“Henrik?” Emma said when he opened the door to their room in the Postpartum Ward. “I have the TV on. The only thing they’re talking about is what happened at the boathouse.”

Henrik sat next to her, holding her hand. He looked at their newborn son, who lay snuggled up to Emma’s breast.

“So you caught him,” she said with a small smile.

“I don’t know about ‘we’—it was Mia who caught him at that boathouse. She’ll be celebrated for her efforts,” Henrik said, beginning to think about the young Thai girls who’d been victims of all this.

“You’re tired...” she said.

“People don’t understand. They were forced to swallow these capsules and...”

He didn’t realize he’d trailed off.

The news channel showed a picture of Danilo Peña. They both turned their eyes toward the young journalist telling the dark story of Peña and about the surviving Thai girl who, considering the circumstances, was doing well. The doctors were optimistic.

“Thank God,” Emma said, stroking her hand over her son’s back. He was lying next to her naked skin under a warm blanket.

Gunnar Öhrn appeared on the screen. He looked exhausted, but he smiled when he said that they would soon be able to put the investigation in the pile of solved cases. Then they showed a picture of Anders Wester, and Henrik heard the words bribes and scandal.

“What really happened?” Emma asked.

“What can I say,” Henrik said, sighing, “besides that this investigation led to something much larger.”

“I’ve heard you say that once before.”

Henrik nodded and turned his gaze back to the window. He could sense the sun through the dense fog and saw for himself the first pictures of the police operation taking on Anders Wester. His office at the National Crime Squad and his private residence had been cordoned off. Forensic technicians had spent hours collecting documents, papers, affidavits, receipts and other items that could be used as proof against him in the coming trial. It would take time for the police to register every piece. Everyone who had ever been involved with him would be tracked down.

“You’ll have to tell me another time,” Emma said with smiling eyes.

He met her gaze and took a deep breath.

“Do you want to hold him?” she asked.

“Can I?”

“Of course you can.”

Henrik got up. Emma pushed the blanket away and carefully lifted up the little guy. Henrik took him, standing for a long time just holding him. He breathed in his son’s scent and felt his fragile arms and tiny legs against his chest. He felt complete happiness at finally holding his youngest son in his arms.

“I’ve been so worried,” he said. “That’s what it was all about the whole time. That’s why I’ve avoided everything, focused on work.”

He swallowed, looking at Emma.

“But I love you,” he said.