by Viveca Sten
“I can’t,” she sobbed, but Petra wasn’t listening.
“Close your eyes and hold onto me. Do exactly as I say.”
CHAPTER 102
The sirens told Thomas that the ambulance was on its way at last.
He was sitting on the cold, snow-covered road surface with Peter Moore’s head resting on his lap. Moore was still breathing, but he was so pale that he looked more dead than alive. A nasty wound covered one temple, and the blood had run down over his mouth and chin.
The two uniformed officers had come running just as the skidding car spun out. It had ended up sliding sideways across both lanes, but fortunately the driver had been able to stop. Thomas’s colleagues had succeeded in blocking traffic, avoiding a terrible accident. Thomas didn’t dare think about what could have happened.
The ambulance pulled up just yards away, and the paramedics jumped out and hurried over. They examined Moore, and fitted him with a head brace, before carrying him off on a gurney.
“How about you?” one of them said to Thomas, who was trying to get to his feet.
“I’m fine,” he lied.
His knee was pretty painful where he’d banged it when he let go of the fence, but he had no intention of spending the evening at the hospital.
An agitated voice behind him: “Thomas!”
Margit was running along the closed freeway, her jacket flapping. “What the hell is going on?”
Thomas realized she was both angry and scared. He pointed to the ambulance; the unconscious Moore was being lifted inside.
“He was trying to get away.”
A sudden wave of dizziness; Thomas had to lean on the wall for support. He shut his eyes.
“Are you OK?” Margit said anxiously.
“I think so.”
The ambulance drove off, blue lights flashing.
“I didn’t have time to call you; I had to go after him.”
“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”
But Thomas could hear the relief in her voice.
“Any luck with the camera?”
“Yes, the footage shows Aram standing outside Moore’s front door. We also found bloodstained clothing in the laundry basket. We can definitely link him to the assault.”
I knew it, Thomas thought. I should have left him lying there.
“You’ll never guess what was in his storage compartment in the attic—a huge stockpile of automatic firearms.”
Margit’s phone rang. She listened, and the color drained from her face.
“Someone’s set fire to Michael Thiels’s house.”
CHAPTER 103
“We’ll have to leave the car here,” Margit said. “I can’t get any closer.”
Thomas could see the fire engines outside Michael Thiels’s house; the street was already full, and there was an ambulance parked at the end of the driveway.
He could smell the smoke before he even opened the car door, but at least the house was still standing.
A uniformed colleague appeared.
“The woman who got the girl out is over there. They need to get to hospital; they’ve both inhaled a lot of smoke.”
Thomas turned and saw Petra Lundvall. Her face was ashen, and someone had placed a blanket around her shoulders. One cheek was black with soot.
He went over to her. “How are you doing?”
Petra managed something that vaguely resembled a smile.
“Thank God I came over. Otherwise Alice would have . . .”
She fell silent, glancing toward the ambulance.
“Can you tell us what happened?” Margit said gently.
Petra drew the blanket more tightly around her body.
“I called Alice to see if she wanted some company while Micke was at the police station. She said no, but when I didn’t hear from Micke all afternoon, I called Alice again, several times. She didn’t pick up, and in the end I got worried, so I drove over.”
Petra broke off, unable to suppress a sob. She wiped her eyes with one hand, rubbing off some of the soot on her cheek.
“When I arrived the kitchen was already on fire. I ran in and found Alice locked in the bathroom.”
“She was definitely locked in?”
Petra nodded. “Someone had jammed a chair under the door handle. How could they do that to a child?”
She pressed a hand to her mouth and turned away. Just then one of the firefighters came over.
“Excuse me—we found this in the hallway.”
He handed Thomas a cell phone. It had a bright-pink case adorned with silver skulls. It was Ericsson’s most expensive model; he recognized it from the advertising campaign.
“Is this yours?” he asked Petra.
“No, it’s probably Alice’s. Micke usually makes sure she has the latest thing.”
“Where is she?” Margit asked.
“She’s resting in the ambulance.” Petra seemed uncomfortable, as if she wanted to get away as soon as possible.
Thomas stared at the phone, then looked over at the ambulance. Eventually he went and stuck his head around the door. Alice was lying there with her eyes closed.
“Alice,” he said quietly, climbing inside. The smell of smoke was overwhelming. He gently touched her arm. “How are you feeling?”
She didn’t move at first, but then she opened her eyes. Her face was streaked with black.
“Where’s Dad?”
“He’s on his way to the hospital,” Margit said from behind Thomas. “He’s going to meet you there.”
Thomas held up the phone so that Alice could see it properly. “Is this yours?”
“Yes,” she whispered. The strain was etched on her face, as if the skin had been tightened over her bones. “Check out the video. I recorded her.”
CHAPTER 104
Margit turned onto Kungsgatan in Uppsala so fast that the car almost skidded.
“Take it easy,” Thomas murmured.
He was still holding Alice’s phone; he’d played the video clip over and over again as they drove from Vaxholm to Pauline Palmér’s apartment. He wondered if it was pure evil he had been watching, in the shape of a woman with blond hair and a pearl necklace. She had trapped a young girl in a room and tried to burn her to death. After killing her mother.
Mats Larsson’s words echoed in his mind. We’re talking about a highly rational individual. This was about solving a problem.
Larsson had been wrong.
“This woman is evil,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Margit screeched to a halt outside the Palmérs’ apartment building.
“The SWAT team should be here by now,” she said crossly.
Thomas looked around. “I’m sure they won’t be long.” He got out of the car and looked up at Pauline’s apartment; there were lights showing in several windows.
“Someone’s home.”
Margit was already inside and heading for the stairs. Thomas followed her, trying to keep the pressure off his injured knee. When they reached the top floor, they found the Palmérs’ door ajar. Thomas exchanged a glance with Margit, drawing his gun at the same time.
He nudged open the door with his elbow and was confronted by Lars Palmér wearing an overcoat and holding a dog leash. Behind him the black German shepherd was moving around restlessly.
“What are you doing here?” Palmér asked, clearly taken aback.
“We’re looking for your wife,” Margit said.
“Pauline’s in her study. I was just about to take Hannibal for his walk.” Then he saw the gun in Thomas’s hand, and inhaled sharply. “Has something happened?” he said, much too loudly.
Thomas hoped Pauline wouldn’t hear.
“Could you wait downstairs, for your own safety? And put the dog on its leash, please.”
Lars Palmér stared at them, wide-eyed, but he did as they asked and headed off with the dog.
Thomas walked into the apartment with Margit right behind him.
The study door was shut. Margit gave him a signal and positioned herself to the side, gun at the ready.
Thomas flung open the door.
Pauline was standing by the window, which was also wide open. She looked back at the two officers and leaned out.
“If you come any closer, I’ll jump,” she said, her voice utterly calm. Ice-cold air was pouring into the room.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Pauline,” Margit said.
“I know exactly what I’m doing.”
Her tone was authoritarian now, nowhere near as pleasant and obliging as on their previous visit when they’d sat in her kitchen with cinnamon buns and the warm glow of candles.
“Killing yourself won’t improve the situation.”
Pauline’s lips contorted in a bitter grimace.
“That’s not true.”
Margit took a step forward, and Pauline immediately leaned farther over the sill.
“I mean what I say. Stay where you are.”
Margit moved back.
“Pauline,” Thomas ventured. “We can sort this out, but you need to come away from the window.”
“There’s nothing to sort out. I knew that as soon as I heard on the radio that Alice had been rescued.”
Not a trace of emotion.
“I failed, and now I must accept the consequences.”
Thomas felt his stomach muscles contract as he tried to recall Mats Larsson’s profile, to find a way to approach Pauline. He tightened his grip on his gun as his brain rejected one question after another.
Margit stepped forward again, at the same time putting away her gun with an exaggerated gesture.
“So why did you kill Jeanette?” she asked.
Pauline’s expression changed; her face became younger, softer, just for a few seconds. The years fell away as a memory surfaced.
“We had a relationship. A long time ago. Jeanette was going to write about it. I couldn’t allow that to happen.”
“So you poisoned her.”
Margit sounded genuinely interested. We need to buy time, Thomas thought. Until the SWAT team gets here.
“I had no choice.”
“Why not?” Thomas immediately regretted the harshness in his tone. They had to gain Pauline’s trust rather than alienate her.
Margit tried again.
“Please tell us why things ended up the way they did. We really want to know.”
Pauline changed her position slightly. She regarded the two detectives with undisguised suspicion.
“Jeanette could have agreed not to write about us,” she said eventually. “I asked her not to—in fact I practically begged her.”
Pauline looked away, as if she were embarrassed at having admitted her weakness.
“The chocolate truffles were the last resort; that was why I took them with me. Just in case.”
“How come you chose that method? Not many people would be able to come up with an idea like that.”
Now there was admiration in Margit’s voice.
“Someone had given me a bracelet made of brightly colored beans,” Pauline replied. “I read an article that said they were poisonous. It was pure coincidence. I got the idea when I was busy baking for Christmas. Jeanette had already called and told me what she was going to do; I knew I had to make her change her mind.”
Pauline was virtually sitting on the windowsill now. The room was freezing cold, but she didn’t seem to notice. A few snowflakes landed on her hair and melted away.
“I still don’t know how you did it,” Margit said.
“It wasn’t that difficult.”
Was the woman actually smiling?
“Go on, tell us,” Margit encouraged her.
“Well, I used the nut grinder and ground up the beans along with a couple of ounces of almonds. Then I added them to the chocolate mixture along with a little Cognac to improve the flavor, and rolled out my truffles just as I always do.”
Thomas felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck as he listened to Pauline’s matter-of-fact description. She had an enigmatic look in her eyes now.
“It wasn’t difficult, or unpleasant. It was just the same as usual, in fact.”
“So you took the truffles over to Jeanette’s?”
“Yes.” Pauline sighed. “Just to be on the safe side. When she refused to take out the chapter about us, she left me no choice. That was when I offered her a truffle.”
“Then what happened?”
Pauline shrugged. “We kept arguing, which convinced me even more that I’d made the right decision.”
Thomas couldn’t stop himself.
“Was it you who suffocated Jeanette’s neighbor?”
“No.”
“Did Peter help you out?” Margit said.
Pauline turned her head away, then nodded. “Peter’s very loyal. He always has been.”
As they talked she had been gradually inching back, so that by now her upper body was outside the window, her weight balanced on the very edge of the sill. Suddenly loud voices could be heard down in the street, along with the angry barking of a dog, as if it was trying to pull away from someone who was restraining it.
“Let go of me!” a man yelled. “I want to talk to her! Let go of me!”
When Pauline heard her husband’s voice, she swayed. For the first time since they’d come into the room, Thomas saw something like sorrow on her face.
“Lars has nothing to do with any of this,” she said quietly. She closed her eyes, and Thomas reacted instinctively. He hurled himself across the room and grabbed hold of her leg, tried to drag her away from the window.
“Get off me!” Pauline screamed, lashing out at Thomas to try to make him loosen his grip. She scratched the back of his hand, but Margit was there now, too. Together they pulled her onto the floor, facedown.
“Couldn’t you just have let me die?” Pauline Palmér whispered.
CHAPTER 105
Michael Thiels was holding his daughter’s hand. It was so pale against the yellow hospital blanket; the color was much too harsh against those white fingers. He had been sitting there for hours, ever since the ambulance brought her in. She was sleeping now, but from time to time she let out a little sob.
The doctor had said she would be kept under observation for a day or so, but there were no signs of serious damage from the smoke inhalation. Petra was also staying overnight.
Michael had asked for another bed to be brought in so that he could sleep next to Alice. He had no intention of letting her out of his sight. Tears sprang to his eyes when he thought about what could have happened if Petra hadn’t gotten worried when neither he nor Alice answered the phone.
He had Petra to thank for his daughter’s life.
Alice whimpered, and Michael sensed her fear. He didn’t need a doctor to tell him that it would take her a long time to get over this. When he first saw her, she had been delirious with shock and exhaustion.
Thomas Andreasson had said that Pauline Palmér was responsible for Jeanette’s death, and explained how she’d gone about it.
Michael was no longer under suspicion.
That crazy woman had admitted everything she’d done along with her so-called assistant. Those two had no boundaries; they destroyed anyone who got in their way. Apparently a police officer had been badly beaten, too.
Would he ever be able to tell Alice how her mother had been murdered? Michael recoiled at the thought, while at the same time a feeling of deep shame came over him.
His behavior toward Jeanette had been unforgivable.
If only he’d known what she was going through.
Alice stirred and opened her eyes. Michael reached out and stroked her cheek.
“Dad?”
“I’m here, sweetheart.”
You will always be my daughter.
CHAPTER 106
Thomas unlocked the Volvo and got in, but then he just sat there without fastening his seat belt or starting the engine. He was bone weary; even
a simple movement like turning the key seemed to require an immense effort. When he held up his hand in front of his face, it was shaking.
What time was it? After nine. He ought to call Pernilla, tell her he was on his way home at last. She must be wondering where he was and whether they would be able to go over to Nora’s tomorrow as planned.
But first he needed a few minutes to himself. Needed the chance to breathe, to digest the events of the past few hours. To try to work out how someone could commit the crimes of which Pauline Palmér was guilty.
No, he couldn’t do it.
He would have to set everything aside until he felt strong enough to think it through. Certain things were impossible to understand, let alone accept. The memory of Alice’s terrified, soot-streaked face in the ambulance would stay with him for a long time.
Thomas leaned back and closed his eyes. He was so very, very tired.
I’m not fit to drive home. I’ll have to leave the car and take a cab.
His cell phone buzzed: a text message. He considered ignoring it, but thought he’d better check who it was from.
Karin.
Aram has regained consciousness, he’s on strong pain meds but will be able to have visitors in a few days.
The surge of relief was so powerful that Thomas gasped. Tomorrow he would call Sonja, find out how she and the girls were doing. He wanted to check on Erik, too, as soon as he was feeling better.
After a couple of minutes he pressed “Home.”
“Hi, it’s me.”
“I was starting to worry,” Pernilla said immediately. “Are you OK?”
Now he was OK, now he’d heard her voice.
Never leave me again.
“I’m in the car,” he said, making a huge effort so that she wouldn’t hear how exhausted he was. “We’ve closed the case; I’ll tell you more when I get home.”
Tomorrow they would go to Sandhamn to celebrate New Year’s with Nora and Jonas and the boys. He couldn’t wait to relax in the company of good friends, to be in a place where everyone had one another’s best interests at heart.
He would close the door on anything to do with work. He wouldn’t allow himself to brood on the case, or let despair take over. That was his personal New Year’s resolution.
