place.
Jacobsson came into Knutas's office. He asked her if she knew whether there was anything special about March 20. She leafed through her calendar.
'Nothing really special, except that it's the vernal equinox.'
Knutas leaned back in his chair. 'Would that have any significance? A form of ritual that takes place on the vernal equinox? Who celebrates that day?'
'I have no idea, but it shouldn't be so hard to find out. Couldn't you ask your expert on the?sir religion whether that particular day has some special meaning for people who worship the?sir?'
Five minutes later he had his answer from Malte Moberg in Stockholm. The vernal equinox turned out to be one of the most important days in the year for?sir worshippers.
'All the puzzle pieces are falling into place,' said Knutas. 'This has to do with some religious fanatics who believe in the?sir gods and who have gone too far. But I just can't figure out what their motive could be for murdering those individuals.'
'This Estonian may have seen the very sect that the killer belongs to, a sect that has managed to remain so secret that no one even knows it exists. It sounds like something occult, with the fire and the dancing people. We already have a connection between Martina Flochten and Gunnar Ambjornsson through the hotel project at Hogklint. The fact that his body was found there just confirms that the connection has significance.'
'So then we have Staffan Mellgren. There has to be something else besides the fact that he was having an affair with Martina.'
'Could he have been a member of this?sir sect?'
'I think it's likely, and that's exactly where we're going to find the killer.'
SATURDAY, AUGUST 7
When Johan woke up, he didn't know where he was at first. Then he felt a tiny body next to his and realized that he was home with Emma and Elin. His little daughter was sleeping right next to him, breathing calmly. Emma was asleep, too. Each of them lay on her side, facing him, and he was struck by how alike they looked. The work he'd done the past few days reporting on the murder of Gunnar Ambjornsson had been intense. It had taken its toll on him. He was annoyed that he hadn't managed to find out the part about the decapitated horse heads, but all the other journalists were in the same boat. The police had really succeeded in keeping that information to themselves. It was actually quite impressive.
Fortunately more Swedish TV reporters had come over to Gotland to help cover the story. Johan had asked to have the weekend off to work on his report on the thefts of ancient artifacts, even though it was regarded as a sidetrack. Grenfors hadn't been unreasonable. It might turn out to have something to do with the murders.
His meeting with the fence had been arranged the day before Ambjornsson was found, and Johan didn't want to miss the opportunity to meet him in person.
He put on some coffee, took a shower, and then went to get the morning newspaper before he woke Emma with a kiss.
'Good morning. I can change Elin,' he offered.
'Thanks,' she mumbled, turning over and crawling farther under the covers.
On his way to the bathroom he kissed his daughter's soft cheeks, which were still warm with sleep, and blew on the back of her neck. Johan thought that the moments he spent at the changing table were so cozy. He would talk to Elin and cuddle her as he allowed her bottom to air out for a moment.
When he had finished changing her diaper, he picked the tiny baby up and carried her close to his chest, humming softly in her ear.
Before he'd had a child, he never would have imagined how nice it could be. Most of what he heard from the parents of small children was how trying and difficult everything was. Late hours and dirty diapers, crying and colic. Of course, he knew it was different if you had to take care of a baby full-time, but Emma actually said the same thing- that Elin was an unusually happy baby who was easy to care for.
They ate breakfast and read the paper in peace and quiet. Nothing new had come out about the murder of Ambjornsson. According to the police spokesperson, they were working on a broad front, conducting a thorough investigation, but so far there was no suspect in the murder. On the other hand, the police admitted that they were working on the theory that the same perpetrator was behind all three murders, although they still refused to confirm that a horse's head was found at the homes of two of the victims shortly before their deaths. Instead the spokesperson stated that the investigation had reached a sensitive stage.
A sensitive stage, thought Johan. I wonder what that means.
After breakfast he put Elin to bed; she had fallen asleep again after her second feeding. She had a crib next to their bed, and she usually slept soundly, without any fuss. Johan went over to Emma, who had on only her bathrobe, and pulled her close. He looked into her warm eyes. There was something vulnerable about them that he found fiercely attractive. That's how it had been from the very first time he saw her.
Now he held her in his arms, and she pressed herself against him. Without her doing anything else, he knew what she wanted. Her response was passionate when he kissed her. Johan felt instantly dizzy and wildly excited. They tumbled onto the bed, kissing more intensely than he ever remembered doing before. Maybe the force of their kisses was part of his feeling of desire.
She reached for him, fumbling her hands over his body, pressing against him as if he were saving her life. The intensity surprised him, and he lost all sense of space and time. All of a sudden he heard himself moaning loudly, and he tore off her bathrobe. Her body was soft and warm with sleep. She was plumper than usual, and her breasts were heavy with milk. He burrowed into her, digging his fingers into her flesh and tasting her breasts with his lips. As if it were the first time, he found his way inside of her, and he nearly lost consciousness when they both came at once.
He had thought that she would feel less like herself than she did. In fact, it wasn't her body that was so different. It was something else entirely.
Knutas had never before encountered such rushing about in the corridors on a Saturday. The investigation had expanded, and the work was taking up everyone's time.
This was the most miserable summer he'd experienced in years. He'd hardly had a chance to enjoy it at all. He'd gone swimming in the sea only a couple of times, and he could count on one hand those occasions when he'd had a barbecue outdoors with his family, even though it had been the most beautiful summer in a long time.
Now it seemed as if the investigative work was finally making headway. There was definitely a new energy in the air.
When Knutas came back from lunch, someone had placed the Destination Gotland passenger lists on his desk, as he'd requested. Officers had already checked the lists on Friday without finding Ambjornsson's name or the name of anyone connected to him, but Knutas wanted to go through them personally, just to make sure. He had the names of the passengers from all the departures starting with Sunday, August 1, which was the day when Ambjornsson was expected to return from his travels abroad.
Knutas got a cup of coffee from the machine and sat down at his desk to read.
He went over the lists of names of everyone who had traveled from Nynashamn to Visby on the same day that Ambjornsson was supposed to come home. Knutas didn't discover any name that might give him a lead.
Of course, Ambjornsson could have traveled under another identity, but why would he do that? Had he been forced to do so? Had someone threatened him? One reason he might not have come back to the island alive was that it would have exposed the perpetrator to risk, both by arousing attention and because someone might have caught sight of Ambjornsson and recognized him. No, that wasn't what had happened. Knutas sighed and put the papers aside.
The body had been transported to the forensic medicine lab in Solna. The preliminary autopsy report should arrive on Monday.
Knutas decided to take a walk in order to clear his head. It was a beautiful afternoon. A new high-pressure ridge had moved in from the east, promising a warm week for the medieval festival. The events had already started in town. From Strandgardet he could hear the announcer's voice and applause from the tournament that was held in
