Читать книгу The Fire Witness - Ларс Кеплер - Страница 9

All the residents are asleep now, and the Birgitta Home is quiet. There’s a light on in the office window, making the world outside seem impenetrable and black.

With a deep frown on her face, Elisabet is sitting in front of the computer writing up the evening’s events in the journal.

It’s almost midnight, and she realises that she hasn’t even found time to take her evening pill. Her little habit, she likes to joke. The combination of nights on call and exhausting day-shifts have ruined her sleep. She usually takes ten milligrams of Stilnoct at ten o’clock so that she can be asleep by eleven and get at least a few hours’ rest.

The September darkness has settled on the forest, but the smooth surface of Himmelsjön is still visible, shining like mother-of-pearl.

At last she can switch the computer off and take her pill. She pulls her cardigan tighter around her and thinks how nice a glass of red wine would be. She’s longing for a chance to sit in bed with a book and a glass of wine, reading and chatting with Daniel.

But she’s on call tonight, and will be sleeping in the little overnight room.

She jumps when Buster suddenly starts barking out in the yard. He sounds so agitated that she gets goosebumps on her arms.

It’s late, she should be in bed.

She’s usually asleep by now.

The room turns darker when the computer shuts down. Suddenly everything seems incredibly quiet. Elisabet becomes aware of the sounds she herself is making. The sigh of the office chair when she stands up, the tiles creaking as she walks over to the window. She tries to see out, but the glass just reflects her own face, the office with its computer and phone, the yellow and green patterned walls.

Suddenly she sees the door slip open behind her.

Her heart starts to beat faster. The door was only just ajar, but now it’s half-open. There must be a draught, she tries to tell herself. The wood-burning stove in the dining room always seems to pull in a lot of air.

Elisabet feels peculiarly anxious, and fear starts to creep through her veins. She daren’t turn around, just stares into the dark window at the reflection of the door behind her back.

She listens to the silence, to the computer, which is still ticking.

In an attempt to shake off her unease, she reaches out her hand and switches off the lamp in the window, then turns around.

Now the door is wide open.

A shiver runs down her spine.

The lights are on in the corridor leading to the dining room and the girls’ rooms. She leaves the office, intending to check that the vents on the stove are closed, when she suddenly hears whispers from one of the bedrooms.