He went back to the Lions’ Den for some peace and quiet.

‘What’s going on?’

‘You’ve had a letter,’ Diana said.

‘A letter?’

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have read it, but I was in a hurry, I was opening the rest of the post and I accidentally—’

Alex interrupted her.

‘It’s fine, Diana. Tell me about the letter.’

She was breathing hard. ‘I don’t know . . . there was something about the way it looked, what I thought it was. And what it wasn’t.’

Fredrika came in looking concerned.

‘Diana, you’re babbling. I’m sorry, but you are. Read me the letter, please.’

His firm tone made Diana pull herself together, and she read out the words on the piece of paper.

Alex listened, his mobile pressed to his ear. The colour drained from his face. When Diana had finished reading the few short lines, it was the last one that reverberated in his head.

And I am putting everything right.

Chapter 6

Before Fredrika Bergman started working for the police, she’d had only the vaguest idea of what the work involved. Above all, she’d found it difficult to imagine the kind of things that might come her way. She remembered the box of hair, which had been sent by courier to a mother after her daughter had been abducted. For Fredrika, it had been a watershed moment. It was after that event that Alex had acquired the scars on his hands, and Fredrika had seen for the first time what certain people were capable of doing to their fellow human beings. It had made her doubt herself; maybe this job was meant for someone else? Slowly she had come to believe that not only was she capable of making a difference, but she could learn to find the work interesting. Two children and a temporary post with the justice department had made the decision easier. Fredrika knew where she belonged: in the police, together with Alex.

Together with Alex.

She was on shifting sands here, just as she was elsewhere in her life. Alex was bound to stop working soon. He had a maximum of five years left until retirement, however hard he tried to pretend that wasn’t the case. Many officers of his age had already chosen to leave.

Five years, Fredrika thought. Who will I be in five years?

The question burned a hole in her soul.

She didn’t even know who she would be in the autumn, when Spencer was gone.

She gripped the pen in her hand. The message that had been sent to Alex. That was what she must focus on. Was there a link to the murder of Malcolm Benke, or was it referring to something else?

‘Are you coming?’ Alex suddenly appeared in the doorway of her office. ‘The letter’s here, in the Lions’ Den.’

*