SANNA WAS JOLTED AWAKE by the persistent ringing of her alarm clock, which she had set to half past six. Her face twisted into an ugly grimace as she slammed down the button. She turned over and drew the covers back over her head. It was the start of the week, the first day back at work after a much needed, extended leave of absence.
Almost four months had passed since Sanna Johansson had finished working on the infamous Svenson case – a complicated murder investigation, which had drawn to a close under shocking circumstances. A denouement that had given her pause for thought. She needed to reconsider her options, re-evaluate her life and give herself time to figure out her future.
Despite her relatively youthful thirty-five years Sanna was an experienced and esteemed detective. She was recognized for her particular skill at recreating the sequence of events in murder enquiries and had a reputation for being tough, committed and uncompromising. However, beneath her confident exterior lurked a damaged soul, a childhood characterized by violence and abuse
For the first two months of her leave, Sanna had taken it very easy. Naturally, memories of her younger sister kept invading her thoughts. Malin had chosen to leave this world while Sanna was consumed by the ongoing Svenson investigation. Her sudden death was devastating, it was as if a chasm had opened up beneath her feet, yet she had been forced to steel herself and carry on working as if nothing had happened.
It was not until her enforced sabbatical that Sanna finally found the time to mourn. She had never imagined life without her – Malin was her everything, and now she was gone.
The only activities that could provide Sanna with the sense of equilibrium she craved were weight training and running, both of which she did regularly. Without these diversions she would probably have sunk into a deep depression as she battled against the nightmares that had persecuted her as a child and were still haunting her.
She was thirteen years old when her mother had committed suicide, following years of violence and abuse. Sanna could still see the expression on her three-year old sister’s face as she clasped their mother’s hand whose body lay indurate in the bath of crimson water.
Sanna and her siblings suffered long-term repercussions as a result of their dysfunctional childhood. Her elder brother, Marcus, was hooked on tranquilizers. But it was Malin who had fared the worst. She had slipped into a state of apathy, which from a medical standpoint was incurable. Since the day she had watched her mother die, Malin had never uttered a coherent sentence. After six months at a treatment centre she had been moved to the psychiatric ward at Uppsala University Hospital, where she stayed until her death six months ago. She was twenty-five years old.
Sanna closed her eyes again. She had no desire to get up. With a loud sigh, she reluctantly tossed aside the duvet and slid out of bed. She staggered to the bathroom, clambered into the bath and turned on the shower, forgetting to let the hot water run first. As the ice-cold water cascaded over her body she swore under her breath and gritted her teeth. Gradually the water warmed up and she delighted in the sensation of the warm water against her skin.
Fifteen minutes later she climbed out of the tub, grabbed the white bath towel that was hanging on a hook nearby and wrapped it around her body. The memory of her recent holiday in the sun was etched on her skin. She dried off in front of the mirror and admired her fit, suntanned physique.
The long sabbatical had been starting to grate on her nerves, her mood undulating like a roller coaster. She couldn’t continue like this. She needed to make a radical change in her life – and soon.
Sanna had toyed with the idea of changing her job but Kalle’s frequent phone calls encouraging her to return to work as soon as possible had been unsettling. It was Kalle who had originally advised her to take a trip abroad and move to a new apartment, stressing the need to make radical changes in her life. Moreover, he had also persisted in telling her not to put her professionalism at risk.
Of course, it wasn’t just Kalle and his wise words that had convinced her. She decided to sell her old apartment, but since she still had a penchant for Södermalm she ended up buying another apartment on Götgatan, just a couple of blocks from her old one.
Directly after the move and before settling into her new home she booked a flight to the Black Sea in Turkey, where she had a number of close friends with whom she had maintained regular contact via Facebook.
She smiled, slipped on her dressing gown and went to the kitchen to prepare a nourishing breakfast. She was starving.
Sanna studied the contents of her fridge. She took out an egg and some ham, cheese and tomatoes but when she realised it was getting late and there was no time to boil the egg she reluctantly put everything away again and focused on preparing herself a chai-latte instead. While waiting for the kettle to boil she made herself a large sandwich, which she munched as the tea was brewing, and then poured the cinnamon and clove smelling drink into a thermos.
Forty-five minutes later she was ready to leave for work. Back to reality.
IT WAS EIGHT THIRTY when Detective Chief Inspector Henrik Blom hung up the phone. He let out a deep sigh and made a note in his agenda. It had been a hectic start to autumn and he had been particularly irritated by the fact that, due to Sanna Johansson’s absence, he had been called in to help out on several occasions. Typically, crooks were always more active when police officers were on holiday.
He picked up his coffee cup but realised it was already empty. It was his third so far. He shook his head resignedly.
Blom was a morning person. He liked to arrive at work well before anyone else and revel in the sheer pleasure of drinking a delicious cup of freshly brewed coffee alone and undisturbed. He had bought a new espresso machine so that everybody could satisfy their caffeine cravings with real coffee instead of the substandard brew from the vending machine.
He strolled to the kitchenette to fix himself another espresso. On the way back to his office it occurred to him how much he was looking forward to things finally returning to normal. He had been counting the days; Sanna’s leave was finally over and she would turn up any moment now.
Just as he was conjecturing about Sanna’s imminent arrival she appeared in the corridor, strolling towards him with an easy, relaxed stride.
Blom hurried over to greet her. “Hi Sanna! Back from holiday already?” he asked with a muted smile.
“You mean my leave of absence,” replied Sanna who was puzzled and more than a little sceptical about his friendliness.
Blom laughed with characteristic gusto. “Yes, yes, you’re right about that.”
She studied him. He hadn’t changed. He was an average looking person of stocky build who moved like an old man and appeared much older than his forty years.
Sanna smiled to herself. Blom was just being his normal ironic self. She relaxed.
“Time goes quickly when you’re having fun,” she continued jocularly.
He was about to respond when he saw Kalle Karlsson walking towards them with a wide grin on his face.
“Welcome back Sanna,” said Kalle looking her up and down. “You look great!”
Sanna’s suntan and relaxed demeanour was visible proof that she had enjoyed herself. She was still basking in the memory of her holiday, which had only ended a few days ago.
She smiled contentedly.
It had been an unusually hot summer in Turkey and despite spending most of her time at the beach under a parasol, she had developed a nice tan. She had taken advantage of the secluded environment and immersed herself in a book that had nothing at all to do with murder. From time to time she had dozed off or just lain there listening to the waves. It was her first trip abroad since Malin’s illness. When Malin was alive she had always planned her holidays around her sister’s needs. But now she was free. A freedom that at first had felt like a burden but after six months she was finally ready to move on with her life and focus on the future.
“How have you been?” she asked.
“You two will have to catch up later, we’ve got a lot to do,” interrupted Blom, waving a blue paper folder. “I’ll see you in the conference room – the morning meeting starts in five minutes.”
Sanna and Kalle chatted as they walked towards the conference room together. He had changed. There was a sadness in his eyes. His partner Mia had chronic health problems and he had sole responsibility for taking care of the children when they were sick, which was quite often. If it wasn’t Liza who was unwell, it was Pontus.
“Welcome back!” said a man in passing.
Sanna smiled. She looked around her. Everything was so familiar, yet different nonetheless. She had been away from work too long. A couple of officers looked at her curiously before breaking into welcoming smiles.
Sanna swung around at the sound of a familiar laugh and saw Cecile Thorén and Javier Mendez walking through the open plan office towards her. She couldn’t help noticing how different they were. Thorén was a cheerful and outspoken Scanian, tall with an almost athletic build and confident stride, looking every bit the self-assured woman that she was. Javier, on the other hand, was of average build and, at hundred and seventy centimetres, at least ten centimetres shorter. Despite his Latin blood he was placid and rather reserved. They were both experienced and competent detectives who had been a huge asset while working in Sanna’s team on the Svenson case.
“Welcome back Sanna!” said Thorén with a broad smile, giving her a hug.
“Long time no see,” said Javier, holding her elbow affectionately as they shook hands.
Sanna smiled to herself. Nothing had changed. It was good to be back.
BLOM STRODE INTO THE ROOM and surveyed the assembled group. Sanna Johansson, Kalle Karlsson, Cecile Thorén and Javier Mendez followed behind him. Sanna gazed slowly around the room and smiled at each of her colleagues before sitting down.
Blom cleared his throat and began the meeting with information about a potential new murder case. The local Värmdö police had found a body in an abandoned summer cottage on the island of Ingarö.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why we’re taking this on when we’re already up to our necks with other investigations but our colleagues at Värmdö think it might be something for us. Let’s take a look and decide whether to proceed further.” He looked at Sanna.
“I’ll take Kalle, Thorén and Javier,” she said stiffly.
Blom considered her request for a moment and then nodded.
The door opened and Allan Jonsson appeared. He closed the door and walked over to the far end of the table and pulled out a chair and sat down.
Everyone turned to look at him.
Allan Jonsson had joined The National Bureau of Investigation from Karlstad one year ago. To begin with he had trouble adjusting to his new post. His superiors insisted he make an effort to familiarize himself with the local protocol and one of the first lessons he had learnt was not to openly discuss cases during breaks.
However, there was another reason Allan Jonsson was arousing so much interest that particular day. The man entering the room was almost unrecognizable. He sported a crew cut and instead of the customary blue shirt he was wearing a tight black T-shirt that accentuated his well-trained muscles and revealed a tattoo on his right arm.
Silence.
Blom cleared his throat. “Jonsson you’ll work with Sanna!”
Sanna glared at Blom but resisted the impulse to argue. She knew that sooner or later the team would be short staffed so she may as well get used to the newcomer.