“Don’t do that,” Gunnar said as he stood, quickly drawing his pistol.

Anders laughed again, and Gunnar saw him raise his weapon.

“Put the weapon down,” Gunnar commanded.

“Congratulations,” Anders said.

“For what?”

“On the glory you’ll have from having cleaned up.”

“Drop the weapon. I have officers...”

But Anders moved his finger to the trigger, took a step forward and shot.

Gunnar stumbled backward, tried to catch the arm of the sofa, but fell backward to the floor. Despite the bulletproof vest absorbing most of the impact of the bullet, his chest hurt. It was a superficial wound, he knew, yet his hand went to his rib cage.

He watched as the door opened and two uniformed policemen rushed in, weapons drawn. Anders was quick, though, and turned with his pistol aimed at them, firing a series of three shots so rapidly that they didn’t have time to react. Gunnar saw that the first bullet hit one of the men in the shoulder. The second hit him in the stomach, but the third missed.

Just as Anders aimed at the second officer, Gunnar shoved a cartridge into his gun, raised the weapon and fired. There was a loud bang and he felt the hard thrust of the recoil in his hand. The bullet left the weapon and went straight into Anders’s leg, through cartilage, bone tissue and muscles, and out the other side. Anders sank to the ground, looking at Gunnar in astonishment, and raised his pistol waveringly, but he didn’t have the energy to aim.

Gunnar was already on him, pushing the mouth of the gun away and slamming the pistol into Anders’s face. It was a forceful strike right over the bridge of his nose and glasses. The blood spurted across Anders’s right cheek all the way to his bald head.

“For Anneli,” Gunnar said.

Then he staggered backward, sank into the sofa and saw yet another armed officer come in through the door and toward Anders.

Gunnar closed his eyes, his hand on his chest, and listened to the rattling sound of handcuffs.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

THE ROTOR BLADES rattled loudly as the rescue helicopter swayed in place in the air. Snow blew away from the ground in a circle, and Mia Bolander put her arm up to protect her face from the whirling flakes as the helicopter came in to land. From behind her arm, she followed the work from the crew as they helped Isra on board. The girl was suffering from severe hypothermia.

Multiple units had responded, and through the trees, the blue light was reflected. One hundred yards from the boathouse, they’d found a dark Volvo with the license plate number GUV 174 and had begun their initial search of the car.