The Rabbit Hunter

by Lars Kepler

  There’s a sudden bang and he falls sideways, gets up and realises that he’s drifted onto some rocks. A large wave foams over the railing, and he hits his head on the steel frame of the windshield before regaining his balance.

  He fumbles with the cables again and there’s a spark. He does it once more, and the engine comes to life.

  The boat lurches sideways. Water splashes in around his legs, and the hull buckles against the rocks, shedding dark-blue flakes of paint.

  He puts the boat in reverse and it floats reluctantly backward. The rocks scrape a silver groove along the painted side before the boat comes to a halt again.

  He screams so loud that his voice breaks.

  The next wave rolls in and pushes the boat forward with a shriek of metal, and white spray fills the air. He powers up the engine as the water turns and lifts the boat from the rocks. Moving backwards, he turns and steers back towards Värmdö again.

  Tomorrow he will be waiting outside Police Headquarters until the custody hearing is complete. If Oscar is released on bail, he’ll try to flee the country, either by car or boat. But everything will be far more complicated if he’s remanded in custody until his court date.

  81

  The Chicago FBI is headquartered in a shimmering glass complex in a drab part of the city.

  Saga is sitting with a Commissioner Lowe, in a conference room with a wall to wall blue and yellow carpet.

  Saga has apologised and explained that she didn’t see anyone waiting for her at the airport, and that she assumed they would be meeting up after her visit to the treatment centre.

  Since her visit to the rehab centre Saga has called Joona more than ten times, but his phone has been switched off.

  It’s evening now, and the office is almost empty. A detective from Washington comes into the conference room and puts her bag down on the table. The short woman with black eyes and plaited hair has a deep furrow across her brow.

  ‘Special Agent López,’ she says in English, without a trace of a smile.

  ‘Saga Bauer.’

  They shake hands and López unbuttons her jacket.

  ‘Our acting Defence Secretary was murdered in Sweden because you and your colleagues did such a terrible job.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that,’ Saga says.

  ‘What can you tell me about the terrorists?’ López asks, leaning back in her chair.

  ‘Speaking personally, I don’t think we’re dealing with terrorists. But obviously we’re following all possible lines of inquiry.’

  López raises her eyebrows sceptically.

  ‘Such as coming here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What did you find?’

  ‘It’s way above my pay-grade to determine the extent to which I can share information—’

  ‘I don’t give a damn about that,’ López interrupts.

  ‘I need to speak to my boss,’ Saga says.

  ‘Go ahead.’

  Saga gets out her phone and tries Joona again, and this time the call goes through.

  ‘Joona.’

  ‘At last,’ she says in Swedish.

  ‘Have you been trying to call?’ he asks.

  ‘I’ve left messages.’

  ‘My phone got wet,’ Joona explains.

  Saga looks at the whiteboard containing the erased remnants of red, green and blue writing as she explains that she, as a Security Police agent, absolutely can’t tell him that Grace was subjected to a brutal gang rape in the Rabbit Hole.

  ‘She remembers the names of the perpetrators … William, Teddy Johnson, Kent, Lawrence and Rex Müller.’

  ‘Rex Müller?’ Joona says. ‘She named him?’

  ‘Yes,’ Saga replies, and smiles at López, who stares back at her blankly.

  ‘Which means that Rex has been identified both as a rapist and the man who’s avenging the rape.’

  ‘What? What are you talking about?’ Saga asks.

  ‘I’ve arrested Oscar von Creutz … I want to question him again, but he told me what happened and it’s pretty clear that Rex wasn’t part of it,’ Joona says. ‘They locked him in the stable while they raped his girlfriend. Oscar’s convinced that Rex is the person who’s started taking revenge on them.’

  ‘So Rex didn’t participate in the rape?’ Saga says.

  ‘No.’

  López digs around in her bag and takes out dark lipstick.

  ‘And you don’t think he’s the murderer?’ Saga says.

  ‘He’s got enough money to pay someone to do it for him, but …’

  ‘None of this feels right,’ Saga concludes.

  ‘The murders have to be about what happened in the Rabbit Hole,’ Joona says. ‘We’ve got a spree killer who’s murdering the rapists one by one.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘He must have been there.’

  ‘A witness?’

  ‘Something else,’ he says. ‘Something else must have happened, something we don’t know about, some unknown factor, a third element.’

  ‘Who could it be?’ she asks.

  ‘We’ve got a victim and the perpetrators … but something’s missing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s what we need to find out.’

  ‘I’ll talk to Grace, and you talk to Rex and Oscar,’ Saga says.

  ‘There’s no time to lose.’

  Saga ends the call, puts her phone in her pocket and turns back towards López with a smile.

  ‘My boss says he’ll contact you tomorrow,’ she explains.

  ‘I understand Swedish,’ López says coolly in English.

  ‘Then you already know that,’ Saga replies, and gets up from her chair.

  The corner of López’s mouth twitches at her own bluff, then she nods.

  ‘Your boss is going to say that you should tell us everything you know.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Saga says.

  ‘I’ll pick you up from your hotel after breakfast.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Saga says, and walks out of the conference room.

  On the ground floor she hands her visitor’s badge back in at reception, then gets into her yellow car and starts to drive back to the exclusive rehab centre.

  The traffic in the suburbs has died down and the rainy Chicago sky looks like dark-grey clay by the time Saga parks the car on Timberline Drive.

  Five hundred metres away she can see the lights in the security lodge and the closed gates glinting in the floodlights’ sharp glare.

  Visiting hours are long over, and the patients are probably all in bed.

  She walks quickly along the road, but before she reaches the lights she jumps over the ditch and heads through the trees.

  The only sounds are the rain dripping through the leaves, and her own footsteps on the grass and dead leaves.

  She heads away from the security lodge, towards the fence, and holds the branches back as she tries to see through the trees.

  There isn’t time to wait until morning, she needs to get in and talk to Grace immediately. Because regardless of whether the killer has been hired or is acting on his own behalf, he clearly intends to kill everyone on the list as efficiently as possible. Both his motives and modus operandi are emotionally charged, and all the evidence suggests that he has a warped and chaotic personality.

  She wades through a grove of wet ferns, hears a shuffling sound behind her back, and looks up into the dark treetops to see a large bird moving through the upper branches.

  Saga hurries on into the dense darkness before she sees light up ahead.

  There’s no time to lose because this perpetrator has all the hallmarks of a spree killer.

  Each murder is merely a step along the way, a small part of a final solution.

  Saga emerges into an area where the trees have been cleared, and stops in front of the tall, black steel fence.

  Every few metres signs warn that trespassing is forbidden, and list the name of the security company patrolling the area.

  Saga runs over and
grabs one of the thinner poles that make up the fence, puts her foot on a yellow sign that says ‘Security cameras in operation’, and heaves herself up, then jumps down on the other side.

  A network of illuminated paths criss-crosses the park.

  Saga runs between the trees and follows one of them beyond the reach of the lights.

  If Grace hasn’t taken her medication, it might be possible to talk to her about what happened in the Rabbit Hole.

  Saga approaches the buildings and slows down.

  The lampposts cast a desolate glow over damp paths and wet park benches. The buildings are dark, their windows blind reflections.

  Leaves drip and rustle behind her.

  Someone is approaching. Saga steps back and sinks down behind the bushes.

  It’s a man from the security firm, checking that the doors of one of the buildings are locked. Saga hears him report back over his radio before he moves on, out of sight.

  82

  The park is silent, and everything is glowing gently in the muted light from the lampposts. Saga approaches one of the buildings, and stops to listen.

  Just as she starts walking again a light goes on in one of the windows, falling across the freshly mown grass.

  Saga moves cautiously into the cover of a large tree. There’s a snap as she stands on a dry branch.

  A naked woman appears in the window.

  She can’t be more than twenty years old.

  Saga watches her pale face as she stares out into the night before turning and tottering away from the window.

  Saga waits a little while, then hurries across the grass to the path that leads to Grace’s building.

  Only now does she notice that her jeans are soaked through to her knees.

  She’s close to the art studio now, and hears her own footsteps echo softly off its stone façade.

  Saga is planning to tell Grace that Rex didn’t participate in the rape, that he was locked up all night.

  Maybe that will prompt Grace to tell her exactly what happened.

  Maybe Grace will be able to identify the unknown factor that they need.

  Saga has just started to walk cautiously towards the corner of the building when she hears giggling behind her.

  She turns around.

  A woman in a thin nightie is standing behind her with a blonde wig in her hand.

  ‘My little doll!’ she says, sounding astonished.

  The woman’s face is oddly unguarded, almost boundless in its expressiveness. Saga moves slowly away but the woman follows her.

  ‘I had to do it, Megan,’ she says, making a sad face. ‘Grandpa said I couldn’t have you.’

  ‘You think—’

  ‘I swear,’ she interrupts sternly. ‘Ask him yourself. He’s standing over there, under that tree.’

  The woman points nervously towards the shadows of the park.

  ‘OK,’ Saga says, and turns to look.

  ‘He just hid!’ she gasps.

  ‘I have to go,’ Saga says softly.

  ‘Come on,’ the woman hisses, and starts walking towards the park. ‘We’ll run away together … heedless of all danger, rushing through the forest …’

  Saga hurries off in the other direction, along the side of the building, and glances back to see that the woman has stopped on the path.

  Saga runs across an open space, away from the studio and towards the building where she met Grace earlier.

  The entrance is lit up but all the windows are dark. Saga walks up to the door and tries it, but it’s locked. She looks in through the glass, sees the dark cafeteria and the glow of the snack-vending machine.

  She startles when she hears an unsettling noise behind her – like bare feet running across a wet floor – and quickly looks around.

  There’s no one there. Everything is peaceful: the stillness of the pond, the park with its dripping leaves.

  Saga hurries around the building and walks across the grass towards a park bench next to a large rhododendron, then stops to figure out which window is Grace’s.

  She hears manic laughter and darts into the shadows, then sees the woman with the wig hiding behind a tree, waving in her direction.

  Saga stands motionless and watches as the woman smiles and turns away, rubs her nose hard, then wanders off into the park.

  Saga quickly drags the bench under the window, then climbs up and tries to see into Grace’s room.

  Between the curtains she can just make out a bedside table with a porcelain musical box on it.

  Saga barely has time to register the figure rushing towards her before she feels a jolt of pain in her back, like the bite of a raging dog. Her legs buckle and she tumbles sideways, hitting her chest on the arm of the bench and letting out a groan.

  Her back is throbbing painfully, her body is jerking spas-modically, and she doesn’t know how she ended up on the ground.

  She opens her eyes and stares up at the dark, rain-filled sky, assuming she’s lost consciousness.

  There’s another burst of pain, like someone kicking her repeatedly in the side, and her vision fades, but she can feel herself being dragged by the legs across the path and out onto the wet grass.

  Saga gasps for air, opens her eyes and sees Mark, the guard from earlier, leaning over her with his Taser in his hand.

  He’s breathing hard and has a fevered look in his eyes as he stares at her.

  She tries to raise one hand to push him off, but has no strength in her muscles.

  ‘I’m a big boy, a nice boy too, but the rules say I have to check if you’re armed.’

  Saga’s heart starts to beat faster as he unzips her jacket. He finds her phone and throws it hard against the nearest tree. It shatters, and the pieces fly out across the grass.

  He leans over her again and shoves his cold hand under her shirt, beneath her bra and pinches one of her nipples hard.

  ‘Nothing here,’ he mumbles, and pulls his hand out again.

  He’s breathing hard through his half-open mouth as he holds the Taser to her neck and unbuttons her jeans. She manages to raise her right hand and grab the sleeve of his uniform, and tugs at it feebly.

  ‘Stop,’ she snarls.

  ‘I need to look for concealed weapons,’ he says.

  Mark starts to pull down her jeans and underwear, but then his radio crackles. He rests one hand on her chest and presses, forcing the air out of her lungs as he stands up.

  ‘We’ve got an intruder – get the police out here,’ he says, walking into the light beneath one of the lamps.

  Saga tries to pull her trousers back up as she sees two guards running towards them from between the buildings, and two nurses approaching anxiously from the other direction.

  83

  The day after Joona arrested Oscar von Creutz a short custody hearing is held in Police Headquarters.

  Oscar sits in silence between his defence lawyers, looking up at the high windows. The sun emerges from behind the clouds and makes the dust particles in the air sparkle.

  As if from a great distance he hears the prosecutor request that he be remanded in custody on suspicion of kidnapping, attempted murder and aggravated assault.

  They’re serious charges, but he knows he can be held only if there’s a risk he might reoffend, destroy evidence or attempt to evade justice.

  When the court decides that Oscar should be granted bail he hides his smile behind his hand. It occurs to him that he ought to say thank you, but he doesn’t. He just walks towards the exit with his lawyers.

  ‘Now you don’t have to worry about this any more,’ one of them smiles when they stop in the doorway.

  ‘Thanks, Jacob,’ Oscar replies quietly, shaking their hands.

  His legal team have already put together a defence plan if the prosecutor can’t be persuaded to drop the preliminary investigation.

  During Oscar’s first meeting with his lawyer, a doctor was present, and took eight blood samples from him. They weren’t going to be sent to a laboratory, but c
ould later be used during any ensuing trial.

  Seeing as they know precisely which substances the prosecutor’s office tests for, they’ll base their defence on the substances the prosecution is guaranteed to have missed.

  The fact that those substances were never in Oscar’s blood is irrelevant.

  The plan is to fabricate a convincing picture of illness, where different doctors have prescribed different medications without checking the side-effects and their interaction. The lawyers will be able to prove that Oscar’s temporarily confused and erratic behaviour was the result of that interaction.

  Oscar doesn’t care about the trial. He’s paid to be freed because he can’t just sit in a cage waiting to be shot.

  Prison can’t offer him any protection.

  That’s why he’s thinking of leaving the country and staying away as long as it takes for the police to catch the murderer.

  But Oscar doesn’t know that the Rabbit Hunter is waiting for him outside Police Headquarters, watching as he walks away from his lawyers.

  He doesn’t notice someone follow him, walk past him through the park, and overhear him call a taxi to the Silja Line terminal in Värtahamnen.

  During the drive to the harbour Oscar books a cruise on the M/S Silja Symphony, pays for the taxi in cash, then checks in and goes on board.

  He finds his cabin in the back, a suite with sloping glass windows between sea and sky. He locks the door carefully and gives the handle an extra tug just to make sure. As soon as he gets to Helsinki he’s planning to catch the ferry to Tallinn, then hire a car and drive south through eastern Europe, all the way down to southern Turkey.

  Oscar gets up and opens the minibar door, which rattles with bottles. He takes out two small brown bottles of whisky, fills a glass and then sits by the window and looks down at the long line of vehicles slowly rolling onto the ferry.

  Rabbits are nervous creatures. They huddle up; sitting motionless they’ll remain unseen, but they can’t handle it if the hunter stops to wait them out.

  The silence makes them panic and start running, because they think they’ve been spotted.