Then she saw the yellow cone-shaped areas on the chart.

In the same moment, she realized that the strange light Pim had seen, sweeping and rhythmic, must have come from the lighthouse at Viskär.

Jana moved her gaze to the markings she had made on the southern coast. The light from the lighthouse could reach quite far, but it would be strongest around Kälebo. There were a number of different buildings to choose from there, but she smiled as she realized only two of them were both near a watercourse and right on the water.

She rolled up the chart, left the guest room and searched for a flashlight. She felt the sharp weapon against her lower back as she descended the stairs with quick steps.

It was possible that Danilo was in one of those buildings.

The chance was remote, of course, but she had to pursue it.

* * *

Henrik Levin found a napkin in one of his desk drawers and blew his nose loudly. He sat in the chair in his office and stared straight ahead. His gaze fell on an old article about the Gavril Bolanaki case that was still hanging on his bulletin board.

On the surface, at least, the drug market had seemed calm until Bolanaki disappeared. Now it was total chaos. People were being exploited and their bodies brutally dumped. The outright ruthless operation was no longer being hidden. The question was how many girls were involved.

Henrik thought about the dead girl on the train and the dead girl in the fishing net. About Pim, who was able to get away, and the girl who may still be in miserable captivity. He thought about the almost clinical murder of Robin Stenberg, who had come to the police in spite of being scared, and of Axel Lundin, who—also probably scared—had apparently taken his own life.

But no one knows who he is. No one’s met him. He’s like a shadow.

So many victims, and everything pointed in one direction—Danilo Peña.

Henrik ran his hand through his hair as he reviewed all of the facts in the case, the cases, in his mind, as he had already done a hundred times before. Isra, whom Pim had been captive with, was out there somewhere; they had to find her before she, too, was dumped into the sea.

His thoughts locked again on the drowned girl. He pulled out his phone and called Björn Ahlmann, the medical examiner, who answered on the first ring.

“Björn, it’s Henrik Levin. I need your help. Call me when you have the drowned girl’s body in front of you.”

“She just got here, but I haven’t had a chance...”

“There’s something I need to ask you about.”

* * *