Firewall - By Henning Mankell & Ebba Segerberg Page 0,60

that made a crater-like wound in its victim. When Nyberg showed him the bullet, Wallander understood why the marksman had fired only one shot. One hit would have been fatal.

A regional alert had gone out, but no-one thought it would bear fruit, because they didn't know who they were looking for. Neither Mrs Falk nor Wallander could give a description. Wallander and Martinsson sat in the kitchen, while Nyberg's team worked on the bullet. Wallander had handed them his jacket as well. His ears still hurt from the explosion. Holgersson arrived with Höglund, and Wallander had to explain what had happened all over again.

"The question is why did he fire?" Martinsson said. "There's already been a break-in here. Now an armed assailant."

"We can speculate that it was the same person," Wallander said. "But why did he come back? I can't see any other explanation than that he's looking for something – something he didn't manage to get the first time."

"Aren't we forgetting something else?" Höglund said. "Who was he trying to kill?"

Wallander had asked himself the same question from the outset. Did this have anything to do with the night he had come here to search the flat? Had it been a mistake to look out of the window? Had someone been watching him? He should tell his colleagues about it, but something kept him from doing so.

"Why would anyone want to shoot me?" Wallander said. "I think it was just plain bad luck that I was here when he returned. What we should ask ourselves is what was he here for, which in turn means that Mrs Falk should be brought back as soon as possible."

She had gone home to change.

Martinsson left the flat with Holgersson. The forensic team was tidying up. Höglund stayed with Wallander in the kitchen. Mrs Falk called to say she was on her way.

"How does it feel?" Höglund said.

"Not too good. You know what it's like."

A year or so ago, Höglund had been shot and wounded in a field outside Ystad. It had been partly Wallander's fault, since he had ordered her to advance without realising that the suspect had the gun that Hansson had dropped earlier. She had been badly hurt and it had taken her a long time to mend. When she returned to her post she was a changed person. She had told Wallander about the fear that surfaced in her dreams.

"At least I wasn't hit," Wallander said. "I was stabbed once, but so far I have never stopped a bullet."

"You should talk to someone. There are support groups."

Wallander shook his head impatiently. "No need," he said. "And I don't want to go on talking about it now."

"Why do you always have to be so pig-headed about these things? You're a fine police officer, but you are no less human than the rest of us, whatever you like to think."

Wallander was surprised by the anger boiling over in her. And she was right. When he put on his role as a policeman he tended to forget about the person inside.

"I think you should go home."

"What good would that do?"

At the same moment Mrs Falk walked into the flat. Wallander saw an opportunity to be rid of Höglund and her annoying questions.

"I'd prefer to talk to her alone," he said. "Thanks for your help."

"What help?" Höglund said, and left.

Wallander felt dizzy when he stood up.

"What on earth happened?" Mrs Falk said.

Wallander could see a big bruise starting on the left side of her jaw.

"I was here, waiting for you. I heard someone at the door. I thought it was you."

"Who was it?"

"I don't know, and apparently you don't either."

"I didn't have a chance to look at him."

"But it was a man?"

She was surprised by the question and took a moment to answer.

"Yes," she said finally. "It was a man."

Wallander had no way of proving it, but he was sure she was right. "Let's start in the living room," he said. "I want you to look everywhere, take stock of everything. Let me know if you think anything's missing. Then check the bedroom, and so on. Take your time, open drawers and look behind curtains."

"Tynnes would never have allowed such a thing. He was so secretive."

"We'll talk later," Wallander interrupted her. "Start with the living room."

He stood in the doorway and watched her as she went around the room. She was trying her best to do as he said. The longer he looked the more beautiful she seemed to him. He wondered what