COLD RAIN POURED from the black skies and trickled down Irene’s neck as she crossed the short stretch from her police car to the Löwanders’ front porch. She felt it run in little streams from her hair onto her neck as she rang the doorbell and heard it echo within the house. After the third ring, she heard footsteps on the other side. The brickred door was opened slightly, and through the gap, Irene heard an angry, snakelike hiss: “Who’s there?”
“Inspector Irene Huss. I spoke to your husband and—”
The door opened wide. Irene saw the white robe covering a disheveled figure in the dark hallway.
“Well, hello. Come on in. What time is it?”
The voice was now warm and inviting, not at all snakelike, as Carina Löwander let Irene inside.
“It’s almost eight.”
“Good grief! I’ve overslept! Excuse me for a minute. I have to check and make sure that Emma has gotten off to school.”
“This won’t take long. I talked to Sverker yesterday. Didn’t he mention it?”
Carina stopped in the middle of her run up the stairs to the second floor. “No, he was already sleeping when I came home last night, and I was asleep when he left. We haven’t talked since yesterday morning.”
Irene wasn’t surprised. She said easily, “It’s about a routine check, you see. Every vehicle that was near Löwander Hospital needs to be checked both inside and out.”
“Inside and out? Why?”
“So they can be eliminated from the investigation. There are marks from a tool we’re trying to track down. I can’t say anything else about it. For investigative reasons.”
Carina appeared doubtful. On the other hand, to Irene’s great relief, she didn’t demand to see a search warrant either.
“I see. Well.…”
Irene said quickly, “You don’t have to accompany me. If you could just give me the garage and car keys for a moment, I’ll take care of it myself.”
Still obviously doubtful, Carina walked over to a tall, narrow dresser near the hat rack. The white-lacquered front seemed covered with tiny drawers. Carina pulled open one of the top ones and took out two key rings. She cast a brief, suspicious glance into the narrow pewter-framed mirror over the dresser. Their eyes met in the mirror. Irene had been prepared for this and gave the appearance of calm friendliness. Carina pressed her lips together and turned back to Irene as she said, “Here. The garage key is on both these key chains. You can tell which one belongs to the BMW and which one belongs to the Mazda.”
“Thanks. This will just take a few minutes. I’ll be right back with the keys.”
Irene went out into the downpour again. As she passed the police car, she motioned to Tommy to stay there. It would be just as well that someone kept an eye on the house and its mistress.
Irene lifted the heavy garage door and pulled it shut behind her. After a few seconds of searching, she found the light switch. The two-car garage was lit by a single weak bulb attached to the ceiling. The blue Mazda and the silver BMW stood next to each other. Irene decided to look through the BMW first.
The car’s inside was meticulously clean. It was almost new, certainly not more than a few months old. The glove compartment held a pair of sunglasses and a package of gum. The trunk was just as empty. A spare tire, a jack, and a first-aid kit from the Red Cross were the only items in it.
The Mazda seemed more promising. It was a few years old and was not nearly as clean. There was an empty pop can and piles of candy wrappers on the floor by the backseats. The glove compartment was filled, but nothing in it interested Irene.
The trunk contained the usual mess of stuff found in old cars. There really was a bag of tools, but it had no screwdriver. It did have various wrenches, an oilcan, a small jack, and a lug wrench in the shape of a cross. She lifted the bag of tools out of the way so that she could look behind it.
The weak light suddenly flashed on a reflection—something made of steel—deep inside the truck. Irene reached forward to fish it out. When her hand, enclosed in its glove, cautiously wrapped itself around the cold metal, her heart skipped a beat.
She lifted her discovery in pinched fingers and stretched to hold it closer to the dim light to see it better.
A very familiar scent slammed open a subconscious alarm, and she reacted with lightning speed. Instantly, she threw the object back into the trunk, grasped the molded edge of the car, and leaped up to kick back as hard as she could with both feet. A thud told her she’d hit the person coming up behind her. A loud “Ooofff” and another thud against the garage door confirmed that her kick had been hard and well placed. Unfortunately, the attacker had also managed a hard hit. But instead of landing on Irene’s head, where the blow had been aimed, it hit her high on her calf. She felt how the blow connected and heard a dry crack on her right leg. A second later her lower leg went numb and no longer supported her weight. Irene swung around, using her left leg, and saw Carina pulling herself up, using the garage door as support, her left hand pressed against her chest. Not for nothing did Irene think of a ninja warrior as she saw Carina dressed in black leggings and a tight-fitting black T-shirt, her well-trained muscles rippling under the thin fabric of the shirt.
Where was Tommy? Why hadn’t he followed Carina inside? He should have seen her sneak into the garage! From the corner of her eye, Irene noticed a half-open door next to the garage. She realized that someone could go straight from the house into the garage. Tommy had no idea that Carina was in here and had just whacked Irene’s lower leg with a large, heavy crescent wrench.
Carina had managed to stand and was searching for the wrench again. She groaned in pain as she moved, which Irene was happy to hear. Perhaps Carina’s breastbone and a few ribs were broken. They were close to even strength, then, although Carina had found a weapon while Irene’s hands were empty. Still, Irene was a highest-level jujitsu practitioner. On the other hand, Carina was unusually strong and buff—not to mention murderously insane.
As fast as she could, Irene shuffled deeper into the garage to get the car between herself and Carina. It was difficult maneuvering. Her numb leg hindered her. She exaggerated the difficulties in her movements to make her opponent overconfident. Triumph lit Carina’s crazy eyes. She was grinning as she started toward Irene, who was now on the other side of the Mazda’s hood. Carina stopped on her side of the car and fixed Irene in her gaze. For a long time, they stood silently facing each other. Finally Irene spoke.
“Carina, don’t make your situation worse than it already is. My colleagues know that I am here in your house. You’re already a suspect and won’t be able to get away with this. There’s no reason to attack me—”
Carina made a sound somewhere between a howl and a hiss. Then she leaped onto the hood of the car, brandishing the wrench, and swung her arm to give Irene a backhanded blow to the head.
This fit Irene’s strategy. She took two steps back to find support against the wall. Now Carina would have to jump off the hood and cover that distance to reach her. She did so, pouncing like a cat, the wrench still in a backhand swing. She was totally unprepared when Irene stepped forward and blocked her blow with her lower arms. Before Carina had the chance to react, Irene turned to the right, keeping her grip on Carina’s arm, and took her down in a shiho-nage. The adrenaline rush made her use more force in her control grip than she needed. Carina screamed and dropped the wrench without resistance. Irene snatched it up.
Luckily, her muscles remembered her old handball moves. She targeted the window next to the garage door, which was two meters above the cement floor and just beneath the ceiling. The pane broke with a loud crashing sound, and the wrench, with a metallic bang, fell to the ground outside. The sound of the glass breaking seemed to bring Carina back to life. She began to wriggle beneath Irene, her strong, sinuous body tensed. Carina was the stronger, but Irene was a master of fighting techniques. Sweat poured down Irene’s back as she parried each of Carina’s attempts to free herself. The woman seemed to feel no pain. Irene’s only chance was to grip Carina’s hand even harder. Finally Carina’s wrist broke, and she began to howl uncontrollably. Beneath the sound of her yowling, Irene heard Tommy pounding on the locked garage door and yelling something she couldn’t understand. Then she heard running steps. A second later she heard the sound of a car screeching to a stop and Tommy’s head and shoulders popped up on the other side of the broken window. She realized he’d parked the squad car under the window and had climbed onto its hood. He used the wrench to knock away the rest of the glass in the window frame. He was able to reach his hand in and unlock the window, which was wide enough for him to wiggle through and then slide down feet first. Irene felt her leg pound and throb. Her strength was ebbing, and she was relieved to have backup.
Tommy took out the handcuffs, and between the two of them they were able to cuff Carina, who yelled and writhed and somehow even managed to roll onto her back with her handcuffed wrists beneath her. Her broken wrist should have been unbelievably painful, but she kicked with undiminished power. Tommy managed to catch her legs and sit on them.
“As far as you’re concerned, it’s all over,” he told her in a hard voice. “It’s all over.”
The result was immediate. Carina stopped still and stared at Tommy. If looks could kill, Tommy would have been her fourth victim. Fifth, if you included Nils Peterzén.