Now she heard the woman’s footsteps. She looked down at the child. He looked so calm and peaceful lying there. She stood up with her back against the wall, just to the right of the door opening. The woman came into the bathroom. When she saw the child, she stopped abruptly. Then she screamed and rushed forward.

It was almost as easy as it had been with the child. Silently she slipped forward and grabbed the neck of the woman, who was leaning over the edge of the tub. She used her own weight to hold the woman’s head underwater. It took less time than expected.

She didn’t look back as she left. Merely felt a sense of satisfaction spreading through her body. Christian was not going to be happy any more.

Patrik was looking at the drawings. And all of a sudden he understood. The big figure and the small one – Christian and Alice. And in one of the drawings the black figures that were so much darker than the rest.

Christian had taken the guilt on to his own shoulders. Patrik had just talked with Ragnar, who had confirmed it. When Alice came home that night, he and his wife assumed that it was Christian who had raped her. They were awakened by a scream, and when they got out of bed to find out what was going on, they found Alice lying on the floor in the front hall. She was wearing only a skirt, and her face was bloody and swollen. When they rushed over to her, she said only one word.

‘Christian,’ she whispered.

Iréne rushed upstairs to his room and yanked him out of bed. She smelled the booze on him and immediately drew her own conclusions. To be fair, Ragnar had thought the same thing, although he did have some doubt. Maybe that was why he kept sending Alice’s drawings to Christian. Because he’d never been certain about what actually happened.

Gösta and Martin had managed to nab Erik before he got on the plane. Patrik had just received a report, telling him that they were on their way back from Landvetter. That was always something. Later they would have to see what was legally possible, so many years after the fact. At least Kenneth was not going to keep silent any more; Erica was convinced of that. And if nothing else, Erik had a lot of explaining to do with regard to his financial dealings. He’d probably end up behind bars, at least for a while. But considering the circumstances, that seemed like small comfort.

‘The newspapers have started ringing!’ Mellberg came rushing in, beaming like a sun. ‘It’s about to get very lively around here. Great publicity for the station.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Patrik, still looking at the drawings.

‘We did a really good job on this case, Hedström! I have to admit it. It took us a while, but once we picked up the pace and did some good old-fashioned police work, the path was clear.’

‘Right,’ said Patrik. Today he didn’t even have the energy to feel annoyed by Mellberg. He rubbed his hand over his chest. It still hurt. He must have banged himself harder than he thought when he fell off the ladder.

‘It’s probably best that I go back to my office,’ said Mellberg. ‘A reporter from Aftonbladet just phoned, and it’s only a matter of time before somebody from Expressen calls too.’

‘Hmm,’ said Patrik as he kept rubbing his chest. Damn, it hurt. Maybe the pain would ease up if he moved a bit. He got up and went into the kitchen. How typical. Whenever he wanted a cup of coffee, the pot was empty.

Paula came in. ‘We’ve finished over there. I’m completely speechless. I would never have suspected any of this.’

‘I guess not,’ said Patrik. He realized how unkind that sounded, but he was so tired. He didn’t feel like talking about the case, didn’t want to think about Alice and Christian, or about a little boy who kept vigil over his dead mother’s body as it rotted in the summer heat.

Keeping his eyes fixed on the coffee machine, he put in several scoops. How many was that? Two or three? He couldn’t remember. He tried to concentrate, but the next scoopful landed outside the machine. He put the scoop in the package of ground coffee to take out some more, but a sharp pain in his chest made him gasp for air.

‘Patrik, what’s the matter? Patrik?’ He heard Paula’s voice, but it was coming from far, far away. He ignored it, wanting to finish putting more coffee in the machine, but his hand refused to obey. He saw a flash of light before his eyes, and the pain in his chest was suddenly a thousand times worse. He managed to think that something was wrong, that something was about to happen.

Then everything went black.

‘Did he send the threatening letters to himself?’ Anna asked, shifting position a little. The baby was pressing on her bladder, and she actually needed to pee, but she couldn’t tear herself away.

‘Yes, and to the others too,’ said Erica. ‘We don’t know whether Magnus got any. Most likely not.’

‘Why did the letters start coming when he began working on the book?’

‘Again, we only have theories to go on. But according to Thorvald, it might have been difficult for Christian to keep taking the medication for schizophrenia at the same time as he was writing the book. The medicine can have significant side effects, such as fatigue and lethargy, and maybe it made it hard for him to focus on the writing. My guess is that he stopped taking the medicine, and that’s when the illness flared up, after being kept in check for so many years. And then the identity disorder also manifested itself. The foremost object of Christian’s hatred was himself, and I presume that he couldn’t cope with the guilt that had been getting worse and worse. So he split himself in two: Christian, who tried to forget and live a normal life; and the Mermaid, or Alice, who hated Christian and wanted him to bear the guilt.’

Erica continued patiently trying to explain. It wasn’t easy to understand; in fact, it was really an impossible task. Thorvald had been careful to emphasize that the disease rarely took such an extreme form. This was by no means an ordinary case. But Christian had not had an ordinary life. He’d had to endure things that would have broken even the strongest person.

‘That was also why he took his own life,’ said Erica. ‘In the letter he left behind, he said that he was forced to save his sons from her. And the only way to do that was to give her what she wanted. Himself.’

‘But he was the one who painted the words on the children’s wall. He was the threat to their safety.’

‘Yes, exactly. When he realized that he loved his sons, he understood that the only way to protect them was to kill the person who wanted to hurt them. Meaning, himself. In his world, the Mermaid was real, not a figment of his imagination. She really existed, and she wanted to kill his family. Just as she had killed Maria and her son Emil. So he saved his boys by taking his own life.’

Anna wiped away a tear. ‘The whole thing is just so awful.’

‘I agree,’ said Erica. ‘It’s horrible.’

Erica’s mobile began ringing shrilly. Annoyed, she picked it up. ‘If that’s some bloody reporter, I’m going to… Hello, this is Erica Falck.’ Erica face lit up. ‘Hi, Annika!’ Then her expression changed again, and she gasped. ‘What did you say? Where did they take him? He is? In Uddevalla?’

Anna looked at Erica with concern. Her big sister’s hand had started to shake as she held the phone.

‘What is it?’ asked Anna when Erica ended the conversation.

Erica swallowed hard. Her eyes were filled with tears.

‘Patrik collapsed at work,’ she whispered. ‘They think it might be a heart attack. They’re taking him in an ambulance to Uddevalla.’

For a moment Anna was so shocked she couldn’t move. Then she rallied, quickly got up, and headed for the front door. The car keys were on the hall bureau, and she went over and grabbed them.