‘A page torn out of a book. A children’s book,’ Patrik said.
‘A children’s book?’ Gösta repeated incredulously. Hanna also looked confounded.
‘Yes, the pages were from Hansel and Gretel. You know, from the Grimms’ fairy tale.’
‘You’re kidding,’ said Gösta.
‘Sadly I’m not. And that’s not all. That information, combined with details about the way Rasmus and Marit died, have led us to two other cases that might be connected to ours.’
‘Two more cases?’ Now it was Martin who sounded incredulous.
Patrik nodded. ‘Yes, the information came in this morning. Two other fatalities that fit the pattern. One in Nyköping and one in Lund.’
‘Two more cases?’ Martin seemed to be having trouble taking in the facts that Patrik was presenting. Patrik understood why.
‘Are you certain that these four cases are related?’ said Hanna. ‘The whole thing sounds too unbelievable.’
‘The victims all died in exactly the same way, and there were pages torn out of the same book placed near each body. We can assume that the cases are related,’ Patrik said dryly. He was surprised and offended at being doubted. ‘In any event, we’re going to proceed with the investigation, or investigations, based on the assumption that there is a connection.’
Martin raised his hand. ‘Were the other victims also teetotallers?’
Patrik shook his head slowly. That was the one thing that bothered him the most. ‘No,’ he said. ‘The victim in Lund was a confirmed alcoholic, and the police had no information about the drinking habits of the victim in Nyköping. But I thought you and I should drive over and talk with them. Check out the details.’
Martin nodded. ‘When do we leave?’
‘Tomorrow,’ said Patrik. ‘If nobody has anything to add, perhaps we can adjourn the meeting and get to work. If there’s anything that seems unclear, I suggest that you read through the summary I’ve prepared. Annika has made copies, so you each can take one on the way out.’
As they broke up, nobody spoke. They were each thinking about the scope of the investigation they were now facing. And they all tried to accept the idea that ‘serial killer’ would have to become part of their vocabulary. That had never been necessary in the history of the Tanumshede police force.
Gösta turned round when he heard someone behind him in the doorway.
‘Martin and I are leaving tomorrow. We should be gone two days,’ said Patrik.
‘Yes?’ said Gösta.
‘I thought you and Hanna could work on some other angles in the meantime. Check through Marit’s file, for instance. I’ve read it so many times now that I think it would be good to have a fresh pair of eyes. And do the same thing with whatever we have on Rasmus Olsson. Martin has started compiling a list of people who own Galgo Español dogs; it would be good if we could keep working on that aspect too. Talk to Martin this afternoon and see how far he’s got. What else? Oh yes, the reporter at the Evening News faxed over some copies from Lillemor’s diary. We’re getting the original too, but it’s coming by mail and we can’t wait for it. I’m taking along a set of copies in the car, but you and Hanna might as well take a look at them too.’
Gösta nodded wearily.
‘That’s it,’ said Patrik. ‘We’re taking off. Will you fill Hanna in?’
Gösta nodded. Even more wearily. It was a pain to have to work so hard. He was going to be exhausted by the time the golf season started.
The nights were the time when the terror felt the closest. What if they came while he was sleeping? What if he couldn’t wake up? Before it was too late. He and sister each had a bed in the room. She usually tucked them in at night, pulled the covers up to their chins, and kissed first him, then her, on the forehead. A soft ‘good night’, then she turned off the light. And locked the door. That was when the evil had free rein in their minds. But they had invented a form of consolation. With cautious steps he sneaked over to sister’s bed and crept in close beside her under the covers. They never talked, just lay close and felt the warmth of each other’s skin. So close that their breath became one, hot exhaled air that filled their lungs and spread to their hearts, giving them a feeling of security.
Sometimes they lay awake like that. Both saw the fear in the other’s eyes, but couldn’t put words to it. At those moments he felt such love for his sister that he felt he might burst. It filled every part of him and made him want to caress every inch of her skin. She was so defenceless, so innocent, so scared of what was outside. Even more scared than he was. For him the fear was mixed with a longing for whatever was out there. What he might have had access to, if he hadn’t been a jinx, and if the unknown hadn’t been waiting out there.
As he lay there with his sister in his arms, he wondered whether the terror was at all connected to the woman with the angry voice. Then sleep usually overtook him. And with it came the memories.
Martin had suffered his whole life from motion sickness, but he still tried to read the pages that had been copied from Lillemor’s diary.
‘Who is this “he” she keeps talking about? The person she recognizes?’ he said in bewilderment, reading on to see if he could find more clues.
‘It doesn’t say,’ said Patrik, who had read the copies before they left. ‘She doesn’t seem to be sure that she really saw him or where.’
‘But she writes that he makes her uncomfortable,’ said Martin, pointing to a spot on the page he was reading. ‘So it seems unlikely to be a coincidence that she was then murdered.’
‘Yes, I’m inclined to agree with you,’ said Patrik, speeding up to overtake a truck. ‘But there’s nothing more to go by, not in the diary at least. And it could have been anyone at all. Somebody in town, somebody in the group, somebody on the production team. All we know is that it’s a man.’ He noticed that Martin had begun taking deep breaths. ‘How’s it going? Are you feeling sick?’ One glance at his colleague confirmed it. Martin’s freckles glowed an angry red against his face, which was even whiter than usual, and his chest was heaving as he struggled to breathe.
‘You want me to let in some air?’ said Patrik uneasily. He felt bad for his colleague, but he had no desire to drive all the way to Lund in a car smelling of vomit. Martin nodded, so Patrik pushed the button to open the window on the passenger side. Martin leaned against the door, greedily inhaling, although the air was mixed with a lot of exhaust fumes and didn’t provide as much relief as he was hoping for.
Several hours later they turned into the car park at the Lund police station, their legs numb and their backs aching. They hadn’t allowed themselves more than a brief pause to piss and stretch their legs, since they were both excited about what the meeting with Superintendent Kjell Sandberg might bring. They had to wait only a few minutes in reception before he came down. Actually he was supposed to be off this Saturday, but after Patrik’s phone call he had willingly agreed to come in to the station.
‘How was your trip?’ said Kjell Sandberg, briskly leading the way. He was a very small man – around five foot three, Patrik guessed – but he seemed to compensate for his short stature with an enormous amount of energy. When he spoke he used his whole body and gesticulated wildly. Both Martin and Patrik had a hard time keeping up as he almost ran before them. The double-time march led at last to a break room, and