The Nightmare. Ларс Кеплер
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on some island or deep underwater. But there’s still every reason to hope that she’s still alive, and if she is alive, then she’ll be found before too much longer.
Joona strides off purposefully towards his car without actually knowing where he’s going. His phone is on the roof of the car. He realises he must have left it there when he locked the car. When he picks it up to call Anja Larsson it’s very hot. No answer. He opens the door, gets in, puts on his seat belt, then sits there and tries to find a flaw in his reasoning.
The air is stuffy, but the heavy scent of the lilac bushes by the car park eventually succeeds in driving the yeasty smell of the body in the mortuary from his nostrils.
His phone rings in his hand, and he looks at the screen before answering.
‘I’ve just been talking to your doctor,’ Anja says.
‘Why were you talking to him?’ Joona asks in surprise.
‘Janush says you never show up,’ she chides.
‘I haven’t had time.’
‘But you’re taking the medication?’
‘It’s disgusting,’ Joona jokes.
‘Seriously, though … he called because he’s worried about you,’ she says.
‘I’ll talk to him.’
‘When you’ve solved this case, you mean?’
‘Have you got a pen and paper handy?’ Joona asks.
‘Don’t worry about me.’
‘The woman who was found on the boat isn’t Penelope Fernandez.’
‘No, it was Viola. I know,’ she says. ‘Petter told me.’
‘Good.’
‘You were wrong, Joona.’
‘Yes, I know …’
‘Say it,’ she jokes.
‘I’m always wrong,’ he says quietly.
Neither of them speaks for a moment.
‘So we’re not allowed to joke about that?’ she asks tentatively.
‘Have you managed to find out anything the boat and Viola Fernandez?’
‘Viola and Penelope are sisters,’ she says. ‘Penelope and Björn have been in a relationship, or whatever you want to call it, for the past four years.’
‘Yes, that’s pretty much what I thought.’
‘Right. Do you want me to go on, or is it all unnecessary?’
Joona doesn’t answer, just leans his head back and notices that the windscreen is covered with pollen from a nearby tree.
‘Viola wasn’t supposed to be going out on the boat with them,’ Anja goes on. ‘She’d had a row with her boyfriend, Sergey Jarushenko, that morning, and had phoned her mother in tears. It was her mother’s idea that she should ask Penelope if she could go with them.’
‘What do you know about Penelope?’
‘I’ve actually been prioritising the victim, Viola Fernandez, seeing as …’
‘But the murderer thought he’d killed Penelope.’
‘Hang on, what did you just say, Joona?’
‘He made a mistake, he was planning to cover the murder up, make it look like an accident, but he put Viola on her sister’s bed.’
‘Because he thought Viola was Penelope.’
‘I need to know everything about Penelope Fernandez and her …’
‘She’s one of my biggest idols,’ Anja says, cutting him off. ‘She’s a peace campaigner, and she lives at Sankt Paulsgatan 3.’
‘We’ve sent out an alert for her and Björn Almskog on the intranet,’ Joona says. ‘And the coastguard have got two helicopters searching the area around Dalarö, but they need to organise a proper search of the island with the marine police.’
‘I’ll find out what’s going on,’ she says.
‘And someone needs to talk to Viola’s boyfriend, and Bill Persson, the fisherman who found her on the boat. We need a comprehensive forensics report on the boat, and we need to speed up the results from the National Forensics Lab.’
‘Do you want me to call Linköping?’
‘I’ll talk to Erixon, he knows them. I’ll be seeing him shortly to take a look at Penelope’s apartment.’
‘Sounds like you’re in charge of the preliminary investigation. Are you?’
The summer sky is still clear, but the air is getting more and more close, as if a storm were brewing.
Joona Linna and Erixon park outside the old fishermen’s store, which always has pictures of the people who have caught the largest salmon in the centre of Stockholm each week.
Joona’s phone rings and he sees that it’s Claudia Fernandez. He walks over to the thin strip of shadow by the wall before answering.
‘You said I could call you,’ she says in a weak voice.
‘Of course.’
‘I realise that you probably say the same thing to everyone, but I was thinking … my daughter, Penelope. I mean … I need to know if you find anything, even if …’
Claudia’s voice fades away.
‘Hello? Claudia?’
‘Yes, sorry,’ she whispers.
‘I’m a detective … I’m trying to find out if there’s criminal activity behind these events. The coastguards are the people looking for Penelope,’ Joona explains.
‘When are they going to find her?’
‘They usually start by searching the area with helicopters … and at the same time they organise a ground-search of any islands, but that takes longer … so they start with helicopters.’
Joona can hear that Claudia is trying to muffle her crying.
‘I don’t know what to do, I … I need to know if there’s anything I can do, if I ought to carry on talking to her friends.’
‘The best thing would be if you could stay at home,’ Joona says. ‘Because Penelope might try to contact you, and then …’
‘She won’t call me,’ she interrupts.
‘I think she …’
‘I’ve always been too hard on Penelope, I get angry with her, I don’t know why, I … I don’t want to lose her, I can’t lose Penelope, I …’
Claudia cries down the phone, tries to stop herself, quickly apologises and ends the call.
Opposite the fishing tackle shop is Sankt Paulsgatan 3, where Penelope Fernandez lives. Joona walks across to Erixon, who is waiting for him in front of a store window full of Japanese writing and manga pictures. The shelves are full of Hello Kitty, cat dolls with big, innocent faces. The entire shop is a surprising, garish contrast to the dirty brown façade of the building.
‘Small body, big head,’ Erixon says, pointing at one of the Hello Kitty dolls when Joona reaches him.
‘Quite