She placed her purse in its usual spot next to her desk. Anneli Lindgren sat in her office chair, read through a few emails that had just arrived, then closed her eyes and slowly rolled her head in a circle, realizing how tense she was.

Then she felt a warm hand on her neck. Fingers encircling the stiffness, fingers that slowly began to massage it away.

“God, that feels great,” she said without opening her eyes.

She moaned when the pressure against her neck grew firmer. Gunnar had always had a special ability to find where her body was sore and he never tired of massaging her; he continued until the tension had broken up.

She hadn’t heard him come into the room, but now she thanked the powers that be for his presence. Maybe he’d seen her through the doorjamb, had seen how she’d rubbed her own neck and knew she needed a helping hand.

She smiled and opened her eyes, and looked at the face reflected in her computer screen.

It wasn’t Gunnar!

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed, twirling around in her chair.

“Relax a little,” Anders said ingratiatingly.

“Stop that,” she said.

“You seemed to like it.”

She felt herself blushing and turned her back on him again.

“I thought you were someone else,” she said. “I want you to leave.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Anders, go. Now.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, she felt how the chair rocked slightly—he had leaned forward, was holding his face close to hers, whispering in her ear, “See you later...Anneli.”

She heard his footsteps across the floor, the door slowly closing. The feeling of his fingers on her skin remained.

She was irritated. Irritated that he had taken the liberty of coming into her office and coming on to her. But mostly irritated that he had been right.

She had liked it.

“Pull yourself together,” she said to herself. “Pull yourself together, right now.”

* * *

A quick nod. Nothing more. That was how Henrik Levin greeted Anders Wester when they met in the hallway outside Anneli’s office. Henrik knocked quietly before opening the door.

“Come in,” Anneli said brusquely, staring at him.

Then she averted her gaze and began shuffling the papers around on her desk.

“Am I disturbing you?” he asked.

“No, of course not.”

She turned back to him and smiled. “What can I do for you?”

“I need your help,” he said. “When we searched Robin’s apartment, we found a ticket with a number on it there, right?”

“That’s right,” she said, turning toward her computer. “Do you want to see it?”

“Absolutely.”

It didn’t take long for the number ticket to appear on the screen. “Welcome to the Police Station” was written in capital letters at the top of the folded white paper.