by talking to Viveka. How can I do anything if I don’t know what’s going on? Tell me what it is, and I’ll help you. I love you, Emma. Can’t you get that into your head?”
“No, I can’t. I can’t tell you what it is,” she said in a stifled voice.
“What do you mean? What can’t you tell me?”
“Nothing, Johan. I have to go now. Merry Christmas, have a nice holiday, Happy New Year, and have a great life!”
She hung up.
Karin Jacobsson woke to find herself tied to a bed. A rope had been wound around her body, and she was completely immobilized, as if she were in a vise. Her arms and legs were numb, and her head hurt. She tried to get her bearings in the room as best she could from her immovable position. She was in a child’s bedroom that she recognized from her previous visit. On the table was an old-fashioned Parcheesi game with different-colored wooden cones as markers. There were chairs with homemade cushions covered with a tiny flower pattern and a Strindberg lamp. A polished hardwood floor, white cotton curtains at the window. How idyllic and homey it all was.
The house was quiet. Who had hit her?
What had happened to Knutas and Leif?
She listened for any sounds but couldn’t hear a thing.
How long had she been lying here? She had arrived at about eleven thirty. Through the window she saw that it was still overcast and impossible to figure out how high the sun was in the sky.
She tried to move her hands, which were tied to the sides of the bed. The rope cut into her wrists.
It wasn’t any better with her legs. With an effort she managed to lift her head and look around. Her jacket was lying on a chair. She arched her body, straining against the rope the way she had seen escape artists do. Tense and release, tense and release. Stubbornly she kept on, varying it by twisting and turning her wrists as she tried to loosen the rope.
At the same time her concern about Anders and Leif grew.
It bothered her that it was so quiet in the house. If someone had tied her up like this, shouldn’t that person be close by? Karin felt her anger growing. She had no intention of lying here like some sacrificial lamb, waiting for someone to take her to slaughter. She tensed her muscles and arched her body up toward the ceiling as hard as she could.
The rope loosened enough to give her new hope. She repeated the movement. Suddenly she felt the rope release. The next instant she was able to free one hand and her left arm.
In a matter of minutes she was free and off the bed. She stretched her body, waved her arms, and shook out her legs to get the blood circulating. She crept over to the window and looked out. She could see the water, which was motionless and gray, the boathouse and the sauna down by the shore. Not a soul in sight. She put on her jacket and put her hand in her pocket for her cell phone and car keys. They were gone.
The plane landed on schedule at Arlanda Airport. After Tom Kingsley came through passport control, the police were waiting for him.
The arrest was undramatic. Kingsley mostly looked surprised. The police explained to him that he was under arrest. Then he was cuffed and escorted by two plainclothes officers to the domestic terminal to wait for the plane to Gotland later that afternoon.
The news that he had been arrested was received with relief and joy at police headquarters in Visby. Kihlgard called Knutas but got no answer. He tried Jacobsson’s cell, but again with negative results.
“Why the hell can’t we get hold of the two top officers when something is finally happening?” he roared.
“Karin was driving out to Gnisvard this morning,” said Wittberg. “Anders has apparently not answered his cell phone all weekend. She was worried that something might have happened. Hell, I forgot all about that.”
“What do you mean by ‘something might have happened’?” growled Kihlgard.
“He and Leif were going out in the boat, and there were nearly gale force winds.”
Kihlgard looked at his watch.
“Let’s drive out there. We’ve got time.”
A dull thudding sound was audible as Jacobsson came out into the yard. It sounded like pounding and it was coming from inside the boathouse.
She peered through the window but couldn’t see anything unusual. Not a sound. She stood still and waited. She pressed her body against the locked door to hear better. Then the thudding resumed, at a slower beat. It sounded almost halfhearted now.
She needed something to break the window. Her car stood where she had left it, next to Leif’s. In the trunk she found a tire iron. It was now or never. With a crash the glass shattered and fell in like confetti. Jacobsson whispered through the broken window, “Anders, are you there?”
The whimper that came in response indicated that he had been gagged. She leaned down and looked inside. There in the dark she could make out her boss lying on the floor, his hands and feet bound, a rag stuffed in his mouth.
She turned around and looked up at the house. Not a sign of life. She reached inside for the latch and opened the window, cutting her hand on the broken glass. Damn it. She was bleeding, but that didn’t matter. She climbed in.
When she looked into Knutas’s eyes, she had never seen him so helpless. Quickly she started untying the rope that held the gag in place. He gasped when at last he was free.
“Thanks. I’d almost given up hope. I thought I was going to rot in this damn place.”
“Where’s Leif?” asked Jacobsson as she wrestled with the knots that held Knutas’s wrists behind his back.
“I don’t know. How did you happen to come out here?”
“We started getting worried when we didn’t hear from you. But when I got here someone hit me over the head and tied me to a bed inside the house. I managed to get free and came out here looking for you. I heard you thumping.”
“It was Leif.”
Jacobsson paused. “What?”
“I think it was Leif who murdered both Dahlstrom and Fanny.”
“Are you out of your mind!”
“No, I mean it. I’ll explain later.”
Something in his voice made her realize that it was true.
“Is the car still here?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s parked outside.”
“What about the boat?”
“It’s at the dock.”
“We have to get out of here. We have to get help.”
The door was locked from the outside, so they climbed out the window and ran across the yard to the road.
After they had gone a hundred yards from the house, they heard a deafening boom. They turned around to a sea of fire. The sauna down by the water had exploded into an inferno of flames, building materials, and smoke. They watched the macabre spectacle in silence.
“He blew the whole thing up,” gasped Knutas.
They approached the burning building and saw the flames reflected in the water.
The only thing Knutas could think about was whether Leif was inside.
Neighbors who had heard the explosion came driving up. They had alerted both the police and the fire department. Knutas and Jacobsson were tended to by their colleagues. Knutas managed to convince the medics that he didn’t need to go to the hospital. He at least needed to stay at the scene long enough to see how things developed. Jacobsson felt the same. Finally they agreed to sit inside an ambulance to watch everything going on around them. Uniformed and armed police officers went into the house while others searched the area with dogs. The firefighters fought the blaze down at the dock, and several officers crept inside the boathouse with their guns drawn. The whole scene is right out of a movie, thought Knutas.
Gradually the police offices regrouped in the front yard. The firefighters had the fire under control, and now it
