An international sensation, The Hypnotist is set to appear in thirty-seven countries, and it has landed at the top of bestseller lists wherever it’s been published—in France, Holland, Germany, Spain, Italy, Denmark. Now it’s America’s turn. Combining the addictive power of Stieg Larsson’s Millennium trilogy with the storytelling drive of The Silence of the Lambs, this adrenaline-drenched thriller is spellbinding from its very first page.
Tumba, Sweden. A triple homicide—all the victims from the same family—captivates Detective Inspector Joona Linna, who demands to investigate the grisly murders—against the wishes of the national police. The killer is at large, and it appears that the elder sister of the family escaped the carnage; it seems only a matter of time until she, too, is murdered.
But where can Linna begin? The only surviving witness is the boy whose mother, father, and little sister were killed before his eyes. Whoever committed the crimes intended for this boy to die: he has suffered more than one hundred knife wounds and lapsed into a state of shock. He’s in no condition to be questioned.
Desperate for information, Linna sees one mode of recourse: hypnotism. He enlists Dr. Erik Maria Bark to mesmerize the boy, hoping to discover the killer through his eyes. It’s the sort of work that Bark had sworn he would never do again—ethically dubious and psychically scarring. When he breaks his promise and hypnotizes the victim, a long and terrifying chain of events begins to unfurl.
A #1 bestselling international sensation sure to please fans of Stieg Larsson and Henning Mankell, The Hypnotist is the first novel in a series. With its pulse-pounding hooks and twists, it announces a stirring new contribution to the annals of crime fiction.
A Blackstone Audio production.
Release date:
July 31, 2018
Publisher:
Vintage Crime/Black Lizard
Print pages:
512
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Erik’s phone is ringing. Before he is fully awake he says, “Balloons and streamers.”
His heart is racing from being awakened so suddenly. Erik doesn’t know why he said that. He has no idea what he had been dreaming about.
In order not to wake Simone, he creeps out of the bedroom and closes the door before he answers.
“Hello, this is Erik Maria Bark.”
A detective by the name of Joona Linna tells him that he needs his help. Erik is only half awake as he listens.
“I’ve heard you’re good at dealing with trauma,” the detective says.
“Yes,” Erik replies simply.
He takes a Tylenol as he listens. The detective explains that he needs to question someone, a fifteen-year-old boy who has witnessed a double murder. The problem is that the teenager has been seriously injured and is in an unstable condition. He’s in a state of shock, and he hasn’t yet regained consciousness.
“Who’s treating him?” Erik asks.
“Daniella Richards.”
“She’s highly competent. I’m sure she’ll be able to—”
“It was her idea to call you,” the detective interrupts. “We need your help, and we probably don’t have much time.”
Erik goes back into the bedroom to get his clothes. A streetlight shines in between the blinds. Simone is lying on her back, watching him with an oddly vacant expression.
“I was trying not to wake you,” he says softly.
“Who was that?” she asks.
“A police officer . . . a detective. I didn’t catch his name.”
“What did he want?”
“I have to go to Karolinska,” he replies. “They need help with a teenage boy.”
“What time is it, anyway?”
She looks at the alarm clock and closes her eyes. He can see the lines made by folds in the sheet across her freckled shoulders.
“Go back to sleep, Simone,” he whispers.
Erik carries his clothes out into the hallway, turns the light on, and quickly gets dressed. A length of steel suddenly flashes behind him. Erik turns and sees that his son has hung his ice skates from the handle of the front door so that he won’t forget them. Even though Erik is in a hurry, he goes over to the closet and digs out the protective guards. He fastens them to the sharp blades, then puts them down on the hall carpet and leaves.
It’s three o’clock in the morning on Tuesday, December 8. Snow is falling slowly from the black sky. There’s no wind at all, and the heavy flakes land sleepily on the deserted street. He turns the key in the ignition, and a soft wave of music rolls through the car: Miles Davis, Kind of Blue.
He drives the short distance through the sleeping city, down Luntmakar Street and along Svea Boulevard toward Norrtull. The water of Brunns Lake is a large, dark expanse beyond the snow. He drives slowly into the hospital campus, between the understaffed Astrid Lindgren Children’s Hospital and the maternity ward, past the radiotherapy department and psychiatric unit, and parks in his usual spot in front of neurosurgery. The glow of the streetlights reflects off the windows of the large complex. There are hardly any cars in the parking lot. Blackbirds flit through the gloom around the trees; the flapping of their wings breaks the silence.
He swipes his card, taps in the six-digit code, and enters the lobby, then takes the elevator up to the fifth floor and walks down the hall. The fluorescent lights reflect off the blue linoleum floor, making it look like ice. Now that the initial adrenaline rush is fading, he starts to feel tired. He passes an operating room and walks past the doors to the huge hyperbaric chamber, then says hello to a nurse as he recalls what the detective told him over the phone: A teenage boy has knife wounds all over his body. The police attempted to speak to him, but his condition deteriorated quickly.
Two uniformed police officers are standing outside the door to Ward 18. Erik can see a trace of anxiety cross their faces as he approaches. Maybe they’re just tired, he thinks as he stops in front of them and shows them his ID. They glance at it, and then one of them presses the button to make the door swing open.
Erik walks in and shakes hands with Daniella Richards, noting the tension in her face and the stress in the way she moves.
“Grab some coffee,” she says.
“Do we have time?” Erik asks.
“I’ve managed to get the bleeding from his liver under control,” she replies.
A man in his mid-forties, dressed in jeans and a black jacket, is tapping the frame of the coffee machine. His blond hair is messy, and his lips are clenched. Erik wonders if he might be Daniella’s husband, Magnus. He’s never met him, just seen a picture in her office.
“Is that Magnus?” Erik asks, gesturing toward the man.
“What?” She looks both amused and surprised.
“I thought maybe Magnus had come with you.”
“No,” she says, laughing.
“Are you sure? Maybe I should ask him,” Erik jokes, and starts to walk toward the man.
Daniella’s cell phone rings, and she’s still laughing as she takes it out. “Stop it, Erik,” she says, as she answers and puts the phone to her ear. “Yes, Daniella here.”
She listens but can’t hear anything.
“Hello?”
She waits a few seconds, then ends the call with a sarcastic “Have a nice day,” slips the phone in her pocket, and follows Erik.
He’s already walked over to the blond man. The coffee machine is bubbling and wheezing.
“Have some coffee,” the man says, trying to hand Erik a mug.
“No, thanks.”
The man tastes the coffee and smiles, revealing dimples in his cheeks.
“It’s good,” he says, and tries to give Erik the mug again.
“I don’t want any.”
The man drinks some more as he looks at Erik.
“Could I borrow your phone?” he suddenly asks. “I left mine in my car.”
“You want to borrow my phone?” Erik asks.
The blond man nods and looks at him with pale eyes, as gray as polished granite.
“You’re welcome to borrow mine,” Daniella says.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
The blond man takes her phone.
“I promise you’ll get it back,” he says.
“You’re the only person who ever calls me on it anyway,” she teases.
He laughs and moves away.
“He must be your husband,” Erik says.
“A girl can always dream,” she says, glancing at the tall man.
Daniella has been rubbing her eyes, and her silver-gray eyeliner is streaked across one cheek.
“Shall I take a look at the patient?” Erik asks.
She nods. “By all means.”
“Seeing as I’m here,” he quickly adds.
“Erik, I’d love to hear what you think. I’m not sure about this one.”
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