TWO MEN WERE LEANING AGAINST the bar holding bottles of beer. One of them looked around to make sure nobody was within earshot.
“This sucks!” he said with a strong northern accent
His companion nodded in agreement and ran his fingers through his hair nervously.
“The media reports are freaking me out!” whispered the man from Norrland. “What happened to the lads is terrible, but never in my wildest fantasies could I have imagined it had anything to do with us! I contacted one of my police buddies to find out more – a couple of them owe me a favour – and he managed to get me a copy of the autopsy report,”
“And..?”
“Guess what, Bosse. They were all murdered in exactly the same way!” He stroked his hair into place and cracked his knuckles on his chin.
The colour drained from Bosse’s face. “Damn it, Oxen! How long have you known this?”
“Does it matter? I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” replied Oxen irritably. “This whole thing is giving me really bad vibes. We can’t just sit here and wait for our turn, doing nothing!”
“Christ! What are we going to do?”
There was a moment’s silence.
“Have you talked to Thom?” said Bosse eventually.
“No. He’s abroad somewhere. I can’t understand why he hasn’t been in touch. Three years, damn it, three years!”
“What?”
“Three years since he left Sweden and not even a text message!”
“Hmm, strange, that’s not like him.”
“He used to be so good at keeping in contact. I just don’t get it. Now it’s just us left.”
“Hmm,” said Bosse
“Hmm, hmm… is that all you have to say?”
“I’m thinking.”
“She’s already got to Dexter and Konrad for Christ’s sake!”
“So you think it’s her?”
“Goddamn it Bosse, of course it’s her! Who the hell else could it be?”
“In that case, maybe it’s not just Konrad and Dexter. I also have a police contact and he told me about a similar case in Gothenburg. He didn’t want to give me the victim’s name but I think it could be Thom. Just think about it, we haven’t heard from him in ages and have absolutely no idea where he is.”
“What the hell do you mean? Why didn’t you tell me this before?” shouted Oxen, glancing around nervously. However, none of the other guests seemed to be interested in their conversation.
“Why would I have thought this had anything to do with us?” said Bosse, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “I don’t even know the victim’s name. Plus, the police thought it was an isolated case. I don’t think they’ve found out who did it yet.”
“So it is Thom?” said Oxen.
“No! We don’t know anything for sure but I’m just assuming it’s him because of what happened to Dexter and Konrad and the fact that we haven’t heard from him in a while.”
The two men drifted into silent reflection.
“I haven’t heard from Jukka in ages either,” said Bosse eventually. “Not since he moved to Malmö… Have you?”
Oxen looked intently at his friend and shook his head.
“We’re going to teach that stuck up bitch a lesson, a fucking good lesson! She won’t get away with it. By the time I’ve finished with her she’ll be begging me to put her out of her misery.” He banged his fist on the bar and knocked over a glass of wine in the process. As the waiter dried off the counter and poured a new glass for the aggrieved guest, he felt everyone’s eyes upon him.
“I don’t even remember what she looked like,” said Bosse.
The man from Umeå glared at his friend. “What?”
“Do you remember what she looks like? I don’t… Well, I guess we’ll find out soon enough when she contacts us,” Bosse whispered.
SHE WAS SHOCKED AT HER OWN PASSIVITY. Although she often came into contact with domestic violence victims, now she knew that one of her friends was himself a victim, Cecile Thorén felt uncharacteristically inert. She was powerless to help, unable to provide Allan with advice or even fill out a police report – something that she would normally have done without a second thought.
“This is terrible!” she said.
“Don’t you dare tell anyone,” instructed Allan.
Thorén nodded. If the roles were reversed she probably would have reacted in the same way.
”What would you do if it was me?”
“Please Cecile, I don’t feel like talking about it… I’ve had enough.”
“I think you should report it.”
“NO! I won’t speak to you any more if you keep on about it!”
AS SOON AS JAVIER RETURNED to the police headquarters he hurried to the men’s room, then went to fetch himself a mug of much needed coffee, sipping the hot drink carefully as he walked to his office. He removed his laptop from his brief case and, while waiting for it to start, hung his jacket on a hook behind the door.
The interview with Nina Jay had been decidedly unsatisfactory. Despite her confident, bullish manner, whenever he asked her direct questions she pointedly avoided eye contact with him.
He sat down at his desk and inserted a USB stick into his laptop containing files downloaded from Berg’s computer. He clicked on a folder consisting of correspondence between Berg and Nina Jay and scrolled aimlessly through the emails. Although there were several angry exchanges, so far he hadn’t come across anything particularly incriminating. Javier was convinced that he must have missed something. Nina Jay was definitely capable of overpowering Konrad Berg. Her build corresponded perfectly to the mental image they had formed of the killer. He opened one of the most recent emails:
“Unless you have a death wish, stop contacting me!”