Saga Bauer leaves Magdalena Ronander and steps back over the police tape. More curious onlookers have turned up as well as a van from Swedish Television. A uniformed officer is trying to part the crowd to allow an ambulance through.
Saga leaves all this behind her and walks up a stone pathway to someone’s garden and past a jasmine tree. She keeps walking faster and faster, then starts to run back to her car.
“The girl,” Joona had said on the phone. “You have to find the girl. There’s a girl who lives with Axel Riessen. He called her Beverly Andersson. Ask Robert, his brother. The girl’s about fifteen and you should be able to trace her.”
“How much longer do I have to get an arrest warrant?”
“Not long,” Joona had answered. “But you should make it in time.”
As Saga drives back toward Stockholm, she calls Robert Riessen, but there’s no answer. She calls the exchange at CID and asks for Anja, Joona’s assistant, the plump woman who had once won an Olympic medal in swimming and who delights in bright, shiny lipstick and nails painted in violent colors.
“Anja Larsson.” Saga hears the response after only one ring.
“Hi, I’m Saga Bauer at Säpo. We met recently at—”
“Yes, we did,” Anja says coolly.
“I need information about a young woman named Beverly Andersson who—”
“Can I bill Säpo for it?” Anja’s voice is frigid.
Saga snaps. “Do whatever the hell you want, as long as you get a damned number before—”
“I don’t care for your language, young lady.”
“Forget I asked.”
Saga swears and then honks at a car that hasn’t moved even though the light has turned green. She’s about to click her phone closed when Anja asks, “How old is she?”
“About fifteen.”
“There is no Beverly Andersson in that age group listed with any telephone registry. But the government does have her registered at the same address as her father, Evert Andersson.”
“Okay, I’ll call him, then. Can you text me the number?”
“I’ve already done it.”
“Thanks, Anja, thanks so much—please forgive me for being a bitch. I’m in such a hurry. I’m worried about Joona. I believe he might do something stupid without backup.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“Yes. He asked me to find the girl. I’ve never even met her, I don’t know … he trusts me to figure all this out, but I—”
“You call Beverly’s father and I’ll keep looking,” Anja says, and hangs up.
Saga swings onto the shoulder by Hjorthagen and parks to look at the number Anja sent her. The area code is for the province of Skåne. Maybe the town of Svalöv, she thinks as she presses the Call button.