“I need to know everything you have on Penelope Fernandez and her-”
Anja cuts Joona off. “She’s one of my idols. She’s a peace activist. She lives on Sankt Paulsgatan 3.”
“We’ve put out a search bulletin on her and Bjorn Almskog,” Joona says. “The Coast Guard is flying two helicopters in the area around Dalaro, but they should coordinate with the maritime police.”
“I’ll take a look at what’s going on,” Anja says.
“Someone should track down Viola’s boyfriend, and also the fisherman who found the boat. We’ve got to get everything together as fast as we can-the evidence from the boat, the results from the National Forensic Lab-”
“Do you want me to give Linkoping a call?” Anja asks.
“I’ll talk to Erixson. He knows them and we’re going together to look at Penelope’s apartment.”
“It sounds like you’ve taken over the investigation. Right?”
17
The skies are still bright, but the air is heavy and damp, as if a thunderstorm is looming.
As Joona Linna and Erixson park outside the old fishermen’s supply shop, Joona’s cell phone rings. It’s Claudia Fernandez. He ducks into a shady spot before answering.
“You told me I could call,” she says weakly.
“Of course.”
“I know you tell this to everyone, but I thought… my daughter Penelope. I mean… I have to know if you find something, even if she…”
Claudia’s voice fades away.
“Hello? Claudia?”
“I’m here. Sorry,” she whispers.
“I’m a detective,” Joona says. “I’m trying to find out whether there is criminal activity behind these events. The Coast Guard is searching for Penelope.”
“When will they find her?”
“Well, they’re flying over the area in helicopters right now. They’re searching by sea and land. Since that takes longer, they start with the helicopters.”
Joona hears that Claudia is muffling her crying.
“I don’t know what I should be doing… I… I need to know what I can do or whether I should keep talking with her friends.”
“The best thing you can do is stay home,” Joona says. “Penelope might try to contact you and then-”
“She won’t call me,” says Claudia.
“I think she-”
“I’ve always been too hard on Penny. I’m always angry at her. I don’t really know why. I… I don’t want to lose her. I can’t lose Penelope, I…”
Claudia’s sobs are now loud in the receiver. She tries to control herself; fails. With a barely audible apology, she ends the call.
Right across from the fishermen’s supply shop is Sankt Paulsgatan 3, where Penelope Fernandez lives. Joona walks over to Erixson, who is staring into a shop window. The shop used to display photos of the fisherman who caught the largest salmon in the Stockholm River that week. Now the windows are crowded with hundreds of Hello Kitty items. The entire shop provides an amazingly stark contrast to the dirty brown walls of the building’s exterior.
“Little body, large head,” Erixson says as Joona comes up to him. Erixson points at the Hello Kittys.
“They’re rather cute,” Joona admits.
“Me-I’m totally backward. Small head on a large body,” Erixson jokes.
Joona gives him an amused glance as he opens the wide entrance door. They walk up the stairs and look at the nameplates, the illuminated buttons for turning on the ceiling lights, and the overflowing garbage cans. In the stairwell, it smells like sunshine, dust, and green soap. Erixson takes hold of the shiny wooden handrail so hard that its screws and mounting brackets creak as he climbs, panting, while trying to keep up with Joona. They make it to the fourth floor at the same time and look at each other. Erixson’s face is quivering from the effort. He nods while wiping the sweat from his forehead and whispers to Joona, “Sorry about that.”
“It’s humid today.”
There are stickers near the doorbell. Antinuclear, fair trade, and the peace symbol. Joona gives Erixson a brief glance, then puts his ear to the door. His eyes narrow.
“What is it?”
Joona presses the doorbell while still listening. He waits another moment before he pulls his picklock from his inner pocket.
“Maybe it was nothing,” Joona says as he carefully jimmies the simple lock.
He eases open the door, then changes his mind and softly closes it again. He waves Erixson to the side. He’s not sure why. They hear the melody from an ice-cream truck outside. Erixson frowns and taps his cheek nervously. Joona’s arms feel cold, but then he calmly opens the door and steps inside. Newspapers, ads, and a letter from the Left Party litter the rug. The air is unmoving and smells stale. A velvet curtain hangs in front of a closet. There’s a hissing sound, perhaps from the pipes, and somewhere something’s ticking.
Joona has no idea why his hand is reaching for his holstered weapon. He touches it with his fingers where it’s resting underneath his jacket, but leaves it there. His eyes go to the bloodred curtain and then to the kitchen door. He holds his breath as he tries to look through the ribbed, glass-paned door to the living room.
Joona takes another step although his instinct is to turn around and leave. He feels he should have called for reinforcements. A dark shadow glides across the other side of the glass. A wind chime made with hanging rods sways soundlessly. Joona sees the dust specks in the air change direction in an unfelt breeze.
He is not alone in Penelope’s apartment.
There’s someone in the living room. He can feel it. He casts one look at the kitchen door and then everything happens at once. A floorboard creaks; a series of rapid clicks keeps a rhythm all its own. The door to the kitchen is half open and in the gap between the hinges Joona spots movement. He presses against the wall as if he were in a train tunnel, his heart beating fast. Someone else is sneaking along in the dark hallway; Joona sees a back, a shoulder, an arm. The figure slides closer and then whirls around. The knife is like a white tongue. It’s leaping up, piercing in an angle so unusual Joona can’t parry the blade. Its sharp edge slices through his clothes, hitting the leather of his holstered weapon. Joona swings at the person but hits thin air. Swish. He hears the knife a second time and throws his body to the side. The blade has come from directly above this time. Joona hits his head on the bathroom door. A long sliver of wood curls down as the knife hits the door.
Joona slides down and simultaneously releases a wide kick. He connects, perhaps on the intruder’s ankle. He rolls away, pulling out his pistol and releasing the safety in the same movement. The outer door is open now. Footsteps sound running down the stairs. Joona scrambles to his feet and is ready to chase after the man, but he stops. There’s a humming sound behind him. He knows immediately what is going on and runs into the kitchen. The microwave is on. Behind its glass door, it’s giving off sparks. The control knobs of the four burners on the old gas stove are turned fully open and gas is blasting into the room. With a feeling that the flow of time has slowed down, Joona leaps to the microwave. The timer clicks menacingly, the sparking sounds keep increasing. A spray can of insect poison is rotating inside the microwave.
Joona grabs the electric plug and yanks it out. The ticking stops. The gas hisses loudly until Joona turns off the stove. The chemical smell is nauseating. He yanks open the kitchen window and then looks in on the spray can in the microwave. Its belly is grotesquely swollen. Joona thinks it could still explode at the slightest touch.
He leaves the kitchen and quickly surveys the rest of the apartment. The other rooms are empty. The air is still heavy with gas.
Erixson’s lying on the floor beside the stairwell, a cigarette in his mouth.
“Don’t light that!” Joona yells.
