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Back Marked for Revenge Save as PDF
Chapters (45)
  1. Cover
  2. Back Cover Text
  3. Booklist
  4. Dedication
  5. Prologue
  6. Chapter One
  7. Chapter Two
  8. Chapter Three
  9. Chapter Four
  10. Chapter Five
  11. Chapter Six
  12. Chapter Seven
  13. Chapter Eight
  14. Chapter Nine
  15. Chapter Ten
  16. Chapter Eleven
  17. Chapter Twelve
  18. Chapter Thirteen
  19. Chapter Fourteen
  20. Chapter Fifteen
  21. Chapter Sixteen
  22. Chapter Seventeen
  23. Chapter Eighteen
  24. Chapter Nineteen
  25. Chapter Twenty
  26. Chapter Twenty-One
  27. Chapter Twenty-Two
  28. Chapter Twenty-Three
  29. Chapter Twenty-Four
  30. Chapter Twenty-Five
  31. Chapter Twenty-Six
  32. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  33. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  34. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  35. Chapter Thirty
  36. Chapter Thirty-One
  37. Chapter Thirty-Two
  38. Chapter Thirty-Three
  39. Chapter Thirty-Four
  40. Chapter Thirty-Five
  41. Chapter Thirty-Six
  42. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  43. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  44. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  45. Acknowledgments

She pressed her fingers to his cold skin and felt a very weak pulse.

She knew they had little time to get him to the hospital.

Very little time.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

HE SAW THE individual letters but didn’t comprehend what they meant. Everything flowed together before his eyes.

Karl Berzelius sat in his house in Lindö with the newspaper before him, and thought about his visit to the summerhouse the day before. He had ordered Jana to stay, to talk, but she’d disobeyed him. Instead she’d run away and disappeared in one of his boats.

He went over it again and again, cursing her more every time.

Then he heard a sound. He slowly put the newspaper down and listened to the sounds of the house. He saw the orange hue of the streetlights shining through the windows and casting striped shadows on the wall. It had already begun to grow dark. The days were short now.

“Margaretha?” he called out, but he knew it was in vain. She had run an errand and wouldn’t be home for at least a half hour.

Then he heard the sound again. It sounded like footsteps. Someone was in the house.

He carefully got up from his armchair and walked through the living room toward the hall. He listened to his own steps as he continued over the floor. He looked toward the window and almost screamed—a person was standing there.

He held his hand to his heart and exhaled quickly when he realized that he was looking at his own reflection.

He stood closer to the window and looked out into the yard, at the snow-covered branches of the apple trees. He persuaded himself to stay calm and continue walking. He came to the stairs and was met by a ray of light. A lamp was on upstairs. He held his hand on the railing, taking one step at a time, always with his gaze locked on the light. He started walking more quickly. The closer he came, the more nervous he was.

The door to his office was ajar. The lamp on his desk was on. Now he was convinced that something was wrong—he never forgot to turn off the lamp on his desk.

He stepped into the room, sweeping his gaze around.

It didn’t take long before he saw the red box on the desk.

It was under the lamp, the lid open.

But it wasn’t empty anymore.

The necklace lay in it.

* * *

Per Åström stretched his arms up, feeling too warm in spite of having taken off his jacket.

He stood looking over the shoulder of Ola Söderström, who had his cell phone to his ear. Ola had contacted the mobile network operator and given them a three-digit number and a password that proved he was with the police. After three minutes, he received the IMEI number he was looking for.