The Nightmare

100

Saga has her phone against her ear as she stops for a moment next to the recycle bin in the hallway. She sees without noticing it the leaflike remains of a butterfly on the floor, mimicking life in the breeze from the ventilation system.

“Don’t you have anything else to do up there in Stockholm?” asks an officer with a Gotland dialect when she finally connects with Södertälje.

“About Pontus Salman,” she says irritably.

“Well, he’s gone now.” The policeman sounds contented.

“What the hell are you saying?” she yells.

“Well, I talked to Gunilla Sommer, our psychologist, who brought him into the psychiatric ward.”

“And?”

“She interviewed him and decided, without reservation, that he was no longer a candidate for suicide. She felt he should be free to go, so she released him. Hospital beds cost money, you know.”

“Send out a description and bring him in at once!” Saga demands immediately.

“For what? A halfhearted suicide attempt?”

“Just make sure you find him!” Saga snarls and hangs up.

She jogs toward the elevators when Göran Stone steps in front of her and blocks her with outspread arms.

“So you want to get Pontus Salman to talk to you-right?” he teases.

“Right,” she says, and tries to push past, but he doesn’t let her go.

“Just shake your ass a little,” he says. “Or toss your hair so that you’re-”

“Move!” Saga commands. She’s so angry, her forehead begins to flush.

“Okay, sorry, I just wanted to help.” Göran Stone laughs nastily. “But for your information, we’ve just sent four cars to Salman’s house on Lidingö.”

“What’s happened?” Saga asks quickly.

“The neighbors called the police.” Göran smiles. “They’d heard a little bang-bang and some screaming.”

Saga pushes Stone roughly away and begins to run.

“Thank you so much, Göran!” Göran calls after her. “You’re the best, Göran!”

As Saga drives to Lidingö, she tries to keep her mind blank. But she can’t forget the sounds on the recording of the broken man who, weeping, described what had been done to his daughter.

Saga tells herself that she’s going to exercise hard tonight and then go to bed early.

People have come out of their houses and filled the street around Roskullsvägen, so she has to park one hundred meters away from Salman’s house. Curious onlookers and reporters crowd outside the blue-and-white police tape trying to get a look inside the house. Saga excuses herself in a tight voice as she pushes her way through. The blue lights of the emergency vehicles flash across the green trees. Saga sees her colleague Magdalena Ronander leaning against the dark brown brick wall and vomiting. Pontus Salman’s white BMW is parked in front of his garage. Its roof window is missing. Small, bloody glass cubes are scattered over the ground and sparkle on the chassis. Through the blood-smeared side window, a man’s body can be seen slumped sideways.

She recognizes it as Pontus Salman’s.

Magdalena lifts a pale face to look at Saga tiredly. She wipes her mouth with a tissue. Then she blocks Saga from going to the door.

“No, no,” she says hoarsely. “You don’t want to go in there. Absolutely not.”

Saga stops and glances toward the large house. She turns to Magdalena to ask something but stops again. She understands, then, that the first thing she must do is call Joona right away to tell him they no longer have a witness.