Joona Linna: Stalker Part 38

'Yes,' she says, looking him in the eye.

Erik thanks her, and at that moment notices Nelly standing behind the climbing frame, watching them. He starts to walk back, and wonders if she's going to report him when she finds out. Maybe he himself could file a report about a patient suffering harm while receiving treatment before she does.

66.

Before the paint dries completely, Erik and Madeleine carefully pull off the masking tape from the skirting boards and around the door and window, fold up the stiff protective paper and pull the plastic off the furniture that they stacked in the middle of the room. Although he's taken two tranquillisers, he still feels overwhelmed with remorse whenever he thinks about the priest who has been locked up for longer than Madeleine has been alive, because of his lie.

They carry on cleaning until the pizza delivery guy rings the bell. Madeleine holds Erik's hand as they go out into the hall to open the door.

'How does it look?' Jackie asks when they come into the kitchen.

'Great,' Madeleine says, looking up at Erik.

Outside in the street rain is falling through the thin sunlight and the day feels pleasantly slow, like something from childhood. Erik cuts up the pizza and puts it on their plates.

'Robots eat pizza,' Madeleine says happily.

Her face is totally relaxed, she's so relieved that she starts to sing a song from the Disney film, Frozen, even though Jackie tries to tell her several times that she shouldn't sing at the dinner table.

'Clever robot,' Madeleine keeps saying to Erik.

'But what if he starts to get rusty?' Jackie smiles, as she feels something against her foot.

'He won't,' the little girl says.

'Maddy, what's this?' she asks, carefully shaking a blister-pack of Morfin Meda that must have fallen out of Erik's jacket as it hung over the back of the chair.

'That's mine,' he says. 'It's just some headache pills.'

He takes the pills from her hand and puts them in his pocket.

'Erik,' Jackie says. 'Can I ask you for a favour ...? Maddy's got a match on Wednesday, and I'm playing at the evening service in Hsselby Church ... I don't like to ask, it feels wrong, but Rosita who usually brings Maddy home has been ill all week.'

'You'd like me to pick her up?'

'I can walk on my own, Mum it's only at stermalm Sports Club,' Madeleine says quickly.

'You're certainly not walking on your own,' Jackie snaps.

'I'll pick her up,' Erik says.

'It's actually a lethal road,' Jackie says seriously.

'Lidingvgen and Valhallavgen are completely mad,' Erik agrees.

'She's got her own key, and you don't have to stay if you can't I'll be back by eight.'

'I might have time to watch the match,' Erik says hopefully to Madeleine.

'Erik, I'm incredibly grateful, and I promise I won't ask again.'

'Don't say that, I'm only too happy to help.'

Jackie whispers a silent thank you to him, and he gets up to clear the table just as his mobile buzzes in his shirt pocket.

It's Casillas, from Karsudden District Hospital. After his meeting with Olivia Toreby, Erik called him to discuss the chances of Rocky Kyrklund being allowed on excursions outside the hospital, and beginning his rehabilitation.

'I've spoken to the Administrative Court today,' Casillas tells him. 'And you won't be surprised to hear that you and I are in complete agreement.'

'That's great,' Erik says.

'The big problem is that Rocky refuses to sign ... he says he murdered a woman, and that he doesn't deserve to be free.'

'I can talk to him,' Erik volunteers quickly.

'It's just that there's not much time if it's going to be considered at the next quarterly meeting.'

One and a half hours later Erik pa.s.ses through the security doors of Section D:4, is shown through the corridor and out into the fenced exercise yard. The patients in Rocky's section have all committed serious violent crimes under the influence of severe mental disorders, but most of them are doing relatively well with their medication and are no longer considered particularly dangerous.

On the other side of the high fence is a low hedge. The bushes press against the fence as if they wanted to get inside the yard.

Rocky Kyrklund squints at him in the broken sunshine as he approaches along the path.

'No nice pills today, Doctor?'

'No.'

A man shouts something at Rocky from a distance, but Rocky ignores him.

'I've spoken to Olivia Toreby,' Erik begins.

'Who's she?'

'We talked about her last time ... and she confirms your alibi.'

'My alibi for what?'

'For the murder of Rebecka Hansson.'

'Good,' Rocky smiles, and runs his huge hand through his steel-grey hair.

'She was addicted to heroin at the time, and I don't think her evidence would have affected the verdict against you, but I wanted you to know that all the evidence suggests that you're innocent.'

'You mean this is really happening?' he says sceptically.

'Yes.'

'An alibi,' Rocky repeats to himself.

'Olivia Toreby is living a different life these days, and she's sure of what she says. You were together at the time of the murder.'

Rocky focuses his eyes on Erik's.

'So I didn't murder Rebecka Hansson?' he says quietly.

'I don't think so,' Erik replies, without looking away.

'How sure is she?' Rocky asks, and his jaw muscles tense.

'She knows, because you were high on the night of the murder ... and it was the same night her son died of sudden infant death syndrome.'

Rocky nods and stares straight up at the white sky.

'And that matches the register of deaths,' Erik concludes.

'So all this c.r.a.p has been for nothing,' Rocky says, taking a crumpled packet of cigarettes from his pocket.

'She was a drug addict, and I don't think the court would have believed her testimony at the time,' Erik repeats.

'I might still have ended up here, but I'd have felt completely different if I'd known ...'

The air currents between the buildings are picking up dust and loose particles in the sunlit park. The man who shouted is walking towards them across the yard. Erik looks at his face, swollen with medication, at the clumsy tattoos on his cheeks and forehead, as he pa.s.ses them, whispering to himself.

'It's time for you to give your consent to the application for permission to leave the hospital ...'

'Maybe.'

'What are you going to do when you get out?' Erik asks.

'What do you think?' Rocky smiles, pulling a half-smoked cigarette from the packet.

'I don't know,' Erik says.

'I'm going to fall to my knees and thank G.o.d,' he says sarcastically.

'You'll be free, but your alibi also means something else that I need to talk to you about.'

'Nice.'

'The reason why I've been coming here is that the police are hunting a serial killer whose methods are reminiscent of what Rebecka Hansson was subjected to.'

'Say that again ...'

A gentle breeze fills an empty plastic bag with air and sends it tumbling across the exercise yard, as if it were unfettered by time itself.

67.

Rocky clenches his teeth and leans back against the fence, so that the light shining through the links changes.

'The police are hunting a serial killer,' Erik repeats. 'And the murders are reminiscent of that of Rebecka Hansson.'

'I'm trying to take in the fact that I'm innocent,' Rocky says in a loud voice. 'I'm trying to understand that I haven't killed another person ...'

'I can appreciate that ...'

'I've been living with a f.u.c.king killer for nine years now,' he concludes, pointing to his own heart.

'Rocky?' the guard calls as he approaches.

'Isn't a person allowed to be happy?'

'What's going on?' the guard asks, stopping in front of them. 'Are you going back inside?'

'Do you know, I've been wrongly convicted,' he says.

'Then we're back to one hundred per cent innocent here at Karsudden,' the guard says, and goes in.

Rocky watches him with a smile, and puts his packet of cigarettes in his pocket.

'Tell me why I should try to help the police,' he says, cupping his hands around a match.

'Innocent people are dying.'

'That's debatable,' he mutters.

'The real murderer was responsible for you ending up in here,' Erik says. 'You understand? He did this to you, no one else.'

Rocky inhales the smoke and wipes the corners of his mouth with his big, nicotine-stained thumb. Erik looks at his worn face and deep-set eyes.

'You could end up getting a complete pardon in the Appeal Court,' Erik says tentatively. 'And maybe get your job as a priest back.'

Rocky smokes for a while, then flicks the cigarette towards another patient, who thanks him and picks it up off the ground.