Eleven-year-old Joona and his mother, Ritva, moved from the bright apartment in the centre of Märsta to his aunts three-room place in Fred-häll in Stockholm. After graduating from high school, he applied to the Police Training Academy. He still thinks about the friends in his group quite often: strolling together across the vast lawns, the lull before they were sent out on placements, the early years as junior officers. Joona Linna has done his share of desk work. He has redirected traffic after road accidents and for the Stockholm Marathon; been embarrassed by football hooligans harassing his female colleagues with their deafening songs on the underground; found dead heroin addicts with rotting sores; helped ambulance crews with vomiting drunks; talked to prostitutes shaking with withdrawal symptoms, to those with AIDS, to those who are afraid; he has met hundreds of men who have abused their partners and children, always following the same pattern (drunk but controlled and deliberate, with the radio on full volume and the blinds closed); he has stopped speeding and drunken drivers, confiscated weapons, drugs, and homemade booze. Once, while off from work with lumbago and out walking to avoid stiffening up, hed seen a skinhead grab a Muslim womans breast outside the school in Klastorp. His back aching, hed chased the skinhead along by the water, right through the park, past Smedsudden, up onto the Västerbro bridge, across the water, and past Långholmen to Södermalm, finally catching up with him by the traffic lights on Högalidsgatan.
Without any real intention of building a career, he has moved up the ranks. He could join the National Murder Squad, but he refuses. He likes complex tasks, and he never gives up, but Joona Linna has no interest whatsoever in any form of command.
Now Joona sits listening as Carlos Eliasson talks to Professor Nils The Needle Åhlén, Chief Medical Officer at the pathology lab in Stockholm.
No, I just need to know which was the first crime scene, says Carlos; then he listens for a while. I realize that, I do realize that but in your judgment so far, what do you think?
Joona leans back in his chair, running his fingers through his messy blond hair. So far he does not feel any tiredness from the long night in Tumba and at Karolinska Hospital. He watches as Carloss face grows redder and redder. Joona can hear The Needle drone faintly on the other end of the line. When the voice stops, Carlos simply nods and hangs up without saying goodbye.
They they-
They have established that the father was killed first, supplies Joona.
Carlos nods.
What did I tell you? Joona beams.
Carlos looks down at his desk and clears his throat. Fine, youre leading the preliminary investigation, he says. The Tumba case is yours.
First of all, I want to hear one thing, says Joona. Who was right? Who was right, you or me?
You! yells Carlos. For Gods sake, Joona, what is it with you? Yeah, you were right- as usual!
Joona hides a smile behind his hand as he gets up.
Suddenly he turns grave. Reconnaissance hasnt been able to track down Evelyn Ek. She could be anywhere. I dont know what were going to do if we cant get permission to talk to the boy. Too much time will pass, and itll be too late when we find her.
You want to interrogate the wounded boy? Carlos asks. I have no choice.
Have you spoken to the prosecutor?
I have no intention of handing over the preliminary investigation until I have a suspect, says Joona.
Thats not what I meant, says Carlos. I just think its a good idea to have the prosecutor on your side if youre going to talk to a boy who is so badly injured.
Joona is halfway out the door. All right, that makes sense. Youre a wise man. Ill give Jens a call, he says.
Chapter 11
Erik Maria Bark arrives home from Karolinska Hospital. As he quietly lets himself in, he thinks about the young victim lying there and the policeman so eager to question him. Erik likes Detective Joona Linna, despite his attempt to get Erik to break his promise never to use hypnosis again. Maybe its the detectives open and honest anxiety about the safety of the older sister that makes him so likeable. Presumably somebody is looking for her right now.
Erik is very tired. The tablets have begun to take effect; his eyes are heavy and sore; sleep is on the way. He opens the bedroom door and looks at Simone. The light from the hallway covers her like a scratched pane of glass. Three hours have passed since he left her here, and Simone has now taken over all the space in the bed. Resting on her stomach, she lies there heavily. The bedclothes are down by her feet, her nightgown has worked its way up around her waist, and she has goose bumps on her arms and shoulders. Erik pulls the covers over her carefully. She murmurs something and curls up; he sits down and strokes her ankle, and she moves slightly.
Im going for a shower, he says, but he leans back against the head-board, overwhelmed by fatigue.
What was the name of the police officer? she asks, slurring her words.
Before he has time to answer, he finds himself at the park in Observatorielunden. He is digging in the sand in the playground and finds a yellow stone, as round as an egg, as big as a pumpkin. He scrapes at it with his hands and sees the outline of a relief on the side, a jagged row of teeth. When he turns the heavy stone over he sees that it is the skull of a dinosaur.
Suddenly, Simone is screaming. Fuck you!
He gives a start and realizes that he has fallen asleep and begun to dream. The strong pills have sent him to sleep in the middle of the conversation. He tries to smile and meets Simones chilly gaze.
Sixan? What is it?
Has it started again? she asks.
What?
What? she repeats crossly. Whos Daniella?
Daniella?
You promised. You made a promise, Erik, she says. I trusted you, I was actually stupid enough to trust-
What are you talking about? Daniella Richards is a colleague at Karolinska. Whats she got to do with anything?
Dont lie to me.
This is actually getting ridiculous, he says, and despite her clear anger he feels a smile spreading involuntarily across his face. He is so tired.
Do you think this is funny? she asks. Ive sometimes thought I even believed I could forget what happened.
Erik nods off for a few seconds, but he can still hear what shes saying.
It might be best if we separate, whispers Simone.
He snaps awake at this. Nothing has happened between me and Daniella.
That doesnt really matter, she says wearily.
Doesnt it? Doesnt it matter? You want to separate because of something I did ten years ago?
Something?
I was drunk, Simone. Drunk, and-
I dont want to listen. I know all about it. I Fuck it! I dont want to do this, Im not a jealous person, but I am loyal and I expect loyalty in return.
Ive never let you down since, and Ill never-
Prove it to me. I need proof.
You just have to trust me, he says.
Yes, she says with a sigh, and collecting a pillow and duvet she shuffles out of the bedroom and down the hallway.
He is breathing heavily. He ought to follow her, not just give up; he ought to try to calm her down and persuade her to come back to bed, but right now sleep exerts the stronger influence. He can no longer resist it. He sinks down into the bed; feels the dopamine flood his system, the tension flow out of his body as relaxation spreads pleasurably across his face, his neck and shoulders, down into his toes and the tips of his fingers. A heavy, chemical sleep enfolds his consciousness like a floury cloud.
Chapter 12
Erik slowly opens his eyes to the pale light pressing against the curtains. He rolls over with a grunt and glances at the alarm clock; two hours have passed. Immediately, his mind begins to replay the images from the night before: Simones angry face as she made her accusations, the boy lying there with hundreds of black knife wounds covering his glowing body.
Erik thinks of the detective, who seemed convinced that the perpetrator had wanted to murder an entire family: first the father, then the mother, the son, and the daughter.
An older daughter is out there somewhere, in extreme danger, if Joona Linna is right.
The telephone on the bedside table begins to ring.
Erik gets up, but instead of answering he opens the curtains and peers across at the façade of the building opposite, trying to gather his thoughts. The dust glazing the windowpanes is clearly visible in the morning sunshine.
Simone has already left for the gallery. He doesnt understand her outburst, why she was talking about Daniella. He wonders if its about something else altogether: the drugs, maybe. He knows hes very close to a serious dependency on them, but he has to sleep. All the night shifts at the hospital have ruined his ability to sleep naturally. Without pills he would go under, he thinks. He reaches for the alarm clock but manages to knock it on the floor instead.
The telephone stops, but is silent for only a little while before it starts ringing again.
He considers going into Benjamins room and lying down beside his son, waking him gently, asking if hes been dreaming about anything. He picks up the telephone and answers.
Hi, its Daniella Richards.
Are you still at the hospital? Its a quarter past eight.
I know. Im exhausted.
Go home.
No chance, says Daniella calmly. You have to come back. That detective is on his way. He seems even more convinced that the perpetrator is after the older sister. He says he has to talk to the boy.
Erik feels a sudden dark weight behind his eyes. Thats a bad idea, given his condition.
I know. But what about the sister? she interrupts him. Im considering giving the detective the go-ahead to question Josef.
Its your patient. If you think he can cope with it, says Erik.
Cope? Of course he cant cope with it. His condition is critical. His family has been murdered, and hell find out about it under questioning from a policeman. But I cant just sit and wait. I dont want to let the police at him, but theres no doubt that his sister is in danger.
Its your call, Erik says again.
A murderer is looking for his older sister! Daniella breaks in, raising her voice.