17

      Nelly stands behind Erik as he makes his way through the patient database on his computer. He types Rocky Kyrklund’s name, searches, and discovers that he was sent to Karsudden District Hospital.

      ‘Karsudden,’ he says quietly.

      She brushes a strand of blonde hair from her cheek and looks at him, her eyes narrowing.

      ‘Do you want to tell me why we’re talking about this patient?’

      ‘Rocky Kyrklund’s victim had been posed. You won’t remember, but she was lying on the floor with her face horribly disfigured, and her hand round her neck … I’ve just hypnotised Björn Kern, and … and he described details that were very reminiscent of the old murder.’

      ‘The one committed by the priest?’

      ‘I don’t know, but Björn Kern said his wife’s face had been completely destroyed … and that she was sitting with her hand over her ear.’

      ‘What do the police say?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ Erik mutters.

      ‘I mean, you did tell that … lovely pregnant lady?’

      ‘I didn’t tell her anything.’ Erik says.

      ‘You didn’t?’ she asks, a sceptical smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

      ‘Because it emerged while he was under hypnosis, and—’

      ‘But he wanted to talk, didn’t he?’

      ‘I might have misheard,’ Erik says.

      ‘Misheard?’ she laughs.

      ‘It’s just so sick – I can’t think clearly any more.’

      ‘Erik, it probably isn’t important, but you have to tell the police, that’s why they’re here,’ Nelly says gently.

      He walks over to the window. The area where the patients stand and smoke is empty now. But he can still see the cigarette butts and sweet wrappers that have been tossed on the ground, and a blue shoe-cover that’s been pushed into the ashtray.

      ‘It’s a long time ago, but to me … Do you know what those weeks were like? I didn’t want Rocky to be released,’ Erik says slowly. ‘It was everything … the brutality, the eyes, the hands …’

      ‘I know I read all about it,’ Nelly says. ‘I don’t remember the details of your recommendation, but I know you said he was seriously bloody dangerous and that there was a severe risk of a relapse.’

      ‘What if he’s out? I’ve got to call Karsudden,’ Erik says, then picks up his phone, checks his computer, and dials the number for Simon Casillas, the senior consultant in charge.

      Nelly sits down on Erik’s sofa while he talks to the doctor, and smiles at him when he looks at her as he exchanges the usual pleasantries and when he ends the conversation by repeating that the consultant’s article in Swedish Psychiatry really was excellent.

      The sun passes behind a cloud and darkness falls across the room, as if a huge figure were standing in front of the building.

      ‘Rocky is still in Ward D:4,’ Erik says. ‘And he’s never been let out on parole.’

      ‘Does that feel better?’

      ‘No,’ he whispers.

      ‘Are you losing your grip?’ she asks, so seriously that he can’t help smiling.

      He sighs and puts his hands to his face, then slowly lowers them, feeling his fingertips press gently against his eyelids and down his cheeks before he looks at Nelly again.

      Her back is straight as she looks at him carefully. A tiny, sharp little wrinkle has appeared between her thin eyebrows.

      ‘OK, listen,’ Erik says. ‘I know this is completely wrong, but in one of the last conversations I had with Rocky, he claimed he had an alibi for the night of the murder, but I didn’t want him to be released simply because he’d bought himself a witness.’

      ‘What are you trying to say?’ she asks quietly.

      ‘I never passed that information on.’

      ‘No way,’ she says.

      ‘He could have been released—’

      ‘Bloody hell, you can’t do that!’ she interrupts.

      ‘I know, but he was guilty and he would have killed again.’

      ‘That’s not our business, we’re psychologists, we’re not detectives, and we aren’t judges …’

      She takes a few agitated steps, then stops and shakes her head.

      ‘Fucking hell,’ she gasps. ‘You’re mad, you’re completely—’

      ‘I can understand you being angry.’

      ‘Yes, I am angry. I mean, you know, if this gets out you’d lose your job.’

      ‘I know what I did was wrong, it’s tormented me ever since, but I’ve always been utterly convinced that I stopped a murderer.’

      ‘Shit,’ she mutters.

      He picks up the business card from his desk and begins to dial the superintendent’s number.

      ‘What are you doing?’ she asks.

      ‘I need to tell her about Rocky’s alibi, and the whole business about the hand and the ear, and—’

      ‘Go ahead,’ she interrupts. ‘But what if you were right, what if his alibi wasn’t real? Then any similarities are just coincidence.’

      ‘I don’t care.’

      ‘Then ask yourself what you’re going to do with the rest of your life,’ she says. ‘You’ll have to give up being a doctor, you’ll lose your income, you might even face charges, all the scandal and gossip in the papers—’

      ‘It’s my own fault.’

      ‘Find out if the alibi checks out first – if it does, then I’ll report you myself.’

      ‘Thanks,’ he laughs.

      ‘I’m being serious,’ she says.