by Kepler, Lars
The bathroom door is closed, but the light is on inside.
‘Ingrid?’ she asks in a loud voice.
There’s no answer, and Saga turns back quickly towards the boy’s room.
Without making a sound the woman has managed to get out into the corridor. She’s standing motionless, the axe over one shoulder, looking at Saga. Her face is taut, focused. Tiny specks of blood are spattered across the woman’s glasses, neck and both arms.
Saga backs away slowly, raises her pistol and puts her finger on the trigger.
‘Police!’ she declares, squeezing the trigger past the first notch. ‘Stay where you are and put the axe down on the floor!’
Instead of doing as she says, the woman sets off towards her. Breathing hard through her nose, she’s approaching with long strides.
Saga supports her pistol with her left hand, quickly lowers the barrel and shoots her in the thigh. The bullet passes straight through the muscle and blood sprays out behind her. The woman lets out a groan, but keeps moving.
The leg of her trousers turns dark with blood.
Saga backs into the bathroom door.
The woman’s lips narrow as she keeps walking. She raises the axe, bringing down the ceiling lamp.
It goes out and crashes to the floor.
Saga shoots the woman twice in the chest. The recoil slams her right shoulder blade into the door.
The cloud of powder dissipates.
The woman stops, reaches out for the wall with one hand, drops the axe and slumps down heavily onto the floor. Her blood-spattered glasses drop into her lap, her head falls forward, then jerks sideways several times.
The moment the first shot goes off Joona kicks in the narrow glass door to the conservatory. The lock comes apart with a crash. The door flies open and the glass shatters, spreading splinters across the parquet floor.
Joona runs in with his pistol drawn. Nathan rips the plastic bag from his semiautomatic and runs after him.
Joona points the pistol at the sofa until he’s past it, then aims at the door to the kitchen.
Nathan is covering their backs as they hurry past the fireplace.
Their reflections fly across the windows looking out onto the dark forest.
Joona stops in front of the door and catches Nathan’s eye.
‘We go in together,’ he says quietly. ‘You take the left side, ninety-five degrees.’
He counts down with his fingers, then opens the kitchen door. They run in and secure the most dangerous angles systematically.
Empty.
Joona signals to Nathan to guard the door to the hall as he walks round an island unit with some schoolbooks and a mobile phone on it.
He points his pistol towards the screen leading to the dining room.
Their movements have made the fabric sway.
Darkness has fallen in the garden outside, and it’s hard to see anything through the screen. Joona can barely make out the table, chairs and sideboard.
He hears two more pistol shots from the corridor.
‘What the hell’s going on?’ Nathan whispers, looking round.
Joona slips behind the screen, simultaneously training his pistol on the door to the corridor. He looks over at Nathan, and sees him turn his back on the door to the hall just as it starts to open behind his back.
‘The hall!’ Joona calls out.
Nathan only has time to start turning round before the father comes into the kitchen and fires his shotgun at him.
The hail of bullets rips the back of Nathan’s skull off.
Blood and brains spray across the island unit and across the screen.
Joona rushes forward as Nathan falls to the floor.
His pistol is aimed at the father’s chest, the line of fire through the thin fabric perfect, but Joona doesn’t shoot.
Nathan’s dead body falls heavily to the ground and ends up on its side.
Without letting go of the shotgun, the father wipes away the blood that landed on his face with his shoulder.
He doesn’t spot Joona until he’s emerged from behind the screen.
Before the father has time to aim the gun at him, Joona shoves it aside with one hand and hits him across the face with the pistol.
The shotgun goes off and hits the ceiling.
The man staggers sideways and tries to grab the gun.
The blast rings in their ears as fragments of plaster and dust rain down on the pair of them.
Joona slams his right elbow into the man’s cheek.
It’s a solid blow.
The man’s head thuds against the wall and he sinks to one knee. He isn’t even aware that Joona has snatched the shotgun away from him.
Blood is running into his moustache from both nostrils, and his eyes look dazed. He reaches out to the wall and tries to stand up. Joona takes a step forward and kicks him hard in the chest, and he jerks backwards and slides across the floor.
‘Stay there,’ Joona says, then stamps on the shotgun, shattering it.
Coughing hard, the man gets his breath back as heavy footsteps echo on the stairs. Jim walks in, looking very pale, with blood running down one cheek.
‘Shit, he knocked me out,’ he mutters, then stops in the doorway when he sees Nathan’s body.
84
Saga is stepping over the dead woman’s body when she hears a shotgun-blast from the kitchen. She aims her pistol at the door and moves silently along the corridor. The barrel quivers slightly as the shotgun goes off a second time.
Saga waits a few seconds, then goes into Axel’s room, sees the boy’s body on the bed, and confirms that her colleague is dead before she returns to Mimmi’s room.
Silence.
The girl has opened the window and climbed out. She’s only got socks on her feet. Her footprints through the snow lead in a wide arc around the house.
Saga takes out her radio and calls Joona. When he tells her that Nathan’s dead she feels like curling up in a ball and sobbing.
But at the same time she realises that the insane rage of the family means that Jurek has been here.
And if Jurek has been here, they may know something about Pellerina and Valeria.
Saga quickly tells Joona what’s happened, that the young boy, Ingrid, and the mother are dead, and that she’s about to go after the daughter.
‘Get going, find her,’ he says.
It’s snowing more heavily now, and her footprints will soon be covered.
Holding the window open with one hand, Saga climbs up and sits on the sill. The black tin creaks as she shuffles further out, braces herself with her hands, then jumps.
She lands softly on the snow and takes a step forward to stop herself falling.
The girl has a five-minute head start, at most, and her tracks are still visible.
Saga runs round the house, and can feel the wetness of the snow that’s got into her shoes and trousers.
The snow has blown into large drifts behind the garage. She keeps moving, pistol in hand. It’s darker there, as if the forest was casting a dark light across the garden.
The playhouse is rust-red, with white detailing and a black roof, and white windows with net curtains.
The original footprints are scarcely visible through the freshly fallen snow, like a shallow stream, but the new prints are perfectly clear.
It’s dark inside the playhouse, but all the footprints lead straight to the small door with its stained-glass window.
Saga walks through the snow, looks over her shoulder, stands beside the door and knocks.
‘Mimmi? Come out now.’
She knocks again, then waits a few seconds before reaching over and pushing the handle.
She tries pushing and pulling, but the door’s locked.
‘Mimmi, can you open the door? I only want to talk to you, I think you can help me.’
Saga thinks she can hear a noise, the sound of something being dragged across the floor, something heavy.
‘I need to come in,’
she says.
She breaks the little window in the door with her pistol, hears the glass hit the floor inside, then sweeps the barrel of the pistol around the edges to get rid of the worst of the splinters.
The inside of the playhouse is completely dark.
A rancid smell hits her as she tries to reach in with her arm. Her sleeve rides up a bit before coming to a stop.
The opening is too small.
Saga takes her jacket and top off, dropping them on the ground.
She’s only wearing a white vest now. Her sports bra is visible through the thin cotton. Her thin arms with their sharply defined muscles are covered in bruises and scratches.
The cold feels oddly sharp against her bare skin, and every snowflake that lands on her burns like a stray spark from a sparkler.
She tries to look through the hole in the door.
There’s no movement inside.
Holding her pistol in her right hand, she moves closer to the hole.
As soon as she puts her arm through, the girl starts to scream, so loudly that her voice breaks. Saga tries to reach the lock, but she needs to push her hand even lower.
The girl stops abruptly.
Saga leans against the door, cutting her armpit, reaches the handle on the inside and finds the key, which is still in the lock.
She tries to turn it with stiff, frozen fingers. She hears the shuffling sound again, but forces herself to go on.
She loses her grip, then finds the key with her fingertips and tries again. The lock clicks and Saga withdraws her arm.
She pushes the handle down, opens the door, and moves out of the way.
Nothing but silence.
It’s too dark for her to be able to make out anyone inside the playhouse.
‘Mimmi, I’m coming in now,’ Saga says.
She crouches down, and has to put one hand on the floor to get through the low door.
The room smells of damp and wet clothes.
Saga bumps into a piece of furniture in the darkness, bends over and sees a toy stove with some pine cones in a small saucepan.
‘We need to talk,’ she says quietly.
A bulky figure moves slightly over in one corner. The girl is sitting on the floor wrapped in blankets and covering her ears.
When Saga gets used to the darkness she can make out the girl’s pale face, the look of abject terror in her eyes, and her pursed lips.
Joona drags the father into the dining room and secures him to one leg of the heavy table with his handcuffs. Then he tears down part of the screen and lays it over Nathan’s body.
Nathan’s been his friend and colleague since Joona started work at the National Crime Unit. He can’t count the number of times he’s visited over the years, just to sit down and collect his thoughts in Nathan’s company.
Joona notices that a thin arc of blood has already seeped through the fabric around Nathan’s head.
Jim is sitting on one of the high-backed chairs at the dining table. He’s pale and his face is shiny with sweat, and he’s unbuttoned the collar of his uniform.
‘Ambulances and more police are on their way,’ Joona says to Jim. ‘But it would be great if you could help Saga look for the girl, we can’t let her get away.’
‘What?’
‘If you can manage that?’
‘I just need … I think I heard what Bauer said,’ he says. ‘Is Ingrid dead? Did they kill her? Is that true?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Joona says. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘No … we were warned, you tried to stop us,’ he says, rubbing his face hard with one hand. ‘What the hell is wrong with these people? We were only trying to help them, and they—’
‘I know,’ Joona interrupts calmly.
‘I just don’t get it,’ Jim mutters, and looks at Joona as if he can’t remember who he is. ‘I’ll go after the girl,’ he says, and sways slightly as he gets up from the chair.
‘Remember, she’s only a child,’ Joona says.
Jim doesn’t answer, and walks out into the hall, pulling his torch from his belt as he goes. The front door opens and closes again, a little too hard.
The remains of the fabric screen sway in the air.
Joona is certain that Valeria and Pellerina are buried here somewhere. A dog handler is on the way. Assuming they’re still alive, there’s no time to lose. The temperature has fallen from zero to minus nineteen in the past twenty-four hours.
Joona walks round the table, looks out at the snow-covered landscape, then turns back towards the man. He’s lying with his cheek against the floor. His blond moustache is dark with blood and one of his eyes is badly swollen.
‘You’ll be taken into custody and formally arrested soon,’ Joona says. ‘But if you help me now it’s possible that your situation could be improved.’
‘You don’t understand anything,’ the man slurs.
‘I know that Valeria de Castro and Pellerina Bauer are here somewhere.’
‘It was self-defence, survival …’
‘Tommy,’ Joona says, crouching down to look the man in the eye. ‘I could have shot you but I didn’t – because I need answers … I know you’ve met Jurek Walter. You have to tell me what he made you do.’
85
Saga has pulled her jacket back on inside the playhouse. She offered her jumper to Mimmi, but got no answer.
It’s obvious that the girl has hidden here many times before, she’s got blankets and a sleeping-bag, there’s a bucket in the corner that smells of stale urine, and the floor is littered with empty biscuit packets, drink cans, and sweet wrappers.
‘So, why do you hide in here?’
‘Don’t know,’ the girl says blankly.
‘Because you can’t handle what’s been happening in the house?’
Mimmi shrugs her shoulder almost imperceptibly.
‘We’re actually here because we’re looking for a woman and a girl, Valeria and Pellerina.’
‘Oh.’
Saga takes out her mobile and shows her a few pictures of them. Mimmi looks at them very briefly, then lowers her eyes. Her face looks like it’s sculpted out of ice in the cold glare of the screen.
‘Do you recognise them?’ she asks.
‘No,’ the girl replies, and turns her face away.
‘Take another look.’
‘I don’t want to.’
The playhouse goes dark again when Saga turns the screen off and puts her phone back in her pocket.
‘Whatever you’ve all been doing here, it’s over now, and things aren’t going to be very pleasant for a while, lots of police and officials, but how that all turns out for you is going to depend on the answers you give me.’
‘Oh.’
‘Shall we go back to the house?’
‘I can’t,’ she says in a shaky voice.
‘I understand. I saw your little brother,’ Saga says.
Mimmi starts to cry just as a beam of light reaches into the darkness inside the playhouse. Saga crawls over to the window, and hears the spiders’ webs tear as she opens the curtain.
It’s Jim, approaching the playhouse with a torch in his hand.
The beam forms a swirling tunnel that bounces down towards the snow with each step he takes.
He’s following their footprints.
‘Bauer? Are you there?’
‘We’re in here,’ she calls back.
There are heavy footsteps outside, then the door opens and Jim crawls into the playhouse. He’s breathing heavily as he puts the torch down on the doll’s cot. The beam shines through the bars, filling the small space. The furnishings are old and have been damaged by damp, the pink wallpaper is coming away from the walls, there are spiders’ webs hanging from the broken lamp hanging from the ceiling, and the windowsill is covered with dead flies.
‘I was told to come and look for you,’ he mumbles, knocking the stove over as he sits down on the floor.
The playhouse creaks as he turns and makes his way over to the girl. H
is breathing is shaky and he has transparent snot dripping from his nose.
‘It was you, wasn’t it? You killed my partner,’ he says in an anguished voice, and suddenly he’s holding his pistol to the girl’s head.
‘Jim, take your finger off the trigger,’ Saga says quickly.
‘Did you really have to kill Ingrid?’ he asks, with a sob in his voice.
‘Calm down, Jim,’ Saga says firmly. ‘Take your finger off the trigger and put the gun down.’
The pistol wavers in front of the girl’s face. Jim’s forehead is shiny with sweat and his eyes are wide open.
‘How does it feel now?’ he asks in an agitated voice, jabbing the barrel and making her head rock.
‘Please, don’t do it,’ Saga says. ‘I know you’re upset, but it wasn’t—’
‘How does it feel?’ he yells.
‘Good,’ the girl replies, looking him in the eye.
The pistol trembles in his hand again.
‘Listen, Jim, it wasn’t Mimmi who killed Ingrid,’ Saga says.
‘But—’
‘It was her mum,’ Saga says. ‘We didn’t know she was there, she was hiding.’
‘Her mum?’
‘She was hiding in the boy’s room.’
‘What the hell is wrong with you people?’ he says weakly, lowering his pistol.
Saga takes the pistol out of his hand, puts the safety catch on, pulls out the magazine, and removes the bullet from the chamber.
‘Go out and make sure the ambulances find us,’ she says.
He wipes his nose with the back of his hand and crawls out, hitting his head on the doorframe, and closes the door behind him.
‘I’m sorry he threatened you. He’ll be reported and will have to leave the force, but people sometimes do terrible things when someone close to them dies.’
Mimmi nods weakly and looks at her.
‘I know you can help me,’ Saga says.
‘You don’t understand, I can’t.’
‘Look at these pictures again,’ Saga says, bringing up the images of Valeria and Pellerina on her phone.
‘I know who they are,’ she snarls, batting the mobile away. ‘It was them who did it, don’t you get that? They burned him, they killed him … Are they going to get away with that? It isn’t right, they’ve ruined everything …’
