“What?” She leaned forward, listening hard.
“Ljunger did it,” whispered Gerlof.
Julia whispered back: “Did what, Dad?”
“Took... our Jens.”
Then he was gone, lifted like a parcel into the helicopter. The door closed behind him.
“You need to get out of the way,” said one of the pilots before slamming his own door.
Julia shuffled back reluctantly, head spinning.
When the blades began to rotate again, she was fifty yards away; she watched them spinning faster and faster. The wonders of technology. A loud clatter in the darkness — and the helicopter carrying her elderly father lifted toward the black sky, climbing higher and higher before speeding off to the southwest.
Implacably the softer sounds of the wind and the waves returned. Julia heard a distant cry, and turned her head.
It was Lennart. Both cars were still tangled on the bend in the road, and although Julia’s arms were aching by now, she gripped her crutches firmly once again and made her way back along the gravel track to the scene of the accident.
“Was it Gerlof?” said Lennart.
Julia nodded. “Yes. They’ve taken him to Kalmar.”
“Good.”
Gunnar Ljunger now sat in his car with the door open, but apparently hadn’t been able to reverse out of the way to let the police car through.
He’d switched the engine off after the crash, and couldn’t get it going again. The only sound was a feeble click when he turned the key.
Ljunger struck the leather-covered steering wheel in a temper.
“Lock the car and leave it here,” said Lennart. “You can come to Marnäs with us.”
Ljunger sighed, but he had no choice. He took a briefcase out of the Jaguar, then got into the passenger seat of the police car next to Lennart. Julia had to sit in the back behind Lennart.
During the drive to Marnäs she leaned forward, watching Ljunger.
What had he done down on the shore? What had he said to Gerlof?
Ljunger sat there with his back straight, apparently unaware of her scrutiny, but the atmosphere in the car was tense.
“Are you going to tell me now?” Lennart asked the hotel owner after a few minutes.
“Tell you what?”
“What you were doing here on the coast road?”
“Enjoying the weather,” said Ljunger tersely. “Is that a crime?”
“Why were you driving so fast?”
“I’ve got a Jag.”
“Did you know Gerlof was lying down on the beach?”
“No.”
Julia sighed. “He’s lying,” she told Lennart.
Ljunger ignored her.
“The helicopter picked up your body heat, Gunnar,” said Lennart. “Gerlof’s body temperature was too low. Lucky for us you were there.”
Ljunger didn’t comment. He was looking out of the windshield with his eyes half closed, either uninterested or just bone tired.
There was a space in front of the Marnäs police station, and Lennart parked the car. He unlocked the door of the station and all three of them went in.
He switched on the light, went over to the desk, and turned on his computer. Ljunger positioned himself in the middle of the floor, like a soldier facing his troops.
“I shall make a short statement, nothing more,” he said, eyes locked on Lennart. “I have no intention of staying here any longer than necessary this evening. I want to get home.”
“We all want to get home, Gunnar,” remarked Lennart. He logged on to his computer. “Coffee?”
“No.” Ljunger looked at Julia and asked: “Is she staying?”
Lennart seemed to stiffen when Julia was referred to as she — but Julia herself merely shook her head. She had other things to worry about.
“She’s going to the hospital to see her father,” she told the men, “to see if he’s going to survive.” She stared at Ljunger. “And to ask him what happened down there on the shore.”
“Good. You do that.”
Ljunger wasn’t even looking at her, but there was a clearly perceptible smile at the corners of his mouth. It was as if he found the whole encounter most amusing.
“Sit down, Gunnar,” said Lennart, pointing to the chair next to his desk.
Then he took a couple of steps over to Julia by the door and lowered his voice. “Will you be okay now?”
She nodded and picked up her crutches. “I’ll see if there’s a bus,” she said. “Otherwise I’ll get a cab.”
“Will you call me?” said Lennart. “I’ll be home as soon as I’m done here.”
Julia smiled and nodded, as if everything were fine this evening. “Of course I’ll call. See you soon.”
She wanted to give Lennart a hug, but not in front of Gunnar Ljunger.
She went down the steps, back out onto the cold, deserted street, and looked over at the bus depot on the far side of the square. There was a bus standing there — but was it heading south?
A cab to Kalmar would cost several hundred kronor, but if worst came to worst, that’s what she would have to do. Even if she had to empty her account, and even if she just ended up sitting around in the emergency room all night, she had to get to the hospital. She wanted to be there when Gerlof came around. Lennart would understand that she had to be with her father right now; besides, he had plenty to do himself this evening.
She set off across the street toward the square.
She suddenly thought about that smile — Gunnar Ljunger’s curious little smile.
He’d smashed up his car and more or less been called a murderer by Gerlof, but as he stood there next to Lennart’s desk in the police station he still had that little smile at the corners of his mouth, as if an escape route was waiting for him in there.
As if he thought...
Julia stopped dead on the sidewalk on the other side of the street, heart thudding. She was halfway to the bus depot, but without even thinking about it she turned back. She began to hop along on her crutches, back to the police station.
It was only a hundred yards or so, but Julia still didn’t get there in time.
She was still out on the sidewalk when she heard the shot. It was just a short, sharp crack with no echo, but it came from inside the station.
She heard a dull thud through the window.
Another shot was fired seconds later.
Julia took three more steps on her crutches, but it was too slow. She threw them down and ran.
She took the steps up to the door of the station in two strides, sending pain stabbing through her foot.
She could smell the gunpowder as she pushed through the door, and only then did she stop.
Everything was quiet. There wasn’t a sound in the police station.
Julia peeped in tentatively, and first of all she could only see Lennart’s legs sticking out beside his desk. Her heart faltered — then she realized he was moving.
He was on his knees by the desk, one hand on the floor and the other firmly pressed against his bleeding forehead.
Lennart’s holster was undone, and he slowly rolled around and looked up at Julia with a hazy, confused expression.
“Where is he?” he asked. “Ljunger?”
Julia saw what had happened.
It wasn’t Lennart who’d been shot — it was Gunnar Ljunger.
Julia could see him now, and she realized the hotel owner had indeed found an escape route.
Ljunger wasn’t smiling any longer. His body was lying on the floor on the other side of the desk, and his shiny leather shoes were twitching. A rivulet of blood had begun to trickle from his head, and the yellow padded jacket was spattered with pink stains. The blood was shining as it caught the light.
Ljunger was staring up at the ceiling, his mouth half open. He looked astonished, as if he didn’t really understand that it was all over.