The Dead of Summer Read Online Free PDF Page B

location couldn’t have been more central.
    Emotionally, Johan found himself in a miserable state. His body was screaming for Emma, and he constantly felt an aching yearning to be with Elin. It was like having a black hole inside him. Right now he had no idea what he was going to do; it was probably merely a matter of accepting the situation. He had wanted to demand to see his daughter at least 50 per cent of the time, as was his right, but it was actually his own mother who had made him change his mind.
    ‘One thing at a time,’ she had said to console him. ‘One thing at a time.’ Making demands in the midst of such chaos would just make everything worse. His mother thought that, with time, Emma would calm down and listen to reason. And he wanted to believe in her.
    The situation couldn’t be described as anything but disastrous, yet the kidnapping drama that occurred in the early spring had also taken its toll on Johan, and he didn’t have the energy to deal with the conflict with Emma right now. For the time being, he made do with the few days he was allowed to spend with Elin.

DARK HAD FALLEN by the time Karin Jacobsson walked home from police headquarters. She crossed Norra Hansegatan and continued along the main street down to Östercentrum. The shops were closed, but some young guys were sitting at tables outside McDonald’s, bellowing into the warm July night. Teenagers walked past, on their way down to the ring wall and the old town looming inside. It was close to midnight, and she still hadn’t been able to get in touch with Knutas. Now it was too late to call. Instead, she sent off a brief text message:
    ‘Murder on Fårö. Man shot to death, execution-style. Ring when you have time.’
    Just as she passed Ali’s barbecue stand outside Österport, her mobile rang.
    ‘Hi, it’s Anders. Are you kidding?’
    ‘I wish I was.’
    She couldn’t resist smiling a bit when she heard how flabbergasted he sounded. She realized he must be frustrated at being so far away.
    ‘I tried to call you several times.’
    ‘I know. I was recharging my mobile, so it was switched off. Then I forgot about it. I’m on holiday, after all,’ he joked. ‘So tell me what happened.’
    Jacobsson quickly outlined the sequence of events as she walked through the gate in the Visby ring wall at Österport and down Hästgatan.
    The restaurants she passed were packed with people enjoying the warm night. Music poured out of the bars and eating establishments. Visby had a lively entertainment scene in the summer, and it was high season right now.
    She had reached Mellangatan by the time she had finished her report.
    ‘Bloody hell,’ said Knutas. ‘What are you doing now?’
    ‘I’ve talked to Martin Kihlgård, and he and a few colleagues from the NCP will be here tomorrow.’
    There was silence on the line for a moment. Jacobsson was at her front door. She felt a pang of guilt. Partly because Knutas was having a well-deserved holiday, which he really needed. Partly because it was so late, and he should be spending time with his wife instead of talking shop with her.
    ‘OK,’ she went on. ‘So now you know what happened, at any rate. But you’re on holiday. We can handle things here, Anders.’
    ‘I have every confidence that you can. Ring if you need anything. It’s no bother.’
    ‘Thanks. Good night.’
    ‘Good night. Give my best to everyone else.’
    ‘Sure.’
    When Karin went to bed that night, she felt lonelier than she had in a long time.

HAMBURG, 22 JUNE 1985
     
    VERA SAT IN the kitchen, staring with yearning at the other side of Friedenstrasse. The building directly opposite was six storeys tall with a light-coloured façade. She no longer needed to count the rows of windows to know where he lived. Gotthard Westenfelder – she tried out the name. Said it aloud. Never before in the twenty years of her life had she been so in love. They had met at the university just after she had completed her first year.