Page 52 of The Sleepwalker (Joona Linna #10)

Agneta and Hugo are in the suite, waiting for the hypnotist to arrive. The lights in the faux windows have been dimmed to give the illusion of dusk outside.

‘Erik Maria Bark is super charming, in any case,’ says Hugo.

‘Handsome too?’ Agneta asks with a smile.

‘He reminds me of an actor .?.?. I can’t remember his name right now, but he’s in that film with—’

Hugo stops talking when someone knocks at the door.

Lars comes into the room, followed by a middle-aged man in a bobbled blue sweater and a pair of jeans. He has a furrowed brow and kind, sad eyes.

‘Hi, Hugo,’ the man says, smiling disarmingly.

‘Hi.’

He turns to Agneta, and she gets up and shakes his hand.

‘Erik,’ he introduces himself, holding her gaze.

‘Agneta.’ She feels her cheeks grow hot.

‘You know, my first true love was called Agneta,’ Erik tells her, brimming with energy.

‘I was seven and she was twenty. Nothing happened, of course; she was a supply teacher .?.?. Sorry, I’m not sure why I’m telling you this, but before I change the subject I should probably point out that I have had real relationships since. ’

‘I was just saying,’ Hugo speaks up, ‘that you remind me of a handsome actor who—’

‘I know exactly who you mean,’ says Agneta.

‘Either you’re joking in an attempt to embarrass me,’ Erik replies, ‘or something drastic must have happened since I looked in the mirror this morning.’

*?*?*

Hugo lies back on the bed as Lars Grind attaches the last six sensors to his head. For the second session, the plan is to combine hypnosis with polysomnography.

Erik Maria Bark draws the curtains and dims the lights even further.

‘This might be a stupid question, but do you work for the police?’ Agneta asks.

‘No, I’m a doctor. I have a practice, and I carry out research at the Karolinska Institute, too. But I do also step in to help with the questioning of traumatised witnesses on a fairly regular basis.’

‘Using hypnosis?’

‘Sometimes, yes, but more often than not, no.’

Grind turns on the monitors, checks the connections, holds up a thumb and says that they have contact with Major Tom.

‘Isn’t Joona Linna joining us today?’ asks Agneta.

‘He’ll be here soon, but we can start with a bit of relaxation while we wait. I’m just going to go and wash my hands,’ Erik replies, turning to leave the room.

On the three monitors, the output from the twenty-two sensors attached to Hugo’s body is visible, tracking his heart and brain activity, eye movements and muscle activity during the various stages of hypnosis – induction, suggestion and deep trance.

Erik comes back into the room and takes a seat beside Hugo. He repeats much of the same information as last time, explaining how clinical hypnosis works and then taking him through the breathing and relaxation exercises.

The boy’s sceptical, jokey attitude is gone, and he now seems more afraid than anything.

‘Hugo, we’re going to slow your breathing a little further,’ Erik says softly. ‘You’re safe here. There’s nothing to worry about. Inhale through your nose, filling your lungs, and then slowly exhale through your mouth. Feel your eyelids growing heavy.’

Hugo can smell the mild scent of soap on the doctor’s hands as he patiently helps him to relax, focusing on his neck and jaw.

Erik works through each muscle group in turn, making sure to keep them relaxed and heavy before returning to the teenager’s neck and jaw.

He gets his body to feel weighty, to sink and press down against the bed.

‘You are now deeply relaxed, your heart is beating steadily, and I want you to concentrate on my voice as I count down to zero from one hundred. Ninety-nine, ninety-eight .?.?. You’re walking down a staircase made from dark, lacquered wood.

With each number you hear, you’re going to take another step, and with each step you take, you’re going to feel more relaxed and focused on my voice. ’

Hugo pictures himself descending a staircase into an enormous vestibule.

‘Keep going. Eighty-four, eighty-three .?.?. Everything but my voice should fade into the periphery,’ says Erik.

‘All you can see is the wide staircase and the soft, red carpet .?.?. You keep moving down, and you feel a sense of calm spreading through you .?.?. Eighty-two, the steps are all the same height and width .?.?. Eighty-one, eighty .?.?.’

Hugo notices the detective come into the room and sit down in the empty chair, just as Erik had said he would, and he feels a comforting sense of order before letting go of the thought completely and continuing down the stairs.

After a while, Erik stops describing the staircase, focusing instead on Hugo’s breathing, relaxation and inner concentration.

Hugo realises that the dark wood has begun to sway beneath his feet, that it shakes softly with each step.

‘Sixty-five, sixty-four .?.?. Now there is nothing but my voice and the meaning of the words within you .?.?.’

The glossy wood has begun to pale, Hugo notices. It turns to metal, and the great staircase twists into an enormous corkscrew.

‘Forty, thirty-nine, thirty-eight .?.?.’

As though in a dream, Hugo is now making his way down a steel spiral staircase in a narrow well. He grips the cold handrail and feels the whole structure shuddering and swaying with every movement.

‘Twenty-seven, twenty-six .?.?.’

Dry earth has begun to fall around the brackets, pattering softly against the metal.

The descending numbers slow, dragging his breathing with them as though he were in a deep sleep. But in his mind, he has started running.

‘Nineteen .?.?.’

His body is incredibly heavy, like he has a number of weighted blankets on top of him, like he has overdosed on promethazine.

‘Fourteen .?.?. thirteen .?.?.’

It feels as though some unconquerable force is driving him down into the earth.

‘Twelve, eleven,’ Erik says, his voice soft and monotonous.

‘You’re going to keep going, but when I .

.?. when I reach zero, you will be back at Bred?ng Campsite on the twenty- sixth of November.

The blonde woman is just about to go into the caravan, but before she opens the door, you will see her reflection in the glass.

Snow is falling from the dark sky, settling like a delicate halo on the satellite dish. ’

*?*?*

Joona studies the teenager’s calm face in the dim light and then turns to one of the screens tracking the gamma waves in his cerebral cortex. The pale light from the monitors flashes in Dr Grind’s wide eyes.

‘Ten, nine, eight,’ Erik says slowly. ‘You are perfectly safe here, there is no need to worry .?.?.’

Hugo’s right hand twitches, and Erik places his own on top of it. He notes the boy’s steady, even breathing and continues his countdown.

‘Seven, six, five .?.?. In a moment, you are going to tell me everything you can see at the campsite without any fear whatsoever.’

Hugo’s eyes begin moving beneath his closed lids.

‘The campsite is empty, closed for the winter,’ says Erik. ‘The sky is black .?.?. and the snow is falling more heavily now.’

Lars Grind gets up from his chair and looks as though he wants to say something.

‘Four, three, two, one, zero .?.?. You are now standing slightly back from the caravan, watching the woman walk up to the door.’

‘Mum,’ Hugo whispers.

‘I don’t think the woman you can see is your mother,’ says Erik. ‘I think that your mother is part of your dream, and—’

‘We need to hide,’ the teenager cuts him off, his voice shrill.

Erik places a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

‘You’re safe here, you’re relaxed .?.?. Breathe slowly and feel the sense of calm in your body as you turn around and look at the woman outside the caravan .?.?. Do you see the snow? The soft flakes landing on her blonde wig?’

‘It’s not Mum. I .?.?. I thought I was following Mum, but .?.?.’

‘Hold on now, Hugo. There’s no rush. I want you to breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth .?.?. Listen to my voice .?.?. You’re sleepwalking, and you think you’ve seen your mother at the campsite, but it’s someone else standing outside of the caravan.’

‘Yes,’ he whispers.

‘Can you see her face?’

‘No,’ he replies, so quietly that he is almost inaudible.

‘I think you can see her.’

‘I can’t.’ Hugo raises his voice and shakes his head.

‘He’s struggling,’ says Grind.

‘Relax,’ Erik continues. ‘Take a deep breath. And once you feel ready, tell me what you see.’

‘She’s holding an axe,’ Hugo mumbles, licking his lips.

‘In which hand?’

‘The right .?.?. and she has to twist a bit so she can open the door with her left .?.?. Oh God, oh God .?.?.’

‘Maybe we should stop now?’ says Grind.

‘What’s happening?’ Agneta whispers, a hand to her mouth.

‘Look at her reflection in the door and tell me what you see,’ says Erik.

‘There’s no time, it’s too quick .?.?. White cheekbones, eye sockets .?.?. I don’t know, she’s already inside .?.?. I can hear loads of thudding and shouting.’

Hugo holds his breath, his entire body shaking.

‘Let the air stream out between your lips and then slowly inhale,’ Erik tells him. ‘You’re relaxed, now breathe out .?.?. Tell me what’s happening at the campsite.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You’re standing outside the caravan, and you hear shouting.’

‘Who’s shouting?’ Joona asks quietly.

‘Who is doing the shouting, Hugo?’ Erik repeats.

‘The man .?.?. At first he sounds angry, but now .?.?. Now he’s just scared and confused.’

‘What do you see?’

‘I see .?.?. shadows flickering over the bright window. I don’t know, I .

.?. I’m walking around the caravan, and I climb onto a breezeblock and look inside right as blood sprays across the window.

Oh God .?.?. I fall into the grass, hit my back on a gas canister .

.?. but I stand up again, brush myself off and walk around the front, into the caravan .

.?. I have to get Mum, we need to hide, that’s all I can think.

I don’t care about anything else, I just walk straight in. ’

Hugo tenses, sweat pouring down his face.

‘What do you see?’ Erik asks softly.

‘A cop. He’s screaming at me, but I don’t know why. I’m lying on the floor and my ears are ringing. I can smell gunpowder .?.?.’

‘But what happens before that?’ Erik presses him.

‘I open the door and go in.’

Hugo stops talking abruptly, and his eyelids stop fluttering.

‘What is the first thing you see?’

‘A cop with a gun. He’s screaming at me, and there’s blood everywhere.’

Joona realises that although Hugo is in a state of deep hypnosis, he is not yet deep enough to be able to see the massacre in the caravan. The memories are in there somewhere, but he keeps jumping forward to the moment when the two officers found him asleep on the floor.

‘Let’s return to the back of the caravan,’ Erik tells him. ‘Step up onto the breezeblock and stay in that moment, before the blood sprays across the window.’

‘God,’ the teenager whispers.

‘You see a man being killed with an axe, don’t you?’

The teenager nods slowly, and the rings in his nose and lip catch the light.

‘Hugo .?.?. Listen to my voice. Relax your body and keep your breathing calm. You are completely safe here .?.?. You’re going to watch a video clip on your phone now, from the night when the man was murdered in the caravan.

Someone has climbed up onto a breezeblock and filmed what happened through the back window .

.?. You start the recording in slow motion, which means you have plenty of time to tell me what you see. ’

Hugo takes a deep breath, and when he next speaks, his voice falters.

‘The woman has already chopped off both of his feet .?.?. He’s lying on his back, gasping for air, can’t understand what’s happening. The pool of blood on the floor keeps getting bigger and bigger, running along the edge of a brass strip and soaking into the rug .?.?.’

‘Keep watching the film,’ says Erik.

‘I can see the peeling paint on the window frame and my breath on the glass .?.?. Inside, there’s a broken red vase .

.?. The floor lamp is on its side, and the snakeskin shade is flecked with blood .

.?. The woman is standing over the man with her back to the camera, leaning forward .

.?. She drags the blade slowly across his torso, and the cut starts bleeding.

She changes the angle of it, but the man is screaming, and he tries to sit up .

.?. That makes her really angry, it .?.?. ’

Hugo is now whispering, speaking so softly that his voice barely carries, and Joona and Erik both have to lean in to hear what he says.

‘She slams the axe into the floor, right by his head,’ Hugo mumbles. ‘He keeps screaming, so she yanks it back, lifts it again and hits him right in the middle of his face .?.?. There’s so much blood, it sprays up onto the window.’

He opens his eyes.

‘There’s so much blood,’ he repeats.