Wilhelmina did not understand the meaning of the psychiatrist’s questions – until recently.
What would she do first if she had a free day? Without a tracking app using navigation – as parents do with their children – without the constant trigger of vibration messages and timers on the watch to respond to Phoebus, to ask Phoebus how he is doing, to be active, to serve …
She served. She was a useful and valuable plaything, eager to please, catching every crooked smile, every sarcastic sigh, every shrug, every word – to assent, to speak in time, to play the part like a perfect actress.
“You have abandoned the theater,” said Dr. Gasztold, as if reading her thoughts. “Does it no longer bring you comfort?”
It’s not the first time he asks … It’s not the first time Wilhelmina says that she will soon return to the theater studio, will finally write a script for a new video … But she didn’t have the strength. The playing requires dedication, she is afraid to get involved in the flow, she is afraid to lose herself, to remain in the role.
She hasn’t even sung lately – she’s just been exercising, doing vocalises, warming up her vocal cords to keep her voice in shape.
What if she suddenly snaps, becomes bolder, stronger, rips out de Lavender’s heart – like the Great Red Dragon? Or what if she can’t stop – like the serial killer Heartthrob?
Wilhelmina had often heard the statement that musicians had an exceptional sense of time. She disagreed – because in music it is not time that rules, but rhythm and meter, dynamics determine the irrational, subjective slowing down or speeding up, passion and languor, drawn-out anticipation or fleeting moments.
There were three minutes left until the end of the session.
“It doesn’t,” Wilhelmina admitted. “Wearing different masks became too much work.”
“But you were pouring out your feelings, you didn’t need therapy, you were calmer and more harmonious.”
Maybe … She was walking the demons, she could allow herself to become someone else for a short period of time, to taste freedom, to taste tears, to taste the love she sang about but never experienced.
“Maybe, Dr. Gasztold,” Miss Gustavsson replied, lost in thoughts that had nothing to do with work. “I don’t know.”
“‘I don’t know’ is also an answer,” Gasztold nodded. “Is there anything else you want to ask?”
Dr. Gasztold is involved in the investigation, he is cooperating with the FBI, agents were working undercover at his home at a dinner party … He probably knows the latest news, he’s aware of all the events.
Moreover, he showed no concern at all about his client records being stolen.
“No, nothing. Thank you, as always, a lot of new information to digest, Dr. Gasztold.”
Wilhelmina Gustavsson left the psychiatrist’s office with the idea that he had arranged the disappearance of the notebooks in order to participate in the capture of the criminal. An excellent excuse to be not only a consultant, but also a full-fledged member of the team – and even if they wanted to, no one would be able to prove otherwise.
Wilhelmina had an idea. She paused on the steps of the porch, a smile of inspiration appeared on her pale face, which she immediately hid under the make-up of indifference.
She can also come up with an excuse, even if it is a little artificial.
10. Object of Study
Agent Serret enthusiastically chewed a duck leg, dipped bread crumbs into the aromatic fat, Will told about his plan to visit the gym. Dr. Gasztold approved the idea of dressing Allex in sportswear, giving him a premium membership – so that no one would suspect a trick.
“If I were a blonde, I could be used as bait,” Allex reasoned, half-jokingly, half-seriously. “But that’s how it turned out, alas. The main thing is to see as much as possible during each visit, because the demon doesn’t even think of stopping.”
Every socialite was at risk – and according to their information, there were quite a few of them. If the Heartthrob has not yet chosen a new victim and is trying to get the key, he is to be found near objects of his interest, and those who are in the entourage.
The press added fuel to the fire, the news was full of loud headlines about horrible murders, with a bunch of exaggerations and distortions, reporters presented the criminal as a cultist, impotent, a pathetic imitator of the Maryland Ripper, a favorite of popular culture. The texts could raise a new wave of murders not only of the Heartthrob himself, but also of others like him, could anger the criminal and force him to refute the slander. Fortunately, the journalists did not write about the details of the investigation that could have spooked the Heartthrob and make it clear the investigation was on his tail.
They still had no leads – just a useless DNA sample, a sketch of the criminal, and guesses based on the findings of Special Agent Gatti’s unique detective method.
Will looked like crap, with shadows under his chameleon-gray-blue-green eyes, his hair even more tousled than usual, and a sickly flush on his cheeks under his stubble. He had no appetite, so Serret tucked away enough food for both of them.
Will and Dr. Gasztold agreed that the Heartthrob truly did view his victims as heartless bitches, as meat, and had no remorse. He did not create a certain image intentionally, but followed his own system of symbols, in which he devoured the heart of an enemy, a just act, in the name of retribution and the simultaneous desire to please his alter ego. The fact that he was disgusted with himself – regardless of the murders – was only a consequence of his psychological trauma.
But he pretends well. His image in everyday life is a facade built over the years, an emotionless mask.
Allex had seen many monsters, many empty eyes, soulless bodies of narcissists and psychopaths, dead shells, but this one, according to Will, was alive – and seemed to be dying in agony, hoping for an unrealistic dream of deliverance from suffering. Allex thought, if he saw the Heartthrob, he would immediately understand … There was a horror about such people, even if they pretended to be ordinary ones.
Three short vibration signals sounded from the pocket of Agent Serret’s jacket. When the young man took out his phone and read the message, his face involuntarily got long in surprise.
He looks like a pine marten, Dr. Gasztold recalled the words of his recent patient. He has sharp teeth and claws, a strong, agile body, a fluffy tail …
Allex Serret was indeed like a little animal, naive and kind, but capable of swallowing a victim twice his size. Besides, he was also caring towards those he considered friends … He kept glancing at gloomy Will, but by the end of the meeting he was convinced Dr. Gasztold had noticed Special Agent Gatti’s depressed state no worse than he had – and said he would wait in the car.
As he left the psychiatrist’s office, he was typing a text message, his lips smiling.
“Will,” said Dr. Gasztold, “I’d like you to come to dinner tonight.”
“Do you think I need an additional session, Dr. Gasztold?”
When Will was frustrated or upset, he would become more tough, with quills sticking out of his armored shell like a porcupine.
“I think you need to distract yourself,” Lukas Gasztold replied patiently. “This won’t