“What?”
“But it seems that she had a daughter,” Henrik continued, “but I don’t know if that’s true.”
“What?” Philip said again.
“A daughter, and we have reason to believe that her name is Sandra.”
“Sandra?” Philip repeated, putting his hands to his mouth. He looked at Henrik with a terrified expression. “You mean my colleague Sandra Gustafsson?”
“I don’t know,” Henrik said uneasily. “Do I?”
“Sandra Gustafsson’s mom lives in Fiskeby. She told me so. But I never met her mother...never been to her house...but how could she...”
Henrik looked at the man in front of him, who suddenly turned pale as a sheet.
“No!” he screamed. “Sandra is with...”
He threw himself toward the cell door, screaming at the top of his lungs: “Lina!”
* * *
What was Sandra doing? She’d been locked in the bathroom for a very long time now. Lina had heard the door close and lock, but she hadn’t heard it open again. Why had she been in there for so long?
She closed her eyelids and felt her eyes burn. She was exhausted.
“Sandra?” she called.
When she didn’t hear an answer, she got up slowly and walked toward the bathroom. She put her hand to her stomach unconsciously. It was hard to take in the fact that there was a life in there. She knew it would be a long time before she could feel a bump, but she found herself already longing for it.
The hallway was dark, and she was just about to turn on the light when she saw that the door to the bathroom was open.
“Sandra?” she called again, looking around. But still there was no answer.
She heard popping sounds ahead of her, and Lina Engström turned her gaze toward the living room before continuing farther into the hallway. The door to the kitchen was closed, and when she opened it she could feel how her heart was pounding in her chest.
Sandra stood at the kitchen counter and was picking something up.
Lina raised her eyebrows in confusion when she saw that it was a syringe.
“What are you going to do?”
“Don’t be scared,” Sandra said, turning around with the syringe in her hand.
“What are you doing?” she said, thinking that she should raise her arm to defend herself, but her muscles didn’t react as quickly as her brain did.
She stumbled backward, right into the white wall.
“Stop,” she panted.
“Calm down!” Sandra said.
She saw the syringe and tried to escape by throwing herself to the side, but it just caused her to bump into a lamp that fell to the floor.
“Stop, please stop!” she screamed, tripping on the rug. Her body yielded, and she tumbled over, hitting her head on the floor. She got up on all fours and tried to crawl toward the front door, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to escape.
Sandra went around her, crouched down, tilted her head to the side and looked at her. The syringe was close now, right next to her neck.
She felt the needle push through the skin and then pull back out.
Lina raised her trembling hand to her neck, stroked a number of times over the point of entry and saw the small droplets of blood on her fingertips.
She tried to say something, but her tongue felt strangely numb. She slowly looked up at Sandra, but it was hard to fix her gaze on anything. It felt like the floor was swaying.
She reached her hand out toward the door handle and got a hold of it, but her hand slipped. She tried to call for help.
A warm wave rushed through her body.
Her vision went black as she lost consciousness.
* * *
Henrik Levin ran through the hallway of the police station with his cell phone in hand. He tried to get a hold of Mia, and while it rang, he thought about Johan Rehn, who had been responsible for Erika Sandell’s operation. If he had performed it himself, the mistake presumably wouldn’t have been made—and three people would still be alive. But he hadn’t been the one who performed it. It had been the young Philip Engström instead.
Henrik thought about Sandra Gustafsson, the paramedic. Didn’t she have green eyes, emerald green?
When he came to the first step in the stairwell, Mia answered with a “Yep.”
“You sound out of breath,” she said.
“Yes. I have big news.”
“What? What’s happened?”
“If I believe Philip, Sandra Gustafsson’s mom lives on Leonardsbergsvägen in Fiskeby.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Erika Sandell’s daughter is the paramedic Sandra Gustafsson.”
“What the hell are you saying?” Mia said.
“Yes, what the hell am I saying?”
“So we’ll bring her in immediately, right?”
“Absolutely, but here’s the bad news. She’s at Philip’s house with his wife, alone. Can you have a patrol unit sent to their house right away?”
“Of course.”
“And can you check with Ola so that he gathers any and all information about Sandra Gustafsson? Then meet me down in the garage.”
Henrik hung up and kept running.
CHAPTER
THIRTY
SANDRA GUSTAFSSON!
Jana Berzelius could hardly breathe. She had hoped for an answer, but now that she knew it was Sandra’s DNA that Mother had had under her fingernails, she didn’t know quite what to do with that information. Everything was spinning, and she had to keep both hands on the wheel to steer straight ahead.
Paramedic Sandra Gustafsson had smothered her mother by placing her hand or hands over her nose and mouth. That much she understood. What she didn’t understand was the motive. Why had Sandra murdered her mother? It was incomprehensible.
The aggression made her neck itch, and her arms, her legs, everywhere. She wished more than anything that the woman were standing before her right now so she could force answers out of her using every method she knew before finally...
Her cell phone rang again. She grabbed it from her lap, saw that it was Henrik Levin’s number and answered.
“Jana speaking.”
“It’s not Erika,” Henrik Levin said. “We think it’s Sandra Gustafsson who...”
“Wait, wait a minute,” she interrupted. “What are you talking about?”
“Erika Silver, or Sandell as we now know is her name, is dead,” he said. “We found her dead in her residence today. I thought Gunnar had told you.”
“And now you’re saying that it’s Sandra who...”
“Sandra Gustafsson,” he said. “Philip Engström’s colleague.”
“Yes, I know who you’re talking about,” Jana said. “So she’s guilty of the murders, you mean?”
A thousand thoughts spun through her head.
“Yes!” Henrik said vehemently.
“So have you brought her in?”
“We think she’s at Philip Engström’s house.”
“Okay, so where is that?”
She tried to keep calm.
“At Jordbrogatan 209 in Skarphagen.”
“Are you completely certain that’s where she is?”
“Not completely,” he said.
“That’s why you’re calling me,” Jana said. “You need a search warrant to break down the door, if necessary?”
“That’s right,” Henrik said. “So I have your approval?”
“Yes,” Jana said. “That should be fine.”
“Good,” Henrik said. “We’re leaving for there now.”
“Call me when you’ve found her,” she said.
She waited to hear Henrik confirm before she hung up and let her hand sink back into her lap.
Sandra Gustafsson, she thought ag
ain.
She focused her gaze through the windshield and felt her muscles tense up. She knew that she should force herself to regain control, regulate her breath and manage the strong emotions that were welling up inside her.
A plan had begun to take shape in her head that was different from driving Danilo straight to Södertälje.
She looked at the clock and knew that the police were already on their way to Engström’s residence. But she could get there first.
With her heart pounding, she turned the wheel, tires squealing as she forced the car into a sharp U-turn.
“Where the hell are we going?” said Danilo, sitting up in the backseat.
“I have to take care of something first,” she said.
* * *
Philip Engström paced back and forth in his cell. He’d tried to convince the guard to open the cell door and had pounded on it until his hands were bruised and broken, but no one had cared, and the panic he felt was on the verge of crushing all of his hopes.
His head was throbbing with pain, and he sank to the floor, searching with his hand over his clothes after a pill to take. He pulled and fumbled at the fabric of his pockets in a sort of desperate hope to find something that could subdue his angst. But there was none to be found.
A string of saliva hung from his lip to his chin, and he wiped it away with the sleeve of his shirt.
Sandra, he thought. Could it really be true? The person who’d sat beside him in the ambulance so many times? Was she Erika Sandell’s daughter? His thoughts whirled around in his head.
When they had gone to help Shirin, she had already known what awaited them. When they’d gone to Johan’s, too. She had been there earlier, had tied them up, mutilated them, left them to bleed to death. And then, in cold blood, had acted like she knew nothing about it.
She’d just stood there and looked on.
How was that possible?
And how long had she been planning to avenge her mother? Many years? She’d searched for him, become his coworker, gotten to know him, gotten to know Lina; all of this with one goal in mind.
Revenge—for something she hadn’t even been a part of.
She had to be disturbed, deeply disturbed. There was no other explanation. Deeply disturbed, and he hadn’t had a clue.
She had even taken his wedding ring and put it at Katarina’s, but why? To frame him, place him at the scene? She must have taken it when I was asleep in the ambulance, he thought.
And now, she was with Lina at their house.
His heart began pounding harder in his chest, and the panic reared its ugly head again. He had begun thinking of the child in Lina’s belly. Just think if Sandra had done something to Lina, hurt her, or even...
He didn’t dare finish the thought.
* * *
Jana Berzelius crossed through the heavily trafficked highway toward Norrköping again. Ten minutes later, she reduced her speed as she arrived at Jordbrogatan in Skarphagen.
She quickly checked the street number for Philip Engström’s house and soon afterward caught sight of the house she was looking for.
“What the hell are we doing here?” Danilo said.
“Lie down,” she said with a harsh voice, “or you’ll never make it to Södertälje.”
Danilo lay down again, and she checked down the street for police cruisers and, more importantly, unmarked police cars. But it didn’t seem they had arrived yet. A guy with a stroller sat on a park bench down the street, but otherwise the area was empty.
A white Volvo was parked in the driveway of the house.
Carefully, she opened the glove compartment, took out the knife and felt Danilo’s burning gaze on her as she placed it at the small of her back.
She was just about to get out of the car when the front door of the house opened and a woman with light hair came out.
She presumed it was Sandra.
She walked with her back straight but was constantly looking around as if she were ready for someone to jump out at her.
Jana sank down in the seat, and although Sandra seemed to be on guard, she didn’t notice the woman in the black car who was spying on her.
What had happened?
Was Lina Engström still in the house?
Sandra went to the white Volvo, got in, started the engine and began backing out of the driveway.
Jana sat thinking for a moment before she slowly put her own car in motion and followed.
* * *
Henrik Levin gripped the steering wheel hard as he cursed the traffic heading out of town. It seemed as if miles and miles of Norrköping were now only comprised of one thing. Traffic. And traffic meant delays.
Next to him sat Mia, her cell phone to her ear.
“She’s not answering,” she said. “I’ve called four times now.”
“That’s not good,” Henrik said, wishing he could go even faster.
They went past the center of the Skarphagen neighborhood, turned into the residential area and drove past glassed-in balconies with wicker furniture, large trampolines and parked cars.
Henrik felt like it had grown warmer in the car. With his right hand, he tried to pull down the zipper of his jacket, but it wouldn’t budge. It had gotten caught, and the thought of not being able to cool off made him sweat even more.
“We’re almost there,” he said as if to himself.
Dusk had begun to fall when he turned in toward a garage and stopped. He left the car idling while he checked the area. A man was sitting on a park bench, rocking a stroller back and forth and looking at them with curiosity, and at the end of the street two kids around ten years old were kicking a soccer ball back and forth.
Four heavily armed officers were already in place: two in front of the house, two behind.
Henrik and Mia stepped out of the car and, crouching, approached Engström’s house. Both were ready with their service weapons when the officers got in position outside the front door.
Henrik saw Mia biting her thumbnail as she followed the situation.
Three muffled tones sounded when one of the officers rang the black doorbell. He pulled out his weapon, rang again and waited.
“Go in now,” said a voice. “Quickly, quickly, quickly.”
Mia stopped biting her nail.
The door opened.
Henrik saw the first officer gesture to the other to follow him and secure the line of fire to the right. The officer waited a few seconds, looked in quickly, then made the sign for countdown: three, two, one.
Then they stormed into the house.
Henrik listened as they moved quickly through the rooms and prepared himself for going in.
* * *
She knew that she didn’t have much choice now. Considering the situation, she was walking a very fine line. Yet Jana Berzelius had chosen to follow Sandra Gustafsson with Danilo Peña in the backseat. What’s more was the huge risk of having the police on her tail.
“Where the hell are we going?” Danilo said again. “Can’t you answer me?”
His voice was harsh, his eyes dark. But he couldn’t do anything other than lie in the backseat.
“I’m going to miss the meeting,” he said, “and I hope you understand what that means.”
“We have time,” she said. “But first I have to take care of something.”
Sandra had sped along the E22 toward Söderköping and forced Jana to run a red light at the crossing over the Göta Canal. After the crest of a hill, Sandra had quickly turned off, and now they were driving along a small gravel road straight into the forest.
She didn’t see the white Volvo anymore, and she slowed down and considered the road. It was narrow.
Following someone on small, deserted roads was risky. The risk of being seen was obviously much greater than on a well-traveled road. Sandra may alread
y have seen her, parked behind a hill or other cover, and was now standing there, waiting for her.
Or she was already far into the forest.
But I can’t lose her now, she thought, increasing her speed.
* * *
Henrik Levin and Mia Bolander looked into the house. They saw the ball caps and scarves hanging in the same place in the hallway and glanced around the sofa, books and computer in the living room.
The officers had secured the rooms.
The house was empty.
A broken lamp was on the floor. Bloody fingerprints were visible on the frame of the front door and around the lock, as if someone had fumbled for the handle.
Mia stepped out of the house again. Henrik followed her out and felt the sweat on his back. This time it wasn’t because of the warmth of the clothes or protective vest, but because neither Sandra nor Lina had been in the house.
He walked slowly to the car, sat down and pondered.
The blood on the door handle bothered him.
What had happened to Lina Engström?
He picked up his cell phone and called Gunnar.
“What’s going on?” Gunnar asked.
“Everything and nothing.”
“What do you mean, nothing? Was the house empty?”
“Yes, and it seems that Sandra has taken Lina somewhere. But in order to know where she’s gone, I have to know more about her.”
“I bet Ola has a whole lot to tell you.”
“Good,” Henrik said. “Make sure he calls me.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
LINA ENGSTRÖM WOKE UP. Her body tensed in panic when she felt the tape covering her mouth.
She breathed heavily through her nose when she realized she was in the backseat of a car. Carefully she moved her fingers, wanting to use her hands to take the tape off, but then she realized her wrists were tied tight behind her back with a zip tie.
With her eyes wide, she let her gaze travel to the driver’s seat and saw Sandra sitting there.
Where were they going? How long had they been driving?
She tried to figure out where they were, but how would she be able to do that? She had no idea if they had gone north or south. The only thing she knew was that they were now driving on a bumpy gravel road. She had hardly any doubt that they were traveling on a deserted road through the forest. She hadn’t heard any traffic.
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