The Dangerous Game (33 page)

‘Just think, neither one of us has a mother,’ says Agnes.

‘I know.’

For a moment, they both fall silent.

‘I think a lot about her during the holidays, like today,’ Agnes goes on. ‘Mamma loved New Year’s Eve. We always went out to visit friends, or else we had a party at home. My mother was such a happy and social person. She loved being with people. She always talked louder and laughed longer than anyone else.’

Agnes smiles at the thought. Per looks at her with that preoccupied expression of his.

‘My mother wasn’t like that at all. She was quiet and reserved. She did her job but, otherwise, she just stayed at home. I can see Mamma sitting on the sofa, wearing an old dressing gown, with some knitting on her lap as she watches TV. That was her daily routine. But I think she was happy.’

Per raises his glass and looks at Agnes, a little smile tugging at his lips.

‘You’re beautiful, you know. You really are. Here’s to you, my girl. Cheers.’

‘Cheers.’ Agnes smiles at him.

The apple juice tastes good.

AN HOUR LATER
, Knutas was sitting in front of his computer with two meatball sandwiches and a beer. The only one who seemed happy that he’d returned home was the cat, who jumped up on his lap and curled up contentedly. Lina, who had been expecting her husband to come through the door and join the party at any moment, was furious and abruptly cut him off when he rang her again. She didn’t even want to hear his explanation. It was enough for her to know that he’d driven all the way out to Ljugarn only to turn around again. Nothing could be so important on New Year’s Eve that it couldn’t wait another day, or at least until after midnight. That was what she had shouted in his ear before ending the conversation and dismissing him for the rest of the night. Lina was usually very patient about the irregular hours required by his job, but even she had her limits.

Knutas shook off his feeling of discomfort and took a bite of his sandwich. He’d had better meals on New Year’s Eve. And better company, too, he thought as he petted the cat.

Then the email appeared in his inbox. His heart pounding, he clicked it open and looked at the image of the message. Exactly the same typeface as before. The words glared at him. ‘I am a killer.’ Who are you? he thought. Who the hell are you? And who are you thinking of killing next?

Knutas ate his sandwiches and drank his beer, letting the thoughts whirl through his head. It would be another week before Fanny Nord returned home. He had a good mind to go out to the airport and meet her in person. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to find this bastard out there. He was still staring at the message on the screen. What did it tell him? He clicked on the print icon and then took the printed text into the living room. He lit a fire in the fireplace, put on a favourite CD by Simon and Garfunkel, and got another beer out of the fridge. In his mind, he pictured Lina’s face. She wouldn’t be any happier tomorrow when she came home to an empty house. His plane to Stockholm left at eight thirty. Before settling down on the sofa, Knutas went back into his home office to fetch his copy of the first letter. Then he sat down on the sofa and compared the two print-outs. Who had written them? Rikard Karlström was a possible candidate. Erna Linton was, too. And Marita Ahonen. Or was the perpetrator some unknown individual they hadn’t even come across?

With these thoughts in his mind, Knutas fell asleep on New Year’s Eve, with still a whole hour left until midnight.

WHEN AGNES GOES
to bed on New Year’s Eve, she is feeling more light-hearted than she has in a long time. The fireworks were fantastic. She had joined the few patients on the ward who were still awake, along with the staff, and they had all gathered in front of the conference-room windows to watch the colourful pyrotechnic display. It felt magical to be standing there next to Per and seeing the whole sky exploding with shooting stars and glitter. The two of them together, standing very close.

He arouses strange feelings in her, but they’re not unpleasant. She gets a tingling in her body whenever she looks at him, but it’s not the same prickling sensation she used to have. And with a combination of joy and alarm, she realizes that she is falling in love with her personal nurse. Which is insane, of course. I wonder if he feels the same way, she thinks, smiling to herself. He gave her such an odd look when they drank a toast at midnight. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

Her father had phoned shortly after midnight to wish her a happy New Year. When Agnes asked him about Katarina, he said that they’d quarrelled, so he’d driven her back to the airport earlier in the day. He said that their relationship might be over, slurring his words a bit. But in the next breath he told her it didn’t really matter. Katarina wasn’t an easy person to be with. She was very controlling and had a bad temper. So the truth finally came out, now that he was slightly drunk. He’d never said a negative word about Katarina before.

But he wasn’t complaining, he assured Agnes. He was celebrating New Year’s with some of his co-workers from his construction job. And that was just fine with him.

Agnes has to admit to feeling a certain relief.

She leaves the light on for a while. She’s not sleepy at all, even though her body is aching with fatigue. She’s glad that Linda has moved out. She doesn’t have to take anyone else into consideration. She’s thinking about Per, and that makes her happy. She pictures his face and his weary eyes, which fascinate her. He told her that he has the next few days off, so he’s going to Gotland to visit a friend. An old classmate from school. But he has promised to phone.

Agnes can’t understand why he seems to care so much about her. She has started thinking about the future. First, she has to get well as fast as possible. If she does everything right, it shouldn’t really take so long, even though she realizes that she is so underweight that it’s going to take more than just a few months. But maybe she’ll be okay by summer. She thinks about venturing out and socializing again, going to the beach and swimming. Will she be able to handle that? Her worst nightmare is having to get undressed in front of other people. But if she gets well, then … No, not
if
, she corrects herself.
When
she gets well. She is looking forward to jumping into the water with Per at Tofta Strand. She giggles at such an unrealistic thought.

Suddenly, she’s roused from her reveries. The heavy curtain in front of the window sways. It’s just a vague movement which she sees out of the corner of her eye, so she’s not sure it even happened. Did the curtain really move? She fixes her eyes on the velvety fabric. She must be imagining things. The alarm clock on the nightstand is discreetly ticking. 1.20 a.m. She hasn’t been awake at this hour in a very long time. She hears footsteps out in the corridor which pass her room and then disappear. The night staff are probably still celebrating. Before she came back to her room, she noticed that they had set out a cheese platter and lit some candles in the common room. Maybe they were even drinking wine. They probably weren’t so strict about the rules on New Year’s Eve. Poor things. Even they needed to relax once in a while. She wonders if Per is with them, and feels a pang of jealousy. No, she doesn’t think he is. He’s leaving for Gotland early in the morning.

Slowly, she runs her finger over the downy skin on her arm. Back and forth. She wonders what it would feel like to kiss Per. He has nice lips. His teeth are a bit uneven, but that doesn’t matter. She thinks it’s charming.

Then the curtain moves again. Just slightly, but enough for her to realize it’s not her imagination. She sits bolt upright in bed, without taking her eyes off the curtain. It’s heavy and reaches all the way to the floor so that it will keep out the light, as well as blocking the cold and any sound. Her heart is beating faster. Is there that much of a draught from the window? She listens for the wind, but hears nothing. The room seems suddenly filled with danger. A tangible, menacing feeling, but she doesn’t know why. She tries to reach for the alarm button.

But that’s as far as she gets.

EARLY IN THE
morning on New Year’s Day, Knutas was awakened by the doorbell. Groggy with sleep, he stumbled out to the front hall and opened the door to find his son, Nils, standing there. His face was white as a sheet, and his hair was sticking out all over.

‘Sorry. I forgot my key. Happy New Year.’

‘What?’

It took a moment for Knutas to remember what day it was, and then he realized that he must have fallen asleep on the sofa.

‘Are you home early? Or is it late?’

‘It’s six o’clock, and I just left the party. I’m going to bed. Where’s Mamma? I thought you were both going to stay in Ljugarn.’

‘We were. But something came up and I had to work.’

‘That figures. Good night.’

Nils quickly disappeared upstairs. Knutas blinked his eyes in confusion. Where was Petra? Wasn’t she home yet? He looked around and caught sight of her boots in the hall, and next to them was her jacket, where she had dropped it on the floor. He breathed a sigh of relief. Then he went back to the living room. It was lucky he hadn’t lit any candles last night. The fire in the fireplace had burned out on its own.

He sank down on to the sofa. Checked his mobile. Lots of calls and texts with New Year greetings at midnight. One from Lina, too, which made him happy. He looked at his watch. Only 6.10. Too early to phone her. His eyes fell on the print-outs. All of a sudden he thought he recognized the typeface of the letters. He was certain he’d seen those very words before. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d known it all along. Lina had a tendency to save everything, including old magazines – for recipes that might come in handy, tips about how to re-upholster a chair, redo a fence, or plant a shrub.

Again he looked at the words that had been cut out and pasted on the card. He got up and shuffled through Lina’s stack of magazines. It didn’t take long before he stopped. There they were. Right in front of his eyes. To think it could be that simple. It was now crystal clear. No doubt at all. Slowly, he picked up the magazine. The words had been taken from the cover, where a number of headlines screamed their messages.

A publication that was read only by members of a specific group. The magazine was called
The Nursing Profession
.

THE PLANE FROM
Visby landed late at Bromma Airport because the wings had to be de-iced before take-off. Knutas immediately caught a taxi to the anorexia clinic. It was an overcast morning and bitterly cold, with a frigid wind blowing from the north. He hurried into the hospital. After losing his way a few times he finally located the clinic, which was in a separate building of the huge hospital complex. In the lift, it occurred to him that he should have phoned ahead. But it was too late for that. He was here now.

When he finally reached the ward, he found the glass door locked. He rang the bell. A woman looked up and then pushed a button to let him in. With a faint whirring sound, the door opened.

The woman came to greet him, introducing herself as the clinic supervisor, Vanja Forsman. She looked nervous, and Knutas hurried to show her his police ID.

‘My name is Anders Knutas, and I’m from the Visby police. I’m here to see one of your patients. Agnes Karlström.’

Vanja Forsman looked as if she might faint.

‘Agnes?’ she repeated weakly. ‘How could the police already … Did someone phone you? Did you say the Visby police?’

She leaned forward to look at his ID again.

Knutas gave her an enquiring look.

‘Excuse me, but I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘I know I should have called ahead, but there wasn’t time. I really need to speak to Agnes as soon as possible. It has to do with a murder investigation.’

Vanja Forsman’s face went white.

‘A murder investigation? You want to talk to Agnes about a murder investigation?’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Knutas, relieved that she seemed to understand him at last.

‘I’m afraid you can’t. I’m afraid that’s not possible.’

‘Not possible?’

The woman’s lower lip began to quiver.

‘The patients are only now getting up. We agreed that anyone who stayed up to watch the fireworks could sleep in today. And Agnes … Agnes isn’t with us any more. Just ten minutes ago we found her in bed. And she’s dead.’

HE WAS SITTING
at the gate for the Visby flight, casually leafing through the previous evening’s papers. He’d arrived at the airport with plenty of time to spare and had already checked in and gone through security. One of the papers had an article listing all the major crimes that had been committed during the past year. The assault on Markus Sandberg was on the list, along with the murder of Robert Ek. Too bad they won’t get to include what’s going to happen next, he thought. It would be a real gem for their morbid little compilation.

He knew that Jenny Levin had flown home to Gotland. On the afternoon of New Year’s Eve, after he had taken Agnes back to the clinic, he’d returned to the modelling agency’s flat on Kungsholmen. He had a few hours before he and Agnes would eat dinner together.

He rang the bell and a Finnish girl opened the door. That was a serious disappointment. He felt both foolish and angry. But, luckily, he quickly regained his composure and pretended to be a friend of Jenny’s. The Finnish girl told him that she’d left for Gotland a few hours earlier. That definitely complicated matters. He’d be forced to go there and rent a car again, but what the hell. As long as he was able to complete his plan.

He had put the last letter addressed to the magazine in the post box outside the airport. Today, there was no postal delivery, so it wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow. He had no intention of carrying out his threat, but he wanted to make those monsters suffer a little longer. That bitch Fanny Nord was going to shit her pants again. And she deserved it, even though he’d changed his mind when it came to her. He had other things to think about now.

Fury surged inside him when he recalled what Agnes had told him about the photo shoot with Fanny Nord. That woman had kept complaining about how fat she was until Agnes finally broke down. And that disgusting Markus Sandberg had kept snapping pictures as he added his own criticisms. He complained and grumbled about Agnes’s figure, but that hadn’t stopped him from fucking her. What a scumbag. That man got what he deserved.