CHAPTER 44
Anita drove south of the city. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts and emotions. Her Chinese meal with Bea Erlandsson had lifted her spirits. She had left convinced that they had uncovered the real murderer – just a pity it was twenty-one years too late. Now a couple of hours and a shower and change of clothes later, the doubts were reappearing. After spending the last two decades convinced that Linus Svärd was the killer, it was difficult to readjust her sights. It didn’t help that she wasn’t close to the case anymore and had to learn things second-hand from Erlandsson. So much had been revealed that hadn’t been apparent back in 1995. The sneaking feeling that they could have done more continued to gnaw away at her. The fact that they hadn’t been able to unravel the alibis was a stumbling block they should have been able to overcome. In retrospect, they might have done so if Prosecutor Renmarker hadn’t had a seedy past and had given them more time to investigate. Or maybe that was impossible then, as all the characters involved had changed over the years and only now had the fault lines emerged. What was worrying her big time was that after getting it all wrong in 1995, the police were getting it all wrong again.
Anita turned her car off the main road and onto a flat, straight track. She could see the safe house in the distance. There wasn’t much light from the building, as all the blinds and shutters were in place. They didn’t want to attract attention from passing traffic – and they didn’t want McNaught getting a free shot at their witness. The wind was stirring, and she could see the dark shapes of the trees swaying in the copse off to the left. The air smelt autumnal. Soon the leaves would be plucked off the branches, and this pleasant, rural summer retreat would turn into a bleak prison. The older she got, the more her heart sank at the first signs of nature shutting down for the winter. The gap was too long until the late Swedish spring began to spread its fingers lightly over Skåne.
The headlights picked out Klara Wallen waiting for her by her car. Anita could see she wanted to make a quick getaway. The breeze tugged at Anita’s hair as she greeted her.
‘Everything OK, Klara?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine. Three officers are inside, including Hakim’s girlfriend.’ Wallen was already opening the door of her car.
‘How’s Danny?’
‘Bit upset I think. Brodd brought Jack Harmer’s father earlier on. They were left to have a chat. Don’t know if it did either of them any good.’
‘I just hope Brodd was vigilant when he drove down and made sure he wasn’t followed. You know how careless he is.’
‘You don’t have to tell me. Anyhow, the sooner this gunman gets caught, the sooner Danny and the rest of us can relax.’
Wallen was sitting in the driver’s seat about to shut the door when they heard the unmistakable crack of a shot. Then another. Anita swung round to face the house and instinctively whipped out her pistol. The gunfire had come from inside the building. Wallen, also with weapon in hand, was quickly by her side.
‘McNaught must be in the house,’ Anita whispered hoarsely. ‘Where’s Danny?’
‘In his bedroom. Shall I call for back up?’
‘There’ll never get here in time. Look, you go round the back, and I’ll head to his room.’
Wallen nodded and slipped away. Another shot hurried Anita along the low front wall of the old, single-storey farmhouse and round the corner. The first window was Danny’s bedroom. The blind was down, but there was a thin beam of light at the edge. The last shot hadn’t come from there. The sound seemed to have come from the far end of the building, the one nearest the copse. She hoped Klara was all right. Anita tried to open the window, but it wouldn’t budge. She had to make a quick decision. There might be dead people in there now. All she could think of doing was to tap loudly on the window. Nothing. Was Danny still in there? She’d have to break the glass and climb in and just hope McNaught hadn’t found the bedroom yet.
All of a sudden, Anita found herself in a blaze of light. The blind had been pulled up, and there was Liv Fogelström cautiously peering out with her pistol pointing directly at Anita.
‘It’s me!’ Anita shouted, holding up her pistol to show she wasn’t going to use it.
Liv opened the window. Anita immediately asked, ‘Where’s Danny?’
‘In there,’ Liv said breathlessly, indicating the solid, old-fashioned wardrobe by the bed.
‘Quick, let’s get him out of here!’
Liv’s hand was on the handle of the wardrobe door when another shot exploded in the room. And then another. Anita’s brain could hardly take in what she saw next: Liv seemed to spin round in slow motion, her mouth open in horror and her eyes staring in disbelief, before collapsing in a bleeding heap on the bed. Anita was helpless. She couldn’t see the intruder, who must have fired from the doorway. She resisted the frantic impulse to clamber through the window as she was collected enough to realize that she would only make herself an easy target. She just hoped to God that McNaught didn’t realize she was there.
‘Come out, Oh Danny Boy.’ The last words were sung to the tune of the famous Irish song. ‘Marky McNaught is here.’ Despite the thick Scottish brogue, Anita understood every menacing word.
She could see the wardrobe door from her vantage point and was praying that McNaught wouldn’t spray it with bullets before he came into her line of fire.
‘Come on, boy. Don’t be shy. I’ve got a present from Mr Cassidy.’
Ever so slowly, the door opened, and out hobbled a petrified Danny Foster. Anita could see him shaking.
‘I won’t tell, I promise. Please Mr McNaught, I’ll never say a thing.’
‘No, laddie, you won’t.’
Anita heard the click of McNaught’s gun. She had to do something; anything. She shot randomly upwards. Anything to distract the bastard. Danny jumped in fright, and she heard McNaught swear as flakes of plaster showered from the ceiling. A bullet zinged through the window past Anita’s head as McNaught fired blindly in her direction. In that millisecond, McNaught flitted into her line of vision. Panic and anger surged through her, and she squeezed her trigger as hard as she could. Danny screamed.
The whole of the front of the farm house was lit up. The wind was stronger now, and the arc lights flickered. Two squad cars were parked on the verge. Moberg and Anita were watching the last of the whining ambulances rush down the drive.
‘God, what a night!’ Anita said as she watched the flashing blue lights turn onto the main road and tear off towards Malmö.
Moberg put a gorilla’s hand on her shoulder. Such a gesture didn’t come easily to a man who found it difficult to be tactile.
‘You’ve done a good job, Anita. You saved our witness.’
Anita sighed heavily. ‘But at what a cost! Mikael Palm is badly injured, Nina Kovac got hit...’
‘She’ll be fine.’
‘And Liv. She may not survive. Shit! Has anybody told Hakim?’
‘Yes. Klara phoned him. He’ll be waiting at the hospital.’
‘They’ve only just got engaged.’ Anita wiped away a tear.
Moberg swung her round so she was facing him. ‘Fogelström was doing her duty. So were you all. Kovac said that McNaught just appeared and took them totally by surprise; and then just started shooting. Liv ran off to protect Danny. McNaught could have taken you all out. You stopped him.’
Moberg took out a packet of cigarettes and offered Anita one. She refused. ‘Go on, you need it.’
He cupped his large hands, yet still had difficulty lighting the two cigarettes in the wind. He handed her one. She drew on the first cigarette she’d had for a few years. Moberg was right; she needed it.
A van turned up the drive and headed towards them.
‘That’ll be forensics.’ Moberg took another long drag on his cigarette and let the smoke billow into the night air. ‘Unofficially, I’m glad you killed McNaught. There’ll be a tedious enquiry, and questions will be asked. Always are. We may not come out if it very well as per usual. The co
mmissioner likes his scapegoats. But if McNaught had gone to trial, I don’t think our justice system would have given him the sentence he deserved.’
The forensics van drew up, and out jumped Eva Thulin and two assistants. She greeted Anita with a grim smile.
‘Come on then, Anita, better show me the latest mess you’ve left.’
Anita dropped her cigarette and stubbed it out with her shoe. ‘Follow me, Eva.’
Anita led the forensic technician through the front door of the safe house. She hoped that once all this mess had been cleared up, the mess that she had created as a young and over-enthusiastic detective twenty-one years earlier could also be untangled. Linus Svärd deserved to be exculpated and Göran Gösta’s real murderer finally caught.
CHAPTER 45
The hospital was busy with staff scurrying about and patients wandering around the corridors. Anita was dog tired. She had spent half the night with Eva Thulin. They had to be thorough, as the whole business would be scrutinized to see if they had acted within official guidelines. It was odd how official guidelines didn’t seem to take into account single-minded, ex-SAS gunmen on a mission. One thing was for sure – that safe house wasn’t safe anymore.
After making enquires at the desk, Anita managed to find a doctor to report on the three officers who were being cared for. It had been quite a lively night for the A&E and theatre staff. Nina Kovac was fine and would be sent home later that day. Mikael Palm was out of danger, but would not be back at work for a very long time. As for Liv, the news was both good and bad. The good news was that she would live; the bad was that she might never walk again. Anita’s heart sank. She was told that her boyfriend was with her.
First, Anita sought out Danny Foster. Heaven knows what his mental state was after last night. She found him with a male nurse plumping up his pillows.
‘No chocolates?’ he asked with a grin.
‘Sorry. I’ll get some.’
‘Only joking.’ The nurse left.
‘How’s the shoulder?’
‘Hurts to buggery. But I’m alive.’ He stared at Anita, who wasn’t sure whether to pull up a chair or not. ‘Thanks to you.’
‘We all tried to help.’
‘I know. I’m grateful. How is that nice girl who came into my room? She was so calm.’
‘She’ll live.’ Anita didn’t want to go into any details. She was having enough trouble processing the doctor’s prognosis as it was.
‘I’ll testify, you know.’
Anita was surprised and relieved. ‘We’re already working on Tyrone Cassidy’s extradition. We can prove he was over here when the murder took place. Even his friends in the Met won’t be able to save him.’
‘I’m not doing it because of that. My chat with Mr Harmer. It was hard. He was crying. I realize I owe it to Jack and his family. And to the people here who helped me. Leif at the farm. He died because he was kind to me. And the police officers last night who were putting their lives on the line.’
‘They’re professionals.’
‘But they’ve got family. Friends. No one really cared a shit about me before I came here.’
Anita hoped this young man could achieve some peace of mind after all he’d been through over the last few months.
‘Maybe we’re turning you into a Swede,’ she said flippantly.
‘Do you know, I might just do that. I’ve nothing to go home to.’
‘I’m not happy about being here. She’ll kill us if she finds out.’
‘Oh, shut up, Anders! We’ve nothing to lose.’ It had taken a long phone call the night before to win Szabo round. Now he was having second thoughts. They were standing outside the door of Larissa Bjerstedt’s apartment in one of the new buildings overlooking the Outer Harbour. Larissa was expecting them, as Erlandsson had rung ahead and said that they needed to clear up a couple of things. She said she wasn’t due to go to work until lunchtime and they would find her at home.
When she opened the door, Larissa seemed nervous and distracted. They followed her into the living room and before she even offered them a seat, she said: ‘What are you doing to Ivar? I saw him on television yesterday. Is he under arrest?’
‘Yes. And the world will know it at a twelve o’clock press conference our boss is giving.’ It was Erlandsson speaking. She had told Szabo to let her do the talking. As he wasn’t comfortable with the whole venture, he didn’t object. ‘Do you mind if we sit down?’
Larissa waved at them to do so. They both sat together on a lime green IKEA sofa. The rest of the room looked as though it had been furnished on the same shopping trip, but there was some interesting artwork on the walls.
‘You’ve got the wrong person.’ Larissa was ringing her hands. ‘It’s not him.’
Erlandsson knew it wasn’t. Was this going to be a straightforward confession? ‘Who was it then?’
‘I gave you enough clues. It was Carina, of course.’
Anita stared through the glass in the door for several minutes, unsure whether she should go in. Liv was surrounded by a barrage of machinery, with wires and tubes everywhere. She was lying motionless. The only clue to her actually breathing was the squiggly lines on a medical monitor. Hakim was hunched over her, his body seemingly shrunk by the tragedy.
Tentatively, Anita opened the door. She could now see that Hakim was caressing Liv’s ring finger. He turned. He’d been weeping. She knew that nothing she could say would really help, but she tried anyway.
‘Liv’s a fine officer. Her first thought was to protect our witness. She’s a brave girl.’
‘I know.’ Tears once again were brimming in his dark, expressive eyes. ‘I can’t understand what she was doing there. She had a couple of days off.’
Anita swallowed. ‘I had to call her in.’
‘Call her in?’
Anita didn’t know where to look. ‘We were short-handed.’
The hurt and disbelief on his face said it all. He turned away from Anita to gaze at the prone body of his new fiancée, his back an admonishment. Anita left quietly.
‘Carina?’ Erlandsson repeated the name. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. Why do think she was so keen to give Ivar and myself an alibi?’
‘And why did she kill Göran?’
‘Because of the argument. We all heard it. She did it because she was protecting Lars-Gunnar against that snivelling creep.’
‘And the proof? She may have had a motive. And she may have had the means, but what about opportunity?’
Larissa was pacing the floor in front of them, blocking the view across to the Finnlines ship docked on the other side of the harbour.
‘I saw her.’
‘You saw Carina?’
‘That evening. She sneaked out of the house that evening.’
‘Where did you see her from?’
‘The kitchen.’
‘Are you sure she wasn’t just seeing how Lars-Gunnar was?’
‘She went straight past him.’
‘Why didn’t you mention this before? You could have said something twenty years ago.’
Larissa pressed her hands to her mouth and spoke though her fingers. ‘I don’t know.’
Erlandsson watched Larissa carefully before she spoke. ‘Tell you what puzzles me. Why did Göran say “burnt it” before he died? He was referring to the letter written by Björnstahl that Ivar had found on Malta and which was going to be the basis of his thesis, wasn’t he? Someone had told Göran about it, and he had burnt it in revenge for the way he thought Ivar and the rest of the group were treating him.’
‘Carina must have known about it. She must have told him.’
‘She didn’t know anything about it. But Linus did. And you did. Why did you tell Göran?’
‘I didn’t! I didn’t.’ She tugged at her hair as though she wanted to pull out an unruly clump.
‘We think you did. You were in the kitchen as you claimed. Cleaning up. Then you noticed one of the skewers was missing. It would only take
you a couple of minutes to get down to the beach. You found it next to the embers of the barbecue fire. That wasn’t all though, was it? The letter. You saw the remains of some burnt leaves of paper, and you knew exactly what they were – and who had put them on the fire. Then you must have seen Göran going into the chapel. You marched up to confront him, with the skewer in your hand. We don’t know what was said between you. We know the outcome, though. You got rid of the murder weapon and went back to the cottage. After that, you helped concoct your alibi, and you persuaded Ivar to interfere with the case by nobbling the prosecutor; the fact there was something he could be blackmailed over was a stroke of luck. You had to stop the case because if Linus had been grilled, the whole Björnstahl business would have emerged, and the investigating team would have got round to you eventually.’
Larissa looked as though she was about to swoon. She slumped into an easy chair, her face ashen.
‘The remarkable thing,’ Erlandsson went on, ‘is that, despite everything, you still love Ivar. You still want to protect him by blaming Carina. What is so sad about all this is that you made the ultimate sacrifice for the man you love, and you’ve never been able to tell him. Even when Ivar treated you badly, you still had to keep the one secret you couldn’t, you daren’t, share. It must have been eating you up all these years. But it’s not too late, you know; he might look at you differently if he knew what you’d done. This is your chance to save him.’
CHAPTER 46
It took Anita some time to drive the relatively short distance from the hospital to the polishus. The roads were frustratingly jam-packed. She needed a break. She needed that holiday that this case had denied her. She needed to spend time with Kevin. He was good at taking her mind off her worries. Mind you, he’d have his work cut out obliterating the image of Liv Fogelström being shot twice in front of her and the awful consequences of that moment.
She parked her car at the polishus. There were a few things to do before she could go home and have a long sleep. On the way home, she would call in and see her beautiful granddaughter; that would cheer her up. And she needed to tell Jazmin and Lasse about Liv. That wouldn’t be an easy conversation.
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