He stood in front of her, stared, and then in a single movement ripped the tape from her mouth. The pain was immense. She wanted to scream, but she was too scared to make a sound. She didn’t say anything when he violently loosened the ropes around her wrists. She only rubbed one hand carefully against the smarting sore on the other wrist.

She heard him say something before the door closed behind him.

She carefully picked up the plate and looked at the sandwiches and plastic gloves. Only then did she think about the capsules that were still in her stomach.

She returned to the corner, picked up one of the sandwiches and forced herself to chew.

Touching one of the thin gloves, she looked at the bucket and knew what she had to do.

* * *

Henrik Levin turned slowly out of the general parking lot of the Ektorp shopping center. Next to him sat Mia Bolander in an oversize down jacket.

“He didn’t say shit,” she muttered, waving one of Ola Söderström’s files in Henrik’s face before tossing it in the backseat. She balanced the others on her lap.

“I don’t get it. He’s committed hundreds of break-ins and has been caught for possession a thousand times, and now he’s on disability for a slipped disk. And he’s not even thirty? And he’s got five kids. Completely unbelievable. Completely fucking unbelievable.”

“Yeah...” Henrik sighed.

“If they’d placed the camera at a smarter angle at the convenience store, we wouldn’t have to drive around chatting with criminals,” Mia said.

The afternoon traffic moved slowly down Kungsgatan. A bus stopped in front of them and released a single passenger, who immediately jaywalked across both lanes. Henrik considered honking his horn, but changed his mind.

“Who’s next?” he asked instead.

Mia flipped through a new folder, looking at the picture for a moment.

“Stojan Jancic,” she read. “Born in Serbia. Was sentenced for, among other things, a felony narcotics charge after being arrested for selling a mix of Ecstasy and ketamine. Three years in prison.”

She entered the address into the navigation system and closed the folder.

Twelve minutes later, they were there. Henrik made a U-turn across both lanes and parked in a spot reserved for visitors.

A streetlight flickered on when they got out of the car. The light stretched over a gravel field.

Stojan opened the door on the second ring. His hair was sticking out at all angles, his jeans were filthy and his T-shirt had large holes along the neckband.

“Come in,” he said after Henrik had introduced them and their errand.

Mia was quiet and kept her hands in her pockets as they stepped into the apartment and sat at the kitchen table.

Henrik leaned against the kitchen counter and took a notebook from his pocket. He squinted out the gray-streaked window that faced the parking lot.