Hypothermia Read Online Free PDF

talking a load of gibberish!’
    ‘No, but I don’t know how all this concerns the police. Would you care to explain? A message from the afterlife! How are we supposed to investigate something like that?’
    ‘I think the least you could do is to listen to what I have to say.’
    ‘I am listening,’ Erlendur said.
    ‘No, you’re not.’ Karen opened her bag, took out a cassette and laid it on his desk. ‘Maybe this will help you,’ she said.
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘Listen to it and then talk to me. Listen to it and tell me what you think.’
    ‘I can’t . . .’
    ‘Don’t do it for me,’ Karen said. ‘Do it for María. Then you’ll know how she felt.’
    She stood up.
    ‘Do it for María,’ Karen said, and left.
    Erlendur took the tape home with him that evening. It was an ordinary, unmarked cassette tape. Erlendur had an old radio cassette player. He had never used it to play a tape and didn’t know if it worked. He stood for a long time with the tape in his hand, wondering if he should listen to it.
    He found the machine, pressed ‘open’, inserted the cassette, then pressed ‘play’. At first he heard nothing. Several more seconds passed and still nothing happened. Erlendur expected to hear the dead woman’s favourite music, probably church music, since María was religious. Then there was a tiny click and the tape began to hiss.
    ‘. . . After falling into a trance,’ he heard a deep masculine voice say.
    He turned up the volume.
    ‘After that I won’t be aware of myself,’ the man’s voice continued. ‘It’s the dead who choose either to speak through me or to reveal things to me. I am merely their channel for making contact with their loved ones. How long it lasts varies according to the nature of the contact.’
    ‘Yes, I see,’ a high female voice replied.
    ‘Did you bring what I asked?’
    ‘I’ve got a jumper that she was very fond of and a ring Dad gave her that she always wore.’
    ‘Thank you. I’d better take that.’
    ‘Here you are.’
    ‘Remind me to give you the tape afterwards. You forgot to take it the other day. It’s easy to forget oneself.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Right, let’s see what happens. You’re not afraid, are you? You told me at first that you were a little nervous. Some people are anxious about what might come out in these sessions.’
    ‘No, not any more. I wasn’t really afraid, just a little uncertain. I’ve never done anything like this before.’
    Long pause.
    ‘There’s a gleam of water.’
    Silence.
    ‘It’s summer and there are bushes and the gleam of water. Like sunlight on a lake.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘There’s a boat by the lake – does that sound familiar?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘It’s a small boat.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘It’s empty.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Does that sound familiar? Do you know this boat?’
    ‘Dad had a small boat. We have a holiday cottage by Lake Thingvallavatn.’
    Erlendur turned off the cassette player. He realised that the recording was of a seance and he was certain that the high voice belonged to the woman who had killed herself. Not that he knew anything about it, beyond remembering her husband saying that her father had drowned in Lake Thingvallavatn. Hearing her voice felt peculiar somehow, as if he were prying into someone else’s private life. He stood by the cassette player for a long time without moving, until curiosity overcame his doubt and he pressed ‘play’ again.
    ‘I can smell cigar smoke,’ he heard the medium say. ‘Did he smoke?’
    ‘Yes. A lot.’
    ‘He wants you to take care.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    A long pause followed the woman’s words. Erlendur listened to the silence. The hissing of the tape was the only sound audible. Then suddenly the medium began to speak again but now in a completely different voice, deep, harsh and gruff.
    ‘Be careful! . . . You don’t know what you’re doing!’
    Erlendur was startled by the anger in the voice. But in the next breath it had