Page 134 of Hidden in Memories
A sane person doesn’t say that kind of thing.
How is Hanna going to get to a point where it is possible to reason with him, when he is so hysterical and unpredictable? Daniel has no idea.
But Hanna keeps her composure. She asks brief questions and listens to the responses, with measured pauses. She acknowledges whatever Mogren says with a well-judged reply or comment. Daniel notices how skillfully she uses Mogren’s own words; instead of simplysaying that she understands or agrees, she repeats what he has just said. This is a way of providing affirmation, while at the same time building trust between them.
Daniel would never be able to do this. He is far too quick to judge; he doesn’t have the patience necessary to assure a violent killer that everything is going to be all right.
Not when he knows what the man has done.
The SWAT team has just arrived from Östersund.
If it weren’t for Filip, Daniel would give the order to storm the building. Their black bus is parked by the general muster point. A sniper in a snowsuit is in position in case it becomes possible to take a shot at Mogren, while the rest of the team are covering what is known as the “white side”—the main entrance. The remaining facades have also been given color-coded designations to avoid any confusion over which section of the hotel they are talking about.
In his earbuds Daniel hears Hanna mention Filip’s name.
“How’s Filip?” she ventures. “How’s he doing?”
Silence. Daniel breaks out in a sweat as they wait for an answer. Has Hanna gone too far? Was it too soon to ask the question?
Timing is key, saying the right thing at the right time. Otherwise the fragile relationship she has worked so hard to achieve could come crashing down. Daniel tries to make eye contact with her, but she is concentrating so hard that she doesn’t even notice.
“I don’t want to talk about Filip.”
“It sounds as if you’re very angry with him,” Hanna says.
“Too fucking right.”
She ignores his aggressive tone. “Can you tell me more about that? What has he done to you?”
Mogren’s breathing is ragged and shallow.
“You know perfectly well what his grandfather did to my mother!” he bellows. “I don’t want that rapist’s genes passed on!”
“Tell me what’s upsetting you so much.”
Mogren talks about blood vengeance going back through the generations.
He is insane.
If Daniel were on the other end of the phone, he would be telling Mogren what a sick bastard he is, having ruthlessly murdered two innocent women. Or he might sarcastically point out that Mogren carries the same DNA profile as his first victim.
“I can’t bear the thought of him getting away with it,” Mogren says more quietly.
He is talking about his father, Curt Wretlind, as if he were still alive.
As far as Daniel is concerned, this is yet another sign of his distorted perspective, but he can’t help feeling contempt when the man refuses to accept responsibility for his actions. There has to be a limit on the extent to which you can blame your own misfortune on your parents.
The last year’s therapy sessions have made Daniel realize that.
There is no such thing as original sin.
In the middle of this tragedy, he feels a fresh insight begin to form.
Each person creates their own life.
In the end we always have a choice.
“I understand how you might feel that way, but Curt has been dead for many years,” Hanna says gently.
