He knew that Jenny Levin had flown home to Gotland. On the afternoon of New Year’s Eve, after he had taken Agnes back to the clinic, he’d returned to the modelling agency’s flat on Kungsholmen. He had a few hours before he and Agnes would eat dinner together.
He rang the bell and a Finnish girl opened the door. That was a serious disappointment. He felt both foolish and angry. But, luckily, he quickly regained his composure and pretended to be a friend of Jenny’s. The Finnish girl told him that she’d left for Gotland a few hours earlier. That definitely complicated matters. He’d be forced to go there and rent a car again, but what the hell. As long as he was able to complete his plan.
He had put the last letter addressed to the magazine in the post box outside the airport. Today, there was no postal delivery, so it wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow. He had no intention of carrying out his threat, but he wanted to make those monsters suffer a little longer. That bitch Fanny Nord was going to shit her pants again. And she deserved it, even though he’d changed his mind when it came to her. He had other things to think about now.
Fury surged inside him when he recalled what Agnes had told him about the photo shoot with Fanny Nord. That woman had kept complaining about how fat she was until Agnes finally broke down. And that disgusting Markus Sandberg had kept snapping pictures as he added his own criticisms. He complained and grumbled about Agnes’s figure, but that hadn’t stopped him from fucking her. What a scumbag. That man got what he deserved.
At first, he’d been furious and disappointed that the bastard hadn’t had the sense to die. And he was angry at himself for not making sure that he’d finished Sandberg off. But, later, he’d read in the magazine about the injuries the photographer had sustained – the article said that he would probably suffer terrible pain for the rest of his life, that he was badly disfigured, and that he would never be able to work again. That made him feel like things had turned out even better than planned. That conceited, pompous idiot who had criticized Agnes’s appearance was going to experience at first hand how it felt to look like a monster. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t have asked for a better outcome.
He looked up from the newspaper and checked his watch. The minutes were crawling by. He had arrived much too early. The airport was practically deserted. Not many travellers on New Year’s Day. He went back to reading the article and saw Robert Ek’s sunny smile in a photo taken at some flashy fashion show. You haven’t got much to smile about any more, he thought harshly. He grinned to himself as he thought about how easy it had been to lure Ek to the agency. Offer him a little young flesh and the man came running with drool running down his chin. He felt sick when he thought about what that pig had done to Agnes, threatening not to represent her any more if she didn’t lose weight. He remembered the fear in Ek’s eyes when he turned up at the agency on that night. He’d felt a thrill of excitement as he hacked away with the axe. It was liberating to do the job properly. And, this time, he’d made sure that his victim was dead. Now there was only one thing left to do in order to complete his mission. Then Agnes would be avenged.
She and her father’s girlfriend, Katarina, were the first people who had meant anything to him since his mother had died. He twisted the new bracelet on his wrist. Katarina had even dropped by the clinic on New Year’s Eve and left him the bracelet as a gift. She really cared about him. She was almost like a mother to him. He hoped that Agnes would eventually accept Katarina. He loved both of them. During the past three months, since Agnes had been admitted to the clinic, he’d spent many hours with Katarina. And it felt like a genuine friendship had developed between them. They had hit it off from the very beginning, and it didn’t take long before they could talk about every imaginable topic. Sometimes, it almost felt as if they were mother and son. Katarina didn’t have any children of her own.
She had sympathized with his outbursts about the modelling agency and the cold-hearted people who worked there, and how they had slowly but surely broken Agnes down. She never tired of listening to him, and she added her own comments and offered insightful advice, which he would never have been able to think up on his own. Katarina was a smart woman. She had made him believe in himself and realize that he shouldn’t simply accept the shit that was happening all around him. She had convinced him that he had the power to change things. That he was capable of putting things right.
The rest of the world could go to hell. Including that Jenny Levin. She had some nerve turning up at the clinic. She’d come waltzing in, wearing her trendy jeans and those bright-red boots. Tossing her hair about and tilting her head and pretending that she cared. That was her way of mocking them. ‘Look at me. See what a success I am.’ It was no wonder Agnes got upset. As if she hadn’t suffered enough already. It had taken several hours to calm her down.
He had decided to make Jenny his last victim. Fanny Nord had no idea how lucky she was. Taking that trip to Thailand had saved her life.
He sighed with relief when the departure time finally appeared on the board. The flight to Visby would leave on schedule, and he could now begin his journey towards the end. After that, everything would be fine.
THE BODY HAD been left in the bed while they waited for the medical examiner. Since the death had occurred unexpectedly on a hospital ward, and the patient had suffered from psychiatric problems, it was routine to summon the ME. The doctor on call lived close by and would arrive shortly.
Rikard Karlström had been notified and would be taking the next flight to Stockholm from Visby. Knutas dreaded seeing Agnes’s father under such terrible circumstances. Yet he wanted to stay in the clinic to speak to the ME. The staff told him that Agnes had gone to bed after watching the fireworks at midnight, and that she’d actually had a few sips of champagne. She had seemed fine when she went to her room. In fact, she had been unusually cheerful, almost lively. The nurses who had worked the evening and night shifts had all gone home before her death was discovered.
‘It’s so sad,’ said Supervisor Vanja Forsman. ‘I don’t believe she would kill herself. Agnes had finally started to get better, and she was responding to the treatment. We had hopes that she would recover, even though she was still very ill. No, I don’t believe it. She wouldn’t have committed suicide.’
She shook her head and blew her nose loudly.
‘What else could it be?’ asked Knutas cautiously.
‘Her heart must have stopped. Patients with anorexia have such weak hearts. All their organs shrink from malnutrition – the brain, lungs, heart, everything. Most likely, her heart simply gave out. But it’s awful, considering that she was doing so much better. She’s seemed calmer ever since she came back from Gotland. She’d gone there for Christmas, to be with her father. And she was so happy when she came back, and—’
They were interrupted by the arrival of the ME.
It was a woman about the same age as Knutas. He hadn’t worked with her before. They briefly introduced themselves.
‘I’d like to see the patient’s case file,’ she said to a nurse as they headed for Agnes’s room. ‘You can come with me, if you like,’ she said, giving Knutas a nod.
When the sheet covering the body was pulled back, Knutas couldn’t help gasping. Agnes was so small. And so young. She was the thinnest girl he’d ever seen, lying there in her childish pink nightgown with a heart on the front. Her ribs were clearly visible under the fabric. Her emaciated arms lay at her sides. Her face was beautiful but rigid, and her skin had a greyish pallor, lacking all lustre. Her eyes were closed, her cheekbones unnaturally pronounced. It was a child’s face. Knutas could have cried, but he pulled himself together. He sat down on a chair in the corner and let the ME do her job.
She worked in silence, lifting the eyelids, checking inside the mouth. Knutas didn’t say a word. After a few minutes, a nurse brought the case file.
‘Was the patient’s pulse, temperature and blood pressure checked during the past few days?’ asked the ME, keeping her eyes fixed on the body.<
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‘Yes,’ replied the nurse.
‘And there was nothing out of the ordinary?’
‘No, not that I can see.’
‘What about her blood? When was the last blood test done?’
‘Yesterday.’
‘And how were her electrolyte levels? Sodium, potassium, calcium and phosphate?’
‘Totally normal.’
The ME slowly straightened up and took off her glasses. She turned to look at Knutas.
‘Agnes has pinpoint bleeding in the whites of her eyes, which indicates a strong death struggle and deep breathing. There are also subtle injuries in the oral cavity. She has discrete haemorrhaging from her teeth on the inside of her lips and millimetre-sized ruptures on the folds of the mucus membranes inside her mouth as a result of pressure.’
‘Pressure?’ Knutas repeated, puzzled.
‘Naturally, I don’t want to draw any hasty conclusions, but there is every indication that Agnes was murdered.’
KNUTAS IMMEDIATELY SOUNDED the alarm and contacted his colleagues in both Visby and Stockholm. According to the ME, the nature of Agnes’s injuries indicated that she had been smothered, most probably with a pillow that was pressed over her face. The ward had been cordoned off, and all staff members had been summoned for questioning. The interviews would be handled on site, and no one was allowed to leave the building.
The crime scene technicians inspected Agnes’s room thoroughly, paying particular attention to her pillow. Suffocation with a pillow was especially hard to prove, but if they found the slightest evidence, that would be enough. There might be fibres, skin scrapings, or something else left by the perpetrator on the pillow, as well as saliva or blood from the victim.
Knutas accompanied the supervisor back to her office and shut the door. Vanja Forsman was visibly shocked and upset that a murder had occurred on her watch.
‘According to the ME, Agnes died sometime between one and five in the morning,’ Knutas began. ‘How could an unauthorized individual get into the ward?’
‘All the doors are locked. No one is admitted without permission, and there were no outsiders here yesterday. Not during the day and not at night.’
‘Who was in the clinic last night?’
‘Five patients and the night shift. They start at nine o’clock. There’s an overlap of an hour before the evening shift ends. Well, they’re supposed to stay until ten, but they can leave as soon as they’re finished. Yesterday, most of them were in a hurry to go since it was New Year’s Eve.’
‘So who was duty during the night?’
The supervisor looked through her lists.
‘Let me see now. Elisabeth, Ulrika and Kerstin. Per was here, too, but he left early, around one in the morning. He actually had yesterday off, but he came over to take care of Agnes all day. And he stayed on in the evening, too.’
‘Why is that?’
‘He’s Agnes’s personal nurse. Every patient is assigned a special contact, a personal nurse, as we call them. Someone they have regular meetings with to discuss the treatment; someone they can turn to with any problems or if there’s something they want to change. Per asked to take care of Agnes on New Year’s Eve, as his only patient. He did it voluntarily, and without pay. She wasn’t doing very well, you see.’
‘I thought you said that she was getting better.’
‘She was, but the day before yesterday she had some unexpected visitors, and that threw her off balance.’
‘Who came to see her?’
‘An old friend from Gotland, and she brought along that famous model, Jenny Levin.’
Knutas looked stunned.
‘Jenny Levin?’
‘Agnes worked for the same agency, you know. That place that’s been so much in the news lately … What’s it called? Fashion, something, or—’
Knutas interrupted her.
‘What happened during their visit?’
‘They were all having coffee in the day room and everything seemed fine. But the nurse told me that, all of a sudden, Agnes had some sort of fit. I wasn’t there myself. She started crying and screaming, and there was a big scene. Agnes was completely beside herself, and Per was the only one who could calm her down.’
The supervisor suddenly looked uncomfortable.
‘He sat with her until she fell asleep,’ she said hesitantly. ‘As I mentioned, they had a special relationship.’
‘What does this Per look like?’ asked Knutas.
‘Just a minute. I’ll go and fetch the staff manual.’
A few moments later, she was back.
‘Here he is. Per Hermansson.’
The man was staring solemnly at the camera. He looked about twenty-five, thirty at most. Shaved head, yet that was a popular style these days. A slightly babyish face, very fair skin, clean-shaven, nice, big blue eyes, although there was something a bit preoccupied about his expression. As if he were thinking about something else and didn’t really give a damn about the photographer. Red T-shirt, denim jacket. An earring in one ear.
Shaped like a little beetle.
TINA LEVIN WAS sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee when Jenny came downstairs. Everyone seemed to be sleeping in, and she had spent the whole morning in her room, watching old episodes of Desperate Housewives on DVD. That was about the level of what she could handle right now.
‘Happy New Year, sweetheart. How are you?’
Tina got up to give her daughter a hug.
‘Okay. Happy New Year.’
Jenny looked around the kitchen, which was cluttered with dirty plates and glasses.
‘Wow, what a mess.’
‘I know. At five in the morning a few people got hungry. We’ll clean up later. Have you eaten lunch?’
‘Uh-huh. I had a few sandwiches while I was watching TV. I was thinking of taking the dogs for a walk. I need some fresh air. I’ll go out of my mind if I stay indoors any longer.’
In reality, she was longing for a smoke, but she kept that to herself.
‘I’ll come with you.’
Tina was already getting up from the table.
‘No,’ said Jenny, and it sounded harsher than she’d intended. ‘I mean, I’d really rather be alone. I need some time to think, Mamma.’
‘Are you sure?’ Tina said uneasily.
‘Yes. And don’t worry. I’m just going for a short walk, and I’ll have the dogs with me.’
‘Okay. There’s still a lot to clean up in here, and in the barn, too. And we have to feed the sheep.’
‘Did you have fun at the party?’ asked Jenny, trying to make up for her curt response.
‘Yes, it was a big success. I hope we didn’t disturb you too much.’
‘Not at all. I fell asleep in front of the TV.’
‘Did you see the fireworks?’
‘Yes, I did. From my window. What’s the temperature outside?’
‘Minus ten. Can you believe how cold it’s getting?’
‘It’s incredible.’
Jenny went to the front hall and put on her long down jacket. Then she wound a heavy scarf around her neck several times. She rummaged in a drawer to find a pair of Lovikka mittens, and checked her pockets to make sure the pack of cigarettes and lighter were still there.
‘I’ll help you later, after I get back.’
‘You don’t need to do that, honey. Johan and Emma are here. They’ll help out when they get up.’
Jenny whistled and the dogs instantly came running.
‘Oh, by the way,’ said Tina, ‘leave Semlan here. We’re going to need her. A sheep has wandered off somewhere.’
‘Okay.’
Jenny took Sally with her and shut the front door in the face of the older sheepdog, who whined with disappointment.
The cold struck her like an icy wall as she stepped outside. It was cloudy, with a light wind, but she had on warm clothes and the air felt crisp and fresh. She glanced over towards David’s farm. She would have liked to go and visit, but he’d been out
partying like everyone else and had sent her a text at midnight. She didn’t want to disturb him. He might not even have slept at home.
Instead, she headed in the opposite direction, waving to her father, who was sitting on the rumbling tractor. Then she continued down the lane to the road. The young dog, Sally, happily dashed about in the snow, rolling around and burrowing tunnels into the drifts. Jenny couldn’t help smiling at the dog’s obvious delight. It was unusual to have such a heavy snowfall on Gotland. Luckily, her father had cleared the road. Otherwise, no one would have been able to get through. High banks of snow towered up on both sides.
Her mood was already improving. No doubt everything would work out in the long run. Given Markus’s situation, she knew he would never fully recover. Their relationship was over, but they could still be friends. Hopefully, he would regain his ability to speak.
Most importantly, the police needed to catch the murderer, who was still on the loose. A shiver raced down her spine when she pictured the man with the doll again. She hardly dared think that he might be the killer. No matter what, she just needed to get away until the police caught the man. Fortunately, she was due to leave on her next trip abroad very soon. She would talk to the agency and ask them to change her tickets so she could leave from Visby, then change planes in Stockholm to fly on to New York. There was no way she wanted to set foot in that flat on Kungsholmen again.
It started snowing. She had turned on to a smaller road, heading towards the woods. She’d been so lost in her own thoughts she almost forgot why she’d come out here. By now, she was far enough away from the farm not to be seen and she dared smoke. She took out the pack of cigarettes, looking for somewhere to sit down. For some reason, she didn’t like to smoke while she walked. She wanted to sit down and smoke in peace and quiet.
Up ahead, next to the road, she saw a dilapidated farm. From what she remembered, no one lived there any more. She decided to sit on the rickety front porch. It should hold her, even though the boards looked like they might be starting to rot through. On the porch, she would also have a roof over her head, and that suited her perfectly, since it was now snowing harder. She trudged over to the farmhouse and cautiously went up the crooked stairs. The porch swayed alarmingly under her feet. She sank down on to a wooden bench and lit a cigarette, sighing with pleasure as the smoke filled her lungs. Exactly what she needed. The dog disappeared around the side of the house.
The Dangerous Game Page 27