Joona Linna Crime Series Books 1-3: The Hypnotist, The Nightmare, The Fire Witness - Lars Kepler

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      “What did he say to you, when he came?”

      “I don’t want to think about it.”

      “About what? About what he said?”

      Evelyn straightens up in the chair, and her mouth narrows. “I don’t remember,” she says, almost inaudibly. “I’m sure it wasn’t anything special.”

      “You were going to shoot yourself, Evelyn,” Joona reminds her.

      She stands up, goes over to the window, switches the electric candles off and on absently, walks back to her chair, and sits down with her arms folded over her stomach.

      “Can’t you just leave me in peace?”

      “Is that what you really want?”

      She nods without looking at him.

      “Do you need a break?” asks her solicitor.

      “I don’t know what’s the matter with Josef,” Evelyn says quietly. “There’s something wrong inside his head. When he used to fight, when he was little, he would hit too hard. He wasn’t just angry, like little boys get. He was trying to hurt you. He was dangerous. He destroyed all my things. I couldn’t keep anything.”

      Her mouth trembles.

      “When he was eight … When he was eight, he came on to me. He wanted us to kiss each other. Maybe that doesn’t sound so bad, but I didn’t want to, and he kept insisting. I was scared of him. He did weird things. He would sneak into my room at night when I was sleeping and bite me and make me bleed. I started to hit back. I was still stronger than he was.”

      She wipes away the tears rolling down her cheeks.

      “It got worse. He wanted to see my breasts. He tried to get in the bath with me. He said he’d—if I didn’t do what he said—he said he’d hurt Buster.” She pauses for a moment to wipe away more tears. “He killed my dog and threw it off an overpass!” She leaps to her feet and moves to the window again. “He must have been about twelve when he—”

      Her voice breaks and she whimpers quietly to herself before continuing.

      “When he asked if he could put his cock in my mouth. I said he was disgusting. So he went into my little sister’s room and began to hit her. She was only two years old.”

      Evelyn weeps and then composes herself.

      “He made me watch while he jerked off, several times every day. If I said no, he hit my sister, told me he’d kill her. Maybe a few months later, he started demanding sex from me. Every day. He threatened me. But I came up with an answer. I don’t know why it worked, but I told him he was below the age of consent and it was against the law. I wouldn’t do something illegal.”

      She wipes the tears away again.

      “He seemed to buy it; I don’t know why. I thought his demands would go away. I thought—if you can believe it—that he’d outgrow them, like it was a phase. So I moved out. A year passed, but then he started calling me, reminding me he would be fifteen soon. That’s when I hid. I … I don’t know how he found out I was at the cottage.” She is sobbing with her mouth open now. “Oh God!”

      “So he threatened you,” says Joona. “He threatened to kill the whole family if you didn’t—”

      “He didn’t say that!” she screams. “He said he would start with Dad. It’s all my fault. I just want to die …”

      She sinks down on the floor and cowers against the wall.

       33

       friday, december 11: afternoon

      Joona sits in his office and stares at his hands. One hand still holds the telephone. When he informed Jens Svanehjälm of Evelyn’s sudden change of heart, Jens had listened in silence, sighing heavily as Joona went over the cruel motive behind the crime.

      “To be perfectly honest, Joona,” he had said eventually, “this is all a little bit thin, bearing in mind that Josef Ek accused his sister of being behind the whole thing. What we really need is a confession or some kind of forensic evidence.”

      Joona glances around the room, rubs his hand over his face, then calls Daniella Richards to arrange a suitable time to continue questioning Josef, when the suspect will have a lower level of analgesics in his body.

      “His head must be clear,” says Joona.

      “You could come in at five o’clock,” says Daniella.

      “This afternoon?”

      “His next dose of morphine isn’t due until six. It levels out around teatime.”

      Joona looks at the clock. It’s 2:30 p.m.

      “That would suit me very well,” he says.

      After the conversation with Daniella Richards, he calls Lisbet Carlén and informs her of the time.

      In the staff room he takes an apple from the fruit bowl; when he returns to his office, his seat is occupied by Erixon, the crime-scene technician. His entire body is wedged against the desk. His face is bright red, and he is puffing and panting as he waves a weary hand at Joona.

      “If you shove that apple in my mouth, you’ll have a suckling pig all ready for Christmas,” he says.

      “Oh, shut up,” says Joona, taking a bite.

      “I deserve it,” says Erixon. “Since that Thai place opened on the corner, I’ve put on twenty-five pounds.”

      Joona shrugs. “The food’s really good.”

      “Fuckin’ A.”

      “So what did you find in the women’s locker room?” asks Joona.

      Erixon holds up a chubby hand in a defensive gesture. “Don’t say, What did I tell you?”

      Joona grins. “We’ll see,” he says diplomatically.

      “All right,” says Erixon, wiping the sweat from his cheeks. “There was hair belonging to Josef Ek in the drain, and there was blood from his father between the tiles on the floor.”

      “What did I tell you?” Joona beams.

      In the lift down to the foyer, Joona calls Jens Svanehjälm again.

      “I’m glad you called,” says Jens. “I’m getting a lot of shit about this hypnosis business. They’re saying we ought to scrap the preliminary investigation into Josef, that it’s just going to cost money and—”

      “Hold on.”

      “But I’ve decided to—”

      “Jens?”

      “What?” he replies irritably.

      “We’ve got forensic evidence,” he says seriously. “We can link Josef Ek to the first crime scene and to his father’s blood.”

      Chief Prosecutor Jens Svanehjälm breathes heavily on the other end of the phone. “Joona, you know you’ve called at the last possible minute.”

      “But I’m in time.”

      “Yes.”

      They are just about to hang up when Joona says, “What did I tell you?”

      “What?”

      “I was right, wasn’t I?”

      There is silence at the other end of the line. Then Jens says, slowly and deliberately, “Yes, Joona, you were right.”

      They end the conversation, and the smile fades from the detective’s face. He walks along the glass wall facing the courtyard and checks the time once

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