The Hypnotist (21 page)

Erik looks into his own eyes in the mirror. He no longer knows what to think. What if Josef had someone helping him? Someone to lay the groundwork the night before the kidnapping? Perhaps the accomplice described everything to Josef: the layout, what the rooms looked like, who slept where. That would explain why Josef didn’t find me, thinks Erik, because on the first night I was sleeping in my usual place, in bed next to Simone.

Or maybe this second person was sent just to see if the copied key worked, but then overstepped the mark and went into the apartment, unable to resist sneaking in and looking at the sleeping family. The situation would have given him a pleasurable feeling of control, and he might have decided to play a joke on the family by leaving the fridge and freezer open.

“Was Evelyn at the police station last Wednesday?” asks Erik.

“Yes.”

“All day and all night?”

“Yes.”

“Is she still there?”

“She’s moved into one of our safe apartments. But she’s got a double guard.”

“Has she been in touch with anyone?”

“You have to let the police do their job,” says Joona.

“I’m just doing
my
job,” says Erik quietly. “I need to talk to Evelyn.”

“What are you going to ask her?”

“Whether Josef has any friends, someone who might be able to help him.”

“I can ask her that.”

“What their names are.”

“I can ask her that, too.”

“Where they live, who he might be able to work with.”

Joona sighs. “You know perfectly well I can’t allow you to carry out a private investigation, Erik. Even if I personally might think it’s in order.”

“Can’t I be there when you talk to her?” asks Erik. “I’ve worked with traumatized people for many years.”

There is silence between them for a few seconds.

“Meet me in an hour in the National Police Headquarters lobby,” says Joona eventually.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Fine, twenty minutes,” says Joona, ending the call.

Empty of thoughts, Erik goes over to his desk and opens the top drawer. Among pens, erasers, and paper clips are assorted boxes of pills. He presses three different ones into his hand and swallows them.

He thinks about telling Daniella he hasn’t time to attend the morning briefing but forgets to do it. He leaves his office and hurries to the cafeteria, where he drinks a cup of coffee standing in front of the aquarium, following a shoal of neon tetras with his eyes as they search around a shipwreck made of plastic. Then he wraps a sandwich in several paper napkins and stuffs it in his pocket.

In the lift to the ground floor he catches sight of himself in the mirror, meets the blank eyes. His face is sorrowful, almost absent. He thinks about the sensation in your stomach when you fall from a great height: the helpless, dizzying feeling coupled with a heady, almost sexual rush. He has hardly any strength left, but the pills lift him up onto a bright plane where all the contours are sharply defined. He can keep going a little longer , he thinks. All he needs to do is hold it together long enough to find his son again. Then everything can fall apart.

As he drives to the meeting with Joona and Evelyn, he tries to retrace his steps over the past week. His keys could have been copied on several occasions. Last Thursday his jacket was hanging up in a restaurant in Södermalm, keys in the pocket, with nobody to keep an eye on it. It has been over the back of the chair in his office at the hospital, on a hook in the staff cafeteria, and in plenty of other places. The same is doubtless true of Simone and Benjamin’s keys.

While manoeuvring through the chaos caused by the redevelopment around Fridhemsplan, he gets out his phone and calls Simone’s number.

“Hello?” she answers, sounding stressed. “It’s me.”

“Has something happened?” she asks anxiously.

There is a roaring noise in the background, as if from a machine, then a sudden silence.

“No, no. I was just thinking that you ought to check the computer, not just e-mails but everything: what he’s downloaded, what sites he’s visited, any temporary folders, if he’s been visiting chat rooms— ”

“Obviously.”

“I’m sorry. I just wasn’t sure if you’d thought of it.”

“We haven’t started on the computer yet,” she says.

“The password is Dumbledore.”

“I know,” she says. “I have to go.”

Erik drives past police headquarters and sees its changing appearance: the smooth copper façade, the concrete extension, and finally the tall, original building in yellow plaster.

“Simone,” he says, “have you told me the truth?”

“What do you mean?”

“About what happened. About the door being open the first time, about seeing someone dragging Benjamin through— ”

“What do
you
think?” she yells, ending the call.

Erik hasn’t the energy to look for an empty parking space. A parking ticket has no meaning; it will be due in a completely different life. Without a second thought, he pulls up right in front of the police station. The tyres rumble and he stops at the foot of the enormous flight of steps facing the town hall.

He hurries around the building and up the slope, heading toward the park and the entrance to National Police Headquarters. A father walks along with three little girls, all wearing Lucia costumes over their snowsuits. The white dresses strain over the thick winter clothing. Perched on top of their hats, the children are wearing crowns with candles in them, and one of them holds a candle in a gloved hand. Erik suddenly remembers how Benjamin loved to be carried when he was little; he would cling tightly with his arms and legs and say,
Carry me, you’re big and strong, Daddy
.

Erik is out of breath by the time he reaches the entrance, a tall, glowing glass cube. He crosses the white marble floor of the lobby to the reception area on the left, where a man sits behind the open wooden desk, speaking on the phone.

Erik explains why he is there; the receptionist nods briefly, taps away on his computer, and picks up the phone. “Reception here,” he says, in a subdued tone. “Erik Maria Bark to see you . . .”

Erik sits on a long bench of black creaking leather and gazes around him: at a work of art made of green glass, at the motionless revolving doors. Beyond the huge glass wall is another hallway made of glass leading through an open inner courtyard to the next building. Erik sees Joona Linna pass the waiting area to the right; he presses a button on the wall and walks through the revolving doors. He throws a banana peel into an aluminum waste bin, waves to the man on reception, and comes straight over to Erik.

As they walk to Evelyn’s safe house, Joona summarizes what has emerged during his interviews with her: the confirmation that she had intended to take her own life in the forest, the years of sexual abuse she suffered at Josef ’s hands, his violence toward their younger sister if Evelyn refused him, his eventual demands for full sexual intercourse, Evelyn’s withdrawal to the summer cottage, Josef ’s intimidation of her boyfriend, Sorab, to obtain her whereabouts.

“When Josef showed up at Sonja’s cottage on his birthday, she refused once again to have intercourse with him, and he told her she knew what would happen and it would be her fault,” Joona explains. “It looks as if Josef planned to murder his father, at least. We don’t know why he chose that particular day. It may have been a matter of opportunity, the fact that his father was going to be alone somewhere away from home. In any event, last Monday, Josef Ek packed a change of clothing, two pairs of overshoes, a towel, his father’s hunting knife, a bottle of gasoline, and a box of matches in his gym bag and cycled over to the Rödstuhage playing field. After he’d killed his father and mutilated the body, he took the keys from his father’s pocket, went to the women’s locker room, showered and changed, locked up after himself, set fire to the bag containing the bloodstained clothes in a children’s playground, then bicycled home.”

“And what happened next, at home, was more or less the way he described it under hypnosis?” asks Erik.

“Not more or less— exactly, or so it seems,” says Joona, clearing his throat. “But the motive— what suddenly made him attack his little sister and his mother— that’s something we don’t know.” He looks at Erik, his expression troubled. “Perhaps he just had a feeling that he wasn’t finished, that Evelyn hadn’t been punished enough.”

Joona stops outside an unremarkable house and calls to say that they’ve arrived. He taps in the code, opens the door, and lets Erik into the simple entrance hall.

Two police officers are waiting outside the lift when they reach the third floor. Joona shakes hands with them and then unlocks an unmarked security door. Before he pushes the door open completely, he knocks.

“Is it all right if we come in?” he asks, through the gap.

“You haven’t found him, have you?”

The light is behind Evelyn, so it is impossible to make out her features clearly, only a dark oval surrounded by sunlit hair.

“No,” replies Joona.

She comes to the door to usher them in and locks it quickly behind them, checking the lock; when she turns around, Erik sees she is breathing heavily.

“This is a safe apartment; you’ve got a police guard,” says Joona reassuringly. “No one is allowed to give out information about you or search for information about you; the prosecutor has made that decision. You’re safe now, Evelyn.”

“As long as I stay in here, maybe,” she says. “But I’m going to have to come out sometime. And Josef is good at waiting.”

She goes over to the window, looks out, and sits down on the sofa.

“Where could Josef be hiding?” asks Joona.

“You think I know something.”

“Do you?” asks Erik.

“Are you going to hypnotize me?”

“No.” He smiles in surprise.

She is not wearing make-up, and her eyes look vulnerable and unprotected as she scrutinizes him.

“You can if you want to,” she says, looking down quickly.

The apartment consists of nothing more than a bedroom with a wide bed, two armchairs, and a television set, a bathroom with a shower cubicle, and a kitchen with an eating area. The windows are made of bulletproof glass, and the walls are painted throughout in a calm yellow colour.

Erik looks around and follows her into the kitchen. “Nice little place,” he says.

Evelyn shrugs her shoulders. She is wearing a red sweater and a pair of faded jeans. Her hair is carelessly caught up in a ponytail. “They’re bringing a few of my things today,” she says.

“That’s good,” says Erik. “People usually feel better when— ”

“Better? What do you know about what would make me feel better?”

“I’ve worked with— ”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t give a shit about that, I don’t want to talk to psychologists and counsellors.”

“I’m not here in that capacity.”

“So why are you here?”

“To try to find Josef.”

She turns to him and says curtly, “He isn’t here.”

Without knowing why, Erik decides not to say anything about Benjamin. “Listen to me, Evelyn,” he says quietly. “I need your help to map out Josef ’s circle of acquaintances.”

Her eyes are shiny, almost feverish. “All right,” she replies, with something resembling a small smile.

“Does he have a girlfriend?”

Her eyes darken and her mouth tenses. “Apart from me, you mean?”

“Yes.”

She shakes her head. “Who does he hang out with?”

“He doesn’t hang out with anybody,” she says.

“Classmates?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “He’s never had any friends, as far as I know.”

“If he needed help with something, who would he turn to?”

“I don’t know . . . Sometimes he talks to the drunks behind the liquor store.”

“Do you know their names, who they are?”

“One of them has a tattoo on his hand.”

“What does it look like?”

“I can’t remember . . . A fish, I think.” She stands up and goes over to the window again.

Erik looks at her. The daylight strikes her young face; he can see a blue vein beating in her slender throat. “Could he be staying with one of them?”

She shrugs her shoulders vaguely. “Maybe.”

“Do you think he is?”

“No.”

“So what do you think, then?”

“I think he’s going to find me before you find him.”

Erik looks at her, as she stands with her forehead resting against the window-pane, and wonders if he should press her any further. There is something about her toneless voice, her lack of trust, that tells him she has long had a unique insight into her brother and has abandoned any hope of finding someone to share it with.

“Evelyn? What does Josef want?”

“I can’t talk about that.”

“Does he want to kill
me
?”

“I don’t know.”

“But what do you think?”

She takes a deep breath, and her voice is hoarse and tired when she answers. “If he thinks you’ve come between him and me, if he’s jealous, then yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Kill you.”

“Try, you mean?”

Evelyn licks her lips, turns to face him, then looks down. Erik wants to repeat his question, but nothing comes out. Suddenly there is a knock on the door. Evelyn looks at Joona and Erik, a terrified expression on her face, and backs into the kitchen.

The knocking comes again. Joona walks over, looks through the peephole, and admits two police officers. One of them is carrying a cardboard box.

“I think we found everything on the list,” he says. “Where do you want this?”

“Anywhere,” says Evelyn faintly, emerging from the kitchen.

“Would you sign here?”

He holds out a delivery receipt, and Evelyn signs it. Joona locks the door behind them when they leave. Evelyn hurries over to the door, checks that he’s locked up properly, and turns to face them.

“I asked if I could have some things from home.”

“Yes, you told us.”

Evelyn crouches down, pulls off the brown sticky tape, and opens the box. She takes out a silver money box in the shape of a rabbit and a framed picture of a guardian angel, but suddenly stops.

“My photo album,” she says, and Erik sees that her mouth has begun to tremble.

“Evelyn?”

“I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t say anything about it.”

She opens the album to the first page, revealing a large school photo of herself at about fourteen. She is wearing braces on her teeth and smiling shyly. Her skin glows; her hair is cut very short.

Evelyn turns the page, and a folded piece of paper falls out and lands on the floor. She picks it up, turns it over, and her face flushes deep red. “He’s at home,” she whispers, passing it to Erik.

He smooths out the paper, and he and Joona read it together:

Evelyn pulls down the blinds and stands with her arms tightly wrapped around her body. Erik places the letter on the table and gets to his feet.

Josef is back home, he thinks quickly. He must be. If he could put the photo album and the letter in the box, he must be there.

“Where else would he go?” she replies quietly.

Joona is already on his cell phone in the kitchen, speaking to the duty officer at Central Control.

“Evelyn, the police have been conducting an exhaustive investigation at the house for almost a week now. Do you know how Josef could hide from them there?”

“The cellar,” replies Evelyn, looking up.

“What about the cellar?”

“There’s a . . . special room down there.”

“He’s down in the cellar,” Erik shouts in the direction of the kitchen.

On the other end of the phone, Joona can hear the slow rattle of a keyboard.

“The suspect is presumed to be in the cellar,” says Joona.

“Just hang on,” says the duty officer. “I have to— ”

“This is extremely urgent.”

After a pause, the duty officer says calmly, “We sent a car to the same address two minutes ago.”

“What? To Gärdesvägen eight in Tumba?”

“Yes. The neighbours called to say there was someone inside the house.”