WlNTER SAT ON RINGMAR’S DESK, HlS JACKET HALF UNBUTTONED, his holster girded by the gleam of his silk shirt. Ringmar knew that he himself could never sit there with the same kind of elegant nonchalance. His legs were too short and his suits too cheap and his shirt didn’t shine the same way.

“How many times have we talked to Geoff’s parents in London?” Winter asked.

“Two or three.”

“I’m still thinking about the letter someone wrote to him.”

“Me too.”

“He didn’t give anything to someone else, did he?”

“Not that we know of.”

“There was something in the witness statement of his pen pal. Geoff wrote that he would be coming to Gothenburg, and she answered right away. But that was the end of their correspondence.”

“Right.”

“Shouldn’t he have responded eventually? Isn’t that what pen pals are supposed to do?” Winter paused for a moment. “Englishmen don’t waste their time.”

“They get it right from the very beginning. Just look at their soccer teams.”

“One of their officers calls the Malmströms every couple of days. But it’s mostly to offer a little TLC.”

“Hmm.”

“That’s their thing. He’s called a family liaison officer or something like that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“The chief investigator picks one right away. At least some of them do.”

“You did the same thing.”

“If you’re referring to Möllerström, I had no choice.”

Before Ringmar could answer, the phone in his breast pocket started to ring. He pressed the green button and mumbled his name. “I’ll see if I can find him,” he said with his eyes on Winter. He put the phone on his desk and motioned to the corner of the room.

Winter followed behind him.

“It’s your mother.”

“Is she sober?”

“Getting there.”

“What does she want?”

Ringmar shrugged.

Winter walked back to the desk and picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Erik!”

“Hi, Mom.”

“We were so worried.”

“Were you?”

“We read about the second murder.”

“I’m a little busy right now, Mom. Was there something else on your mind?”

“Your sister called. I know she’d like to hear from you a little more often.”

“She could have told me that directly without calling all the way to Spain.” Winter rolled his eyes in Ringmar’s direction. “I promise to give her a call,” he continued. “Bye for now, Mom.”

He pushed the red button and handed the phone back to Ringmar. “Women,” he said.

Ringmar cleared his throat. “And where’s your phone, may I ask?”

“It’s charging in my office.”

“Okay.”

“I put it on call forwarding.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“The cell phone is a monstrous invention,” Winter said. “I’ve seen people standing on opposite street corners talking to each other.”

“It’s modern man’s way of keeping himself company.”

“Just imagine if lightning struck and zapped you back in time. There you are in exactly the same spot, but it’s six hundred years earlier.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s raw and chilly and there’s nobody else around. The only thing you have with you is your phone. You duck behind a tree to hide from some knights that come charging down the path, or whatever it’s called, and you realize that something crazy is going on. Do you follow me?”

“Perfectly.”

“All you can do is try not to panic. When you’ve gotten a grip on yourself, you call home and Bodil answers. Still with me?”

“Keep going.”

“Here you are in the Middle Ages and you’ve got your wife on the line. Pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

“Fascinating.”

“What a movie it would make.”

“With me in the lead role?”

“That’s not for me to say. But here’s the best part of it-or the worst. There was no electricity back then, so you don’t have anywhere to plug in your battery charger. You stand there talking to Bodil, and you know that as soon as the battery runs out, it’s all over. You’ll be alone forever.”

“What a grotesque story.”

A MASSIVE EFFORT WAS UNDER WAY.

Twenty men had rung every bell in the neighborhood, and Möllerström was working overtime entering all the information they had gathered into the database.

A couple of days after Jamie’s murder, rumors had begun circulating that Sture Birgersson was thinking about calling in the National Criminal Police Corps, and the issue resurfaced when Winter’s team convened to discuss the latest murder. Halders, who had heard the scuttlebutt, made a grimace that changed his appearance only slightly. “I’d rather eat shit.”

Winter laughed out loud, which was unusual for him, especially at meetings. “I believe Fredrik just summed up all of our feelings.”

“ Stockholm is a great city,” Djanali mused, looking out the window toward Skövde and Katrineholm. She turned back and eyed Halders. “Nice people, cultured, easy to be with.”

“Particularly in the Flemingsberg area,” Halders said.

“Do you always get off the subway there?” Djanali asked. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that it goes farther?”

“I’d rather eat shit,” Halders said.

“You could use a more balanced diet.”

“Your irony is a little undernourished too.”

“Irony? Who’s being ironic?”

Winter discreetly shuffled his papers and everyone stopped talking. “We’ll continue to work in teams of two. Djanali and Halders will be together today. They seem to be hitting it off just fine. The rest of you can go ahead like you have been.” He glanced over at Bergenhem. “And I have something to talk to you about after the meeting.”

Bergenhem raised his head. He looks like a schoolboy, Winter thought. “We’ve found something,” he said to the whole group.

Ringmar flipped off the light and turned on the slide projector. He clicked back and forth between the rooms of the two British victims and finally stopped on Jamie’s.

The police photographer had used a wide-angle lens, and the room bulged out in the center.

Winter nodded. Ringmar clicked to the next slide, Jamie’s upper body, and Möllerström felt ashamed, like an eavesdropper who is privy to a forbidden act.

“Look at those uninjured shoulders,” Winter said, nodding again. Ringmar clicked to a new enlargement.

“Do you see it?” Winter stared into the semidarkness. Nobody noticed anything. He nodded to Ringmar once more, and an even bigger enlargement appeared.

“Do you see it now?” Winter moved his pointer toward a spot on the bare shoulder that could have been a piece of dust on the screen.

“What’s that?” Djanali asked.

“It’s blood,” Winter said. She saw the light from the projector reflected in his eye. “But it’s not Jamie’s.”

Nobody stirred. Djanali shivered and raised her arm as if to keep her hair from standing up.

“I’ll be damned,” Halders said.

“Not Jamie’s blood,” Bergenhem echoed.

“When did you find this out?” Djanali asked Winter.

“Just a couple of hours ago, when I went through the photos in the morning light.”

He was here when it was pitch black, Djanali thought, when everyone except this superman was fast asleep.

“Fröberg called me as soon as the test results came back,” Winter said.

“And the lab has verified it?” Halders asked. “I mean, there was quite a lot of blood, to put it mildly.”

“Yes,” Winter said.

“Can it be used as evidence?” Bergenhem asked.

“If there’s enough,” Ringmar said. “They think so. They’re working like crazy on it right now.”

“Enough for what?” Möllerström asked. “If there’s nothing to compare it with in the register, we won’t have a thing to go by.”

“That’s negative thinking.” Bergenhem looked at Möllerström as though he had broken a spell.

“It’s realistic thinking, as long as we don’t have a DNA database that starts at infancy.”