‘I noticed many police outside your room,’ she observed.
I opened my eyes and looked at her. ‘He’s decompensating,’ I said.
Her eyes were fastened to mine.
‘And that’s good. He’s more daring, meaning he’s taking greater risks. That’s what Bundy did in the end.’
Dr. Zenner offered what she did best. She listened.
I went on, ‘The more he decompensates, the greater the likelihood he’ll make a mistake and we’ll get him.’
‘I would also assume he is at his most dangerous right now,’ she said. ‘He has no boundaries. He even killed Santa Claus.’
‘He killed a sheriff who plays Santa once a year. And this sheriff also was heavily involved in drugs. Maybe drugs were the connection between the two of them.’
‘Tell me about you.’
I looked away from her and took another deep breath. At last I was calmer. Anna was one of the few people in this world who made me feel I did not need to be in charge. She was a psychiatrist. I had known her since my move to Richmond, and she had helped me through my breakup with Mark, then through his death. She had the heart and hands of a musician.
‘Like him, I am decompensating,’ I confessed in frustration.
‘I must know more.’
‘That’s why I’m here.’ I looked at her. ‘That’s why I’m in this gown, in this bed. It’s why I almost shot my niece. It’s why people are outside my door worried about me. People are driving the streets and watching my house, worrying about me. Everywhere, people are worrying about me.’
‘Sometimes we have to call in the troops.’
‘I don’t want troops,’ I said impatiently. ‘I want to be left alone.’
‘Ha. I personally think you need an entire army. No one can fight this man alone.’
‘You’re a psychiatrist,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you dissect him?’
‘I don’t treat character disorders,’ she said. ‘Of course he is sociopathic.’
She walked to the window, parted curtains and looked out. ‘It is still snowing. Do you believe that? I may have to stay here with you tonight. I have had patients over the years who were almost not of this world, and I did try to disengage from them quickly.
‘That’s the thing with these criminals who become the subject of legend. They go to dentists, psychiatrists, hairstylists. We cannot help but encounter them just like we encounter anyone. In Germany once I treated a man for a year until I realized he had drowned three women in the bathtub.
‘That was his thing. He would pour them wine and wash them. When he would get to their feet, he would suddenly grab their ankles and yank. In those big tubs, you cannot get out if someone is holding your feet up in the air.’ She paused. ‘I am not a forensic psychiatrist.’
‘I know that.’
‘I could have been,’ Dr. Zenner went on. ‘I considered it many times. Did you know?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘So I will tell you why I avoided that specialty. I cannot spend so much time with monsters. It is bad enough for people like you who take care of their victims. But I think to sit in the same room with the Gaults of the world would poison my soul.’ She paused. ‘You see, I have a terrible confession to make.’
She turned around and looked at me.
‘I don’t give a damn why any of them do it,’ she said, eyes flashing. ‘I think they should all be hanged.’
‘I won’t disagree with you,’ I said.
‘But this does not mean I don’t have an instinct about him. I would call it a woman’s instinct, actually.’
‘About Gault?’
‘Yes. You have met my cat, Chester,’ she said.
‘Oh, yes. He is the fattest cat I have ever seen.’
She did not smile. ‘He will go out and catch a mouse. And he will play with it to death. It is really quite sadistic. Then he finally kills it and what does he do? He brings it in the house. He carries it up on the bed and leaves it on my pillow. This is his present to me.’