Page 76 of The Sleepwalker (Joona Linna #10)

The fierce wind whistles around the house, making the windows rattle. The rope on the flagpole snaps against the metal in double time, and old leaves and twigs swirl around the garden.

Moa is wearing nothing but a pair of knickers and a black sports bra, and Erik has taken off his shirt.

They had already started kissing and getting undressed when the power went out, and now – giggling – they are in the process of dragging the mattress out of the bedroom, past the bathroom and over to the hearth in the lounge.

They curl up by the fire, holding hands and sipping grappa from small glasses.

The logs crackle, and the warm light pulses through the room like a steady heartbeat, the heat making Moa’s cheeks flush.

She sets their empty glasses down on the mantelpiece.

The fire is reflected in the row of dark windows onto the garden.

Moa gives Erik a peck on the cheek, and he turns his head and meets her lips. They start kissing again, slowly building in intensity.

She peels off her bra, runs her fingers through her short hair and straightens the gold heart she wears on a chain around her neck, then lies back and meets his eye.

Erik gets onto his knees, straddling her legs, and leans forward. Supporting himself on either side of her shoulders, he kisses her and starts making his way downwards, his lips grazing her ornate tattoo and her pubic mound.

‘You’ve got the volume on your phone turned up, right? In case the detective calls,’ she jokes.

Erik shakes his head and pulls her knickers down over her thighs. She is so aroused that her vulva glistens in the soft light.

The wind howls in the chimney.

Erik kisses her thick black curls and breathes in her heady scent.

The candle on the coffee table flickers, the flame tilting to one side.

He gets up, glances through to the kitchen and hallway, then pulls down his trousers and steps out of them.

The glow of the fire reaches as far as the whipping branches of the willow outside.

A clump of dust rolls across the parquet in a sudden draught.

Erik looks down at Moa, who has kicked off her knickers and crossed her legs at the ankle. Her eyes are glittering.

‘What is it?’ she asks.

‘You’re just so beautiful.’

‘No.’ She smiles.

‘Too beautiful for me.’

She reaches for his hand, pulls him towards her and parts her thighs. She kisses him on the lips, strokes his back and lets out a loud groan as he pushes into her.

*?*?*

Joona is driving north towards Uppsala with his blue lights on in an attempt to make it to Lars Grind’s home in time for the raid.

There is a red car up ahead, and he blasts the horn and swings out onto the hard shoulder as he undertakes it.

The fast-approaching storm is already causing trees to bend, branches to break and debris and loose objects to blow across the road or catch on the central barrier.

On learning that the Opel and property in Grillby belonged to Grind, Joona immediately jumped into his car and set off, trying to reach Hugo as he drove.

He grips the wheel with both hands in an attempt to keep the car steady.

Over the radio, he hears that a nationwide alert has been issued for the doctor, along with an APB for his new Tesla.

A tactical unit from Stockholm is currently preparing to storm Lars Grind’s home.

Joona first met the commander of the unit, Thor, years ago – in another life – during the search for Jurek Walter in an abandoned house more than fifty kilometres away.

Back then, Thor was dangerously over-confident, and Joona worries that he might not take the threat posed by the Widow seriously enough.

A few snowflakes have begun to flash by in the fierce wind, crossing the road horizontally like tiny projectiles.

Joona hears reports that Storm Eyolf has now made landfall in Sweden, wrecking jetties, dragging small boats inland, breaking windows, tearing tiles from roofs and felling thousands of trees.

The rescue services and emergency hospitals have already declared a critical incident, and the Meteorological and Hydrological Institute has issued a nationwide red warning, urging the public to remain indoors.

Across much of northern Sweden, train services have ground to a halt.

Rubbish and twigs fly through the air, and an SUV travelling in the opposite direction swerves in the wind and bumps against the crash barrier.

On the screen of the comms unit, messages pop up announcing that no planes or helicopters are able to take off, and that one coastal road after another is being closed.

Joona tries to reach Hugo for the fifth time, but his call goes straight through to voicemail.

He needs to talk to the teenager, to get him away from the clinic. To tell him to put on his coat and just go.

Joona doesn’t want to end up in a situation in which Hugo is with Grind when the raid takes place.

It doesn’t seem likely that the doctor would hurt his patient, but they could easily end up in some sort of hostage situation if he panics.

A large spruce branch skids across the tarmac, leaving a trail of cones and needles as it careens to the other side.

The driver in front of Joona loses control of their car and hits the central barrier. The vehicle jolts back and spins around, crossing the hard shoulder and ending up half in the ditch.

As Joona passes, he sees that the driver is on their phone.

He speeds up again as he approaches a wooded area. The trunks of the trees are bending dangerously low, the last dead leaves being torn from their branches.

Joona attempts to call Hugo again, but there is still no answer.

Something thuds against the side window.

A powerful gust of wind barrels across the fields, pulling up clumps of grass. The bushes are practically flat against the ground, and Joona watches as a hunting stand topples over, the plywood roof flying through the air.

Some of the trees have broken in the middle, and others have fallen with their roots still intact, churning up dark earth and rocks.

Up ahead, two tall pines crash down over the road, breaking the guard cable.

Joona brakes hard, and the back of his car sways from side to side for a moment until the vehicle comes to a halt.

Debris clatters against the side doors.

He reverses towards the ditch, turns around and starts driving in the wrong direction.

He can take the E18 back towards Stockholm, he thinks, then try the 267 to Uppsala.

The driving snow is getting heavier and heavier.

The storm is battering the row of high-voltage transmission towers in the field beside the road, and the arm at the top of one of them buckles and breaks, swinging through the air and completely taking out the next tower.

Joona sees a car approaching, and he sounds the horn and flashes his headlights, pulling out onto the hard shoulder with two wheels and speeding past it with just inches to spare.