The Sleeper Lies

by Andrea Mara

  I put down the phone. What the hell was Ray doing, coming back to Carrickderg? He surely couldn’t be that desperate to sell books that he needed to add our remote library to his tour, and he must know he wouldn’t be welcomed by the local constabulary. Geraldine wasn’t there that final night, but she’d read the report – she knew the side of Ray he didn’t show at book signings and author dinners.

  I stuck his name into the search box on Asta’s Mac, and clicked into the “News” tab. The first search result was an interview he’d done with The Irish TimesWeekend Magazine. It was all very Ray – gushing about how much he’d enjoyed his time living in Wicklow, and how the Irish are the warmest people in the world. This from the guy who discovered a dead fox in the driveway, courtesy of the neighbour he’d reported to the County Council. I shook my head and clicked back out, then keyed “Den Første Kirke” into the search box again.

  But this time I clicked into “News”. And this time, I struck gold.

  Article after article on news websites in Denmark and around Europe – including some from Ireland – and the results were very different from the posts on the church’s own website. The headlines were mostly in Danish but there were some in English, including “Concerns Over Visit from ‘Cult’ Leader” and “Rasmus Abraham – the Man Who Says He Can Cast Out Demons.”

  Jesus. So this was the real story. I started with the first of the English-language links, and began to read.

  Ten minutes and four articles later, Asta came out to tell me the shower was free.

  “Thanks – I’ve gone down a rabbit hole of information about the church here – want to take a look?”

  She sat beside me and I showed her the article I was reading – a group in France warning people against Rasmus Abraham and his brand of religion.

  “Oh wow, I didn’t know any of this – what are they warning against?” she asked.

  “He preaches that with prayer, true belief and financial donations, anything can be ‘cured’ – including autism, depression, schizophrenia . . . Basically he says these are all ‘demons’ and can be cast out – by him, or by his Stjerner who are his appointed disciples.”

  “And Dina is part of this?”

  “She must be. I mean, even if she’s just volunteering at the Youth Club, she must know what the church is really about, right?”

  Asta nodded slowly. Then her face changed. “Click into that one,” she said, pointing at the screen.

  The thumbnail photo beside the article showed a woman submerged in water, and a hand resting on her head. The headline read: Local Groups Raise Concerns as Danish ‘Church’ Leader Carries Out Mass Baptism.

  The article was from a UK website – the reporter had found out about a planned baptism in a remote part of the Lake District and had gone along to see what it was all about.

  There were about thirty people there, some to be baptised, others accompanying those who needed ‘curing’. Among the former were children, and I couldn’t tell what their supposed ailments were. At the beginning of the lakeside ceremony, Abraham played music on a violin, and spoke to the crowd – in faultless English he preached about cures and demons and making space in the soul for Jesus Christ.

  I spoke to people around me, though none were willing to be named in this article. One woman had brought her daughter, because she had a schizophrenia diagnosis. She had read up on the teachings of Rasmus Abraham and believed that what her daughter actually had was a demon inside her. According to the woman, Abraham had cured others with similar diagnoses.

  Abraham had a list of names, and one by one people were called forward. In each case, the ‘afflicted’ person was asked to walk into the lake, to about waist height, and Abraham placed a hand on his or her head. The person was then submerged in water for around ten seconds, as Abraham closed his eyes and mouthed something. Some of the children were reluctant to go under the water, but their parents were allowed to stay with them, to coax them. In at least three cases, people visibly resisted going under but were pushed down by Abraham. Nobody complained.When I asked a woman beside me if she thought it was okay, she simply replied, “God knows best.”

  “But it’s not God, it’s a man,” I pointed out.

  She smiled and replied, “Blessed are the believers,” and walked away.

  The article ended with quotes from a number of UK mental health organisations, advising people to steer clear of “cures” offered by anyone who was not a medical professional.

  Asta and I stopped reading at the same time.

  “Oh my God,” Asta said after a moment.

  I couldn’t find any words at all.

  She got up to get me a glass of water, and on autopilot I took it, still staring at the laptop screen.

  “Marianne, where was your mother found?”

  “A wooded area of Roskilde,” I whispered, “more than likely drowned.”

  Asta got up and began to pace.

  “Okay, we need to slow down and think about this. Maybe we’re getting carried away.” She looked at me.

  I blinked but said nothing.

  “Your mother drowned, but we don’t know where. This man Rasmus Abraham is the head of Den Første Kirke and he carries out baptisms. And Dina is a member of the church. But we don’t know if there is any link at all between Abraham and Dina, or if he really carried out a baptism on your mother. We can’t be certain he was the blond man you saw in her kitchen, right?”

  “I’m certain.”

  She opened her mouth but closed it again and resumed pacing.

  “Even if he was the man you saw in the kitchen,” she said after a minute, “there’s no certainty he was the blond man from the time Hanne disappeared. And no reason to think she was baptised.”

  “But there is,” I said. “There is every reason. If she had postnatal depression, or maybe postpartum psychosis, there is every reason to think Dina and Abraham believed it was a demon to be cast out. That’s what Abraham does – baptises people with mental health issues and behavioural disorders, to ‘cure’ them.”

  Asta stopped pacing. “What are you going to do?”

  “I need to talk to Dina,” I said. “And either she goes to the police, or I do.”

  CHAPTER 58

  When we turned up at Rikke’s an hour early, she was flustered, until we explained I wanted to see Dina before lunch. Dina wasn’t home, she said. She’d gone to the cemetery to visit Hanne’s grave, just as she did every morning.

  Asta nodded back towards the car and, without speaking, we got in to drive to the small churchyard near Fugl Sø.

  Dina’s car was parked on the side of the narrow road just before the gateway to the church. Asta pulled in behind it and said she’d wait there. As I walked towards the gate, my stomach lurched – I had no idea how Dina would take what I was going to say. But I wasn’t leaving without answers.

  I pushed through the gate, and there she was. The only person in the graveyard, her tall frame and short grey hair instantly recognisable even with her back turned. She was standing at Hanne’s grave, her head bowed. I stopped, my resolve shrinking. She’d been through so much, and now I was going to turn everything upside down again. I watched as she blessed herself. Then her shoulders hunched together and her hand went to her face. I sucked in a shaky breath. It needed to come to an end, for her sanity as well as for mine.

  When she stood up straight again, I cleared my throat. She swung around to look at me, her eyes red from crying.

  “You. Why cannot you leave us alone?”

  I stepped towards her.

  “I know about Abraham Rasmus and the baptisms,” I said softly.

  She stood rod-like, a grey spectre against the white sky.

  “And? He is the Head of our Church, yes, and he carries out baptisms. Why have you come to this holy place to tell me something I know?”

  “He baptised Hanne, didn’t he. To rid of her of her ‘demon’.”

  A flash of anger crossed her face. “Do not come here wit
h such stories!” she said, in a low hiss. “Hanne was murdered by a serial killer.”

  “But she wasn’t murdered by a serial killer,” I said gently. “You didn’t read the paper today, I guess, but when you do you’ll see – Maja Pedersen was killed by her ex-boyfriend.”

  Dina stared at me and shook her head.

  I kept talking, “There is no serial killer, Dina. Maja was killed by someone she knew. Like most victims. An ex-husband, a boyfriend. A family friend.”

  She shook her head again but some of the fight had gone out of her.

  “Dina, I’ve seen photographs of baptisms online. Rasmus Abraham said Hanne had a demon, didn’t he?”

  She closed her eyes, and her shoulders sagged. The nod was so tiny it was almost imperceptible.

  “Oh Dina.” I reached my hand towards her, but she didn’t move. My hand dropped to my side.

  “Rasmus Abraham is a good man. A man of God.”

  Something bubbled up inside me, and my resolve to stay calm evaporated.

  “How can you defend him? She came home looking for help, and you handed her to a monster!”

  “Help?” Dina said, eyes wide. “She did not look for help, she did not care about anything. The old Hanne was gone, the demon took her and gave me a heks – a witch – in her place. She cared for nothing and for nobody. She hurt people.”

  “Do you even hear yourself? She was ill! So what if she didn’t seem like the perfect daughter, so what if she didn’t care about you – she needed help and support! If she hurt you it was because she was terribly ill!”

  “I don’t mean she hurt me,” she said, “I mean she hurt you.”

  A cold sick feeling spread through my stomach. “What are you talking about?”

  “That photo of your father? It was taken here at this church. He came to Denmark to talk to her, to ask her to go to Ireland, and he brought you with him. You were a baby. We thought it would help Hanne to have time with you. So we left you with her, and we took your father to be tourist in Købæk. It was so cold, and your father’s coat was no good, like wearing paper in snow. I think he hated it. But we all believed it was a good idea. And it was just a few hours.”

  “What happened?” I whispered.

  “When we arrived back, Hanne was sitting at the kitchen table with a coffee. Your father asked if you were asleep, and she answered him in Danish. He did not know what she said – I had to tell him. She said you were in a ‘better place’ but would not say more. She was like in a dream. You understand?”

  I nodded, the sick feeling spreading.

  “Erik and I began to look in all the rooms, and your father stayed with Hanne, asking her again and again, ‘Where is the baby?’ but she stared at nothing and did not answer. It was evening by then, and dark outside, and very, very cold – below zero. We took torches and went outside, praying we would find you there, but also, praying we would not – it was really so cold, too cold for small baby. Erik and I searched the garden and up and down the street, but nothing. Then I heard a small cry – I remember so well – it was from Inge Hansen’s house. I ran to her doorstep and there you were, wrapped in blankets, blue with cold, eyes closed.”

  My legs loosened. I lowered myself to sit on the ground.

  Dina nodded, and continued with her story. “I screamed and called for Erik and reached to pick you up. I pulled you inside my coat, and ran to the house. I pulled off the cold blankets and wrapped you in warm ones and told Erik to build up the fire. Your father – he stood looking at me and I think not really breathing, in shock. I held you to me and it seemed like the longest time, but finally you opened your eyes. Your father, he took you and he cried.”

  “And Hanne?” I said in a whisper, looking up from my place on the ice-cold ground.

  “Hanne stayed at the kitchen table, drinking cold coffee.”

  “Did my father talk to her?”

  “No. He was very upset. He left the next day, taking you home. He did not say goodbye to Hanne. She did not notice or care.” Her expression hardened. “She was like a doll with no feeling on her face, she did not care that she had almost killed her own child. That was not my Hanne, that was the demon in her. She was a heks. You see now, I think?”

  And I realised then that she thought I’d understand – that I’d see the baptism was necessary. That as the victim, I’d somehow view things differently.

  “Dina, there was no demon – don’t you see she had some kind of postnatal psychosis? She wasn’t trying to kill me – she obviously thought I’d be better off with Fru Hansen. She was severely ill, not possessed! And you handed her over to that delusional man with the God-complex, and he killed her. And you let it happen. Were you there? Did it happen in the lake, here in Fugl Sø?”

  She ignored my question. “Her death was God’s will. Hanne was not for this world – she is happier in the afterlife, I am certain.”

  “You need to go to the police.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Because you need to stop covering for him – what if he does it to someone else?”

  “He is a strong man.”

  “You don’t need to be frightened of him – the police will arrest him, he can’t get you then.” Even as I said it, I wondered if it was true – would the police be able to arrest him so quickly?

  “He is a strong man and a good man.”

  “Dina, you have to stop. If you won’t go to the police, I’ll do it.”

  She sat down heavily on a step behind her.

  “Then do so. I will not stop you.”

  Cramped and dizzy, I pulled myself to my feet, and turned to walk away. But something in her tone nagged at me. I stopped.

  “Hang on – will you tell them what you’ve told me though? They’re going to need a statement from you.”

  “I will not speak to the police.”

  “Dina, you have to stop covering for him!”

  “Covering – what does this mean?”

  “Telling lies to hide what he did.”

  “Ah. Yes. But, Marianne, you do not understand. I am not covering for him. He is covering for me.”

  CHAPTER 59

  I stared at Dina as the pieces slipped into place.

  “You did it? You drowned Hanne?”

  “Not drowned. Baptised. It was God’s will that she be taken. The demon was too strong. The real Hanne was gone.” She held up her hands, as though telling me about a bird that had died.

  “Where did you do it?”

  She nodded to her left. “At the lake. I am a Stjerne of the church and have the authority to carry out baptisms. She was not getting better, so I brought her here to baptise. But when she came up from the water after the first prayer, there was no light in her eyes – her face was just like a doll, and I knew then the demon was still inside. I tried again, for longer, but still she looked the same. Dead inside, existing, not living. I did a third prayer, for longer now, holding her under, begging the demon to go, to give me back my Hanne. I could feel it. I could feel the demon fighting against me, pushing back against my hand, kicking. But I was stronger, and eventually it stopped fighting – it was gone.”

  “But Hanne was gone too.”

  “Yes. God’s will. The demon was too strong.”

  “Oh Dina. Is that truly what you believe?”

  “Of course. It is the truth of Jesus Christ. Only the believers of the truth will be saved.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Asta hovering behind the gate. With my hand by my side, I motioned for her to stay where she was.

  “What did you do then?”

  “I pulled her to the dry land and laid her there. She looked so peaceful. Then I drove to the house, and Erik called Rasmus to tell him. Rasmus explained to us that people would not understand that it was God’s will, and we must hide Hanne. He said he would do it. Erik and I are forever grateful to him.”

  “He buried her in Roskilde?”

  She nodded.

  “And you allowed people t
o search for her for months, never admitting what you’d done or that you knew where she was?”

  For the first time, she looked uneasy.

  “It was the only way.”

  “And when I turned up ten years ago, all this faux rage about me lying to you – you let me believe I’d done something wrong.”

  “Even if it was God’s will that Hanne left us that night, I am sad that I lost her to the demon. I did not want any reminders.”

  That last word was the one that tipped me from incredulity to white-hot rage.

  “Reminders? That’s what you had to worry about? Me, the child left without a mother, because you’re a deranged psychopath, and my poor father, left without his wife, cut completely from your life. Because we remind you of her? Sorry, but go fuck yourself, Dina.”

  She recoiled, and a small part of me remembered she was an elderly woman not in her right mind, but I didn’t care. I was too angry to care.

  “I did not want your father’s sadness interrupted by the newspapers,” she said.

  “That’s bullshit! There’s nothing in any of what you’ve said that suggests you even once thought of anyone but yourself. You kept him out of things because you didn’t want people to know about the so-called demon, and to work out what you’d done.”

  She threw up her hands and shook her head. “I did not want people to know what she did.”

  “What she did?”

  “To you. Leaving you to die in the cold.”

  “Is that what mattered most? Hiding what she did? She was ill for God’s sake – she didn’t know what she was doing! She thought I’d be better off without her, that’s why she put me at Fru Hansen’s door. Not to die, but to go to a better home. If you’d got professional help for her instead of hiding her away, you’d have known that. Jesus Christ.”

  “But, Marianne, you forget one thing,” she said in a quiet voice, still sitting on the step.

  “What?”

  “I saved you. Without me, you would have died. Like a winter leaf.”

  I walked away then, because there was nothing to else to say – no way to make her see.