He grunted, keeping his eye fixed on her face. Eva lifted his hand and placed it against her cheek, then she broke the news that Olof had died in the flames. Kristoffer didn’t show his feelings, but Embla saw the light die in his eye as Eva went on talking. When she had finished he withdrew his hand and closed his eye.
They tried speaking to him again, but there was no reaction. They weren’t even sure if he could hear their voices.
Eva stood up and signaled to Embla and Hampus to follow her. She stopped by the door and said quietly, “This is how he reacts when the world is too much for him. He’ll come back to us, but it will take time. They’re going to put an extra bed in here for me, and I’ve also been given a room in the patients’ hotel. I’ll call you when he starts communicating, Embla.”
She looked a little embarrassed, and added, “Do you have a card with your cell phone number? I know you gave me one already, but I left it at home.”
Embla took out her card and handed it over.
“I’ll put it in my phone right now,” Eva said, digging her cell out of her pocket.
They agreed that she would call the next day and let them know if it was okay to come back and talk to Kristoffer again.
They passed reception on the way out. Ahmed was chatting to some of the other nurses, and beamed at Embla and Hampus as they went by. Well, he actually beamed at Hampus, who as usual didn’t notice. Embla did—she found it very funny.
They had almost reached the main door when Embla’s phone rang. She glanced at the display and was surprised to see Eva’s name.
“That was quick,” Hampus said.
Before Embla had time to speak she heard a hoarse whisper:
“Hurry! He’s . . .”
Then came a gasp, followed by a loud scream. Even Hampus heard it.
“What the hell . . .”
They both broke into a run. Embla was faster and led the way. The foyer was crowded, but everyone moved aside when she yelled at the top of her voice, “Police! Out of the way!”
They were in luck: one of the elevators had just emptied and she dashed inside. Impatiently she held open the door as she waited for Hampus. He ran in and leaned against the wall to catch his breath, while at the same time calling for backup on his cell phone.
When they reached the right floor Embla shot out as soon as the door began to open. Short distances had always suited her best, and she sprinted down the corridor. The deafening screech of an alarm sliced through the air. She could see three nurses racing toward Kristoffer’s room. They stopped at the door; the police officer who had been on guard was lying motionless on the floor. Embla could see his legs, but his upper body was hidden by a cleaning cart that was parked beside him. The nurses didn’t quite know what to do. They looked from the officer on the floor to the closed door and back again. Ahmed knelt down and checked for a pulse, and one of the others reached for the door handle.
“No! Wait!” Embla yelled.
The nurse immediately stepped back. Embla paused for a fraction of a second. Should she fling the door open? What was on the other side? Neither she nor Hampus was armed. From inside the room she could hear Eva screaming and people moving around. A thud. Someone else was screaming—or rather yelling. A man. Kristoffer? Hardly—this voice was too loud, too deep. Then she heard rapid footsteps approaching the door from the other side. Heavy footsteps, not Eva’s. Shallow breathing. Embla moved back silently and positioned herself so that whoever was trying to assess the situation couldn’t see her. A shaven head appeared as the door opened; Embla noticed a cauliflower ear and a tattooed neck. He paused when he saw the nurses, staring at him in horror.
At that moment Embla kicked the handle with all her strength. The man didn’t even have time to react as the door slammed shut, trapping his head against the frame with a horrible sound, like a coconut being smashed with a hammer. He sank to the floor without a sound. Something flashed as an object fell from his hand, and Embla quickly bent down and picked it up. She immediately recognized what it was because she owned a similar one: a broad-bladed hunting knife, a lethal weapon. It was an expensive item. She’d received hers as a birthday present from the hunting club when she turned twenty-five.
In the other hand he was clutching something that looked a bit like a cell phone. When Embla pried his fingers apart, she realized it was a Taser.
The man was wearing a typical hospital uniform—a white tunic and white trousers. On his feet, however, were sturdy military boots. Definitely not standard hospital issue.
Embla straightened up and flung the door wide open. Still screaming, Eva staggered toward her brandishing a toilet cleaning brush. She was bleeding from her mouth, and she had an angry red mark below one eye.
“It’s me, Eva. It’s Embla.”
When Eva registered that it was indeed Embla, she stopped yelling.
The shaven-headed man was moving now, attempting to get to his feet. Talk about having a thick skull, Embla thought before she heard a familiar voice bellow:
“Police! Stay right where you are or I’ll shoot!”
Shoot? Where had Hampus found a gun? Not that it mattered—the man by the door sank back down.
“Eva, how are you and Kristoffer?”
“He didn’t . . . he didn’t get to Kristoffer. I screamed and hit him with the brush. But I think he cut my . . . my hand. And he punched me in the face.”
Eva held out her left hand; she was still clutching the toilet brush in her right. Blood was dripping from her palm, and she stared at it uncomprehendingly. Then her legs gave way, and Embla just managed to grab her before she went down.
Reinforcements arrived within minutes and handcuffed the man with the cauliflower ear. A doctor had already examined him to see if he sustained a concussion from his encounter with the door, and he was pronounced fit to be transported to a holding cell in Trollhättan, where the chief superintendent and his team would question him. The custody officer would be asked to keep a close eye on him; there are always risks associated with head trauma, as Embla knew from personal experience.
It was high time they called Roger Willén to tell him what had happened at the hospital. At that second Embla’s phone began to vibrate in her pocket. The display told her it was Willén. Since calls weren’t allowed on the ward, she answered quickly before he had time to say anything.
“Hi, I’m on the ward. I’ll go outside and call you back.”
She ran down the stairs and through the foyer. It was visiting time, so there were people everywhere. She stopped outside the glass doors and took a couple of deep breaths. The air was cold and crisp. Her brain cleared, and she was ready for a conversation with the chief superintendent.
“Apparently there’s been some kind of incident at the hospital. I believe you and Hampus were there. Update please,” he said, getting straight to the point.
Embla went through everything from the start of their visit. Willén grunted when he heard about Kristoffer’s memory loss, but apart from that he kept quiet.
“How’s the officer who was on guard duty?” he asked when she was done.
“He’s being taken care of. I checked to see if he’d been stabbed, but he hadn’t—just Tasered. The wound in Eva Sjöberg’s hand was quite deep and is being sutured now. She’s also in shock, of course.”
“Was there any sign that the boy had been hurt?”
“No. According to Eva, the guy didn’t get near the bed. She defended herself and Kristoffer with a toilet brush.”
There was a brief silence as the chief superintendent digested this snippet.
“A toilet brush?”
“Yes. I gave her my card just before she left, and she added my number to her contacts list while she was sitting on the toilet. The door wasn’t completely closed, so she saw the guy sneak in. She called my number, pressed the alarm button, then ran out screaming at the
top of her voice and attacked him with the only weapon she could find. The perp couldn’t focus on Kristoffer and defend himself against Eva; she really went for him with that brush. She’s a strong woman, in spite of her age. And of course she wasn’t part of his plan; he was after Kristoffer. He probably wasn’t expecting her to be there, maybe he couldn’t work out what to do when things went wrong. He was running out of time . . .”
Embla realized to her surprise that Willén was laughing. He was actually laughing. At first she was angry because her adrenaline was still pumping. What was so fucking funny? But when she thought about it, perhaps there was a little humor in the situation. And she hadn’t even gotten to the really amusing part yet. Ignoring the chief superintendent’s muffled chuckles, she went on.
“He must have an unusually thick skull because only a minute or so after I’d slammed the door on his head, he started moving, but then Hampus yelled that he’d shoot if the guy didn’t stay down. I came out into the corridor and saw Hampus pointing something that looked a bit like a weapon at the guy on the floor. He must still have been groggy, otherwise he would have realized it wasn’t a gun.”
Embla deliberately paused. As expected Willén quickly grew impatient.
“So what was it?”
“A rectoscope.”
“A what?”
“A rectoscope. Doctors use it to look up a patient’s rectum. He found it on a cart and grabbed it. Fortunately it was clean.”
That was too much for Willén. He guffawed with laughter, and she found herself grinning in response. A good laugh was exactly what they needed during this difficult and upsetting investigation.
Someone else who had a good laugh was Göran Krantz. They were having a meal in the Thai restaurant, which was definitely their favorite place in Strömstad, enjoying a spicy stew. It was delicious, and Embla was starving. All three agreed that Eva was the best guardian angel Kristoffer could wish for. If she hadn’t been there, the man with the cauliflower ear would almost certainly have achieved his aim.
“But where did he get a hold of the clothes?” Göran asked, serious once more.
“He stole them from a linen room down in the basement. He was lucky to find a uniform that fit—he’s a big guy. He also came across an ID card and hung it around his neck. He took the cleaning cart from the cleaners’ storage closet, so he looked totally authentic as long as no one wanted to examine his ID. The staff soon realized both doors had been broken open, but of course they didn’t know where he’d gone,” Hampus explained.
“And we still don’t know who he is?”
“No, he’s refusing to talk.”
Göran nodded and raised his eyebrows.
“Okay, so this seems like a classic case. The killer disguises himself and tries to kill someone who’s lying in a hospital with a guard outside the door of his room. It often happens in crime shows on TV. And it’s always pretty creepy.”
“Creepy! Too fucking right it was creepy!” Embla snapped.
She didn’t like Göran talking about the incident as if it were some movie! And it definitely hadn’t been a comedy—it had been deadly serious. Someone wanted to kill Kristoffer.
“I’m sorry, Embla. I didn’t mean to play it down—of course I realize it was a serious situation. The guy was armed, and the two of you did a great job. With the assistance of the lady with the toilet brush.”
He couldn’t help smiling again, but Embla appreciated his apology.
After their meal they walked the short distance back to the square where the Volvo was parked, and Göran asked Embla to drive them to Olof Sjöberg’s car showroom. Apparently he’d arranged a car rental.
It wasn’t unusual for VMG to need an additional vehicle when they were out on an assignment. Given how isolated their current base was, a second car wasn’t a bad idea.
The showroom was located on Uddevallavägen, not far from Ted Andersson’s house.
Göran had rented a small white Nissan. When he got in, it dipped noticeably on the driver’s side. He gave Embla and Hampus a cheery wave and set off toward Sandgrav, leaving the Volvo in his wake.
It was dark by the time they pulled up to the Shore House. The wind whipped their faces, and Embla buried her chin in her scarf as she scurried across the yard. The cold air made it hard to breathe, but at least it wasn’t raining any longer. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks was somehow threatening. Far away in the distance she could see a huge ship moving slowly north; no doubt it was going to Norway to pick up oil. She longed to be indoors, sitting in front of the fire with a cup of tea and discussing the day’s events with her colleagues. That meant a lot to her.
Göran set up the computer and his papers, Hampus got the fire going, Embla made tea and coffee. She found a packet of Ballerina cookies in the larder—Göran’s favorite. Personally she avoided sweet things, although she did reward herself with a small piece of dark chocolate occasionally. She always had a bar with a cocoa content of at least seventy percent around somewhere. Göran had yet to work out where she hid them, but it was only a matter of time. He didn’t usually like dark chocolate, but if there was nothing else, that wouldn’t stop him. Which was why she slipped a bar inside a pack of sanitary pads. Foolproof, surely, or was it? Göran’s intuition was almost supernatural when it came to candy and cookies.
To be fair, he looked good with his thick dark-blond hair, just beginning to turn gray at the temples, and his warm blue eyes. It was unfortunate that he’d put on so much weight after the divorce almost ten years ago. Even though he was quite tall, he was beginning to look fat. Before his marriage broke up his weight had been normal, according to the colleagues who’d known him back then. The divorce had been traumatic: his wife had fallen in love with a Spaniard ten years younger than Göran and moved down to Spain. Both their teenage sons had chosen to stay with their father and were now at college in Luleå and Lund. Göran must have felt lonely when they moved out, and as far as Embla was aware he hadn’t found a new partner.
She arranged the cookies on a plate and placed it on a tray. It was his business if he got even fatter, but it would be a shame; he was only just over fifty.
The wind was hurling itself at the windows, but inside the house it was warm and cozy. The fire crackled behind the glass doors of the stove. The three of them settled down to talk over the day’s events.
Göran had contacted the hospital and received reassuring news about Eva Sjöberg. The stab wound in her hand hadn’t damaged any tendons, and was expected to heal without complications. Thanks to the injection he’d been given, Kristoffer didn’t seem to have noticed the fracas. Security had been increased, and there were now two police officers stationed outside his door.
A call to Trollhättan had revealed that the guy with the cauliflower ear still hadn’t said a word. They were running his prints against the database, since it seemed likely that he had a criminal record, but no luck so far.
When they had topped off their drinks and Göran had eaten what he swore would be his last cookie, he said, “Coming back to Amelie and Viggo, we have to consider the possibility that the two cases aren’t connected at all, and that we might not even be looking at a criminal act. However, the likelihood of two children vanishing without a trace from Strömstad within six weeks is pretty small.”
“And in the winter. There are lots of people here in summer, which means more children and a greater chance of something happening,” Embla said.
“Agreed. I don’t think Amelie drowned; the area where she went missing is well over a mile from the sea. As far as Viggo is concerned, it’s not impossible. It’s only a few hundred yards from his house to the quayside where the ferries dock. As I said, we need to keep an open mind: we could be dealing with two completely separate crimes or accidents. I’ll come back to that.”
“This investigation is going to take a long time,” Hampus stated gloomi
ly. Embla had a strong feeling that he wanted to clear things up as quickly as possible and go home. He really wasn’t himself, but she couldn’t work out why.
“You’re right—it’s complicated. But if we assume the children’s disappearances are connected, then there are various hypotheses. The first is they were kidnapped but are alive and being kept hidden. That means they were taken away by car. The area in and around Strömstad has been searched so thoroughly that I’d have to conclude they’re some distance away. In which case the perpetrator is probably a pedophile.”
An uncomfortable silence descended on the room. That hypothesis had been put forward shortly after Amelie went missing and unfortunately couldn’t be ruled out.
“Or there could be several pedophiles involved,” Embla commented grimly.
“You’re thinking of the pedophile ring our colleagues in Oslo uncovered. Yes, that’s a possibility. But we’ve checked out all known pedophiles within a three-hundred-mile radius in both Sweden and Norway: nothing. And so we come to the next hypothesis: they’re both dead.”
Silence once more. Embla felt a chill run from the nape of her neck and down her spine. Crimes against children were always the hardest to deal with. They’re completely defenseless in this evil world.
Göran stared down into his empty cup; Embla took it and went into the kitchen to refill it. She didn’t bother asking Hampus because she knew he didn’t like to drink too much coffee in the evenings. She was getting a little impatient. She wanted to move things along because Nadir would be waiting for her in his hotel room. She’d told him she wouldn’t be there before ten at the earliest, but right now it was looking as if it could be later.
Göran gave her a grateful smile when she handed him a fresh coffee.
“If both children have been murdered, then there are two possibilities. Firstly, most children are murdered by those closest to them. People do kill children they don’t know, but it’s very rare. Secondly, we could be dealing with an unusually dangerous type of pedophile: a sadistic child killer. The few we have and know about in Sweden are all behind bars, and the same applies in Norway. If this is the correct scenario, then as I said the children must have been taken away by car, otherwise we’d have found them,” he said.
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