EVERYTHING IS CONNECTED somehow, Jeanette Kihlberg thinks as she takes the lift down to the garage beneath police headquarters to get in the car and drive home. Even if her day’s work is over, she can’t stop thinking about all the peculiarities and strange coincidences.
Two girls, Madeleine Silfverberg and Linnea Lundstr?m. Their fathers, Per-Ola Silfverberg and Karl Lundstr?m. Both suspected paedophiles. Lundstr?m also suspected of the rape of Ulrika Wendin. And the paedophile’s wife, Charlotte Silfverberg, and the murdered Fredrika Grünewald went to school together in Sigtuna.
She drives towards the exit and waves at the guard. He waves back and raises the barrier. The strong sunlight dazzles her and for a moment she can’t see anything.
The same lawyer, Viggo Dürer, who also had Bengt Bergman as a client. And Bergman’s missing daughter, Victoria, had been at Sigtuna.
Then there was the deceased police commissioner, Gert Berglind, who had conducted interviews with both Silfverberg and Lundstr?m. All of them involved in the same foundation. Prosecutor von Kwist? No, Jeanette thinks, he isn’t involved. He’s just a useful idiot.
Per-Ola Silfverberg and Fredrika Grünewald murdered. Possibly by the same person.
Karl Lundstr?m dying in the hospital. Bengt Bergman dying in a fire with his wife, just like Viggo.
Accidents? Yes, according to the police investigations.
But Jeanette has her doubts. Someone means these people ill, and it’s got something to do with that foundation.
As she pulls up outside the house and gets out, Jeanette realises that she needs help. She feels a pressing need to talk to someone she trusts, someone she can be open and personal with. Sofia is the only person who meets those criteria.
A breeze is blowing the leaves of the large birch tree and sweeping along the wall of the house. It’s an unreliable, damp wind, and Jeanette takes a deep breath. Please, no more rain, she thinks, looking at the red, exhaust-fume evening sky over to the west.
The house is deserted and empty. On the kitchen table is a note from Johan telling her that he’ll be spending the night at David’s because they’re planning to have a LAN party.
A LAN party? she thinks, fairly sure that he’s explained what that means to her at some point. Is she such a bad mother that she doesn’t even keep up to date with her son’s leisure interests? Presumably it’s something to do with computers.
She gets the phone and dials Sofia Zetterlund’s number. It rings almost ten times before Sofia answers. Her voice sounds hoarse and strained.
‘Have you got time for a chat?’
Sofia doesn’t answer immediately. Then she clears her throat. ‘I don’t know. Is it important?’
Jeanette isn’t sure she’s picked the right time to call, but decides to adopt a gentle tone in an effort to soften her up. ‘Hard to say how important it is.’ She laughs. ‘?ke and Johan, as usual. Just stuff. I could do with someone to talk to, that’s all … It was good to see you last time, by the way. How are you getting on with you-know-what?’
‘I-know-what? What do you mean?’
It sounds like Sofia is giggling, but Jeanette thinks she must have heard wrong. ‘You know, what we talked about at my house last time. The perpetrator profile.’
No response. Jeanette thinks it sounds like Sofia is dragging a chair across the floor. Then the sound of a glass being put down on a table.
‘Hello?’ she says tentatively. ‘Are you still there?’
A few more seconds of silence follow before Sofia answers. Her voice is much closer now and Jeanette can hear her breathing.
Sofia is talking faster.
‘In less than a minute you’ve asked four questions,’ she begins. ‘Have you got time for a chat? How are you getting on with you-know-what? Hello? Are you still there?’ Sofia sighs, then goes on. ‘Here come the answers: I don’t know. I haven’t started yet. Hello yourself. I’m still here, where else would I be?’
She’s just teasing me, Jeanette thinks. ‘Do you want to meet up?’
‘Yes, I want to. I just need to sort this out. How about tomorrow evening?’
‘Yes, that would be great.’
Once they’ve hung up Jeanette goes into the kitchen and gets a beer from the fridge. She goes into the living room and sits down on the sofa and opens the bottle with her cigarette lighter.
She already knew that Sofia was a complicated person, but this is something else. Once again, Jeanette is forced to admit that she has an unhealthy fascination with Sofia Zetterlund.
It’s going to take time to get to know you, Sofia, Jeanette thinks, taking a deep swig of beer.
But I’m damn well going to give it a try.
Gamla Enskede – Kihlberg House
JEANETTE MEETS JOHAN in the doorway the next evening. He’s going to be spending the night at a friend’s again, to play video games and watch films. She tells him not to stay up too late.
He takes his bike and walks down the gravel path. When he disappears round the corner she goes inside, and from the living room window she sees him jump on the bicycle and head off down the road.
Jeanette breathes a deep sigh of relief. Finally alone.
She feels happy, and when she thinks about the fact that Sofia is coming over, she feels expectant.
She goes into the kitchen and pours herself a small whisky. She lets the yellow liquid wash over her tongue and burn her gullet. Feels the warming sensation in her chest.
After a shower she wraps herself in a big towel and looks at herself in the mirror. She opens the bathroom cabinet and takes out her make-up bag, which is covered by a thin layer of dust.
Cautiously she highlights her eyebrows. The lipstick is trickier. A smudge of bright scarlet ends up too high and she wipes it off with her towel and starts again. When she’s done she presses her lips together on a sheet of toilet paper. She carefully smooths out her skirt and strokes her hips. This is her evening.
Sofia looks shocked, and then bursts out laughing. ‘Are you serious?’
They’re sitting on opposite sides of the kitchen table and Jeanette has just opened a bottle of wine. She can still taste the sweet whisky on her tongue.
‘Martin? I called him Martin?’ Sofia looks amused at first, but her smile soon dies. ‘A panic attack,’ she says. ‘The same thing that happened to Johan, I imagine. He had a panic attack when he saw you get hit on the head with a bottle down below.’
‘A trauma, you mean? But how would that explain the gap in his memory?’
‘Traumas give people memory lapses. And the lapse usually includes the moments before the trauma occurred.’
Jeanette understands. A panic attack, a teenage boy full of hormones. Obviously everything has a chemical explanation.
‘So, these new cases?’ Sofia looks curious. ‘Brief me about where you are. What have you got?’
Jeanette spends twenty minutes telling Sofia about the two latest cases. Sofia listens intently, and nods with interest.
‘The first thing that strikes me about Fredrika Grünewald,’ Sofia says when Jeanette has finished, ‘is that faecal matter is involved. Shit, basically.’
‘And …’