Page 17 of The Sleepwalker (Joona Linna #10)

The sunlight filtering in through the dirty windows at the National Crime Unit makes the flecks of dust shimmer in the air.

Joona is at his desk in the investigation room.

Through the closed door, he can hear the monotonous whirr of the printer in the copy room, spitting out sheet after sheet of paper at high speed.

The autopsy has yet to take place, but everyone on the team is convinced that the young drug pusher found dead in the playground by Edsviken Tennis Club was killed because he saw something when Nils Nordlund was beheaded.

The bosses have decided not to make this information public so as not to scare any other potential witnesses from coming forward.

A team at the NCU has been tasked with searching for any old cases with similarities to the two primary murders, but so far they have drawn a blank.

Joona has attempted to reach Hugo’s girlfriend, Olga Wójcik, a number of times, and she has now been summoned for a formal interview.

In just a short period of time, the investigation has become incredibly complex.

Every member of the team has been compiling information in a chronological order in a shared Excel file, but it feels as though the more good, old-fashioned detective work Joona and his colleagues carry out, the more locked doors they find.

They have no CCTV footage and no neighbours to question, and their interviews with the victims’ friends and relatives have so far proved fruitless.

The IT technicians have been scouring the dead men’s online activities, but have yet to find a single detail that could point to any sort of motive. No blackmail, no black market loans or drug use, no gambling addictions or interactions with the criminal underworld.

There is a knock at the door, and Noah Hellman comes into the investigation room, followed by his secretary. He pauses in front of Joona’s desk, runs a hand through his hair and frowns.

‘I could have done with your help at the press conference earlier,’ he says.

‘It’s not my job to help you in press conferences,’ Joona replies.

‘You really are stubborn, aren’t you?’

‘Give Saga a chance. We need her.’

‘We’ve already discussed this.’

‘Joona .?.?.’ the secretary says calmly.

‘I’ll let you win at pool,’ Joona continues.

‘Wow .?.?. You think you’re that good, do you?’

‘OK, then let’s try this: if I beat you, you have to bring Saga back.’

‘Nice try, but she’s not ready to—’

‘She is,’ Joona cuts him off, getting up from his chair.

He leaves the office and takes the lift down to the garage level, walks through the tunnel beneath Kronobergsparken and gets into his car. He then drives up the long ramp and comes out into the bustling Fridhemsplan.

On the pavements around him, people hurry by with their shoulders hunched, heads lowered in the frigid air.

The Christmas tree seller has candles burning by their stall.

A man drags a black plastic bag out of a fast food kiosk and uses his knee to swing it up into a dumpster.

In less than twenty minutes’ time, Joona is due to hold his second interview with Hugo Sand.

As things stand, Hugo is their only witness. Their only way into the empty room in which two men have been singled out and murdered in an extremely violent manner.

The teenager claims not to remember anything, but given what Agneta said about him having some access to his memories when he first wakes from sleepwalking, the things he saw must be in there somewhere.

The traffic becomes backed up in the approach to the Essingeleden, slowing to a crawl. A yellow air ambulance hovers over the rooftops and trees in Grondal.

If the usual interrogation technique doesn’t work today, if Hugo refuses to give in to the human urge to confess, then Joona has a plan.

The boy seems to have a complicated relationship with his father, testing his boundaries in an attempt to assert his independence and possibly even make Bernard prove his love.

The traffic starts flowing normally again once it passes the barriers that have been put up around a large hole in the tarmac.

Joona is working on the theory that Hugo is relieved the prosecutor dropped the case against him and released him from custody. He plans to reinforce that feeling and – without lying – get the boy to believe that he no longer needs to stick to every detail of his initial statement.

He drives slowly down the narrow road in M?larhojden. To his right, there are a number of exclusive lakefront properties. To the left, behind the high supporting wall, the steep gardens belonging to the houses further up the slope loom above the road.

Joona slows down, passing the iron gates flanking the driveway and pulling up in a small parking area.

The mailbox is full of damp flyers.

As he gets out of the car, Joona finds himself thinking about the second prong of his strategy: encouraging Hugo to ignore Bernard’s attempts to stop him from talking.

That will require him to plant a seed of doubt in Bernard’s mind, making him think that his son hasn’t quite been fully cleared and, at the opportune moment, causing him to worry about Hugo saying too much.

The idea is that if Bernard tries to stop his son from talking, it will have the opposite effect, for the simple reason that people don’t like to be told what to do.

Joona makes his way in through the gates and down the driveway towards a grand yellow home with a black gable roof.

Beyond the house, the large lawn slopes down to a small cabin by the water.

Joona walks straight over to the door, taking his phone out of his inner pocket, starting the recorder and putting it back into his jacket.

He rings the bell and hears a digital tune echo inside, followed a moment later by footsteps on the tiled floor.

Bernard Sand opens the door.

His greying hair is standing on end, and he has dark bags beneath both eyes, but he is clean-shaven and wearing a brown corduroy suit with leather patches on the elbows.

‘Joona Linna,’ says Joona, shaking his hand. ‘We met while Hugo was in custody.’

‘Of course. Come in, come in. You can leave your coat here,’ says Bernard. ‘I’m sorry if I seemed a little guarded last time we met; this whole business has been terribly hard. Particularly for my son, of course, but also for me. Do you have children?’

‘An adult daughter,’ Joona replies as he hangs up his coat.

‘Ah, then you know what it’s like .?.?. Come in.’ Bernard leads him down the hallway. ‘I thought we might sit in the kitchen. Or perhaps you’d rather I didn’t stay? I’m not quite sure how these things work.’

‘It’d be fine for you or Agneta to join us.’

‘Agneta is at the office all day.’ Bernard pauses outside the closed kitchen door, turns to Joona and attempts a relaxed smile.

‘Hugo isn’t a suspect anymore, is he? I mean .

.?. It’s awful to admit, but when the solicitor called to tell us about the second victim .

.?. That was the first time I’ve ever thought that there might be an upside to murder. ’

‘The investigation hasn’t been closed, it has just entered a new stage where the prosecutor no longer suspects Hugo of any crime,’ Joona explains.

‘And you?’

‘So long as something isn’t impossible, it’s still possible.’

‘Even murdering someone in Sollentuna while locked up in Stockholm?’

‘You’re an author,’ Joona points out.

‘He could have been working with someone else .?.?. if that’s what you mean?’

‘All I’m saying is that it isn’t impossible .?.?. Though I see Hugo as a witness at present.’

‘So you don’t think we need a solicitor anymore?’ Bernard asks with a frown.

‘I don’t think so, but if you’d feel more comfortable having one then that’s fine. Hugo is a minor, and this is a formal interview.’

Bernard knocks softly and opens the door to the kitchen, where there is a brass Advent star hanging in the window. Hugo is sitting at the table with a can of Red Bull and a dog-eared chemistry book in front of him. He is wearing glasses, and has his hair tied up in a bun.

The teenager is pale and beautiful, if a little rough around the edges, with his tattooed arms, the dark gash on his forehead, the yellowing bruise on his cheek and bandages on three fingers.

‘Hi,’ says Joona.

‘Hi.’

‘We met while you were in custody. My name is Joona Linna, and I’m a detective with the National Crime Agency,’ he says as he shakes Hugo’s hand.

‘I’ve taken over the investigation, and I want to start by apologising for the time you spent in Kronoberg.

The prosecutor made a mistake and .?.?. I know it’s been hard on you. ’

‘I’m home now,’ Hugo replies, lowering his yellow highlighter to the table.

‘But not completely cleared, just so you know,’ Bernard speaks up.

‘No possible scenarios will be ruled out until I’ve solved the case,’ Joona explains.

‘You seem pretty sure you’ll be able to,’ Hugo says, looking up at him with a flicker of interest.

‘Yes,’ Joona replies as he takes a seat opposite him.