The Girl Who Lived Twice (Millennium #6) - David Lagercrantz Page 0,72

was all about you. Your husband had to swear never to bother you again.”

“That’s odd.”

“Is it really so strange? The neighbours have said you were wearing a bandage on your arm the last few days before you left. That you told them you’d burned yourself with the iron.”

“That’s correct.”

“Not everybody believed you, Paulina. They heard screams from your apartment. Screams and the sound of people fighting.”

She hesitated before answering.

“Is that really so?” she said.

“So maybe it was Thomas who burned you?”

“Maybe.”

“You’ll understand, then, that we suspect this may be an act of revenge—by someone who’s close to you.”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know…”

That is how it went on, back and forth, until Jensen’s tone suddenly changed and she said:

“By the way…”

“Yes?”

“I don’t think you need to worry about him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your husband seems terrified of this woman. I think he’ll be staying away from you.”

Paulina hesitated, then said: “Is that all?”

“For the time being, yes.”

“Well, I suppose I should be saying thank you, then.”

“To whom?”

“I don’t know,” she said, adding—because it seemed like the right thing to say—that she hoped Thomas would be better soon.

She certainly did not mean a word of it, and as she was sitting there on her bed after hanging up, trying to absorb the information, her mobile rang again. It was a divorce lawyer called Stephanie Erdmann. Paulina had read about her in the newspapers. Erdmann wanted to represent her, and she said Paulina did not have to worry about paying her fees. That had already been taken care of.

* * *

—

Inspector Modig met Bublanski in the corridor of police headquarters and was shaking her head. He guessed that meant they had found no trace of Nima Rita in the county council registers either. But they had at least been given permission to search, and that alone had been a minor victory, given that there had been no shortage of obstructions. Their contact with military intelligence had so far consisted of one-way communication only, and he was growing increasingly irritated. He gave Modig a meaningful look and said:

“We may have a suspect.”

“We may?”

“But no name, hardly even a description.”

“And you call that a suspect?”

“Well, let’s call it a lead.”

He told her about the man Heikki Järvinen had seen from where he was standing on Norra Bantorget, some time between one and two on the morning of Saturday, August 15, who may have given Nima Rita a bottle of moonshine.

Modig was taking notes as they walked into his office and sat down opposite each other, at first in silence. Bublanski was shifting in his chair. He was trying to pin down something that was stirring in his subconscious.

“So there are no indications to suggest that he’s used our health-care system?” he said.

“Not so far,” she said. “But I haven’t given up. He could have registered under a different name, don’t you think? We’ve applied for a court order to be allowed to conduct a broader search based on his physical characteristics.”

“Do we have any idea how long he was seen around the city?”

“It’s always tricky when you’re dealing with people’s perception of time, but there’s nothing to suggest he was in the neighbourhood for more than a couple of weeks.”

“Could he have come from another part of the city, or from another town?”

“I don’t think so. That’s my gut feeling.”

Bublanski leaned back in his chair and looked out of the window towards Bergsgatan, and in an instant it became clear to him what he had been looking for.

“The South Wing,” he said.

“What?”

“The closed psychiatric unit at Södra Flygeln—the South Wing. I think he may have been committed there.”

“What makes you say so?”

“It fits. It’s exactly the sort of place you’d put someone you wanted to hide. The South Wing doesn’t even report to the county council. It’s an independent foundation and I know from old that there’s a working relationship between the military authorities and the clinic. Do you remember Andersson, that crazy UN soldier from Congo who attacked people in the city? He was a patient there.”

“I do remember him,” Modig said. “But this sounds like a bit of a long shot to me.”

“I haven’t finished yet.”

“In that case, Chief Inspector, please continue.”

“According to Järvinen, Nima said that he had climbed down from a mountain to get away, down to a lake, and that tallies too, doesn’t it? The South Wing is in a rather dramatic position on the edge of a cliff, above Årstaviken Bay. Besides, it’s not that far from