Page 25 of The Sleepwalker (Joona Linna #10)

The three northbound lanes of the motorway are clogged with dirty cars, buses and lorries, a steady stream of traffic flowing past industrial units selling cut-price sports gear, furniture and building materials.

As Joona and Erik drive to Uppsala in Joona’s car, he tells his friend that Valeria’s father has passed away. She didn’t make it in time for the funeral, but she is currently in Brazil to support her mother.

Joona thinks about the small box of dark chocolate coins Valeria gave him before she left. She knows all too well that he loves chocolate, but also that he doesn’t think he deserves anything sweet.

‘Would you do me a favour and just eat them?’ she said with a smile. ‘Eat the chocolate and think of me.’

‘I’ll be thinking of you anyway.’

‘So stubborn,’ she sighed.

Joona has decided that he will allow himself one of the coins once he makes a concrete step forward in the case.

Erik starts talking about how beautiful he thought their summer wedding was, laughing at the fact that his son Benjamin got drunk and tried to flirt with Lumi.

‘He didn’t stand a chance,’ the doctor continues with a smile.

Joona pictures Valeria in her thin, pearl-white wedding dress, a crown of lingonberry leaves in her hair.

Their guests’ voices echoed through the church they had decorated with foliage, between the limewashed walls and the vaulted ceiling, the runestones and the medieval altarpiece.

Tears had started spilling down his cheeks when he felt how much Valeria’s hand was shaking as he pushed the ring onto her finger.

Their friends and family stood up as the newlyweds left the church to Bytt-Lasse’s melancholy bridal march.

Lumi’s smiling face. Valeria’s boys and their families.

And then the scent of light summer rain on the steps outside, veils of mist rising from the fields and meadows.

Joona realises he is driving a little too fast.

To the left of the motorway, the ground slopes up towards the top of the esker and the old gravel pit.

A place that is etched deep inside him.

It was here, many years ago, that he made one of the decisions that would darken his soul. He knew he had changed forever as he watched the body roll down the slope, tumbling like a corpse into a mass grave.

Joona doesn’t feel any instinct to kill, but he is capable of killing on instinct if that is what the situation demands of him – as he was taught by Lieutenant Rinus Advocaat. Assessment, decision and action have to take place simultaneously.

He maintains his tight grip on the wheel until they have passed Rosersberg Palace, and he runs a hand through his hair, glances over to Erik and then resumes their earlier conversation about their visit to the Sleep Science Lab.

When Joona called Erik, he told him all about the preliminary investigation, the brutal murders and Hugo Sand’s remarkable role in what had happened.

‘Sleepwalking – and sleepwalking during REM sleep, in particular – is a complex thing .?.?. And as I say, it’s not really my specialism,’ Erik explains now.

‘I think I’m starting to understand how it works from Hugo’s point of view,’ says Joona. ‘He seems to remember fragments of some kind of panicked dream that takes place in his parents’ house, but never anything he actually experiences, despite having his eyes open.’

‘Because the dream overpowers everything else going on in his brain,’ Erik says with a nod.

‘At least in retrospect .?.?. But Agneta told me that Hugo often remembers things if he’s woken suddenly while sleepwalking.’

‘Interesting.’

‘He had an episode at his girlfriend’s flat and was about to climb over the balcony railing when she woke him. Apparently he started talking about things he’d seen at the campsite, but by the next morning it was all gone.’

‘What does the girlfriend have to say?’ asks Erik, looking down at his phone.

‘We can’t get hold of her.’

A pebble hits the windscreen, leaving a small glittering star on the glass.

Erik sends a red heart emoji to someone.

‘The whole team is getting frustrated,’ Joona says as they pass a long line of taxis queuing for the turn-off to the airport. ‘I need a breakthrough .?.?. We’re stuck.’

‘But I just heard that the powers-that-be have brought in an internal ban on you lot having wooden soles on your shoes, because—’

‘Stop,’ Joona says with a smile.

‘Because they always have time to put down roots otherwise.’

‘Please. That joke is so old, it’s not OK.’

Erik laughs and tips his head back against the rest with a satisfied smile as Joona admits that it really does feel as though they are rooted to the spot. They have opened the box and started turning over the jigsaw pieces, but have yet to find two that fit together.

‘There don’t seem to be any old cases involving axe murders that fit the pattern,’ he continues. ‘We’ve reached out via Europol and Interpol, but who knows .?.?. Maybe it’s just these murders. Maybe there won’t be any more. They might not even be connected.’

‘But you think they are.’

‘We’re keeping an open mind, looking into the victims, comparing shoeprints, tyre treads and that sort of thing .?.?. We’ve been trying to establish whether the same car turns up in the vicinity of both murders, but we’re talking about large areas with multiple CCTV cameras.’

‘So what happens next?’

Joona sighs. ‘Our profilers think we’re probably looking for a loner, likely someone with antisocial traits, possible addiction issues .?.?. Someone who lives alone, given how bloody they must have been – especially after the first murder.’

‘Mmm.’

‘We’re checking everyone who was released from prison or psychiatric care recently, scouring our databases, looking into forensic records, you know .?.?. the usual. It just feels so frustrating.’

‘Because you’re working against the clock,’ Erik suggests.

‘No,’ Joona replies, his voice barely audible.

‘No?’

‘No.’

‘And here I was thinking that you were starting to suspect a serial killer.’

‘It’s unlikely,’ says Joona, turning down the heater.

‘But you’ve got a gut feeling?’

‘Maybe.’

They pull up by the fence outside the Sleep Science Lab, and Joona gets out of the car, buzzes the intercom and then gets back behind the wheel to wait as the gate slowly swings open.

Erik has been engaged by the Swedish Police Authority on a handful of occasions over the years. Around the world, law enforcement agencies turn to hypnotists to support witnesses who, for one reason or another, have trouble with their memory.

Joona’s great hope is that by putting Hugo Sand under hypnosis, the teenager will be able to provide them with a description of the killer.