The shrill sound of her mobile interrupted Berlin’s train of thought.

‘Sorry if I’m disturbing you at home on a Friday evening,’ the prosecutor said.

‘No problem – I’m still at work.’

Berlin immediately regretted her words. She hated sounding lonely and bitter.

‘I’m going out for a late dinner,’ she added.

‘No chance of going home as far as I’m concerned,’ the prosecutor replied. ‘I’ve got far too much to do.’

‘Absolutely, same here.’ Berlin didn’t want her to think she didn’t care about the job.

‘I’d like a word about Torbjörn Ross.’

‘I thought that might be it.’

‘This can’t go wrong. The stakes are too high, the interest from the outside world is too great. So let me ask you this: are you absolutely certain we can’t come up with any more evidence?’

‘Apart from the books and the murder weapon?’

‘We can’t tie Ross to any of the crime scenes except the Solomon Community’s safe house. And we both know that’s a problem. There has to be something else,’ the prosecutor insisted.

Berlin glanced at her watch, then at the darkening sky. Then at her watch again.

‘Give me another two hours.’

‘Two hours? You’ve got days, maybe weeks. We have enough to charge him, but I want this to go all the way. I want him convicted of the whole lot.’

‘I’ll be in touch,’ Berlin said, ending the call.

*

Torbjörn Ross was asleep when Berlin walked into his cell. He sat up looking dazed. Berlin realised he hadn’t slept for a long time.

I saw him every single day, and I didn’t even notice.

He made a move to get up.

‘No, we’re staying here.’ Berlin closed the cell door and leaned against the wall. A boring green wall. ‘I have a problem.’

Ross looked at her, his expression faintly amused.

‘We haven’t found a single trace of you at any of the crime scenes. Nor in the place where Lovisa Wahlberg was found.’

‘That’s because I was never there.’

‘So who hates you enough to plant a murder weapon in your garage? And books in your wardrobe?’

Ross lowered his gaze. ‘It’s not my place to answer that question. It’s your job to find the guilty party, not mine.’

‘I’ve already found the guilty party. He’s sitting right in front of me.’

Ross didn’t answer. He started picking at a cuticle that looked infected. Berlin suppressed a shudder.

‘You’ve always been a better police officer than me,’ she went on. ‘Help me out here, Torbjörn. Point me in the right direction.’

The cuticle began to bleed. Ross pressed a finger onto the sore to stop the blood.

‘You wouldn’t have asked that question if you really believed I was the perpetrator,’ he said quietly.