Page 28 of The Sleepwalker (Joona Linna #10)

Hugo’s foot knocks the floor lamp, and the parrot-print shade wobbles, causing the light to bounce around the room for a moment.

During hypnosis, a person typically looks as though they are asleep, despite the fact that their brain is more active than it is while they are awake. But Hugo’s body is tense, twitching as he works through his memories.

Joona is thinking about something Erik said as they got out of the car and walked across the parking area towards the lab: that he thought the real test would be their patience and ability to navigate through Hugo’s double-exposed world.

The teenager has been caught up in his nightmare since the hypnosis began, but he finally seems to have taken a cautious step out into reality.

The campsite is dark and deserted, he said.

Hugo really does remember what he saw while he was sleepwalking. This is it; they are approaching the hypocentre of the night.

Joona double-checks that his phone is still recording.

Lars Grind rubs his bald head. He seems uncomfortable, his eyes dark and oddly wide.

Hugo is slumped back on the sofa. His slack mouth is still half-open, but the fear on his face is plain to see.

‘Tell me what you’re doing,’ says Erik.

‘I’m walking towards the old caravans, the ones closest to the lake.’

‘You’re looking for your mum in the dream, but she isn’t there; the campsite is deserted.’

‘I don’t know .?.?.’ Hugo shakes his head, saliva coating his lower lip.

‘What do you see?’

‘At first I thought it was just the headlights from a car on the main road, but it’s a torch .?.?.’

‘Where?’

Hugo lets out a soft whimper. It only lasts a few seconds, but it almost makes it seem as though they have an abandoned child in front of them.

Lars Grind looks troubled, and he raises a hand to catch Erik’s attention. The hypnotist briefly meets his eye before turning back to Hugo.

‘Is there someone there? At the campsite?’ he asks.

‘Yeah .?.?. I’m following them .?.?.’

Hugo’s breathing becomes anxious, and he starts scratching at the armrest with his right hand.

‘You can see someone with a torch?’ Erik says softly.

‘It’s a woman .?.?. with a shiny coat and blonde hair. She turns left, across the playground.’

‘Describe her. Take your time. Breathe deeply and speak slowly.’

‘The light .?.?. from her torch .?.?. It sweeps over the rough sand.’

‘What does she look like?’ Erik’s voice is low but intense, his eyes focused and alert, the veins on his head beginning to protrude.

‘I don’t know, she’s too far away, walking between the rows of dark caravans.’

‘But you’re following her?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What do you see now?’ Erik asks.

‘She stops and turns the torch off .?.?. but I can see another light, further back .?.?. In one of the caravans.’

‘Can you see anyone else?’

‘No, but the lights are on .?.?. I can see it through the curtains.’

‘Do you know who is inside?’

‘Mum?’ he whispers.

‘Your mum is part of the dream,’ Erik explains.

‘No, she—’

‘I want you to focus on the woman with the blonde hair now.’

‘She’s standing outside the caravan.’

‘Move a little closer.’

‘The light from the window is shining on her hair.’

‘Can you see her face?’

‘No, because .?.?. she’s got her back turned to me.’

‘Stay there and study her more closely, focus on the details.’

‘The sports bag in her hand looks heavy. She’s dirty, and .?.?. her fingers are the colour of bone .?.?. too many, really thin .?.?.’

‘What is she doing?’ asks Erik.

‘She puts the bag down, opens it and takes something out, then she walks over to the door and goes inside,’ Hugo replies.

‘What did she take out?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Let’s just rewind a little .?.?. You see the blonde woman put her bag down on the grass?’ says Erik.

‘Yes.’

‘Look at her face.’

‘I can’t see it,’ he mumbles.

‘Reflections,’ Joona says quietly.

‘Are any of the windows on the caravan dark?’ asks Erik.

‘The one on the door.’

‘Focus on that as she moves forward to go inside.’

‘It’s too quick, she’s already gone in and closed it behind her,’ he says, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Lars Grind gets up and taps his watch, as though to tell Erik that it is time to stop.

‘Go back in your memory,’ Erik continues. ‘It’s cold, and there are snowflakes swirling through the air. The woman puts the bag down. You can see her hands, but they’re normal hands – she isn’t a skeleton, just a regular woman .?.?.’

Hugo’s muscles tense, as though he is trying to get up from the armchair.

‘What does she take out of the bag?’ asks Erik.

‘I can’t see,’ he whispers.

‘There’s no need to be afraid, Hugo, it’s all going to be OK. You have plenty of time to take in every detail. The woman slowly moves towards the door. The light from the window hits her face from one side, and just as she is about to open the door, you see her reflection in the dark glass.’

‘I can see her reflection,’ says Hugo. ‘But she has her head lowered, like she knows I’m looking at her.’

‘Hold on to that image. Can you see anything?’

‘Just a bit of her skull, with cracks from her eye sockets going up over her forehead .?.?. She opens the door with her left hand and hides the axe in her right hand behind her back .?.?.’