes... The preacher snorts back some snot, then starts to speak in a really high voice.’

Rocky is breathing shallowly, twisting on his chair and moaning in anguish between his words.

‘The preacher goes over to Tina... she’s shot up, but can’t get the cable loose... Dear God in heaven, have mercy on my soul, dear God in heaven...’

‘Rocky, I’m going to start to wake you up, and—’

‘The preacher’s holding a machete, and it sounds like when you stick a spade into mud—’

Rocky starts to retch, he’s panting heavily now, but goes on talking.

‘The preacher chops her arm off at the shoulder, loosens the tourniquet and drinks...’

‘Listen to my voice now.’

‘And drinks the blood from her arm... while Tina lies bleeding to death on the floor... Dear God in heaven... Dear God—’

‘Three, two, one... now you’re above the disabled toilet, you’re high above it, and nothing you can see is going to hurt you...’

‘Dear God,’ Rocky sobs, hanging his head.

‘You’re still in a state of deep relaxation, and you’re going to tell me how much of what you’ve just said to me was a dream... You’ve taken drugs, and have been having nightmares... You’re looking down at yourself on the toilet floor. What’s really going on?’

‘I don’t know,’ Rocky says slowly.

‘Who is he?’

‘The preacher’s face is covered in blood... shows me a polaroid picture of Rebecka... just like Tina the week before, and...’

His hoarse voice disappears, but his mouth keeps moving for a while until it stops. He leans his big head to one side, and looks straight through Erik with empty eyes.

‘I didn’t hear what you said.’

‘It’s my fault... I should pluck out my eye, for it has offended me, it would be better to pluck my eye out than this.’

Rocky tries to stand up, but Erik holds him down with a gentle hand on his shoulder, and feels the big body vibrate, trembling with fear.

‘You’re in a state of deep relaxation,’ Erik says, as sweat trickles down his back. ‘But before you wake up, I want you to look straight at the preacher and... tell me what you see.’

‘I’m lying on the floor, I can see boots... I can smell blood, and I shut my eyes.’

‘Go back a little.’

‘I can’t do any more,’ Rocky says, and starts to come round from his hypnosis.

‘Stay there, just for a moment... There’s no danger, you’re relaxed, you’re telling me about the first time you saw the unclean preacher.’

‘It’s in the church...’

He opens his eyes for a moment, then shuts them again, and mutters something inaudible.

‘Tell me about the church,’ Erik says. ‘What’s happening?’

‘I don’t know,’ Rocky gasps. ‘It’s not a sermon...’

‘What can you see?’

‘He’s wearing make-up over his stubble... and his arms are so fucking riddled with holes that—’

Rocky tries to stand up, but his chair falls over and he collapses and hits the back of his head on the floor.

Rocky rolls on to his side and Erik helps him to his feet. He stretches his back, rubs his mouth with his hand, pushes Erik away and goes over to the window, looking through the gaps between the vertical bars.

‘Do you remember anything from when you were hypnotised?’ Erik asks, picking the chair up off the floor.

Rocky turns round and looks at him through narrowed eyes.

‘Was I entertaining?’

‘You talked a lot about the preacher. You do know what his real name is — don’t you?’

Rocky purses his lips and slowly shakes his head.

‘No.’

‘I think you do, and I don’t understand why you’re protecting him...’

‘The preacher is just a scapegoat, a—’

‘Give me a name, then,’ Erik persists.

‘I can’t remember,’ Rocky says.

‘A place, then. Where is he? Where’s the Zone?’

Sunlight from behind shines through his beard onto his furrowed cheeks.

‘Was this the first time you’ve hypnotised me?’ Rocky asks.

‘I’ve never hypnotised you before.’

‘As far as I’m concerned, the evaluation was a waste of time,’ Rocky says, without listening. ‘But I liked talking to you.’

‘You remember that? It’s almost ten years ago...’

‘I remember your brown cord jacket, that must have been pretty damn retro even then... We used to sit on opposite sides of a table... chipboard, with a birch veneer, you can tell by the smell... Paper cups of water, Dictaphone, notebook... and my head was really hurting again, I needed morphine, but I wanted to tell you about my alibi first...’

‘I don’t remember that,’ Erik says, taking a step back.

Rocky picks at the window between the bars.

‘I wrote down Olivia’s address, but that was never mentioned in court.’

‘But you confessed to murdering—’

‘Just tell me what happened to my alibi,’ he interrupts.

‘I didn’t really take it seriously.’

Rocky turns round, walks closer, hunches up slightly and lowers his head, as if to see Erik better.

‘So you never mentioned it to my defence lawyer?’

Erik glances quickly over his shoulder and can see that the guard outside the door has disappeared. Rocky shoves the chairs between them out of the way with his foot.

‘I don’t remember being given an address,’ Erik says quickly. ‘But if I was, I’m sure I would have handed it to your defence team.’

‘You threw it away — didn’t you?’ Rocky says darkly and steps closer.

‘Calm down,’ Erik replies, moving towards the door.

‘You sentenced me to this,’ Rocky shouts. ‘It was you! You were the one who did this to me!’