The Whisperer

Chapter 12

‘I’ve been thinking about those boys on the railway bridge,’ Sejer said.

The idea that the inspector had sat in his living room thinking about her and the things she had told him pleased Ragna. He had taken her home with him, did not flick her on and off like a switch; her words and stories followed him through the day and maybe even into his sleep.

She wanted to be with him in his sleep.

‘In the old days, boys would lie down in between the tracks when a train was coming, as a dare,’ he explained. ‘Back then, the trains sat rather high on the tracks so there was plenty of room. And boys that age are thin and slender.’

Ragna’s jaw dropped in horror.

‘They lay there while the train went over them?’

‘Yes, that’s what I’ve heard. As I said, it was often a dare.’

‘All the same,’ Ragna whispered, ‘if the film ended like that, my brain still hasn’t stored it.’

‘Then another memory has taken up that space,’ he said. ‘Or something you heard outside. Whatever it is was more important than the boys.’

She could not think what that might be, but nodded all the same.

‘Tell me about something important that you’ve forgotten,’ she said. The way she had formulated her request made her smile. ‘That you feel you should have remembered.’

He picked up the pen again and sat fiddling with it for a while. He was constantly having to make decisions with regard to Ragna Riegel — how much he should give of himself; how much he should humour her, give her what she needed or wanted in order to push forwards. Or if he should restrict himself to building a minute-by-minute account of what had happened, writing it down and presenting it to the court. But he wanted to give her what she needed, he wanted to make this case something more than duty. Ragna was different in every way, the case was different from other cases. The connection between them was different. He was getting older. He did not have many years left in the high-backed chair from Kinnarps that he had bought himself. He wanted to have a sense of self-respect when he retired, to know that he had given everyone the opportunity to explain themselves in detail, that he had given them time, that he had listened with an openness, understanding and respect. He put the pen down again.

‘For the last few days that Elise was alive,’ he said, ‘I had a bed beside her in hospital. I didn’t sleep much, I just lay there listening to her breathing. She slept a lot. Then would open her eyes to check that I was still there, and doze off again, slipping in and out of consciousness. There were only a few centimetres between our beds, and even though the room was bare, with no sound or smell, just machines and tubes and stands, that is what we shared in those final hours. I heard her breathing, nothing more. In the last hour, she only inhaled once a minute. Her heart stopped, and started again, stopped and started, and that went on for quite a while. Then I heard nothing more. And I know it’s a strange thing to say, but I was so surprised, almost annoyed that she disappeared like that, and I couldn’t reach her any more. I somehow felt betrayed.’

‘But you remember that final breath?’

‘Yes.’

‘So what have you forgotten? What should you have remembered?’

‘The first night alone. I don’t remember it.’

‘But perhaps that’s because you slept,’ Ragna said. ‘And didn’t dream.’

‘I can’t forgive myself for that,’ he confessed. ‘That I slept. That I slept so heavily.’

‘But you were exhausted,’ she said. ‘Of course you slept. But then you woke up the next morning. And I’m sure you remember that morning.’

‘Yes, I do,’ he said. ‘I was the one who had betrayed her. I let her go too easily. While she lay in the morgue, I slept like a baby under a feather duvet.’

‘And you’re ashamed that you slept. So after that night, you didn’t sleep. You didn’t want to show such weakness again?’

‘You’re right.’

‘Do you sleep now?’

‘Yes, I do. And you?’

She nodded.

‘Yes, at last. For the first time in ages.’

She opened her arms and hands as though she had finally been set free and could breathe properly.

He told her that he visited Elise’s grave every Friday after work, and that he always had a candle with him.

‘A grave candle burns for a few hours,’ he said. ‘I keep an eye on the time. And when I go to bed at midnight, I know that it will burn out while I’m asleep. I don’t like to think about it going out.’

He changed the topic abruptly.

‘How do you foresee your future?’

‘I don’t think about the future,’ she replied. ‘The only people watching me now are the guards. And they’re very nice.’

‘And what you did,’ he said gravely. ‘Does it scare you?’

‘It was like falling over the edge,’ she whispered. ‘A natural and unavoidable consequence of a long series of events.’

‘But the moment it happened is a thing of the past,’ Sejer said, ‘and you’re in a completely different place? Are you still not horrified by what happened? Do you feel sorry for what you’ve done, do you wish you could undo it?’

‘I don’t think you understand,’ she whispered. ‘What happened had to happen. And now I’m here. Now, finally, I’m protected.’