Suddenly Julian got up from where he was seated across from her and sat down next to her. A little too close. Then he grabbed hold of her arm.

‘You heard what Karl said. No talking. No talking about the island or anything that is no one else’s concern.’ His fingers dug deeper into her arm, and she grimaced.

‘All right,’ she said, the pain making her eyes fill with tears.

‘Now sit quietly in the boat. It’s easy to fall overboard,’ said Julian in a low voice. Then he let go of her arm and stood up. He went back to his seat and turned to look in the direction of Fjällbacka, which was now visible up ahead.

Trembling, Emelie placed her hands over her stomach. She suddenly found herself missing those she had left behind on the island. Those who were forced to stay there, unable ever to leave. She promised herself that she would pray for them. Maybe God would hear her prayer and show mercy to those poor lost souls.

When the boat docked near the marketplace, she blinked away her tears and felt a smile spread across her lips. Finally she was among other people again. She was still able to leave Gråskär.

15

Mellberg was whistling as he walked to work. He could tell that it was going to be a good day. He’d made a few phone calls the previous night, and he now had half an hour to get everything ready.

‘Annika!’ he called as soon as he stepped into the reception area.

‘I’m sitting right here. No need to shout.’

‘Would you mind getting the conference room ready?’

‘The conference room? I didn’t know we had a fancy place like that here at the station.’ She took off her computer glasses, letting them dangle from the cord around her neck.

‘Okay, okay. You know what I’m talking about. The only room that has space for lots of chairs.’

‘Lots of chairs?’ Annika was starting to feel uneasy. It didn’t bode well that Mellberg had turned up so early in the morning, and in such high spirits.

‘Yes. Rows of chairs. For the press.’

‘The press?’ said Annika, feeling her uneasiness settle into a hard lump in her stomach. What was he up to now?

‘Yes, the press. I’m holding a press conference here, and the reporters need some place to sit.’ He was prattling like a child.

‘Does Patrik know about this?’ Annika glanced at her phone.

‘Hedström will find out about it soon enough if he ever decides to come in to work. It’s already two minutes past eight,’ said Mellberg, ignoring the fact that he himself rarely turned up at the station before ten. ‘The press conference is scheduled for eight thirty. In less than half an hour. And as I was saying, we need a room.’

Annika again glanced at her phone, but then she realized that Mellberg wasn’t going to leave her alone until she got up off her arse and began arranging chairs in the only room that was suitable. She was hoping that then he’d go into his office and she’d have a chance to ring Patrik, to warn him what was about to happen.

‘What’s going on?’ Gösta asked from the doorway as Annika began setting up chairs.

‘Mellberg is apparently going to hold a press conference here.’

Gösta scratched the back of his head and looked around the room.

‘Does Hedström know?’

‘That’s exactly what I asked Bertil. And no, evidently he doesn’t. This is one of Mellberg’s bright ideas, and I haven’t been able to get hold of Patrik to warn him.’

‘Warn me about what?’ Patrik appeared in the doorway behind Gösta. ‘What’s going on?’

‘We’re to have a press conference in …’ Annika looked at her watch. ‘Ten minutes.’

‘You’re kidding, right?’ said Patrik, but he could see from Annika’s expression that this was no joke.

‘That bloody …’ Patrik turned on his heel and headed straight for Mellberg’s office. Then they heard a door open, followed by the sound of agitated voices before the door closed.

‘Ay ay ay,’ said Gösta, again scratching the back of his head. ‘I think I’ll go to my office.’ He disappeared so fast that Annika wondered whether he’d actually been standing there at all, or if he was just a mirage.

Muttering to herself, she continued setting up chairs, though she’d have given anything to be a fly on the wall in Mellberg’s office. She could hear voices rising and falling behind his door, but she couldn’t make out any of the words. Then the bell rang, and she hurried to open the front door.

Fifteen minutes later, the journalists had all gathered. There was a muted hum of voices in the room. Some of them knew each other, but some didn’t. Reporters had arrived from Bohusläningen, Strömstads Tidning, and the other local newspapers. Even the local radio station was represented, as well as the evening papers – the ‘big guns’, who were not frequent visitors to the area. Annika bit her lip nervously. Mellberg and Patrik still hadn’t appeared, and she wondered whether she should say something or just wait to see what happened. She chose to do the latter, although she kept casting glances at Mellberg’s office door. Finally it was flung open, and Mellberg came rushing out, bright red in the face and with his hair in disarray. Patrik stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips, and in spite of the distance, Annika could see his angry expression. As Mellberg came towards her at top speed, Patrik went into his own office and slammed the door, rattling the pictures hanging on the wall of the corridor.

‘Young whippersnapper,’ muttered Mellberg as he pushed past Annika. ‘Who does he think he is, coming here and telling me how to run things?’ He stopped, took a deep breath, and fixed his comb-over. Then he went into the room.

‘Is everyone here?’ he asked, smiling broadly as the crowd murmured affirmatively.

‘Good. Then let’s get started. As I told you last night, the investigation into the murder of Mats Sverin has taken a new direction.’ He paused, but no one seemed to have any questions yet. ‘Those of you from the local press have probably already heard that we had a serious incident occur here yesterday. Three little boys were taken to Emergency at Uddevalla Hospital.’

A few of the reporters nodded.

‘The boys had found a bag containing white powder. They thought it was sweets, so they tasted it. But the powder turned out to be cocaine, and it made them sick. They were taken to the hospital by ambulance.’ He paused again, straightening his back. He was in his element. He loved press conferences.

The reporter from Bohusläningen raised his hand, and Mellberg nodded brusquely.

‘Where did the boys find the bag?’

‘In Fjällbacka, in a litter bin outside the block of flats near Tetra Pak.’

‘Have they suffered any permanent injury?’ A journalist from one of the evening papers asked the question without waiting his turn.

‘The doctors say that they’ll make a full recovery. Luckily, they didn’t ingest very much of it.’

‘Do you think that a known addict tossed away the bag? Or is there a connection to the murder? You implied something of the sort in your opening remarks,’ interjected the reporter from Strömstads Tidning.

Mellberg was enjoying the way the tension was building in the audience. They could all see that he had a scoop for them, and he planned to make the most of it. After a moment of silence, he said:

‘The bag was in a litter bin right outside Mats Sverin’s front door.’ He slowly looked from one person to the next. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on him. ‘And we’ve identified his fingerprints on the bag.’

A murmur started up in the room.

‘Holy shit,’ said the guy from Bohusläningen. Several hands shot up.

‘So do you think it was a drug deal that went bad?’ The journalist from GT was swiftly taking notes as his photographer snapped one picture after another. Mellberg reminded himself to suck in his stomach.