“You were working.”

Henrik got out of bed and quietly got dressed. He stood for a moment and looked at Emma, who had turned her back to him. He was just about to say I love you when the cell phone rang again.

* * *

Jana Berzelius sat in her kitchen, looking at a bowl of yogurt with sliced melon and pineapple. She wasn’t hungry and pushed the bowl away, turning her gaze toward the morning news on her MacBook.

It was quiet in her apartment, but she heard sirens in the distance. Through the large windows she saw lights on in the surrounding apartments. The street below was lit like a Christmas tree.

When she had come home from her dinner with Per the previous night, she found she couldn’t sleep. Her thoughts were racing and had kept her up.

She wondered if she would ever be able to tell anyone who she really was.

There had been a moment during dinner when she could have told Per, but the moment had quickly passed. She had stopped herself and couldn’t for the life of her imagine how he would react if he had known that just minutes before they met, she had been on her way to a young man’s house to...

To what?

She sighed, knowing she couldn’t keep this up anymore.

Just a few days earlier, she vowed to stop caring about the past and focus only on the present. She had to follow through on this decision and not allow herself to be led by aggression and instinct. No more.

That was enough.

She got up and went into her bedroom, looking at the boxes with all of the notes, pictures and books that were stacked against the wall. She didn’t want anything to do with them anymore. She couldn’t imagine just throwing it all away, though. At the same time, she couldn’t keep it all in her home. She had to get it out, away from her apartment. Now. Immediately.

She went back to the kitchen, picked up the bowl and emptied it into the sink. Instead of eating, she would start the day by looking for a good place to store everything. She pulled her MacBook toward her and opened Google.

* * *

People were already milling about Spelmansgatan 62. The area around the building was roped off, and officers had begun searching the surrounding area and nearby buildings.

Henrik Levin crouched down and looked at Robin Stenberg, who lay dead against the wall. Anneli Lindgren pointed the lamp toward the body, picked up his arm and inspected it.

“Fully developed rigor mortis,” she said.

“So he’s been dead for a while,” Henrik said.

“I’d guess around ten or twelve hours, but could be less.”

Henrik followed Anneli’s methodic procedure. He had always liked watching as she worked so systematically, photographing crime scenes, finding clues and carefully following protocol.