Back Cruel Tides
Chapters (83)
  1. Cover
  2. Maps
  3. Epigraph
  4. Prologue
  5. Chapter 1
  6. Chapter 2
  7. Chapter 3
  8. Chapter 4
  9. Chapter 5
  10. Chapter 6
  11. Chapter 7
  12. Chapter 8
  13. Chapter 9
  14. Chapter 10
  15. Chapter 11
  16. Chapter 12
  17. Chapter 13
  18. Chapter 14
  19. Chapter 15
  20. Chapter 16
  21. Chapter 17
  22. Chapter 18
  23. Chapter 19
  24. Chapter 20
  25. Chapter 21
  26. Chapter 22
  27. Chapter 23
  28. Chapter 24
  29. Chapter 25
  30. Chapter 26
  31. Chapter 27
  32. Chapter 28
  33. Chapter 29
  34. Chapter 30
  35. Chapter 31
  36. Chapter 32
  37. Chapter 33
  38. Chapter 34
  39. Chapter 35
  40. Chapter 36
  41. Chapter 37
  42. Chapter 38
  43. Chapter 39
  44. Chapter 40
  45. Chapter 41
  46. Chapter 42
  47. Chapter 43
  48. Chapter 44
  49. Chapter 45
  50. Chapter 46
  51. Chapter 47
  52. Chapter 48
  53. Chapter 49
  54. Chapter 50
  55. Chapter 51
  56. Chapter 52
  57. Chapter 53
  58. Chapter 54
  59. Chapter 55
  60. Chapter 56
  61. Chapter 57
  62. Chapter 58
  63. Chapter 59
  64. Chapter 60
  65. Chapter 61
  66. Chapter 62
  67. Chapter 63
  68. Chapter 64
  69. Chapter 65
  70. Chapter 66
  71. Chapter 67
  72. Chapter 68
  73. Chapter 69
  74. Chapter 70
  75. Chapter 71
  76. Chapter 72
  77. Chapter 73
  78. Chapter 74
  79. Chapter 75
  80. Chapter 76
  81. Chapter 77
  82. Epilogue
  83. About the Author

It’s him, Karen thinks twenty minutes later as she climbs back into her car. Gundar Freske can be linked to both Loa Marklund and Anita Kollbar via New Builds Ltd. The former complained about his smoking and the latter signed his eviction notice. And Sandrine Broe knew him from the pub The Pirate.

I’m onto you now, you bastard.

Chapter 35

35

‘Not enough? Seriously, how much do you need?’

Karen stares at Karl Björken. She has pulled him into one of the interview rooms to recount her conversations with Sandrine Broe and Anita Kollbar.

‘To bring him in?’ Björken replies with a shrug. ‘More than this, that’s for sure. I doubt Freske’s the only person in Moerbeck with connections to both Loa Marklund and Anita Kollbar. After all, Marklund was pretty querulous, if I’ve understood it right, and Kollbar must have signed hundreds of unpleasant letters.’

‘And Sandrine Broe? How do you explain that?’

Karl waves his hand dismissively.

‘If that really was Freske she had an argument with. You said she wasn’t even sure herself if it was the man in the picture you showed her.’

‘She said he was older. That’s all. And she’s right about that, given as how the driving licence is from ’07.’

‘Maybe. But there’s also the small detail that Gundar Freske’s in a wheelchair, according to our own guys.’

Karen looks up at the ceiling and groans. She can’t repeat what Loa Marklund wrote in her complaint one more time. Karl already knows. And he knows she knows.

‘What did Greta Hansen say, by the way?’ he says, stifling a yawn.

‘Nothing,’ Karen mutters grumpily. ‘She didn’t recognise the name and hasn’t been in touch about the picture I sent her. Have you found anything?’

‘Not much. The guy is thirty-seven years old. No information about an employer, but also nothing about early retirement or anything like that, so I assume he gets paid under the table.’

‘Or lived off his mother,’ Karen says. ‘That tracks with his rent delinquency after she passed away.’

‘No criminal record. Never seems to have owned a passport and the most recent version of his driving licence was issued just over ten years ago and has expired. Not so much as a speeding ticket on it, so I have no idea why he hasn’t renewed it.’

‘I’ll bet you anything he rides a moped. Probably can’t afford a car. Guy can’t even pay his rent.’

Karl nods.

‘Point. According to the Vehicle Licensing Agency, he doesn’t own a car. But like I said, that’s not enough.’

‘Besides, we don’t even know if the mopeds have anything to do with the attacks,’ Karen grudgingly admits. ‘Unfortunately, I have to side with Johannisen on that: it’s a pretty weak lead. Freske, on the other hand; a bloke his age, still living at home . . .’