JANA BERZELIUS OPENED her purse and pulled out the knife, weighing it in her hand. She swung it back and forth where she stood in her apartment hallway. First slowly, then more quickly. The sharp blade sliced through the air.

She had a hard time taking in the enormity of the implications that Danilo had taken her notes and journals and left a message in the form of a sketch she herself had made of him.

It was incredibly humiliating.

What did he want?

She reached forward with her empty left hand, then made a quick attack with her right, and one more. She balanced her weight, counted to three and made another attack, directly followed by a kick. A new hold on the knife, a new attack. Her movements were agile, practiced, and would be extremely effective against an opponent.

Sweat was dripping down her forehead when her cell phone suddenly rang. Per Åström’s voice was a bit hesitant, as if he didn’t know quite what words were going to come out.

“Well,” he said. “I happen to have an extra ticket to the hockey game tonight...the White Horses against...”

“I don’t like hockey,” Jana interrupted, still holding the knife in her hand.

“I know, but I thought...”

“So you know that I’m going to say no.”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you asking?”

“You have to take chances in this life. You don’t have to watch the game. You could just eat popcorn,” Per said.

“I’m actually already doing something else tonight.”

“Like what?”

Jana fell silent, unable to come up with a white lie.

“Another time, then?” he said.

“I have to be in court in an hour,” she said, looking down at the floor and letting her hair fall forward into her face.

“Anything interesting?”

Jana sighed, his questions irritating her.

“I don’t have time to talk now, Per. But it’s about an assault at a bar.”

“On the subject of assaults,” he said, “did you hear that we found a potential motive for the murder of Robin Stenberg? The murder may not have had anything to do with his drug use. He had apparently witnessed a fistfight between a man and a woman in Knäppingsborg, or, well, some type of assault anyway.”

Jana took a deep breath, feeling her heart beat even faster. She gripped the knife.

“How do you know that?”

“Robin wrote about it.”

“Wrote about it? What do you mean? Where?”

She knew that she asked too quickly, was too eager. She closed her eyes, clenched her teeth.

“Online,” Per said, “on the Flashback forum. Ola found Robin’s posts there. And we’ve also found Ida Eklund.”

“Yes, that much I heard. Has she said anything?”

“Like what?”

“Has she?”

“Now you’re certainly curious. If you come with me to hockey tonight I’ll tell you more...”

“No, tell me now.”

Per took a deep breath.