‘Fredrika’s going to do some more work on that angle tomorrow,’ Alex said. ‘We daren’t contact Ross’s current wife, but we might risk calling his ex.’

Berlin stared at a notice board on the wall, her expression distant.

‘Ross went to Malcolm Benke’s house on his own initiative on the morning Benke was found,’ she said slowly.

‘Sorry?’

‘I arrived at the same time and sent him back to HQ. I told him you and Fredrika were leading the investigation, not him.’

‘So why was he there?’

‘I’ve no idea. He wasn’t happy when he found out I’d given the case to someone else.’

‘I suppose that’s not so strange,’ Alex said. ‘Given that he knew Benke.’

‘And that’s a reason to let him lead?’

‘Of course not. I’m just trying to understand how the guy thinks.’

Was he thinking? He must be, otherwise he’d never have got this far.

Four dead.

Four missing.

Possibly eight victims in total.

With more to come?

‘How the fuck is this supposed to end?’

‘Do we really want to know that?’ Berlin said.

Ivan was leafing through a pile of documents on the table; he took out the copy of the letter Alex had found in Noah Johansson’s office.

‘So what do we think about this?’

Alex folded his arms and leaned back against the wall. The gravity of the situation felt like dark, swirling waters closing around him.

‘What do you think, Ivan?’

‘I think the murderer wrote it.’

The same thought had occurred to Alex, but somehow he wasn’t satisfied with that conclusion.

‘That means you also think the same person wrote the notes addressed to me.’

‘Yes,’ Ivan said.

‘Why was the letter in Noah’s office?’

‘I’d say it’s a codicil to a will, written by someone who’s going to die. And I believe Noah’s murder is linked to the fact that he had that letter on file.’

‘You mean he had it all along?’

‘Yes – he kept a number of wills in a secure filing cabinet, and I think the letter was in there too. The cabinet had been broken open when he was found.’

Alex took two deep breaths.

‘According to your logic, the murderer is one of Noah’s clients.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Ross isn’t dying,’ Berlin pointed out.

‘As far as we know,’ Alex said.

‘But we do know that Ross wasn’t a client,’ Ivan added.

Silence.

‘I checked,’ he said. ‘There was no Torbjörn Ross on his client database.’

Alex bit his lip, his irritation growing. Ivan wasn’t stupid, and he was quick.

‘How far back does the database go?’

Ivan looked him in the eye. ‘Ten years.’

Which meant Ivan must have seen Alex and Lena’s names. His face flushed slightly with embarrassment.

Berlin was getting impatient; she seemed unaware of the sudden tension in the room.