just because he comes from Stockholm.’
‘I’m trying to help,’ Joona says. ‘Seeing as—’
‘Just shut up.’
‘This is my preliminary investigation,’ the prosecutor says, looking Gunnarsson hard in the eye.
‘Then maybe you’d like to know that Joona Linna has got Internal Investigations on his back, and that senior prosecutor at National—’
‘Are you under investigation?’ Susanne Öst asks, taken aback.
‘Yes,’ Joona replies. ‘But my role—’
‘And here I am going about trusting you,’ she says, her mouth contracting tightly. ‘I’ve let you in on the investigation, listened to you. And it turns out you’re just a liar.’
‘I haven’t got time for this,’ Joona says seriously. ‘I need to talk to Daniel Grim.’
‘I’ll do that,’ Gunnarsson says with a snort.
‘You do realise how serious this is,’ Joona goes on. ‘Daniel Grim could be the only person who—’
‘I’m not prepared to work with you,’ the prosecutor interrupts.
‘You’re suspended,’ Gunnarsson says.
‘I’ve lost all faith in you,’ Susanne sighs, and starts to walk towards the door.
‘Goodbye,’ Gunnarsson says, and follows her.
‘If you get a chance to talk to Daniel, you have to ask him about Dennis,’ Joona calls after them. ‘Ask Daniel if he knows who Dennis is, but above all ask him where Vicky might have gone. We need a name or a location. Daniel’s the only person Vicky talked to, and—’
‘Go home,’ Gunnarsson laughs, then waves at him over his shoulder and walks out.
Counsellor Daniel Grim has worked part-time with the girls at the Birgitta Home for eleven years. He practises Cognitive Behavioural Therapy and Aggression Replacement Training, and talks to the residents individually at least once a week.
Daniel’s wife Elisabet was a nurse, and had been working the night-shift when he thought she had gone with the badly shocked Nina Molander in the ambulance to the district hospital.
When Daniel realised that Elisabet was lying dead in the brew-house, he collapsed on the ground. He was talking confusedly about Elisabet’s heart disease, but when he heard that she had been killed he fell completely silent. He had goosebumps on his arms, and sweat was running down his cheeks. He was breathing fast, and didn’t say a word when he was lifted into the ambulance on a stretcher.
Superintendent Gunnarsson has already pulled out another cigarette when he gets out of the lift at Ward 52A in the psychiatric clinic at the West Norrland district hospital.
A young man in a white coat comes to meet him, they shake hands, then Gunnarsson follows him down a corridor with pale grey walls.
‘Like I said on the phone, I don’t think there’s much point trying to interview him this soon …’
‘No, but I can just have a little chat with him.’
The doctor stops and looks at Gunnarsson for a moment before he begins to explain: ‘Daniel Grim is in a state of traumatised shock, which is commonly known as arousal. It’s triggered by the hypothalamus and the limbic system, and—’
‘I don’t give a damn about that,’ Gunnarsson interrupts. ‘I just need to know if he’s been stuffed with a load of drugs and is totally fucking out of it.’
‘No, he’s not out of it, but I wouldn’t let you see him unless—’
‘We’ve got a double murder—’
‘You know full well whose decision is final here,’ the doctor interrupts calmly. ‘If I believe the patient’s recovery might be adversely affected by talking to the police, then you’ll just have to wait.’
‘I understand,’ Gunnarsson says, forcing himself to speak calmly.
‘But seeing as the patient himself has repeatedly stated that he wants to help the police, I’m prepared to allow you to ask him a few questions in my presence.’
‘I’m very grateful,’ Gunnarsson smiles.
They set off down the corridor again, turn a corner, walk past a row of windows looking onto an internal courtyard full of skylights and ventilation units, before the doctor opens the door to one of the patients’ rooms.
There are sheets and blankets lying on a small sofa, but Daniel Grim is sitting on the floor below the window with his back to the radiator. His face looks oddly relaxed, and he doesn’t look up when they walk in.
Gunnarsson pulls up a chair and sits down in front of Daniel. After a while he swears, and crouches down next to the grieving man.
‘I need to talk to you,’ he says. ‘We have to find Vicky Bennet … she’s suspected of committing the murders at the Birgitta Home, and—’
‘But I …’
Gunnarsson stops talking abruptly as Daniel whispers something, and waits for him to go on.
‘I didn’t hear what you said,’ he says.
The doctor stands and watches them in silence.
‘I don’t think it was her,’ Daniel whispers. ‘She’s a sweet girl, and …’
He raises his glasses and wipes the tears from his cheeks.
‘I know you’re governed by an oath of confidentiality,’ Gunnarsson says. ‘But is there any way you could help us find Vicky Bennet?’
‘I’ll try,’ Daniel mumbles, then purses his lips together tightly.
‘Does she know anyone who lives near the Birgitta Home?’
‘Maybe … I’m having trouble sorting my thoughts out …’
Gunnarsson groans and shifts his position.
‘You were Vicky’s counsellor,’ he says sternly. ‘Where do you think she’s gone? Let’s ignore any question of guilt, because we really don’t know. But we’re fairly certain that she’s kidnapped a child.’
‘No,’ he whispers.
‘Who would she go to? Who would she get to help her?’
‘She’s frightened,’ Daniel replies in a shaky voice. ‘She curls up under a tree and hides, that’s … that … What was the question?’
‘Do you know of any particular hiding place?’
Daniel starts to mutter about Elisabet’s heart, saying he was sure it was because of the problems with her heart.
‘Daniel, you don’t have to do this if it’s too difficult,’ the doctor says. ‘I can ask the police to come back later if you need to rest.’
Daniel shakes his head quickly and tries to breathe calmly.
‘Give me a few places,’ Gunnarsson says,
‘Stockholm.’
‘Where?’
‘I … I don’t know about—’
‘For fuck’s sake!’ Gunnarsson exclaims.
‘Sorry, I’m sorry …’
Daniel’s chin trembles, and the corners of his mouth droop as tears well up in his eyes, and he turns away and starts to sob loudly, his whole body shaking.
‘She