Stalker

‘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 (#ulink_828c5abc-7e0f-5749-a3d0-48133f1fe1f6)

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 danger … Four, three, two, one … Now you’re standing in the street outside your house, the taxi is driving away, the tyres are crunching on the grit covering the tarmac …’

Björn opens his eyes, his eyes gleaming, but his gaze is focused inward, into his memories, and his heavy eyelids close once more.

‘Are you looking at the house now?’

Björn is standing in the cool night air in front of his house. A strange glow is lighting up the sky in time with the slow rhythm of his heartbeat. It looks like the house is leaning forward as the light expands and the shadows withdraw.

‘It’s moving,’ he says almost inaudibly.

‘Now you’re walking up to the door,’ Erik says. ‘The night air is mild, there’s nothing unpleasant …’

Björn starts as some jackdaws fly up from a tree. They’re visible against the sky, their shadows move across the grass, and then they’re gone.

‘You’re perfectly safe,’ Erik says as he sees Björn’s hand move anxiously over the seat of the sofa.

15 (#ulink_5e404e08-17af-5706-9218-9e2af69f4912)

Deep in his trance, Björn slowly approaches the door. He keeps to the stone path, but something about the black shimmer of the window catches his attention.

‘You’ve reached the door, you take your key out and put it in the lock,’ Erik says.

Björn carefully pushes the handle, but the door is stuck. He tries harder, and there’s a sticky sound when it eventually opens.

Erik sees that Björn’s brow is sweating, and repeats in a soothing voice that there’s nothing to be scared of.

Björn tries to open his eyes and whisper something. Erik leans forward, and feels his breath against his ear.

‘The doorstep … something odd about it …’

‘Yes, this doorstep has always been odd,’ Erik replies calmly. ‘But once you’ve crossed it, everything will be just as it was on Friday.’

Erik notes that the whole of Björn’s face is covered with a sheen of sweat as his chin begins to tremble.

‘No, no,’ he whispers, shaking his head.