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  Angela Nilsson sorted through her papers and composed herself before she started to speak. ‘David Lindholm was found dead in his home at three thirty-nine a.m. on Thursday, the third of June. The preliminary post-mortem report indicates that he was shot in the head, which was the direct cause of death. After that the body was shot once more, in the torso.’

  ‘Could any other woman have been present when the fatal shot was fired?’ the judge asked.

  Angela Nilsson turned a page and the silence echoed. ‘The suspect was apprehended at the scene of the crime. A gun, type Sig Sauer 225, was found at the scene, and a preliminary forensic investigation has been able to prove that this gun bears the fingerprints of the accused. The pistol is registered as being the accused’s service revolver. Whether or not it is also de facto the murder weapon is currently being investigated by the National Forensics Laboratory, but the calibre matches the bullets found during the post-mortem and there are two bullets missing from the clip.’

  There was dead silence in the courtroom. The clerk was taking notes. A fan was whirring somewhere.

  ‘Then we have the situation regarding the suspect’s son,’ Angela Nilsson went on after a short pause. ‘The boy, Alexander Lindholm, who is four years old, hasn’t been seen since his father was murdered, and is currently still missing.’

  Nina sat forward. Julia had raised her head when the prosecutor mentioned Alexander’s name, and now she was looking round the sealed room. She looked at the lawyer sitting next to her as if she didn’t recognize him, and stood up. He put a hand on her shoulder and persuaded her to sit down again.

  ‘As things stand, I don’t want to specify any particular suspicions surrounding the boy’s disappearance,’ Prosecutor Nilsson continued. ‘There is still a chance that there is a straightforward explanation for his disappearance, but if Alexander Lindholm is not found alive and well in the very near future, I will apply to have the preliminary investigation expanded to cover the murder or kidnapping of Alexander Lindholm …’

  Every time the boy’s name was mentioned Julia looked around the courtroom. Eventually she twisted on her chair in such a way that she caught sight of Nina sitting in the public benches.

  No, Julia, not now!

  The thought didn’t get through. Julia stood up and took a hesitant step towards Nina. Her eyes were wide open and innocent, as they had been when she hadn’t dared to jump from a haystack, and she was standing with her feet slightly turned in, as she did when she was scared or needed to pee urgently.

  Pull yourself together, Julia. I can’t help you now.

  ‘Will the accused please sit down during the proceedings,’ the judge said.

  Julia took an unsteady step towards the public benches. ‘Alexander?’ she said. ‘Where’s Alexander? No!’ She hit the lawyer’s arm when he tried to get her to sit down again.

  Nina clenched her hands helplessly. Julia was only making things worse for herself by not co-operating. All she had to do was tell the court what her life had been like. No one had anything to gain from her protecting David, least of all herself.

  Nina looked up again. Two prison guards who had been standing by the door each took hold of one of Julia’s arms and bent her forward.

  She struggled. She was whimpering as she tried to get free. The guards sat her on her chair, and she slumped to one side.

  You should have reported him. You should have listened to me. I would have stood by you. They would have had to believe you.

  If only he’d hit me. A couple of serious bruises, at least, ideally a few broken ribs as well.

  What he’s doing to you is worse. It comes under a different category. He can’t lock you in like this. Unlawful imprisonment, coercion …

  Suddenly Julia toppled off her chair.

  She fell to the floor with a dull thud and lay on her side with her legs pulled up. Nina was on her feet at once.

  One of the guards grabbed Julia’s arm to pull her up but she didn’t respond. His colleague came over, took her other arm, and raised his baton to strike.

  Sit up, Julia, get up!

  There was complete silence in the courtroom. Everyone had frozen where they were. The only movement came from Julia’s legs and feet, which had started twitching spasmodically and uncontrollably. Suddenly the guards let go of her arms and stood up, backing away from her.

  Julia lay on the floor with her head back and her body jerking violently. Nina gasped. Oh, God, what are they doing to you?

  ‘Medics to the courtroom,’ the judge said, into a microphone that was evidently part of an intercom system. He sounded unsettled.

  Nina took an involuntary step towards Julia, but Q grabbed her wrist. ‘Sit down,’ he hissed.

  The judge raised his voice. ‘Can we have a doctor or a medic to the courtroom?’

  Nina sat where she was, completely paralysed, as a medic ran in clutching a bag. He bent over Julia’s jerking body and spoke into a crackling radio. ‘We’ve got a tonic-clonic seizure,’ he said, holding the radio to his mouth with one hand as he examined Julia with the other. ‘I repeat, we have a primary generalized tonic-clonic seizure. I need back-up and an ambulance immediately. I repeat, immediately!’

  ‘Take her out through the side door,’ the judge said. He was now standing up behind his desk, horrified by the scene in front of him. ‘Hurry up!’

  Another two medics appeared, carrying a stretcher. They picked Julia up and Nina could see that she was stiff as a board, rigid, stuck in an unnatural pose with one arm and one leg sticking straight out.

  Then, as she was being lifted on to the stretcher, the spasm seemed to ease because her body relaxed, but Nina wasn’t sure she’d got that right: the medics rushed out with the stretcher.

  There was complete silence in the courtroom once the doors had slammed. The guards were staring at the door through which Julia had disappeared. Prosecutor Angela Nilsson was sitting on the edge of her chair, frowning suspiciously at the place where Julia had been lying. Mats Lennström was standing with his back to the wall.

  The judge sat down and struck his gavel. ‘Well,’ he said, rather shakily, ‘if we could bring the proceedings to a conclusion … Angela?’

  The prosecutor simply shook her head.

  ‘Defence?’

  Mats Lennström hurried to sit down again. ‘Well,’ he said, adjusting his hair, ‘in conclusion I would like to point out that my client has in no way acknowledged liability for the accusations made by the prosecution. But if the prosecution’s proposal were to be accepted, I petition the court to order an immediate paragraph-seven investigation of my client. As well as immediate treatment, her mental state at the time of the crime needs to be examined at once.’

  ‘The court will adjourn,’ the judge said, hitting the desk with his gavel again. He vanished into his office to calm down and have a cup of coffee before announcing his decision.

  ‘I’m going,’ Q said. ‘I’ve got an interview to carry out.’ He stood up and made for the exit.

  Nina sat where she was, unable to move. Her heart was thudding and she was sweating. She hadn’t known that Julia suffered from epilepsy.

  She hadn’t known that Julia had resigned.

  I didn’t know that Julia was so ill.

  I don’t know the first thing about her! I don’t know her!

  Maybe her Julia didn’t exist, the Julia who never put up a fight, who always expected someone else to sort out anything unpleasant. Maybe she was gone or had never existed. Her Julia could never have shot David. Her Julia could never have harmed her child, but what if this was a different Julia, a destructive one?

  Nina forced herself to take some deep breaths.

  I believe in the system. I know that there is such a thing as justice. This is its very heart.

  From that moment she knew exactly what was going to happen.

  Once the judge had composed himself and had a second cup of coffee, the doors of the courtroom would be opened again, the media would be allowed
in, Julia would be remanded in custody on suspicion of murder, and the case would have to go to court by 21 June at the latest.

  There was no question that the preliminary investigation would be completed within a fortnight, which meant that Julia would be remanded in custody again, and again, and again, until the prosecutor had such a watertight case that she would never be let out.

  A different Julia, not hers any more.

  She couldn’t stay in the courtroom another minute, not a single second longer. She stood up and hurried to the exit.

  15

  Annika was sitting on a sagging sofa outside Detective Inspector Q’s office on the third floor of Police Headquarters. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. For a day that had started so appallingly, things hadn’t turned out too badly after all.

  The children would be able to start back at their old nursery later that week. The manager had seemed genuinely pleased about it, presumably because they would boost the nursery’s income. She had entered Kalle at the Eira School, a bit further away on Kungsholmen, to start in the autumn. Thomas could shoot her if he didn’t agree with that. She had also found a flat. As long as you had money, there were flats to rent even in the centre of the city, albeit on business contracts and for absurd sums of money. She had taken a three-room apartment on Västerlånggatan, in the heart of Gamla Stan, for 20,000 kronor per month, on an unlimited contract. A ridiculous amount of money, of course, but she still had some savings. Once everything was settled with the insurance company, she’d buy the sort of flat she wanted …

  That she wanted.

  She took a deep breath and listened to how it felt.

  Alone, without him.

  She clenched her jaw to hold back the tears.

  My children. Not going to be looked after by someone like you. I’m going to apply for sole custody of them. Not one second longer. I’m going to get them.

  She tried to breathe calmly.

  She had taken as much maternity leave as she could.

  She always stayed at home when they were ill.

  She had never neglected them, had always delivered them to the nursery clean and in one piece.

  He can’t take the children. He’s got no case. He’d have to prove that I’m highly unsuitable, otherwise I win.

  The detective was walking down the corridor with a mug of coffee in his hand. ‘Do you want some?’

  Annika shook her head. ‘I have to get home to the kids,’ she said. ‘So I want to get this over with quickly.’

  Q unlocked his room and sat down behind the desk. Annika followed him in and took the familiar visitor’s chair.

  ‘So, she’s been remanded in custody now,’ Annika said. ‘I suppose she’ll be convicted quick as anything. Unlike David. The cases against him were dropped, after all.’

  Q fumbled with a tape-recorder to the left of the computer, said, ‘One two, one two,’ into a microphone and rewound to make sure it sounded okay.

  ‘I met the man David almost beat to death, but there’s no need for you to worry. His halo is still firmly in place. No one wants to know what David was really like.’

  Q leaned towards her. ‘This is about the fire in the house on Vinterviksvägen,’ he said. ‘Just answer my questions, okay?’

  Annika nodded.

  He switched the machine on and ran through the usual stuff about the interviewee’s name, the time and location, then asked the first question.

  ‘Can you tell me what happened on the night of Thursday, the third of June, this year?’

  Annika bit her lip. ‘Can you switch that off for a moment?’ she said.

  Q lowered his head demonstratively for several seconds, then pressed the pause button. ‘What?’ he said.

  ‘Is it actually suitable that you’re conducting this interview with me?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’ Q said.

  ‘Won’t it be invalid? Because of our special relationship?’

  He leaned back and raised his eyebrows. ‘Speak for yourself,’ he said. ‘I’ve had special relationships with other reporters, but not with you. Tell me what happened that night.’ He turned the machine on again.

  She closed her eyes for several seconds, trying to locate the memories she had filed away. ‘I was on the upstairs landing,’ she said. ‘It was dark. I’d brushed my teeth, even though there was no toothpaste. I was on my way into the bedroom …’

  ‘Was your husband at home?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. We’d had a big row earlier that evening. He’d left. Both the children wanted to sleep with me, and I agreed.’

  ‘So the children …?’

  ‘Were in the double-bed in our room.’

  ‘What time was it?’

  She sighed and thought for a moment. ‘I emailed you a draft of an article,’ she said. ‘It must have been half an hour after that, forty-five minutes, maybe.’

  He rolled over to his computer and opened his email folder. ‘It arrived at two forty-three,’ he said. ‘So you were standing on the upstairs landing of your house at a quarter past, half past three in the morning, and then what happened?’

  She licked her lips. ‘There was a crash from downstairs,’ she said. ‘Like a window being broken. I went down the stairs, four or five, before I realized what had happened.’

  ‘And what had happened?’

  ‘Someone had smashed the window. The big picture window next to the front door. There was glass everywhere. I ran down the rest of the stairs, but I couldn’t see anyone outside.’

  ‘How did you react?’

  ‘At first I was just surprised. Then angry. I wasn’t scared until there was another crash from Ellen’s room.’

  ‘Were you barefoot?’

  Annika looked up at him in surprise. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘or, rather, I think I was wearing socks.’

  ‘Did you cut yourself on the glass?’

  She saw what he was getting at and felt the blood rush to her face. ‘No,’ she said, ‘but I’m not lying.’

  ‘Then what happened?’

  ‘The window in Ellen’s room smashed as well. I ran back upstairs. The door was open, and I could see the glass was broken. Something came flying through the window. It was dark and rectangular and had a burning tail.’

  Q was chewing a biro. ‘What do you think it was?’

  Annika gulped. ‘I realized when it hit the floor and smashed. I just managed to get the door closed before the room burst into flames.’

  ‘So the window was already smashed? It didn’t get broken by the firebomb?’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ she said, ‘but, yes, that’s what happened. The glass was already smashed.’

  ‘And this was the room at the north-east corner of the house?’

  Annika paused. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘that’s right. Closest to the junction.’

  ‘And then?’

  She screwed her eyes shut. ‘Kalle’s room,’ she said. ‘A brick came through the window, breaking the glass, and landed on the bed. The bottle came a few seconds later. It hit the wall above the bed and shattered instantly.’

  ‘What happened when the bottle broke?’

  Annika could see the flames in front of her, the way the fire had followed the petrol fumes, the curtains and bookshelf catching.

  ‘Everything was alight,’ she said. ‘There was a smell of petrol and everything was burning.’

  ‘And Kalle’s room, that’s the one facing south-east?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Then what did you do?’

  She shook her head. ‘I backed away,’ she said, ‘because the heat was so intense. I thought of the children and went into the bedroom.’

  ‘Did you close the door to Kalle’s room?’

  Annika stared at Q, wide-eyed. ‘I don’t think I did, actually,’ she said.

  ‘But you closed Ellen’s bedroom door?’

  She scratched her head. ‘I think so.’

  ‘Why not Kalle’s?’

&nbs
p; ‘I don’t know. It was so hot. I wanted to get to the children.’

  ‘And what did you do when you reached them?’

  ‘I woke them up and lowered them to the terrace using the bottom sheet.’

  ‘Both at the same time?’

  ‘No, Kalle first. Then Ellen.’

  ‘And what about you?’

  ‘I jumped.’

  ‘You jumped.’

  ‘And landed on the terrace table. That’s when I saw him.’

  ‘Who?’ Q said.

  ‘Wilhelm Hopkins, our neighbour. He was standing there, hiding in the bushes. I’m absolutely convinced he started the fire.’

  Q looked at her so intently that Annika started to feel her skin itching. ‘Are we done, then?’ she asked.

  ‘What were you doing up so late at night?’

  ‘I’ve already told you. I’d been working, then I sent my article to you and the newsroom.’

  ‘Yes, at two forty-three. What were you doing between then and half past three?’

  Her throat tightened. ‘Mostly sitting and crying,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘We’d had an argument, my husband and I, and I … well, I wished we hadn’t. I was feeling sorry for myself.’

  ‘Because your husband had left you?’

  Annika smiled weakly. ‘Yes, more or less.’

  ‘Any thoughts of revenge?’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For the fact that he’d left you. Because you were on your own.’

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘not at all.’

  The detective sighed and picked up some sheets of paper from his desk. ‘Do you know what this is?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘A judgement from the district court in Eskilstuna,’ he said. ‘Nine years ago you were found guilty of manslaughter and given a probationary sentence.’

  She was sitting absolutely still, her brain racing. Where’s this going? What next?

  ‘There’s one very interesting witness statement in this report,’ Q said. ‘The police officer who was first on the scene after your boyfriend died: do you know what he said you said? Your motive for hitting him so hard that he fell into the blast furnace?’