The working day was drawing to a close. Fredrika had to think back a long way to recall a time when she had felt so powerless. She couldn’t have predicted the turn the investigation would take, how surprised she would be. Nor could she have expected Alex to receive an anonymous message at home. Her stomach contracted with fear. Everything was out of balance, both at work and at home.

And I thought I’d be able to fix this.

She shouldn’t have gone along with Spencer’s suggestion that they should carry on working as normal, rather than ‘sitting staring at each other’ all summer. What the hell had they been thinking? This was Spencer’s last summer – of course they should be sitting staring at each other!

So I ought to go home. Right now. And stare at him until my eyes fall out.

She looked at a photograph of Malcolm Benke, dead in his armchair with a bullet through his chest. Was it a betrayal if she changed her mind? Was she betraying Malcolm by going home to wait for someone else’s death rather than pursuing the truth about his? Hardly. Alex would be fine without her.

I’ll discuss it with Spencer tonight. Then I’ll tell Alex.

But first of all she must contact Mikael Lundell in Israel. Alex had asked her to do it; he was clearly disturbed by the phone call he’d taken just before the meeting with Linda Sullivan. Fredrika took several deep breaths before she was able to make herself pick up the phone and key in the number. She and Eden had neither seen each other nor spoken since those terrible events. There had been no reason to do so. She suddenly felt nervous. What was she going to say when either Eden or Mikael answered? Should she offer her condolences? They’d been grieving for almost four years now.

A click on the other end of the line.

‘Eden Lundell.’

Fredrika couldn’t get a single word out. Eden’s voice brought back countless emotions. Eden, who had rushed up the stairs and into her apartment to find that both her children had been shot.

‘Hello?’

Fredrika cleared her throat. ‘Sorry, I am here – it’s Fredrika Bergman. I don’t know if you remember me?’

‘Of course I do.’

Eden’s voice was just the same as before, deep and hoarse.

‘I’m calling on Alex’s behalf. He . . . Something came up.’

Death. What else?

‘Okay.’

‘I’d like to speak to Mikael, if that’s possible? Or shall I call back later?’

Eden’s reply was brusque. ‘We agreed on five o’clock Swedish time and it’s five o’clock now, so I don’t see a problem.’

Fredrika was so taken aback by Eden’s attitude that she didn’t say a word.

‘Mikael will be here in a second.’