Joona Linna Crime Series Books 1 and 2: The Hypnotist, The Nightmare

“I’ve leaned on them with my considerable weight,” he replies.

“And?”

“They didn’t find any of the father’s DNA on Josef.”

“I don’t believe them either,” says Joona. “I mean, he was fucking covered in—”

“Not a drop,” Erixon interrupts.

“That can’t be right.”

“They sounded very pleased with themselves when they told me.”

“LCN?”

“No, not even a microdrop. Nothing.”

“But … we just can’t be that unlucky.”

“I think you’re going to have to give in on this one,” says Erixon.

“We’ll see.”

They end the conversation. Joona thinks that what can seem like a mystery is sometimes simply a matter of coincidence. The perpetrator’s method appears to be identical in both places: the frenzied blows with the knife and the aggressive attempts to chop up the bodies. It is therefore very strange that the father’s blood has not been found on Josef, if he is the attacker. He should have been covered in so much blood he would have attracted attention, thinks Joona, and calls Erixon back.

“I just thought of something.”

“In twenty seconds?”

“Did you examine the women’s locker room?”

“Nobody had been in there; the door was locked.”

“Presumably the victim had the keys on him.”

“But—”

“Check the drain in the women’s shower,” says Joona.

28

thursday, december 10: evening

After following the road around Tantolunden, Joona turns onto a path and parks in front of an apartment block facing the park. He wonders where the police car is, checks the address, and considers the possibility that Ronny and his partner have knocked on the wrong door. He grimaces. That would explain Sorab’s reluctance to let them in, since in that case his name probably wasn’t Sorab.

The evening air is chilly, and Joona walks briskly towards the door. If Josef’s account matches with what really happened, he did nothing to hide the crime at the time; did not protect himself. He had no thought for the consequences, he simply allowed himself to become covered in blood.

Joona thinks it’s possible that under hypnosis Josef Ek was merely describing how he felt, a confused, enraged tumult, while in fact his behaviour at the time was much more controlled. Perhaps he acted methodically, wore a waterproof covering, and showered in the women’s locker room before he went to the house.

He needs to speak to Daniella Richards, to find out when she thinks Josef will be strong enough to cope with an interview.

Joona walks in through the door. The lobby walls are tiled in black and white like a chessboard, and he sees his reflection in the black tiles: pale, frosty face, serious expression, blond, tousled hair. He takes out his mobile and calls Ronny again, jabbing at the button for the lift. No reply. Perhaps they gave it one last try, and Sorab let them in. Joona heads up to the sixth floor, waits for a mother with a buggy to take the lift down, then rings Sorab’s doorbell.

He waits for a while, knocks, waits for a few more seconds, then pushes the letter box open. “Sorab? My name is Joona Linna. I’m a detective. I need to talk to you.”

He hears a sound from inside, as if someone has been leaning heavily against the door but is now quickly moving away.

“You’re the only one who knew where Evelyn was.”

“I haven’t done anything,” says a deep voice from inside the apartment.

“But you said—”

“I don’t know anything!” the man yells.

“All right,” says Joona. “But I want you to open the door, look me in the eye, and say that to me.”

“Go away.”

“Open the door.”

“What the fuck. Can’t you just leave me alone? This has nothing to do with me. I don’t want to get involved.”

His voice is full of fear. He falls silent, breathing heavily, and slams his hand against something inside.

“Evelyn’s fine,” says Joona.

The letter box rattles slightly. “I thought—” He breaks off.

“We need to talk to you.”

“Is Evelyn really fine? Nothing’s happened to her?”

“Open the door.”

“I don’t want to.”

“It would be helpful if you could come to the station.”

There is a brief silence.

“Has he been here more than once?” Joona asks, all of a sudden.

“Who?”

“Josef.”

“Who’s Josef?”