Page 199 of The Sleepwalker
‘You catch a glimpse of her face in the window,’ says Erik.
‘No,’ Hugo whispers.
‘This time you do, because the door opens very slowly.’
‘She’s looking down, so I can only see a bit of her forehead and eyebrow,’ Hugo says, squirming anxiously.
Grind holds up a warning hand to Erik.
‘None of this is dangerous, Hugo. You’re safe and relaxed .?.?. You can describe her forehead to me, and there is no need to be afraid.’
‘It’s white .?.?. like bone. With a deep groove between her eyebrows.’
‘What about her eyes?’
‘I can’t see them.’
‘Focus on her hand on the handle. Can you see any jewellery? Any tattoos or—’
‘She’s wearing white latex gloves.’
‘What about a watch? Does that mean she isn’t wearing a watch if—’
‘The caravan rocks when she goes inside and closes the door,’ Hugo continues. ‘The man raises his voice, and I can hear noises .?.?.’
Hugo’s chin has begun to tremble.
‘What are you doing now?’
‘I’m freezing, I’m shaking .?.?.’
‘There’s no need to focus on that – you’ll be warm again soon,’ says Erik. ‘Can you feel it? You’re warm now, walking towards the caravan through the falling snow.’
‘I step over her canvas bag and make my way around the caravan.’
‘You step over her bag and look down at it,’ says Erik.
‘Yes.’
‘What do you see?’
‘I see a bag. Made of thick fabric, canvas .?.?. I see a short crowbar, a roll of kitchen paper and a bloody plastic pouch, but then I look up at the caravan .?.?. at the shadows moving over one of the windows.’
‘Look at the bag again.’
‘It’s half open, and there’s a keyring with a picture of a train inside a big G on the zip. The strap is frayed along the edge,’ he mumbles.
‘What sort of plastic pouch can you see?’
‘A tooth, a bloody tooth,’ says Hugo, taking a trembling breath.
Lars Grind clears his throat, catches Erik’s eye and shakes his head.
‘Could we maybe slow down a bit?’ Agneta whispers.
‘Just listen to my voice, Hugo,’ says Erik, putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘If you hear anyone else speak, just focus on my words. You’re standing in the snow, and you step over thebag, walk around the back of the caravan, climb up onto a breezeblock and look in through the window. You notice that time is moving more slowly inside the caravan than it is outside.’
‘The glass is all fogged up .?.?. and there’s a grey rubber seal hanging loose at the bottom of the window, from the curved corner,’ Hugo tells him in a gruff voice.
