Joona Linna Crime Series Books 1-3: The Hypnotist, The Nightmare, The Fire Witness. Lars Kepler
behind you all the time.”
“I know,” she said in a monotone.
Her eyes peered at me like those of a sleepwalker, empty and distant.
“You’re standing outside the door,” I said. “Would you like to go in?”
She nodded, and her hair moved with the currents of water.
“Let’s go through the door now,” I said.
“Yes.”
“What do you see?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you gone inside?” I asked, feeling distantly that I was rushing things.
“Yes.”
“Can you see anything?”
“Yes, I can.”
“Is it something strange?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“Tell me what you see,” I said quickly.
She shook her head. Small air bubbles were released from her hair and rose towards the surface, glittering. The nagging sense that I was doing the wrong thing seemed closer now, more insistent, warning me that I wasn’t listening, that I wasn’t helping lead her forward but, instead, was pushing her. Still, I couldn’t help saying, “You’re in your grandfather’s house.”
“Yes,” she replied, her voice subdued.
“You’re inside the door, and you’re moving forward.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Just take one step.”
“Maybe not right now,” she whispered.
“Raise your head and look.”
“I don’t want to.” Her lower lip was trembling.
“Can you see anything strange?” I persisted. “Anything that shouldn’t be there?”
A deep furrow appeared in her forehead, and I suddenly realised that she would very soon let go and simply be ripped out of her hypnotic state. This could be dangerous; she could end up in a deep depression if it happened too quickly. Large bubbles were floating out of her mouth like a shining chain. Her face shimmered, and blue-green lines played across her brow.
“You don’t have to look, Charlotte,” I said reassuringly. “You can open the French doors and go out to the garden if you like.”
But her body was shaking, and I realised it was too late.
“We are completely calm now,” I whispered, reaching out to pat her gently.
Her lips were white, her eyes wide open.
“Charlotte, we are going to return to the surface together, very slowly,” I said.
Her feet kicked up a dense cloud of sand as she floated upwards.
“Wait,” I said faintly.
Marek was looking at me, trying to shout something.
“We are already on our way up, and I am going to count to ten,” I continued, as we moved quickly towards the surface. “And when I have counted to ten you will open your eyes and you will feel fine.”
Charlotte was gasping for breath as she got unsteadily to her feet. She adjusted her clothing and looked at me entreatingly.
“Let’s take a short break,” I said.
Sibel got up slowly and went out for a smoke. Pierre followed her. Jussi remained where he was, heavy and inert. None of them was completely awake. The ascent had been too steep, too quick. I remained seated; I rubbed my face and was taking some notes when Marek sauntered over.
“Well done,” he said, with a wry grimace.
“It didn’t quite go as planned,” I replied, without looking up.
“I thought it was funny,” he said.
“What?” I asked. “What was funny?” I met his eyes, which burned with an obscure hostility.
Lydia was on her way over, jewellery rattling. Her henna-dyed hair glowed like threads of copper as she walked through a sunbeam.
“The way you put that upper-class whore in her place,” Marek said.
“What did you say?” asked Lydia.
“I’m not talking about you, I’m talking about—”
“You’re not to call Charlotte a whore, because it isn’t true,” Lydia said softly. “Right, Marek?”
“Fine, whatever.”
I moved away, looking at my notes, but kept on listening to their conversation.
“Do you have issues with women?” she continued.
“Things happened in the haunted house,” he said quietly. “If you weren’t there, you wouldn’t understand.”
He fell silent, clamping his teeth so tightly together I could see his jaw muscles working.
“There is actually nothing that is wrong,” she said, and took his hand in both of hers.
Sibel and Pierre came back. Everyone was quiet and subdued. Charlotte looked very fragile. Her slender arms were crossed over her chest; her hands were on her shoulders.
I changed the tape in the video camera, gave the date and time, and explained that everyone was still in a post-hypnotic state. I looked through the lens, raised the tripod a fraction, and refocused the camera. Then I straightened the chairs and asked the group to sit down again.
“Let’s continue,” I said.
There was a sudden knock at the door and Eva Blau walked in. I could see instantly that she was under stress and went over to greet her.
“Welcome,” I said.
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
Eva Blau sat down on the empty chair and clamped her hands firmly between her thighs. I went back to my place and carefully introduced the second session.
“Please get comfortable. Let’s keep our feet on the floor, hands on our knees. The first part didn’t quite turn out as I expected.”
“I’m sorry,” said Charlotte.
“Nobody need apologise, least of all you; I hope you understand.”
Eva Blau was staring at me the whole time.
“We’re going to begin with thoughts and associations from the first session,” I said. “Would anyone like to comment?”
“Confusing,” said Sibel.
“Frus … tra … ting,” said Jussi. “I mean, I only just had time to open my eyes and scratch my head, and it was all over.”
“What did you feel?” I asked him.
“Hair,” he answered, with a smile.
“Hair?” asked Sibel, giggling.
“When I scratched my noggin,” Jussi explained.
Some of them laughed.
“Let’s have some associations with hair,” I said, with a smile. “Charlotte?”
“I don’t know. Hair? Beard, maybe … no.”
Pierre interrupted her in his high voice. “A hippie, a hippie on a chopper,” he said with a smile. “He’s sitting like this, chewing a piece of Juicyfruit,