Chapter Three

When Magnus got home, he called Kurt to let him know that Linda was fine.

"She wishes you were there," he said, but getting nothing from him, he dropped the subject. He certainly didn't tell him they were going to have dinner tomorrow night. He couldn't imagine how that conversation would have gone.

Kurt gave him a list of things to do and he spent the remainder of the day thinking about nothing but work.

It was two in the morning by the time he went to bed exhausted, but unable to sleep. Finally when he did finally fall asleep, he dreamed...

He was standing outside Wallander's house, his gun in his hand. It was eerily silent, and the landscape had a grey quality to it that wasn't natural. Suddenly he heard a voice coming from inside the house.

Why? It was asking. Why?

Kurt? He called. Is that you?

Why? Came the voice again.

Cocking the trigger, Magnus entered the house, and his heart pounding in his chest, turned the corner of the doorway to the living room.

It was Ake, a hole in his forehead, another in his chest. He was holding his gun to Linda's head and staring at Magnus with a sorrowful expression.

Why, Magnus, he asked. Why did you do it?

I had no choice, Magnus pleaded. Please—

He cocked the trigger. Terrified, Magnus tried to shoot him again, but it only clicked. The chamber was empty. Ake pulled the trigger and Magnus was left holding Linda in his arms, wet with blood—

"No!"

Magnus' eyes snapped open and he jerked over. It was a few moments before he knew he was awake. His heart pounded in his chest and his breathing came out in short pants. He was also sweating.

He pulled back the covers and realized there was a wet spot on the front of his pajama pants and another on the sheets beneath him. Even in the darkness of his own room he blushed with shame.

"Dammit," he muttered, ripping the sheets off the bed and tossing them into the hamper. He pulled his clothes off and they went the same way as the sheets.

He looked at the clock. It was only five in the morning, but he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, so he went into the bathroom and turned on the shower as hot as he could stand.

He stayed in there for fifteen minutes just letting the water fall over him, willing it to wash away his shame and his fear.

He had never wet the bed in his life, not even as a child.

Dressing, he fed the cat, and went out to his car. He was halfway to work when he realized he wasn't supposed to be there. Not wanting to go back home, he just drove out into the country. It was almost midsummer and the nights were in a perpetual state of twilight.

Usually Magnus loved this time of year. As a child his mother would make potatoes with herring and strawberries, and they would celebrate Midsummer's Eve trying to tell the future. But this year it had been depressing. He felt like he was living in a shadow.

He was halfway to Malmo, before his stomach growled in protest and realized he hadn't eaten anything. Stopping at a roadside stand, he ordered an omelet and a coffee. The coffee was terrible but he drank it anyway. When he was done, he got in his car and drove back to Ystad while listening to the radio.

It was almost noon by the time he returned. He checked his phone and discovered three missed calls, all from Kurt.

He drove over to the station, and sitting in his car, called him back.

"Magnus," Kurt's voice crackled. "I'm at St. Peter's. Are you near the office?"

"Yeah, I'm outside," Magnus answered.

"I've just been to speak to one of the priests, a man by the name of Albert Fredricksen. He said that Haglund wasn't alone. He was with his girlfriend, Christina Olin. "

Magnus stared at the ceiling of his car and closed his eyes. "Who?"

"Haglund, Magnus" Kurt snapped. "Eddy Haglund, the boy whose murder we're investigating?"

"Right," Magnus said, scrubbing his hand over his eyes. "Sorry."

"Look, if you can't—"

"Kurt, just tell me what you want," Magnus interrupted, losing his patience.

"I want you to do your job!" Kurt snapped back.

"Just—tell me." He was too tired to argue with him. He'd never win anyway.

"Go to Christina Olin's house, interview her and get all the names of his friends. Her name is on a paper next to my desk. Then I want you to do a background check on all the priests you made a list of—see if there are any abuse charges, things like that."

"Right, I'll do it," Magnus replied. "Just—don't tell Lisa it was me—"

But Kurt had already hung up.

There went all his plans for that evening. He felt a trickle of anxiety as he thought about what he would say to Linda. If he told her he had to work, she might think he was like her father, but he also didn't want to lie.

He settled for telling her the truth. Calling the hotel, he had his call redirected to her room. It rang, but she didn't answer. Feeling slightly relieved, he left a message with the front desk.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. He interviewed Christina Olin, but she was an emotional wreck. She got so hysterical he mostly talked to her mother. If he went with his instincts, there was something not quite right about her behavior, but there was nothing he could do about it then. He would let Kurt know and he could come back and talk to her.

It was after midnight when he finally finished the background checks and too exhausted to drive home he collapsed on a couch in the station and fell asleep almost the instant his head hit the cushion.

He woke hours later, his heart pounding in his chest and the lingering terror of his nightmare in his mind. He sat there a few moments in the semi-darkness waiting for his heart to slow down enough to get up.

It was a good ten minutes before he felt he could drag himself off the couch. He had an appointment with the therapist at eight o'clock, so he decided to use the shower in the office and a spare change of clothes he had in the car.

He had just finished brushing his teeth and was returning from the restroom when he ran into Lisa. At first she looked surprised, but he must have looked guilty because she let out a sigh.

"Did you sleep here?"

"Erm."

"You are on suspension, Magnus!" she exclaimed in exasperation.

"I know," he said feeling guilty. "But I need to be busy."

Her face softened."As soon as the therapist approves and the inquest is over, you can come back to work in earnest."

"Yes, I know" he said, turning to go. He was halfway down the hall when she called back to him.

"And, Magnus? If you're going to sneak around, don't get caught. The others will think you've gone and turned into Kurt. We don't need another one of him around now do we?"

"No," he replied. "No, we don't"

An hour later he was sitting in the psychiatrist's office in a comfortable armchair, a glass of water on the table next to him. The therapist in front of him was considerably older than he was, and had not smiled once since he sat down almost an hour ago.

"So," she said, looking at the chart on her clipboard, her thin lips pursed together. "You're having trouble sleeping well."

It wasn't a question.

"And…you've had a bed wetting incident?"

That was a question, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her. The humiliation bubbled up inside him and he stared at his shoes.

"Yes."

"And this was…two nights ago."

He cleared his throat. "Yes."

"I see."

But Magnus didn't see. He wanted her to prescribe something and let him go. Even at 188 centimeters, he felt small in front of her, like a child in front of his teacher after he did something bad.

"If it only happens once, I don't think it will be too much of an issue. Bed wetting can be a side effect of PTSD. But if it continues for more than a couple weeks, I'll want to address it again."

"So, it might not happen again?"

"Maybe not," she replied.

"Is that it?" he asked hopefully.

"I want you to keep a journal of your dreams," she said scribbling on his chart.

Magnus's heart sank. "Why?" he asked.

"We're going to start something called Image Rehearsal Treatment for your nightmares. You replace the ending of the dream with something positive and rehearse it. Over time, your nightmares should end with a less distressing outcome."

"Oh."

Well, it didn't sound terrible; though he wasn't sure he wanted this woman to know every intimate detail of his dreams.

"I can do that,' he said. "But what about my work?"

She eyed him over her spectacles.

"I don't see any reason you shouldn't after the inquest is over." Silently she handed him a slip of paper with her approval on it, and Magnus left her office clutching in his hand.

It was afternoon by the time he realized he had not received a phone call from Linda, and he began to worry that she had either not received his message, or worse…she was upset with him.

He debated or not whether he should call her again or leave her alone. It was evening by the time he ended up going over to the hotel to see her in person. Nervous, he took the stairs instead of the elevator, and upon reaching her door, he took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. He knocked three times.

She opened the door after a few seconds. "Magnus! You're here!" she exclaimed ushering him in. "I'm so glad!"

Her mouth was smiling, but her eyes told a different story. They were too bright and there were dark smudges beneath them—the kind that only insomniacs get. He felt a twinge of concern and wondered if Kurt had made her an appointment to see a therapist for the trauma she had endured.

He followed her in and noticed the general disarray of the room. There were empty coffee cups and plates of leftover room service everywhere.

"…so the end of the message was sort of garbled and I couldn't make out your number so I couldn't call you back," Linda was saying moving around in an erratic manner. She seemed to be looking for something.

"Linda," he said suddenly. "Have you left this room since I last saw you?"

She stopped moving and stared up at him. Her clothes were wrinkled as though she had slept in them and her hair was wild around her face.

"I—no, I haven't," she admitted.

He picked up an empty cup. "You shouldn't drink so much caffeine."

She sat down on the bed, twisting a ring on her finger over and over.

"Has Kurt been here?"

"Dad? Oh, yes, he has." She motioned to scattered plates. "Do you really think I could eat all this? And so badly?"

She was looking distastefully at the remnants of a cheeseburger and Magnus smiled at that. Kurt was always saying how Linda nagged him to eat better.

"I just—can't sleep, Magnus."

Her expression made his heart twinge uncomfortably.

"I know," he said softly. "I—"

He was about to tell her of the nightmares, but he suddenly stopped himself. He wasn't sure why.

"Well, do you want to go out for dinner?" he asked instead.

She smiled up at him. "Yes, I'd like that very much."

He took her to his favorite French restaurant a few blocks from him house. They were seated at a small table outside in a dark and quiet corner. It was very nice, but Magnus thought it might be a little too much. He eyed her nervously to see what her reaction was, but if she felt uncomfortable, she didn't let on.

She ordered bouillabaisse and he ordered the steak au poivre. He thought about ordering a glass of wine, thinking if she drank, she might sleep. Feeling bold, he did.

They ate mostly in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. After they finished, they ordered more wine.

"So you used to come here with your mother?" Linda asked.

"Yes, she loved this place," Magnus said with a smile. "She died last year—of breast cancer, but we came here all the time up until the end."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, her brow furrowing.

Magnus shook his head. "It's alright. I miss her of course, perhaps more than normal. My father was gone when I was growing up, you see. She raised me alone."

"Well, I had both," Linda said. "But they divorced recently, which I'm sure you know."

Magnus nodded. Kurt hadn't taken his wife's separation well.

They continued talking about their childhoods which were surprisingly similar even with such different parents. They also talked about the police force. Linda was interested in pursuing a career as a detective, which surprised Magnus. He had always thought Kurt was so different from his daughter, but as he watched her speak with such passion, he realized that just as they looked similar, so were they in many other ways.

"So," he started, feeling that it was time to ask, "Have you seen anyone yet? To talk to about what happened."

She toyed with the glass and didn't look at him. "Dad arranged it."

He was relieved. Kurt may have been a terrible parent in some ways, but not all.

"Good," Magnus said, but there was something she wasn't saying. "What is it?"

She looked up at him guiltily. "I didn't go."

Magnus was quiet.

"Why not?" he asked finally.

"I didn't want them to give me pills."

Magnus stared at her. "So you're downing liters of coffee instead?"

She looked angry for a moment and then she began to laugh.

"I suppose it's pretty stupid of me," she sighed.

"Well, I had mine today and I wanted her to give me pills," Magnus admitted. "Instead I got dream journaling."

"Dream journaling?" Linda asked. "What is that?"

"Oh, you know," he mumbled. "For my dreams."

She didn't push him, and for that he was grateful.

"You should go," he said softly. "It will help. Just tell them you don't want drugs."

"Alright," she said finally. "I will."

As they talked the hour grew later and soon they were the last ones in the restaurant. Magnus looked at his watch and realized it was half past eleven. He went up to pay the check and came back to find her staring out the window, her eye lids drooping sleepily.

"C'mon," he said, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. "I'll take you home."

"That's not home," she replied, getting to her feet. "It's a hotel. And I'm a little drunk."

"I know you are," Magnus said helping her outside. "That was the point."

She turned her head to look up at him. "You were trying to get me drunk? That was very sleazy of you."

"It was only to help you sleep," Magnus said wryly. "You need to."

He opened the car door and she sort of dropped down into the seat. He shut the door and went around to the driver's side. As he slid in, he looked over to find her head thrown back and her eyes closed. After a moment's hesitation he leaned over her body and grabbed the seat belt. He could feel the soft whisper of her breath on his neck and part of him wanted to stay there forever. But he pulled back, and carefully making sure not to touch her, he buckled her seat belt.

At the hotel, he half carried her into the lobby, ignoring the disapproving looks from the staff behind the front desk. If he were honest with himself, he wasn't sure if the wine had been a good idea. He never would have thought it would only take her two glasses to get this drunk, but then again, she hadn't been sleeping. Of course she was drunk.

He had seriously not thought this through.

When they got into the elevator, he threw propriety to the wind and lifted her into his arms. He was not a small man, but he had to admit she was heavy.

A smile crossed his face as he thought about what her reaction to him thinking she was heavy might be.

He stumbled off the elevator and went down the hall to her room. He was in front of the door and set her down, his arm around her waist to keep her upright.

"Linda," he said. "Linda, the key."

"It's in my purse," she said drowsily. "I'll get it."

It took her almost a minute to find it, and once they got the door open she stumbled in and flopped onto the bed. He took off her shoes and set them down next to the door. As he was covering her with a blanket, she opened her eyes, startling him.

"Your eyes are green," she said softly.

His heart skipped in his chest and his mouth dried out. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her in that moment, but of course he didn't, and a second later she was passed out, snoring softly.

With a sigh Magnus placed the key on the dresser and left the room, gently shutting the door behind him.

He went home because there was nowhere else for him to go. He sat down on the couch and turned on the TV, but it wasn't long before he had fallen asleep.