Онлайн книга Monday Mourning

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“Under what circumstances does this syndrome develop?” Claudel asked.

“Psychologists agree there are four factors that must be present.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “One, the victim feels his or her survival is threatened by the captor, and believes the captor will carry through on the threat. Two, the victim is given small kindnesses, at the captor’s whim.”

“Like letting the poor bastard live,” Charbonneau interjected.

“Could be. Could be brief respites from torture, short periods of freedom, a decent meal, a bath.

“Sacré bleu.” Charbonneau again shook his head.

“Three, the victim is completely isolated from perspectives other than those of the captor. And four, the victim is convinced, rightly or wrongly, that there is no way to escape.”

Neither Charbonneau nor Claudel said a word.

“Cameron Hooker was a master at this game,” I said. “He kept Stan entombed in a coffin under his bed and usually took her out simply to brutalize her. But now and then he’d allow her periods of freedom.

“Why wouldn’t she just split?” Charbonneau jabbed a hand through his hair, sending the crown vertical.

“Hooker also had Stan convinced he owned her.”

“Owned her?” Charbonneau.

“He showed her a cooked-up contract and told her he’d purchased her as a slave from an outfit called the Company. He told her she was under constant surveillance, that if she tried to escape members of the Company would hunt her down and kill her, along with members of her family.

“Cibole!” Charbonneau threw up his hands. “Hooker traumatizes Stan, she feels totally isolated, has to look to him for her slightest need, and she ends up bonding with the freak?”

“You’ve got it,” I said. “Some of the most damaging defense testimony focused on a love letter Stan wrote to Hooker.”

Charbonneau looked appalled.

“Elizabeth Smart was held by crazies for almost a year,” I said.

“Smart was a fourteen-year-old kid,” Charbonneau said.

“Remember Patty Hearst?” Ryan asked. “Symbionese Liberation Army grabbed her and kept her locked in a closet. She ended up robbing a bank with her captors.”

“That was political.” Charbonneau shot to his feet and started pacing the room.