Page 8 of The Sleepwalker (Joona Linna #10)

It has already been dark for hours when Agneta turns off onto the steep driveway and parks in the snow-dusted space outside the house, gets out of the car and plugs in the charging cable.

She can sense that something is wrong the minute she opens the front door. Bernard’s briefcase is lying on the tiled floor, and the hallway is full of loose sheets of paper covered in footprints. His winter coat is in a heap beside the sideboard, his brown shoes kicked off just outside the kitchen.

Agneta hangs up his coat and puts his shoes on the doormat, gathers up the sheets of paper and grabs his briefcase.

She finds Bernard drinking water by the kitchen sink. The tap is running, and he keeps refilling his glass and gulping it down.

‘Bernard?’

He flinches and turns around, staring at her with a strange expression on his face, as though he can’t quite remember who she is.

‘Are you OK?’ she asks, setting his briefcase down on the counter.

‘They’re remanding him in custody, under full restrictions,’ he mumbles.

‘But you said—’

‘I know. I’m trying to find out what rights I have, how it all works .?.?.’

‘You need to talk to the solicitor.’

‘I have. He’s the one who called.’

Bernard trails off and lifts the glass to his mouth again. His hand is shaking so much that the water spills down his chin.

‘I know you must be upset,’ Agneta says, rubbing his back. ‘But we need to find out what this means .?.?. what we can do to get Hugo home and what we need to do if it goes to trial.’

‘I know, I know, it’s just .?.?. This is all just so damn wrong, that’s how I feel .?.?. I don’t know how he is, whether he’s OK, whether they’ve been good to him.’

‘Take a deep breath, Bernard,’ she says softly. ‘You’ll give yourself a panic attack.’

He turns around and stares at her in despair.

‘I’m not allowed to see him,’ he says, eyes welling up.

‘Surely you have a right to see your own son?’

‘Not while he’s under full restrictions. No visitors, no phone calls. The only person he’s allowed to see is the solicitor.’

‘I might not get it, but I hear what you’re saying.’

‘It’s madness,’ Bernard groans, clapping a hand to his mouth.

Agneta swallows hard and forces back the tears. She doesn’t feel she has the right to start crying.

‘Come on, let’s sit down,’ she whispers after a moment.

‘What?’ he mumbles, too lost in thought to process what she just said.

‘Come with me.’

‘Sorry, it’s just so .?.?.’

He follows her over to the kitchen table, where she pulls out two chairs. They sit down.

‘I really did think they would straighten this all out right away,’ she says. ‘That it was all just a big misunderstanding.’

‘I know, but clearly it isn’t. The prosecutor genuinely seems to believe that he’s a murderer,’ says Bernard.

‘And what do you think?’ Agneta puts her hand on his.

‘About what?’

‘The caravan.’

‘Do you think Hugo killed someone?’ he replies, trying to keep his agitation in check.

‘That’s not what I’m saying, but—’

‘They showed us photographs from the crime scene during the remand hearing .?.?. What happened there, it was completely horrific .?.?.’

‘Bernard, you know that murders happen. That even murderers have parents.’

‘Sorry, of course,’ he says, rubbing his forehead. ‘But I have to believe Hugo. He says he woke up in the caravan when the police arrived .?.?. He had no idea what was happening, initially thought he was still here.’

‘We believe him, of course we do. That’s our role in all of this. But we can’t be naive either.’

‘But when it comes to Hugo I probably am naive,’ says Bernard. ‘I don’t know where he sleeps, who his friends are .?.?. Sometimes he’s black and blue when he comes home, sometimes he has a new tattoo. Sometimes he’s clearly high as a kite.’

‘Seventeen is a difficult age .?.?.’

They both sit quietly for a moment. Bernard’s hands are trembling in his lap. Agneta has just opened her mouth to ask what the prosecutor seems to think happened when he starts talking again.

‘I had a quick chat with Lars,’ he says, looking down at his phone. ‘He was in a meeting, but he said he’d call me back.’

‘You’re going to tell him what happened?’

Yes, because .?.?. As you said, this really could go to trial, and if that happens then we’ll need Lars on our side .?.?. He’s a respected figure, and he knows more about Hugo’s problems than anyone.’

Hugo was only six when they first took him to the sleep clinic, and Bernard spent hours driving him to and from Uppsala over the months that followed. But when they found out that Lars Grind lived in a villa only a kilometre away, in M?larhojden, Hugo started getting a lift with the doctor instead.

Bernard and Claire soon began to see Lars and his then-wife, Malva, socially.

They became firm friends, going on holiday together and celebrating each others’ birthdays.

Following his separation from Claire, Lars was a source of great support to Bernard, and their friendship has continued since Agneta entered the picture.

‘I like him, you know that, but he is a bit .?.?. weird,’ she says. ‘He looks at everyone like they’re one of his research subjects, even when he’s just here for dinner.’

‘Mmm, he did ask a few too many questions last time.’

‘Yeah, like what I wear to sleep.’ Agneta smiles.

‘Lars is just passionate about what he does. He struggles with boundaries and—’

Bernard stops talking when his phone starts ringing.

‘It’s Lars,’ he says, getting to his feet to answer the call.

‘Always nice to hear from my favourite author,’ Dr Lars Grind says in his husky voice.

‘Are you coming over for dinner on the twenty-sixth?’

‘Oysters?’

‘Eight o’clock,’ says Bernard.

‘I’ll be there at seven.’

‘I know.’

‘Have you been out to the house lately, by the way?’ asks Grind.

‘Not in years.’

‘Good, forget I mentioned it. Let it sink back into your subconscious .?.?. glug, glug, glug.’

One summer evening, while they were drinking beer and grilling meat on the jetty, Lars Grind had jokingly mentioned his nose for business.

Before he began his medical training, he had obliterated his savings buying a plot of industrial land with a disused silo not far from Enkoping.

He had then launched and shut down a whole host of different businesses there: minigolf, ostrich breeding, a climbing wall, a flea market and long-stay parking.

Following a ruling in the environmental court, however, the use of industrial land for commercial operations was banned unless the area had been properly decontaminated – a financial impossibility for Lars.

Just like that, he discovered that he couldn’t even give the land away.

Six months later, Bernard had asked whether he could borrow the house on the property. He and Claire had been fighting a lot, and he wanted to go out there to write in order to meet a deadline.

‘So, tell me, what’s going on? What’s this about Hugo?’ asks Lars.

Bernard turns his back to Agneta and clears his throat.

‘He’s in a spot of bother .?.?. He was sleepwalking, and the police found him at the site of a murder.’

‘Good God,’ Lars whispers.

‘He’s being held in custody. They think he killed someone,’ Bernard continues, his voice wavering.

‘You should have talked to me.’

‘It all happened so quickly. But I was wondering .?.?. if it goes to trial .?.?.’

‘Of course.’

‘OK, great. Thank you for being such a wonderful friend.’