Eva was right. At the top of the staircase was an open door that led to a room unmistakably that of a teenage boy. The door, the walls and even the ceiling were covered with posters, and it didn't take a genius to discover the common theme. The boy had loved action heroes. Anyone who struck first and asked questions later; they were all there. The men were dominant, of course, but a single woman had been granted a place in the collection – Angelina Jolie, as Lara Croft. Although Patrik suspected that her toughness wasn't the only reason that Sebastian had put her picture up on his wall – she had quite a pair, to be exact. And he couldn't blame the boy.

A white sheet of paper lying in the middle of the desk brought Patrik back to reality. They went over to take a look at the note. Eva put on a pair of thin gloves and took a plastic bag out of her equipment case. Carefully with her thumb and forefinger holding one corner of the letter, she dropped it into the plastic bag and then handed it to Patrik. Now he could read it without destroying any fingerprints that might be on the paper.

Patrik glanced through the letter in silence. The words were so filled with pain that he almost lost his balance. But he cleared his throat to maintain his composure, and when he finished reading the note he handed it to Eva. He had no doubt that the letter was genuine.

Patrik felt overcome with anger and resolve. He couldn't offer Sebastian a Schwarzenegger who would mete out justice while wearing cool sunglasses, but he could definitely offer him the help of Patrik Hedström. He had to hope that would be enough.

His phone rang and he answered absentmindedly, still absorbed by his rage over the boy's meaningless death. He was mildly surprised to hear Dan's voice on the phone. Erica's friend usually never rang him directly. Patrik's astonished expression was soon replaced by dismay.

Since the adrenaline was still pumping through his veins, Niclas thought he might as well take on all the troublesome stuff at once, before his usual flight instinct kicked in. So much of what had gone wrong in his life could be blamed on the fact that he was afraid of conflict and turned weak when strength counted most. He was starting to realize that it was Charlotte he had to thank for the things that were still good in his life.

When he turned into the driveway at the house he forced himself to sit in the car for a minute and just breathe. He needed to think through what he was going to say to Charlotte. It was essential that he find exactly the right words. Ever since he'd been forced to confess to her that he'd had an affair with Jeanette, he'd felt the chasm between them widening more and more with each minute they were together. The cracks in their relationship had already existed, both before his revelation and before Sara's death, so it wasn't hard for them to grow. Soon it would be too late. The secret that they shared hadn't brought them together; instead it had merely hastened the process that was pushing them apart. That was where he thought they'd have to begin. If they weren't honest about everything starting right now, nothing would be able to save their marriage. And for the first time in ages, maybe ever, he was sure that was what he wanted.

Hesitantly he got out of the car. Something inside him was still telling him to run, to drive back to the clinic and bury himself in work, to find a new woman to embrace, to return to familiar territory. But he stifled that urge, quickened his steps and walked in the front door.

He could hear murmuring voices upstairs and knew that Lilian must be up in Stig's room. Thank goodness. He didn't want to face her barrage of questions again, and he closed the door as quietly as he could.

Charlotte looked up in astonishment when he came down to the cellar flat.

'You're home early.'

'Yes, I thought we should talk.'

'Haven't we talked enough?' she said indifferently and continued to fold the laundry. Albin was sitting next to her on the floor, playing with his toys. Charlotte looked worn out. He knew that she didn't get many hours of sleep at night; she lay in bed tossing and turning, although he'd pretended not to notice. He hadn't talked to her about it, hadn't caressed her cheek or taken her in his arms. The skin under her eyes had dark smudges, and he could see how she'd grown thin. How many times had he angrily muttered that she ought to pull herself together and lose some weight. Now he'd give anything for her to get back some of her former plumpness.

Niclas sat down on the bed next to her and took her hand. Her shocked expression told him that it was something he did far too seldom. He felt awkward and fumbling, and for an instant he wanted to flee again. But he kept her hand in his and said, 'I'm so dreadfully sorry, Charlotte. For everything. For all the years I've been distant, both physically and mentally; for everything I've blamed you for in my mind even though it was actually my own fault; for the affairs I've had; for the physical closeness I've stolen from you and given to others; for not finding a way for us to get out of this house sooner; for not listening to you; for not loving you enough. I'm sorry for all that and more. But I can't change the past, only promise you that everything will be different starting now. Do you believe me? Please, Charlotte, I have to hear that you believe me!'

She raised her eyes and looked at him. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled out as she fixed her gaze on him.

'Yes, I believe you. For Sara's sake, I believe you.'

He simply nodded, unable to go on. Then he cleared his throat and said, 'Then there's one thing we have to do. I've thought about this, and we can't keep living with a secret. Monsters live in the dark.'

After a brief pause she nodded. With a sigh she leaned her head on his shoulder, and he felt as though she were falling into him.

They sat that way for a long time.

He made it home in five minutes. He hugged Erica and Maja long and hard, and then shook Dan's hand gratefully.

'What a stroke of luck you were here,' he said, adding Dan to the list of people he had to be thankful for.

'Right. But I don't understand it. Who would take it into their head to do something like this? And why?'

Patrik sat next to Erica on the sofa, holding her hand. After casting a hesitant glance at Erica he said, 'It probably has some connection with Sara's murder.'

Erica gave a start. 'What? Why do you think that? Why would…?'

Patrik pointed at Maja's overalls on the floor. That looks like ashes.' His voice broke and he had to clear his throat to go on. 'Sara had ashes in her lungs, and there was also a…' he searched for the right word, 'an attack on another small child. Ashes were again involved.'

'But what does it mean?' Erica looked bewildered. Nothing she was hearing made any sense.

'I don't know,' said Patrik wearily, passing his hand over his eyes. 'We don't understand it either. We've sent off the ashes we found on the other child's clothing to the lab, to see whether it has the same chemical composition as the ashes inside Sara, but we haven't got an answer back yet. And now I want to send off Maja's clothes too.'

Erica nodded mutely. Her panic had metamorphosed into a shocked, trance-like state. Patrik gave her a hug. 'I'll call in and tell them I'm staying home for the rest of the day. I just have to get Maja's clothes sent off so they can start the analysis as soon as possible. We have to catch whoever is doing this,' he said grimly. It was a promise he was making to himself as much as to Erica. His daughter was unhurt, true, but the mental cruelty behind the deed gave him an uneasy feeling that the person they were searching for was extremely disturbed.

'Can you stay until I get back?' he asked Dan, who nodded.

'Absolutely. I'll stay as long as you need me to.'