Stalker

I’m about to meet the priest I let down because I’d already judged him, he thinks. If Rocky Kyrklund does have an alibi, I’m going to confess what I did to the police, and take the consequences.

Dust from the path swirls around his legs, and he knows Rocky can hear him approaching.

‘Rocky?’ he says.

‘Who wants to know?’

‘My name is Erik Maria Bark.’

Rocky lets go of the fence and turns round. He’s tall, one metre ninety. His shoulders are even broader than Erik remembers, he’s got a full beard, specked with grey, and back-combed hair. His eyes are green, and his face radiates a chilly pride. He’s wearing a pilled, camouflage-green sweater with worn elbows. His sturdy arms are hanging by his sides, a cigarette clasped between his fingers.

‘The senior consultant said you liked Camels,’ Erik says, and attempts to give him the cigarettes.

Rocky juts his chin out and looks down at him. He doesn’t reply, and shows no sign of accepting the gift.

‘I don’t know if you remember me,’ Erik says. ‘I was involved in your trial nine years ago, I was part of the group that conducted the psychological assessment.’

‘What conclusion did you reach?’ Rocky says in a dark voice.

‘That you needed neurological and psychiatric treatment,’ Erik replies calmly.

Rocky flicks his glowing cigarette at Erik. It hits him in the chest and falls to the ground. A few sparks fly out.

‘Go in peace,’ Rocky says calmly, then purses his lips.

Erik stubs the cigarette out and sees that two carers are approaching across the grass, carrying an alarm.

‘What’s going on here?’ one of them asks as they stop.

‘It was an accident,’ Erik says.

The men stay for a few moments, but neither Erik nor Rocky say anything. In the end the guards go back to their coffee.

‘You lied to them,’ Rocky says.

‘I do that sometimes,’ Erik replies.

Rocky’s face remains impassive, but there’s a flicker of interest in his eyes now.

‘Have you received neurological and psychiatric treatment?’ Erik asks. ‘You have a right to it. I’m a doctor, do you want me to look at your notes and rehabilitation plan?’

Rocky shakes his head slowly.

‘You’ve been here for a long time, but have never applied for parole.’

‘Why would I do that?’

‘Don’t you want to get out?’

‘I accept my punishment,’ Rocky says in his deep voice.

‘You had trouble remembering back then – is that still the case?’ Erik asks.

‘Yes.’

‘But I remember our conversations, and sometimes it sounded like you thought you were innocent of the murder.’

‘Naturally … I surrounded myself with lies in an attempt to escape, they crawled all over me like a swarm of bees, and I tried to avoid responsibility by blaming someone else.’

‘Who?’

‘That doesn’t matter … I was guilty, but I let the lies crawl all over me.’

Erik bends over and puts the cigarettes down at Rocky’s feet, then takes a step back.

‘Do you want to talk about the person you wanted to blame?’ he asks.

‘I don’t remember, but I know I thought of him as a preacher, an unclean preacher …’

The priest falls silent and turns back towards the fence. Erik goes and stands next to him and looks out at the trees.

‘What was his name?’

‘I can’t remember names any more, I don’t remember their faces, scattered like ashes …’

‘You called him a preacher – was he a colleague of yours?’

Rocky’s fingers clutch the fence and his chest rises and falls as he breathes.

‘I only remember that I was scared, that was probably why I tried to blame him.’

‘You were scared of him?’ Erik asks. ‘What had he done? Why were you …’

‘Rocky? Rocky!’ says a patient who has walked up behind them. ‘Look what I’ve got for you!’

They turn round and see the skinny man holding out a jam biscuit in a napkin.

‘Eat it yourself,’ Rocky says.

‘I don’t want to,’ the other inmate says eagerly. ‘I’m a sinner, God and His angels hate me, and—’

‘Shut up!’ Rocky roars.

‘What have I done? Why are you—’

Rocky takes hold of the man by the chin, looks him in the eyes, then spits in his face. The man loses his balance when Rocky lets go, and the biscuit falls to the ground.

The guards approach across the grass again.