“That’s what we suspect. We know that Alex was the first victim, and that he had formed part of a love triangle over the Internet, which ended in his murder,” answered Natalia. “But we were thinking that the killer was Mónica’s boyfriend, and not actually her. Please, continue.”
“As I was telling you, Mónica stayed here as an inpatient for twenty days. She was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder and reactive depression, both caused by the sudden death of her boyfriend. She refused to speak or receive any kind of treatment but, as it appeared that she was thinking properly, and that there was no danger of her making another attempt on her life, she was discharged.”
“But, did she not discuss Alex or the reason for her boyfriend's suicide with any therapist?" asked Natalia.
"No, she refused to talk about the matter; she virtually didn't speak to anybody about anything. To a certain extent, we deemed that it was logical, given the anger that comes part and parcel with the whole pain process. We advised her to continue treatment once she was out of the clinic, and we discharged her. We didn't hear from her at all again until her second attempted suicide, in December of that same year. I had taken on her case the first time, so I was the one who dealt with her again. I found her to be considerably more damaged on a psychological level. We had to keep her under sedation for most of the day and, even so, she exhibited episodes of great distress, in which she would go back to trying to kill herself, screaming at us to let her die, or asking other patients to help her mutilate herself."
"Mutilate herself?" exclaimed Carlos, horrified. “What did she want to do to herself exactly?"
"She was screaming that she needed to free herself of her eyes and her hands, and that she needed to destroy her heart; that they were the ones to blame for her ruin; that they were the ones that had made her betray her boyfriend,” answered Doctor Martínez.
"Of course: the hands for typing, the eyes for reading, the heart for falling in love," reflected Natalia. "You were right, Carlos. The crimes were a substitution: not for another murder, however, but for her own suicide. And how did you not remember this information when we mentioned the type of mutilations we were investigating?"
"In this place, you hear very strange things every day; we can't remember them all. And, besides, her discourse was much less coherent than the one I've given you. But in any case, I think it was those details that were familiar to me. Once the medication began to take effect, I was able to begin the psychotherapy with her. In those sessions she went along telling me the whole story. Mónica began going out with her boyfriend, Rubén, when they were both sixteen years old. There didn't seem to be any problems in the relationship but, in December, when she was nineteen, she met another young man on the Internet. I never managed to get her to give me any information about him. She refused to talk about him to such an extent that I came to think that he was an invention of her own mind in order to blame herself for her boyfriend's suicide. Obviously, with what you've both just mentioned to me now, everything takes on a new meaning,” Doctor Martínez continued explaining. "According to what she told me, the young man was only seventeen when he met her. They began talking as friends but, before she knew it, she started falling in love with him."
"And how did her boyfriend take it?" asked Carlos.
"Not very well, of course. He was very much in love with her, and asked her to break off the relationship. She promised him many times, but continued to fall again and again. This situation went on for about seven months, during which time she was incapable of choosing between her boyfriend and the Internet relationship."
"I don't understand how she could behave that way. Why did she continue speaking with Alex if she will was already in a relationship in which she was happy?" said Natalia, interested.
"That is the question Mónica should have answered, and she never did. I think that not even she was able to explain it to herself. Perhaps she wasn't completely happy, perhaps she was missing the element of illusion or adventure that she had in the other relationship. Or maybe something in her life wasn't going well, and she dreamed about an ideal love that would put it all right. Or, maybe she was such an unstable person that she was not able to decide which of the two relationships she should end. Love and security are highly attractive, but they shut danger out of the routine. We have all dreamed at some point or another about a story of impossible love, but it's scary for us to try and live it out because we know that the magic will disappear as soon as we confront the dream with reality. However, in spite of knowing this, it's difficult to give up dreaming. The fact is that she was incapable of choosing. She seemed to wait until the situation exploded by itself, for one of the two young men to make the decision for her, with the subsequent burden of anxiety and guilt that came with it. The solution could seem very easy: that she could have left one of the two. But it was not that simple, most of all when the arguments with her boyfriend started becoming daily and the relationship began to fall apart. She could not leave the young man from the Internet, because he represented the only escape route from a life that was taking on water, and neither was she able to leave her boyfriend, out of the guilt she felt at what she was doing to him.”
"And what happened in the end?" asked Natalia.
"Like I already told you, Rubén, her boyfriend, could not withstand the situation, and he killed himself. I don't know the circumstances under which he made that decision. It would have been more logical for him to have left her and to have forgotten about the whole thing, but he didn't. And, as I've already told you, a few days later, Mónica attempted suicide for the first time."
"After having gone to San Sebastián to take revenge on Alex," noted Carlos. "Or maybe she turned to him as a final solution to her problem, and the he laughed at her. We've already been told that for Alex, that relationship was a game; that he took the whole thing is a joke."
"I don't think that she would have been able to turn to that young man as a solution. The burden of guilt after Rubén’s death was too much,” explained the doctor. "Now that you've told me that this boy turned up murdered just before her attempted suicide, I think that she was trying to put an end to the whole thing, to do away with all those who were to blame.”
"How long did you keep her here after the second attempt?" asked Natalia.
"About three months. Her delirium of guilt went along varying between the desire for death and self-mutilation, and an almost religious obligation to pay for her past sins. I asked her whether the price of those sins could ever be her own life, and she answered that it would not be enough; that she needed to dedicate her life to trying to find forgiveness for what she had done. Once we became certain that she was not going to make another attempt to kill herself, we let her go again.”
“And on what date did that happen?” asked Carlos, interested, once again consulting his notes.
“That was in March of 2005.”
“Two months before she would contact Bianca, her first victim. She would make use of that time to decide on the kind of sacrifices she wished to make, and how to carry them out,” ventured Natalia. “I think the whole thing fits. I imagine we won’t be able take the file with us until we bring the warrant, isn’t that so?”
“I would prefer that we did it all within regulation, if you don’t mind,” replied the doctor, handing them the report. “However, I can allow you to take a look now in case you need any information for the arrest.”
Carlos took the report and opened it on the first page, on which there appeared the personal information that had been taken down when she was admitted into the hospital. Upon seeing the photograph, he was thoughtful for a few seconds.
“I think I know her from somewhere,” he said, trying to place the sarcastic smile, the long dark hair and, most of all, those disturbing green eyes. “Yes, I’ve seen her before... It’s the girl I had to kick off the beach.”
***
Gus wrapped his arms tightly around his body, trying to ward off the cold, as he cursed Carlos
and Natalia under his breath. He had called them from every public telephone he had passed by, but their mobiles were still switched off, so he had had to show up for the date all by himself. But ten minutes had already gone by since the agreed time and nobody had appeared. It had been idiocy getting that far. Charon was not going to appear until Silvia was within his reach. So, what, had he expected that, on seeing his date was not there, he would come out from amongst the trees, to go and entertain himself by talking to him? He would be hidden, monitoring the field from somewhere, seeing him, and wondering who he was and why he was there. As he imagined Charon’s eyes riveted on his back, he could not help quickly turning his head, whilst a shiver ran down his spine. There was nobody there, only the trees, which showed up darkly against the deep blue sky, like immobile giants with innumerable empty eyes. He could not fathom what they were hiding, in spite of the fact that he seemed to be seeing shadows moving between them, to be hearing the sounds of footsteps or twigs breaking behind him. He forced himself to go back to looking in the direction of the rugby field. It would end up being suspicious for him to be looking at the forest with so much interest. Besides, the only thing he achieved by it was his imagination taking flight and making him see monsters in every shadow. He needed to avoid his mind running amok; otherwise he would have to leave. The terror would end up taking over, and not allow him to think. And he still wanted to give Charon a few more minutes.
Art was running around the rugby field, happy to be out of the flat. It seemed that the intense cold was not affecting him. In that moment, he stopped running, raised his head, and looked at Gus for a few seconds. Then he trotted over to him, barking happily. When he arrived at the rock that Gus was sitting down on, he began to jump, and lifted his front paws onto Gus’s knees.
“Do you want to play? We can’t now,” Gus told him, as he stroked the dog’s head. “We’re in the middle of a mission, but I promise you we’ll come back another day.”
The dog did not give up, and continued jumping and barking at an increasingly loud volume. Gus stroked him once more, then crouched down, picked a stone up off the ground, and threw it. Art ran towards the rugby field, searching for it. As he followed him with his eyes, Gus spotted a figure that was approaching down the road. His heart skipped a beat. Charon? Had he tired of waiting for Silvia, and was on his way back home, passing just in front of him? For a few seconds he held his breath, considering whether he ought to say or do anything, wishing to disappear but, once the figure was closer, he realized that he was mistaken. It was a girl. She was walking slowly, strolling along with her hands in her coat pockets. It must be somebody from the village who had come out to take a walk. In an attempt to calm himself down, he took out his packet of cigarettes, not knowing whether to feel disappointed or grateful. The girl continued walking until she was just a few steps away from him. Gus nodded to her in greeting, whilst he lit the cigarette.
“Hi,” she said, stopping beside him. “Do you have one to spare?”
“Yeah, sure,” he took out another cigarette for her.
“And a light too? I’m sorry, but I’ve forgotten all mine.”
Gus stood up and turned on the lighter. She approached, and held back her hair to avoid it getting close to the flame. The light from it illuminated her features. Gus thought that she was attractive but, at the same time, he could not help feeling certain repulsion, a slight sensation of danger. He did not know why. Perhaps it was due to the intensity with which her green eyes had shone by the light of the flame; perhaps it was only his heightened imagination. Once the cigarette was lit, he stepped away from her and went back to sitting on the rock. She remained standing still a few steps away, looking at the forest. Gus felt uncomfortable in the face of her silence, in spite of thinking that he ought to be feeling grateful at not being alone.
“Wow, pretty cold, eh?” he said to her, trying to initiate conversation.
“Yes, very,” she replied, turning and giving him a vacant smile.
“It seems like it’s going to start raining, don’t you think?” he said, giving it another try. “I’ll see if the dog’s finished stretching his legs, and we’ll be on our way.”
She nodded and fell silent again, running her eyes between the road, the forest, and the rugby field. Art walked back towards Gus, with the stone in his mouth. Gus stroked his head, glad to have the dog by his side. This girl was worrying him. Of course he had to run into the village nutcase. The best thing would be not to push it. If she did not want to talk, they would not talk. Art left the stone on the ground and began to go up the road, sniffing nervously at the thicket. A few steps ahead, he stopped and began to growl, angrily. Gus got to his feet and walked up to him, as the girl watched him.
“What is it, mate? Have you found something?” he asked as he slowly approached him, trying not to frighten him.
In that moment, a shadow shot out of the bush that Art was barking at, propelling itself at full speed into the forest, followed by the dog. Gus stood paralysed in surprise, and then he began to call him.
“Art! Art! Come back here!”
“What was that?” asked the girl behind him, making him jump.
“I don’t know; it looked like a cat, or maybe a large rat. Shit, he’s gone...” Gus continued looking at the bushes, trying to find Art, but even his barks were beginning to sound more distant.
“Don’t worry. This forest isn’t very big; he can’t go very far. If you want, I’ll help you look for him. I have a torch,” she offered, as she opened a pocket on the rucksack she was carrying on her back, and began to walk.
Gus thought about it for a few seconds, not knowing what to do. He could not go back without the dog, so, in spite of the fact that this very strange girl was making him nervous, he decided that it would always be better to go with someone. He began to follow her, going in amongst the first of the trees.
“What was he called again?” she asked, as she continued walking.
“Art,” replied Gus. “It’s short for d’Artagnan.”
She stopped and turned towards him. By the weak light of the torch, the features of her face seemed even more intriguing to him, her eyes more dangerous, tinted with hatred. She smiled at him again, as if trying to dispel that feeling.
“He won’t have gone very far, you’ll see. Come on, I think I heard him barking in this direction.”
She began walking again, and Gus followed her, trying to stay focused on the slippery ground that the light of the torch fleetingly revealed, whilst they moved further and further into the forest.
CHAPTER EIGHT
As soon as they said goodbye to Doctor Martínez, they left the hospital without wasting a second. On walking out through the door, Natalia realised that they must have been talking for much longer than it had seemed to her. The car park now appeared virtually empty. She walked quickly towards the car and got in. Once they were both seated, she turned to him.
“Well, we’ve got her now. We know her name and her address,” she said to him.
“I still can’t believe that I’ve had her in front of me, that I’ve spoken with her... Damn it, she must have had a right laugh at that one.”
“Don’t worry about that, it’s not important anymore,” Natalia tried to put his mind at rest. “What are we going to do now?”
“Call headquarters, so that they can get on with preparing the arrest warrant. I imagine they’ll let me go even though it isn’t my case, so, on the way to the station, I’ll drop you off home so there aren’t any problems,” he started up the engine, and then he looked at her, sorrowful. “I’m sorry you’re not going to be able to be there after everything you’ve done.”
“Don’t worry about me. It’s enough for me that the rest of you will catch her,” replied Natalia, averting her gaze towards the window.
Carlos left the car park and then grabbed his mobile. Upon turning it on, the sound of a message came through.
“Wow, who’s going to have texted me? I hope it’s not t
he station telling me I’m fired for not having been available all afternoon,” he remained silent for a few seconds whilst he opened it. “No, it’s from Gus. Let’s see what that tiresome guy wants now...”
He suddenly went pale, brought the car towards the hard shoulder, and stopped. Natalia stopped looking out of the window and turned towards him:
“Carlos, what’s wrong? You’ve gone pale.”
“Charon has proposed a date and, as he couldn’t get hold of us, he’s decided to go all by himself, to try and see his face,” answered Carlos faintly, with his eyes riveted on the mobile phone. “This kid’s an imbecile! What are we going to do now?”
“When’s the date?” asked Natalia, taking the mobile out of Carlos’s hand.
“Ten o’clock in La Reineta. Shit, that’s in the middle of bloody nowhere. Give me back the phone; I have to tell headquarters. If anything happens to him, I’m never going to forgive myself,” he said in a whisper as he dialled the number at full speed.
They waited in silence whilst the electronic voice requested him to dial the extension for the person he wanted to speak with. Carlos did so, and continued waiting whilst he listened to the telephone’s eternal ring tone. At last it was answered, and Roberto's voice reached him from the other end of the line:
"Homicide team."
"Roberto, it's Carlos. Put me on to Aguirre.”
"Carlos, how’s the holiday going, man? We're doing wonderfully here. We don't even miss you."
"Drop the nonsense and hand me over to Aguirre. This is urgent.”
"That's not going to be possible, because he isn't here. I think he had a dinner to go to with some bigwig,” Roberto explained to him. "Tell me whatever you want and I'll pass on the message to him."
"If I find out you're lying to me, I swear I'll kill you."
"I'm not lying to you, but you can do whatever you want. You can either tell me what you want to say, or you can wait until Monday."
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