The relief on her face was unmistakable. She didn’t understand that he was punishing her by cooperating. He and he alone knew the truth about the crime Recht would be investigating. Well, it served them all right. This time they would have to manage without his support. At least until they had the sense to ask his advice.

Torbjörn Ross went back to the car. He’d used his own Saab rather than wasting time picking up a car from HQ. He glanced over at his boss as he turned the key in the ignition.

Black clouds were gathering above Margareta Berlin.

Chapter 2

If he’d been a less experienced driver he would probably have come off the road when he encountered the Saab. The brown car came hurtling along like a cannonball, way above the speed limit. And much too close to the white line in the middle. When DCI Alex Recht and the Saab met on a bend, Alex was a hair’s breadth away from swerving and ending up in the ditch.

‘Fucking idiot,’ he muttered.

He didn’t have enough time to go after the speeding driver; Berlin had sounded stressed when she called him.

‘I want you and Fredrika to take this,’ she said, before adding: ‘Right now, Alex.’

Of course. He wasn’t the kind of person to say no – not out of loyalty to his boss, but to the job. He would make that very clear to Margareta Berlin. She was capable of a meltdown on the scale of Chernobyl. A nasty piece of work. He had thought so ever since she went behind his back, questioned his competence after Lena’s death. She had continued to overstep the mark in her role as head of Human Resources; many colleagues regarded her as a bull in a china shop, which was why it had come as a surprise when she not only applied for a senior operational post a year or so ago, but was actually appointed. Alex had expected her to stay put rather than progressing within the organisation.

Naïve, to say the least.

But all that had to be put aside when duty called. He arrived at the scene in Nacka less than an hour after Berlin’s phone call. He noted the large house, the expensive cars on the drive, the attractive location by the sea. He pulled on protective clothing and went inside.

The deceased, Malcolm Benke, was sitting in a leather armchair staring blankly at a fire that had gone out long ago. He had been found that morning by the cleaner, who always came on a Monday. She had already been questioned, and Alex didn’t think she would be of any great interest. The CSIs moved silently around him. The whole place was full of people, people Benke had never met and whose only purpose was to investigate his death.