Now Joona is back. Striding toward the womens unit along the corridor with its shiny white vinyl floor, past monotonous rows of pea-green cell doors, he catches his own reflection in door handles and locks.
Jens Svanehjälm, Chief Prosecutor for the Stockholm district, waits for him outside one of the five interview rooms. Although Svanehjälm is forty years old, he looks no more than twenty, his boyish expression and round, smooth cheeks lending a false impression of innocence and naïveté.
So, he says, did Evelyn force her younger brother to murder their family?
According to Josef.
Nothing Josef Ek says under hypnosis is admissible. It goes against his right to remain silent and his right to avoid incriminating himself.
I realize that, says Joona. It wasnt an interrogation. He wasnt a suspect. I thought the boy had information that would prevent another murder from taking place.
Jens says nothing. He scrolls through e-mails on his phone.
Ill know soon enough what actually happened, says Joona.
Jens looks back up, with a smile. Im sure you will, he says. Because when I took over this job, my predecessor told me that if Joona Linna says hes going to find out the truth, thats exactly what hell do.
We had one or two disagreements.
Yes, she said that, too, says Jens.
Joona nods. Motioning towards one of the interview rooms, he asks, Ready?
Were questioning Evelyn Ek purely in pursuit of information, Jens stresses.
Do you want me to tell her that shes suspected of a crime?
Thats up to you; youre the lead interrogator. But the clocks ticking. You havent got a lot of time.
Joona knocks twice before entering the dreary interview room, where the blinds are pulled down over the barred windows. Evelyn Ek sits, her eyes downcast. Her arms are folded across her chest; her shoulders are tense and hunched, her jaw clenched.
Hi, Evelyn.
She looks up quickly, her soft brown eyes frightened. He sits down opposite her. Like her brother, she is attractive; her features are not striking, but they are symmetrical. She has light brown hair and an intelligent expression. Joona realizes she has a face that at first glance might appear plain but that becomes more and more beautiful the longer you look at it.
I thought we should have a little talk, he says. What do you think?
She shrugs her shoulders.
When did you last see Josef?
Dont remember.
Was it yesterday?
No, she says, sounding surprised.
How many days ago was it?
What?
I asked when you last saw Josef, says Joona.
Oh, a long time ago.
Has he been to see you at the cottage?
No.
Never? Hes never been to see you out there?
A slight shrug. No.
But he knows the place, doesnt he?
She nods. We went there when he was a little kid, she replies.
When was that?
I dont know I was fifteen. We borrowed the cottage from Auntie Sonja one summer when she was in Greece.
And Josef hasnt been there since?
Evelyns gaze suddenly flickers across the wall behind Joona. I dont think so, she says.
How long have you been staying there?
I moved there just after term started.
In August.
Yes.
Youve been living in a little cottage in Värmdö for four months. Why?
Once again her gaze flutters away, moving behind Joonas head. So I could have peace and quiet to study, she says.
For four months?
She shifts in the chair, crossing her legs and scratching her forehead. I need to be left in peace, she says with a sigh.
Has somebody been bothering you?
No.
When you say that you want to be left in peace, it sounds as if some-ones been bothering you.
She gives a faint, joyless smile. I just like the forest.
What are you studying?
Political science.
And youre supporting yourself on a student loan?
Yes.
Where do you buy food?
I bike to Saltarö.
Isnt that a long way?
Evelyn shrugs her shoulders. I suppose so.
Have you seen anyone you know there?
No.
He contemplates Evelyns smooth young forehead. You havent seen Josef there?
No.
Evelyn, listen to me, says Joona, in a new, more serious tone. Your brother told us that he was the one who murdered your father, your mother, and your little sister.
Evelyn stares at the table. Her eyelids tremble; a faint flush rises on her pale face.
Hes only fifteen years old, Joona goes on.
He looks at her thin hands and the shining, brushed hair lying over her frail shoulders.
Why do you think hes saying he murdered his family?
What? she asks, looking up.
It seems as if you think hes telling the truth, he says.
It does?
You didnt look surprised when I said hed confessed, says Joona. Were you surprised?
Yes.
She sits motionless on the chair. A thin furrow of anxiety has appeared between her eyebrows. She looks very tired, and her lips are moving slightly, as if she is praying or whispering to herself. Is he locked up? she asks suddenly.
Who?
She doesnt look up at him when she replies but speaks tonelessly down at the table. Josef. Have you locked him up?
Are you afraid of him?
No.
I thought perhaps you were carrying the gun because you were afraid of him.
I hunt, she replies, meeting his gaze.
Theres something peculiar about her, something he doesnt yet understand. Its not the usual things: guilt, rage, or hatred. Its more like something reminiscent of an enormous resistance. He cant get a fix on it. A defense mechanism or a protective barrier unlike anything he has yet encountered.
Hare? he asks.
Yes.
Is it good, hare?
Not particularly.
What does it taste like?
Sweet.
Joona thinks about her standing in the cold air outside the cottage. He tries to visualize the chain of events.
Erik Maria Bark had taken her gun. He was holding it over his arm and it was broken open, the brass of the cartridges visible. Evelyn was squinting at him in the sunlight. Tall and slim, with her sandy brown hair in a high, tight ponytail. A silvery padded vest and low-cut jeans, damp running shoes. Pine trees behind her, moss on the ground, low-growing lingonberry and trampled toadstools.
Suddenly Joona discovers a crack in Evelyns story. He has already nudged at the thought, but it slipped away. Now the crack is absolutely clear. When he spoke to Evelyn in her aunts cottage, she sat completely still on the corduroy couch with her hands clamped between her thighs. On the floor at her feet lay a photograph in a frame that looked like a toadstool. Evelyns little sister was in the picture, sitting between her parents with the sun glinting off her big glasses.
The little girl must have been four, perhaps even five years old in the picture. In other words, the photograph can be no more than a year or two old. Evelyn claimed that Josef hadnt been to the cottage for years, but he accurately described the photo and the frame under hypnosis.
Of course, there could be several copies of the picture in other toad-stool frames, thinks Joona. Theres also the possibility that this particular one has been moved around. And Josef could have been in the cottage without Evelyns knowledge.
But it could also be a crack in Evelyns story.
Evelyn, says Joona, Im just wondering about something you said a little while ago.
Jens Svanehjälm gets to his feet. The sudden movement startles Evelyn, and her body jerks. Would you come with me for a minute, detective? Outside, he turns to Joona. Im letting her go, he says, in a low voice. This is bullshit. We dont have a thing, just an invalid interrogation with her comatose fifteen-year-old brother, who suggests that she-
Jens stops speaking as soon as he sees the look on Joonas face.
Youve found something, havent you? he says.
I think so, yes, Joona replies quietly.
Is she lying?
I dont know. She might be.
Jens runs his hand over his chin, considering. Give her a sandwich and a cup of tea, he says eventually. Then you can have one more hour before I decide whether were going to arrest her or not.
Theres no guarantee this will lead to anything.
Theres no guarantee this will lead to anything.
But youll give it a go?
Four minutes later, Joona places a Styrofoam cup of English breakfast tea and a sandwich on a paper plate in front of Evelyn and sits down on his chair. I thought you might be hungry, he says.
Thanks, she says, and a more cheerful expression momentarily sweeps across her features. Joona watches her carefully. Her hand shakes as she eats the sandwich and lifts the cup from the table to her lips.
Evelyn, in your aunts cottage theres a photograph in a frame that looks like a toadstool.
Evelyn nods. Aunt Sonja bought it up in Mora; she thought it would look nice in the cottage She stops and blows on her tea.
Did she buy any more like that? For gifts, say?
Not that I know of. She smiles. Ive never seen another like it.
And has the photograph always been in the cottage?
What do you mean? she asks faintly.
Well, Im not sure. Maybe nothing. But Josef talked about this picture, so he must have seen it sometime. I thought perhaps youd forgotten something.
No.
Well, that clears that up, says Joona, getting up.
Are you going?
Yes, I think were done here, says Joona. He looks at her face, filled with anxiety, and acts on a hunch.
Chances are youll be out of here- oh, in an hour or two.
Out of here?
Well, I dont think we can hold you for anything. He smiles.
She wraps her arms around herself. You never answered my question.
Question?
Is Josef locked up?
Joona looks her square in the eye. No, Evelyn. Josef is in the hospital. We havent arrested him. I dont know that we can.
She begins to tremble, and her eyes fill with tears.
What is it, Evelyn?
She wipes the tears from her cheeks with the heel of her hand. Josef did come to the cottage once. He took a taxi and he brought a cake, she says, her voice breaking.
On your birthday?
He it was his birthday.
When was that?
On the first of November.
Just over a month ago, says Joona. What happened?
Nothing, she says. It was a surprise.
He hadnt told you he was coming?
We werent in touch.
Why not?
I need to be on my own.
Who knew you were staying there?
Nobody, apart from Sorab, my boyfriend well, actually, he broke up with me, and were just friends, but he helps me, tells everybody Im staying with him, answers when Mum calls.
Why?
I need to be left in peace.
So youve said. Did Josef go out there again?
No.
This is important, Evelyn.
He didnt come again, she replies.
Youre certain?
Yes.
Why did you lie about this?
I dont know, she whispers.
What else have you lied about?
Chapter 25
Erik is walking between the brightly lit display cases in the NK department stores jewellery department. A sleek saleswoman dressed in black murmurs persuasively to a customer. She slides open a drawer and places a few pieces on a velvet-covered tray. Erik pauses to study a Georg Jensen necklace: heavy, softly polished triangles, linked together like petals to form a closed circle. The sterling silver has the rich lustre of platinum. Erik thinks how beautifully it would lie around Simones slender neck and decides to buy it for her for Christmas.