Stalker. Ларс Кеплер

steps back to get an overview of the bedroom. Beside the dead woman Erixon stands, hunch-backed, photographing the little brown head. Adam is sitting slumped on a pouffe in front of the wardrobe. It looks like he’s still trying not to throw up.

      Margot walks back out to the glass-fronted cabinet again, and stands for a while in front of the toppled figurines. They’re all lying as if they were dead, but none of them is broken, none is missing its head.

      Why is the victim holding a small deer’s head in her hand?

      She looks over towards the bright light of the bedroom and thinks that she ought to go and take one last look at the body before it’s moved to the pathology department in Solna.

       13

      It’s morning, and Erik Maria Bark is standing at the till in the cafeteria of the Psychology Clinic, buying a cup of coffee. As he takes his wallet out to pay, he feels the ache in his shoulders from his piano lesson.

      ‘It’s already been paid for,’ the cashier says.

      ‘Already paid for?’

      ‘Your friend has paid for your coffee all the way up to Christmas.’

      ‘Did he say what his name was?’

      ‘Nestor,’ she replies.

      Erik smiles and nods, thinking that he really must talk to Nestor about his over-effusive gratitude. It’s Erik’s job to help people, Nestor doesn’t owe him anything.

      He’s still thinking of his former patient’s friendly, cautious manner when he hears muted footsteps behind him and turns round. The pregnant superintendent is rolling towards him, waving a shrink-wrapped sandwich in his direction.

      ‘Björn’s fallen asleep, and seems to be feeling a bit better,’ she says breathlessly. ‘He wants to help us, and is willing to try hypnosis.’

      ‘I’ve got an hour, if we can start now,’ Erik says, quickly drinking his coffee.

      ‘Do you think it’s going to work on him?’ she asks as they head in the direction of the treatment room.

      ‘Hypnosis is just a way of getting his brain to relax, so that he can begin to sort his memories in a less chaotic way.’

      ‘But the prosecutor’s unlikely to be able to use statements made under hypnosis,’ she says.

      ‘No,’ Erik smiles. ‘But it might mean that Björn will be in a fit state to testify later on … and it could definitely help move the investigation forward.’

      When they enter the room Björn is standing behind one of the armchairs, clutching its back with his hands. His eyes are dull, as if they were made from worn plastic.

      ‘I’ve only seen hypnosis on television,’ he says in a fragile voice. ‘I mean, I’m not sure I really believe in it …’

      ‘Just think of hypnosis as a way to help you feel better.’

      ‘But I want her to leave,’ he says, looking at Margot.

      ‘Of course,’ Erik says.

      ‘Can you talk to her?’

      Margot remains seated on the sofa, there’s no change in her expression.

      ‘You’ll have to go and wait outside,’ Erik says quietly.

      ‘I’ve got symphysis, I need to sit down.’

      ‘You know where the cafeteria is,’ he replies.

      She sighs and stands up, takes her mobile out and heads towards the door, opens it, then turns back towards Erik.

      ‘Would you mind coming outside for a moment?’ she says amiably.

      ‘OK,’ he says, and follows her into the corridor.

      ‘We haven’t got time to nursemaid him,’ she whispers.

      ‘I understand how you feel, but I’m a doctor and it’s my job to help him.’

      ‘I’ve got a job as well,’ Margot says in a voice thin with irritation. ‘And it involves stopping a murderer. This is serious, Björn knows things that—’

      ‘This isn’t an interrogation,’ he interrupts. ‘You know that, we’ve already talked about it.’

      He watches the superintendent fighting her own impatience, then she nods as if she understands and accepts his words.

      ‘As long as it doesn’t harm him,’ she says, ‘from where I’m standing … well, every tiny detail could be of vital importance to the investigation.’

       14

      Erik shuts the door behind him, unfolds the stand and attaches the camera to it. Björn watches him, rubbing his forehead hard with one hand.

      ‘Do you have to film it?’ he asks.

      ‘It’s just a case of documenting what I do,’ Erik replies. ‘And I’d rather not have to be taking notes the whole time.’

      ‘OK,’ Björn says, as though he hadn’t really listened to Erik’s reply.

      ‘You can start by lying down on the sofa,’ Erik says as he goes over to the window and draws the curtains.

      The room fills with a pleasant semi-darkness, and Björn lies back and shuffles down a little, then closes his eyes. Erik sits down on a chair, moves closer to him, and sees how tense he is. Thoughts are still racing through his head, as different impulses tug at his body.

      ‘Breathe slowly through your nose,’ Erik says. ‘Relax your mouth, your chin and cheeks … feel the back of your head lying with all its weight on the pillow, feel your neck relax … you don’t need to hold your head up now, because your head is resting on the pillow … Your jaw muscles are relaxing, your forehead is smooth and untroubled, your eyelids are feeling heavier …’

      Erik takes his time, and moves through the whole body, from Björn’s head to his toes, then back up to his weary eyelids and the weight of his head again.

      With soporific monotony, Erik slips into the induction, speaking in a falling tone of voice as he tries to gather his strength in advance of what is coming.

      Björn’s body gradually begins to exhibit an almost cataleptic relaxation. A mental trauma can lead to increased receptivity to hypnosis, as if the brain were longing for a fresh command, a way out of an unsustainable state.

      ‘The only thing you’re listening to is my voice … if you hear anything else, it only makes you feel more relaxed, and more focused on my words … I’m about to start counting backwards, and for each number you hear, you’ll relax a bit more.’

      Erik thinks about what’s coming, what’s waiting inside the house, what Björn saw when he walked in through the door: the illuminated moment when the shock hit with full force.

      ‘Nine hundred and twelve,’ he says quietly. ‘Nine hundred and eleven …’

      With each exhalation Erik says a number, slowly and monotonously. After a while he breaks the logical sequence, but still carries on the countdown. Björn is now down at a perfect depth. The sharp frown on his brow has relaxed and his mouth looks softer. Erik counts, and sinks into hypnotic resonance with a curious shiver in his stomach.

      ‘Now you’re deeply relaxed … you’re resting nice and calmly,’ Erik says slowly. ‘Soon you’re going to revisit your memories of Friday night … When I finish counting down to zero, you will be standing outside your house, but you’re completely calm, because there’s no