But if what was left of the serial wasn’t published, then the whole thing would be cast in an entirely different light. There would be no trial, no prison sentence, and no accusations of murder or kidnapping. The Hallin name wouldn’t be dragged through the mud, and Jan wouldn’t have to flee.

That was the straw to which he was clutching when, just after midnight, with the biggest suitcase he had been able to find in the basement, he stepped into the hospital lobby and headed towards the lifts.

The fact that Sandra felt that what she had been subjected to was straightforward rape was pretty clear, and Jan would have to compromise—admit that he was a rapist. It didn’t sound good; in fact it had a bad sound to it, when in reality it was just a single encounter that had gone off the rails. Jan didn’t consider himself a rapist, but he agreed that he had raped. Once. To lend credibility to his denials.

The author also seemed to think that the poor sod in the ravine had been the victim of a crime. Jan didn’t agree. Two cars had encountered each other on a road covered in black ice, and one of them had crashed into a ravine. The idea that it was solely Jan’s fault was impossible to prove now, and it wouldn’t have been possible to prove it at the time either. But Jan hadn’t been sober, Jan had left the scene, and Jan had failed to call emergency services. Those constituted his crimes—not that he had caused the death of another person. His guilt was down to the distorted legal system—for the accident itself he bore no guilt.

Sandra was reeling off unfair and misleading accusations against Jan, and he couldn’t allow that. This was the reason why he shortly thereafter stepped into the room where he had found out she and the boy were. He put the suitcase down outside the door, which he closed behind him. Then he sat down on a visitor’s chair that he positioned provocatively close to her curled-up body on the bed.

72. Sandra

72

Sandra

“I’LL BE BRIEF,” said Hallin. “I don’t want you to publish any more of that serial.”

It came as no surprise that Jan Hallin didn’t want his crimes to be described in a form that got people seriously engaged, got them to empathise with the victim’s suffering and condemn the actions of the perpetrator. Sandra dared not and could not answer—she lay there trembling on the bed waiting for his next statement.

“You’re probably well aware of that,” he said. “But I still want to make it clear that I’m being publicly hung out to dry just because it suits you. Rapists and hit-and-run drivers aren’t normally identified in the press, so I would say you’re abusing your authority.”