“Here. Take care of them. I mean, it might be a good thing if we look into these ourselves—so it doesn’t end up in the general evidence folder?”

Ewert Grens didn’t like being interrupted. But this time he smiled warmly at Hermansson before returning to the phone.

“You heard that, Hoffmann?”

“I heard.”

“For me, two mysteries remain to be solved—who executed three hit men in the inner city of Stockholm, and who leaked that information to the arms dealers in the first place. But for you this is over. They’re no longer going after your family.”

“Are you sure?”

“Zaravic is dead and the original documents back. Don’t you trust me?”

“I’m working on it, Grens, I promise. And in that case—I need to stay here for one more day.”

“Why?”

“It’s better if you don’t know.”

“If you say so.”

“In the meantime—can you keep your eyes on Zofia and my kids?”

“I’ll keep an eye on them. Since you trust me.”

Before Grens could leave the balcony, Hermansson returned, and now she was the one who made sure the door was closed behind them.

“I have something I need to talk to you about.”

He knew her so well. That seriousness, it was real.

“That sounds alarming.”

He tried to smile. It didn’t go so well.

“Ewert—I’ve made a decision.”

She took a deep breath.

“I was going to wait a little to tell you. But . . . well, it feels like this investigation is reaching a wrapping-up point, so now might be a good time.”

She did it again. Took a deep breath. Then another.

“I’m going to request a transfer.”

“What?”

“I’m not staying at City Police. I’m going to apply at another district.”

That emptiness, or was it despair, that he’d just now felt flapping inside his chest when he thought of Anni or of Hoffmann’s children or losing people you care about and need, came back with full force. It ached right there where his breastbone covered his heart.

“Is it because I—I’ll never question you again, Mariana! You know that!”

“I know. That’s not why.”

“For over ten years! I was the one who cleared your path through the bureaucracy so you could hop over people with more years under their belt because I knew how good you were, how important to us you would become. Mariana . . .”

The big body. With a small detective superintendent inside.

“. . . you can’t quit! Don’t you understand that? You . . . You!”

He embraced her. He had never done that before, never wanted her to misunderstand what he felt. Now it didn’t matter.

“You’ve been like my—I’ve never put it into words for you, but . . . I’ve thought of you as a daughter. The daughter I never had. And . . .”