Page 42 of The Sleepwalker

Before she left home that morning, Bernard had encouraged her to record the entire press conference and then stay behind to jot down her immediate thoughts. As the chattering journalists file out of the room, she writes a few words about feeling slightly offended when the others talked about Hugo, about the sweat she saw dripping from the tip of Noah’s nose and landing with a soft crackle on the microphone beneath him, and the fact thatJoona Linna didn’t say an entire word, despite the fact that his boss seemed to be desperate for him to speak up several times.

She quickly turns to a clean page in her notepad when she notices the detective approaching between the chairs.

‘You’re Agneta Nkomo, aren’t you?’ asks Joona.

‘Is it true that the victims were sexually abused?’

‘No, there was no indication of that.’

‘OK, thank you.’

‘I actually have a meeting scheduled with Hugo tomorrow,’ says Joona, turning a chair around and sitting down.

‘You could have mentioned that during the press conference.’

‘I didn’t want to draw attention to him.’

‘Shouldn’t he be given witness protection?’

‘We can look into it, but I’m afraid it’s a pretty convoluted process – just so you know. The key thing right now is that you’re careful. No posting on social media about what he’s doing, where he is, and so on.’

‘Should I be worried? Is he under threat?’

‘We’re not aware of anything concrete, but he is our only witness and as you say, we haven’t interviewed him yet.’

‘So you think he might be able to help you?’

‘You never know, but I just can’t drop the thought that Hugo should be able to remember the things he saw while he was sleepwalking – given that he’s capable of opening doors, following roads, getting through gates, and so on,’ says Joona.

‘I see what you mean .?.?. but it’s not always clear-cut,’ she replies. ‘All I know is that when he sleepwalked when was younger, we used to try just to steer him back into bed, but sometimes he resisted. There were times when he almost started to panic, when he was convinced he needed to escape .?.?. And if we accidentally woke him up, he would remember things in that moment. But if you asked him about them later, they were gone.’

‘So the memories are there, but he loses contact with them?’

‘The same thing happened last night. He started sleepwalking at his girlfriend’s place,’ Agneta explains. ‘She woke him up as he was trying to climb over the balcony railing, and apparently he was talking about the caravan.’

‘What did he say?’

‘I don’t know. Hugo can’t remember, and we don’t really know her .?.?. We don’t know her at all, in fact.’

15

Jack is waiting, as usual, by the concrete steps beneath the low skyway. He glances over towards the square and the strange red church building.

The sky is dark and heavy.

The cold air helps to alleviate the stench of old urine from the corner nearby.

Used condoms, latex gloves, sooty scraps of foil, pouches of snus and cigarette butts litter the ground around the rusty drain cover.

This might not be the most picturesque spot in Stockholm, but it is secluded. No CCTV cameras and five possible escape routes, two involving stairs.

Jack is shivering, despite the fact that he is wearing two pairs of sweatpants, a fleece and a black hoodie. He has a beanie on beneath his hood, mittens and red trainers with thick soles.

An old regular from the Bengali restaurant nearby comes down the steps, takes a seat on the concrete and shakes out a cigarette.

‘’Sup?’ says Jack.

‘Not much. Shitty vibes in the kitchen today.’