‘Are we working on Josephine’s murder as well, now we know the same weapon was used?’ Fredrika asked.
‘That remains to be seen.’
‘It would be the logical move. If we’re not running both cases, then we could end up duplicating the work but missing information at the same time.’
‘We can’t cope with two investigations. There aren’t enough of us.’
‘But why are we referring to two investigations? It’s the same case. Three deaths, one killer.’
Alex pushed away the empty box. Fredrika was always amazed at the speed with which he ate; it was as if he simply inhaled the food.
‘How do we know there’s only one killer? There could easily be two people working together,’ Alex objected.
‘The footprints in the snow suggest one perpetrator.’
‘And how do you know that the person who hunted down the boys is the same person who lay on the roof and shot Josephine?’
‘You mean someone shot her, then gave the gun to someone else, who took care of the boys?’
Alex shrugged.
‘We know nothing, Fredrika. Not a bloody thing.’
She didn’t agree.
‘We don’t know anything for sure, but we have to come up with hypotheses, otherwise we’ll get nowhere.’
She put down her fork. She would eat later.
‘Alex, I don’t believe the boys escaped from their abductor. I think he let them go, one at a time, hunted them down and shot them. I have no idea why. Nor do I know why he made them take off their shoes and socks, or why he put paper bags over their heads.’
‘I agree. I don’t believe they escaped either, but I’m not sure the fact that they were barefoot is so strange; the killer could have done that just to make sure they wouldn’t be able to run very far.’
‘Which makes the hunt itself even more interesting. Why was that so important to him?’
Alex’s face was distorted with anger when he replied.
‘It’s more than interesting, it’s downright sadistic. The boys must have set off thinking they had a chance of escape. Which they never had. The murders are ritualistic, for fuck’s sake. Don’t ask me how, I just know that there was nothing random about what we saw out there. The hunt, the bare feet, the paper bags – they’re all connected.’
Fredrika had to agree.
Alex rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward.
‘So can we assume that the murder of the teacher was also ritualistic, even though we haven’t found any evidence to suggest that?’
‘That’s what I’m wondering,’ Fredrika said. ‘The differences in the MO could be down to the fact that the perpetrator wanted it to look as if the murders were unconnected, but then surely he wouldn’t have been so careless as to use the same gun.’
‘Exactly. Which makes the whole thing so bloody cocky. He doesn’t care if we realise he’s involved in both crimes. He doesn’t even try to hide it.’
‘Perhaps that was the idea: the murders were carried out in such different ways so that we’d end up sitting here scratching our heads and wondering who we’re looking for.’
Alex stared at her for a long time.
‘You’re a wise woman,’ he said eventually.
Fredrika blushed.
‘I just mean…’
‘I know what you mean, and you’re right. Even if you’re wrong. We’re wasting time, trying to find an explanation for two such different murders, when in fact we only need to solve one in order to find the person responsible for both.’
Fredrika nodded slowly.
‘So you think we should leave Josephine’s murder with the National Crime Unit after all?’
‘For the time being, we carry on working separately; we’ll probably meet in the middle at some point anyway.’
That sounded logical.
‘Do you seriously believe the only reason behind Josephine’s murder was to confuse us?’ Fredrika said.
She could hear the doubt in her voice, and did nothing to hide it.
‘No. But I do think that we shouldn’t ignore leads just because they don’t match both cases. Do you have a third hypothesis, or would you like to hear mine?’
Fredrika thought for a moment. The smell of the food was less than pleasant, and she wished it wasn’t too cold to open a window, get some fresh air and a shot of energy.
‘I do have one more theory,’ she said. ‘The victims weren’t taken by chance. He knew exactly who he was after.’
‘Good. I agree. I think our killer is driven by personal motives. The Solomon Community’s fear that we’re dealing with a crazy serial killer hell bent on murdering Jews is groundless. He doesn’t give a toss if they’re Jews or Arabs or Chinese. This is personal.’
‘In which case there must be a link between the boys and the teacher.’
‘Absolutely, but we’re not going to start there. We’re going to start with what we have.’
‘Which is?’
‘I have a feeling that the Goldmann and Eisenberg families are being a little circumspect about why they left Israel. It may be of no relevance to the inquiry, but I still want to know what they’re not telling us. And there’s something else.’
Fredrika’s stomach contracted.
‘The Paper Boy,’ she said.
‘Exactly. The boy who called himself the Paper Boy online is found dead with a paper bag over his head. Is that supposed to be a coincidence?’
‘Maybe not. The only problem there is that his friend, who called himself the Warrior, was also found dead with a paper bag over his head. We have to be able to explain both deaths, not just one.’
‘True. The Paper Boy is supposed to refer to some Israeli myth that I’ve never heard of,’ Alex said. ‘It could be that this myth has nothing whatsoever to do with the case, but I still want to know more.’
He looked up with a wry smile.
‘Didn’t you say Spencer was going to Israel? We might have to give him a little job to do while he’s there.’
Fredrika managed a smile in return.
Spencer on a mission in the Promised Land. It was an entertaining but unimaginable concept.
‘Just joking,’ Alex said.
As if that wasn’t obvious. At that moment his mobile rang. Fredrika ate a little more while he was on the phone, but she had lost her appetite. Inside she was in chaos after everything that had happened, while outside heavy snow was falling once more. And somewhere in between, in a no-man’s-land that she couldn’t even begin to define, she and Alex were supposed to take a murder investigation in the right direction.
She chewed, swallowed.
Alex ended the call.
‘That was the secretary at the Solomon school. She rang to tell me about a pot plant that was sent to them anonymously following Josephine’s death.’
‘And?’
‘It arrived in a paper bag with a face drawn on it.’
The stairwell was in darkness. A door opened a couple of floors above, then the light came on. Footsteps on the stairs. Muted crying from one of the apartments. Efraim Kiel thought the child responsible was probably very young; the sound lacked any real strength. It was a long time since Efraim had been a parent, but the memory lingered.
It had taken a while to shake off his Säpo shadows. This time it had been essential to ensure that they didn’t follow him; if they had, it would have caused big problems.
Even bigger than the problems he already had.