Kenneth Bengtsson opened the front door. His face was pale, and he looked confused.

‘Patrik Hedström,’ said Patrik, shaking hands with Kenneth. ‘Where is she?’ He motioned for his colleagues to wait outside. It would create problems for the crime-scene techs if they all tromped about inside the house. Kenneth opened the door wider and pointed down the hallway.

‘In there. I… would it be all right if I stay here?’ He was looking at Patrik, but his eyes had a blank look.

‘Stay here with my colleagues, and I’ll go inside,’ said Patrik, glancing at Gösta to get him to take charge of the victim’s spouse. Gösta’s skills as a police officer left a lot to be desired, but he had a talent for dealing with people, and Patrik knew that Kenneth would be in good hands. The medics would be arriving any minute. He had phoned them before leaving the station, so the ambulance should be here soon.

Patrik cautiously stepped inside and took off his shoes. He headed in the direction that Kenneth had indicated, assuming he meant the door at the end of the hall. It was closed, and Patrik stopped himself as he was about to touch the door handle. There might be fingerprints. Using his elbow, he pushed down on the handle and opened the door by leaning against it.

She was lying in bed with her eyes closed and her arms at her sides. She looked like she was sleeping. He took a couple of steps closer, looking for any injuries on the body. There was no blood, no wounds. But her body did show clear signs of her illness. Her bones were visible under the taut, dry skin, and her head looked bald under the scarf she was wearing. His heart ached at the thought of what she must have suffered, and what Kenneth must have suffered as he was forced to see his wife in this state. But there was nothing to indicate anything except that she had died in her sleep. Patrik carefully backed out of the room.

When he stepped outside into the cold again, Gösta was speaking in a soothing voice to Kenneth while Paula and Martin were helping the ambulance driver back his vehicle into the drive.

‘I went in to see her,’ Patrik told Kenneth in a low voice, putting his hand on the man’s shoulder. ‘And I don’t see any sign that she was murdered, as you said on the phone. From what I understand, your wife was seriously ill. Is that right?’

Kenneth nodded mutely.

‘Isn’t it more likely that she simply died in her sleep?’

‘No, she was murdered,’ Kenneth replied vehemently.

Patrik exchanged glances with Gösta. It wasn’t unusual for someone in shock to react oddly and say strange things.

‘Why do you think so? As I said, I just went in to see your wife, and there are no obvious injuries to her body, nothing to indicate anything… out of the ordinary.’

‘She was murdered!’ Kenneth insisted, and Patrik began to realize that there was nothing more they could do here. He would ask the medics to tend to the poor man.

‘Take a look at this!’ Kenneth pulled something out of his pocket and held it out to Patrik, who took it without thinking. It was a small white piece of paper, folded in half. Patrik gave Kenneth an inquisitive look and then opened the paper. In black cursive script it said: The truth about you killed her.

Patrik instantly recognized the handwriting.

‘Where did you find this?’

‘In Lisbet’s hand. I took it out of her hand,’ Kenneth stammered.

‘And she didn’t write this herself?’ Patrik already knew the answer, but he still felt that he had to ask the question to remove any doubt. The handwriting was the same. And the few words conveyed the same sense of evil as the letter that Erica had taken from Christian.

As expected, Kenneth shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, holding up something else that Patrik hadn’t noticed he was clutching in his hand. ‘The same person sent these.’

Inside the plastic bag were several white envelopes. The address had been written with black ink in an elegant script. The same as on the piece of paper that Patrik was holding.

‘When did you get these?’ he asked, feeling his heart pounding hard.

‘We were just going to turn them over to the police,’ said Kenneth quietly, handing the plastic bag to Patrik.

‘Who do you mean by “we”?’

‘Erik and I. He received similar letters.’

‘Erik Lind? He has letters too?’ Patrik repeated, wanting to make sure that he’d heard correctly.

Kenneth nodded.

‘Why didn’t you tell the police about this before?’ Patrik tried to keep his frustration out of his voice. The man standing in front of him had just lost his wife, so this was not the proper time for reproaches.

‘I… we… It wasn’t until today that Erik and I realized that we’d both received these sorts of letters. And we only heard about Christian getting threats when we read about it in the paper this weekend. I can’t speak for Erik, but for my part, I didn’t want to upset…’ His voice trailed off.

Patrik took another look at the letters inside the plastic bag. ‘Only three of them have an address and postmark on them. One of them just has your name on the envelope. How did that letter arrive?’

‘Someone came into the house last night and left it on the kitchen table.’ He hesitated, but Patrik didn’t speak, sensing that Kenneth had more to say. ‘And there was a knife lying next to the letter. One of our kitchen knives. I suppose that’s a message that could be interpreted several different ways.’ He began to cry as he went on. ‘I thought it was me that someone wanted to harm. Why Lisbet? Why kill Lisbet?’ He wiped away a tear with the back of his hand, apparently embarrassed to be crying in front of Patrik and the other officers.

‘We don’t know whether she was actually murdered,’ said Patrik gently. ‘But someone has definitely been inside your house. Do you have any idea who that might be? Or who would have sent you these letters?’ He kept his eyes fixed on Kenneth, wanting to see if there was any change in his expression. As far as he could tell, Kenneth was speaking the truth when he said:

‘I’ve thought a lot about it ever since the first letter appeared. That was right before Christmas. But I can’t think of anyone who would want to harm me. No one at all. I’ve never made any enemies in that way. I’m too… unimportant.’

‘What about Erik? How long has he been getting these letters?’

‘About the same as me. He has them over at the office. I was just coming home to pick mine up and then we were going to contact the police…’ His voice faded again, and Patrik could see his thoughts were back in that room where he’d found his wife dead.

‘What do you think the message on this note means?’ asked Patrik cautiously. ‘It refers to a “truth about yourself” – what do you think that could be?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Kenneth quietly. ‘I really have no idea.’ Then he took a deep breath. ‘What will you do with her now?’

‘She’ll be taken to Göteborg for closer examination.’

‘Closer examination? Do you mean a post-mortem?’ Kenneth grimaced.

‘Yes. A post-mortem. I’m afraid it’s necessary so we can work out what actually happened here.’

Kenneth nodded, but his eyes were glazed, and his lips were looking slightly blue. Realizing that they’d been standing outdoors in the cold too long, considering the thin clothing that Kenneth was wearing, Patrick added:

‘It’s cold out here, and you need to go inside.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Would you like to drive over to the office with me? To your office, I mean? Then we can have a talk with Erik. Feel free to say no if you’re not up to it, and I’ll go over there myself. Is there anyone you’d like to phone, by the way?’

‘No. I’d like to go with you,’ said Kenneth, almost defiantly. ‘I want to know who did this.’

‘All right, then.’ Patrik took him lightly by the arm to steer him towards the car. He opened the door on the passenger side so Kenneth could get in. Then he went over to Martin and Paula to give them some brief instructions. He went inside to get a jacket for Kenneth before he motioned for Gösta to come with him. The tech team was on its way, and Patrik hoped to get back before they were finished. Otherwise he’d have to talk to them later. Right now going to see Erik was so urgent that it couldn’t wait.