Lars Kepler - The Nightmare

“Nothing. I just have to think.”

Joona gets up from the chair and strides out without another word, through the foyer, not even hearing the words said by the woman with the dazzling eyes in reception. He comes into the heat of the sun and stands quietly on the lawn by the parking lot.

A fourth person, unknown to either Penelope or Viola, killed Viola, Joona thinks. He mistook one sister for the other. This must mean that Penelope was alive when Viola was killed, or he wouldn’t have made that mistake.

Perhaps Penelope really is still alive, Joona thinks. Or her body is somewhere in the archipelago, on an island or deep beneath the sea. But we can hope that she’s still alive and if she is, we will find her very soon.

Joona strides quickly to his car even though he has no idea where he will go. He spots his cell phone up on its roof; he must have put it there when he locked the car door. He picks up the sun-warmed phone and calls Anja Larsson. No answer. He climbs in, automatically fastens the seat belt, but makes no next move. He just sits and tries to find the flaws in his reasoning.

The air is suffocating, but the heady aroma of the lilac bushes next to the parking lot eases its way into his nostrils and chases away the smell of decaying corpses from the pathology lab.

The cell phone in his hand rings. He looks at the display and answers.

“I’ve just talked to your doctor,” Anja says.

“Why have you been talking to him?”

“Janush says that you’ve not come in to see him,” she says accusingly.

“I really haven’t had the time.”

“But you’re taking your medicine?”

“It tastes terrible,” Joona jokes.

“But seriously… he called me because he was worried about you,” she says.

“I’ll talk to him.”

“But not until you’ve solved this case, right?”

“Do you have a pen and paper?”

“Go ahead, ignore me,” she says.

“The woman found on the boat is not Penelope Fernandez.”

“It’s Viola, I know. Petter told me.”

“Good.”

“You were wrong, Joona.”

“Yes, I know-”

“Say it, Joona!” she laughs.

“I’m always wrong,” he says.

There’s a moment of silence between them.

“Don’t joke about it,” she says.

“Have you found out anything about the boat or Viola Fernandez?”

“Viola and Penelope are sisters,” Anja replies. “Penelope and Bjorn are in some kind of relationship, and that’s lasted four years so far.”

“Yes, that’s about what I’ve guessed.”

“So I see. Do you want me to bother to continue?”

Joona doesn’t answer. Instead, he leans his head back on the headrest and sees that the windshield is covered with some kind of tree pollen.

“Viola wasn’t supposed to go on the boat with them,” Anja continues. “But she’d had a fight with her boyfriend, Sergei Yarushenko, that morning, and when she called to cry on her mother’s shoulder, it was the mother who suggested Viola go with her sister on the boat trip.”

“What do you know about Penelope?”

“I’ve actually focused on the victim, Viola, since-”

“The murderer believed he was killing Penelope.”

“What are you saying, Joona?”

“He made a mistake. He was going to hide the killing in a fake boating accident. He didn’t realize he’d put Viola on her sister’s bed.”

“Since he’d mixed up the sisters.”

“I need to know everything you have on Penelope Fernandez and her-”

Anja cuts Joona off. “She’s one of my idols. She’s a peace activist. She lives on Sankt Paulsgatan 3.”

“We’ve put out a search bulletin on her and Bjorn Almskog,” Joona says. “The Coast Guard is flying two helicopters in the area around Dalaro, but they should coordinate with the maritime police.”

“I’ll take a look at what’s going on,” Anja says.

“Someone should track down Viola’s boyfriend, and also the fisherman who found the boat. We’ve got to get everything together as fast as we can-the evidence from the boat, the results from the National Forensic Lab-”

“Do you want me to give Linkoping a call?” Anja asks.

“I’ll talk to Erixson. He knows them and we’re going together to look at Penelope’s apartment.”

“It sounds like you’ve taken over the investigation. Right?”

The skies are still bright, but the air is heavy and damp, as if a thunderstorm is looming.

As Joona Linna and Erixson park outside the old fishermen’s supply shop, Joona’s cell phone rings. It’s Claudia Fernandez. He ducks into a shady spot before answering.

“You told me I could call,” she says weakly.

“Of course.”

“I know you tell this to everyone, but I thought… my daughter Penelope. I mean… I have to know if you find something, even if she…”

Claudia’s voice fades away.

“Hello? Claudia?”

“I’m here. Sorry,” she whispers.

“I’m a detective,” Joona says. “I’m trying to find out whether there is criminal activity behind these events. The Coast Guard is searching for Penelope.”

“When will they find her?”

“Well, they’re flying over the area in helicopters right now. They’re searching by sea and land. Since that takes longer, they start with the helicopters.”

Joona hears that Claudia is muffling her crying.

“I don’t know what I should be doing… I… I need to know what I can do or whether I should keep talking with her friends.”

“The best thing you can do is stay home,” Joona says. “Penelope might try to contact you and then-”

“She won’t call me,” says Claudia.

“I think she-”

“I’ve always been too hard on Penny. I’m always angry at her. I don’t really know why. I… I don’t want to lose her. I can’t lose Penelope, I…”

Claudia’s sobs are now loud in the receiver. She tries to control herself; fails. With a barely audible apology, she ends the call.

Right across from the fishermen’s supply shop is Sankt Paulsgatan 3, where Penelope Fernandez lives. Joona walks over to Erixson, who is staring into a shop window. The shop used to display photos of the fisherman who caught the largest salmon in the Stockholm River that week. Now the windows are crowded with hundreds of Hello Kitty items. The entire shop provides an amazingly stark contrast to the dirty brown walls of the building’s exterior.

“Little body, large head,” Erixson says as Joona comes up to him. Erixson points at the Hello Kittys.

“They’re rather cute,” Joona admits.

“Me-I’m totally backward. Small head on a large body,” Erixson jokes.

Joona gives him an amused glance as he opens the wide entrance door. They walk up the stairs and look at the nameplates, the illuminated buttons for turning on the ceiling lights, and the overflowing garbage cans. In the stairwell, it smells like sunshine, dust, and green soap. Erixson takes hold of the shiny wooden handrail so hard that its screws and mounting brackets creak as he climbs, panting, while trying to keep up with Joona. They make it to the fourth floor at the same time and look at each other. Erixson’s face is quivering from the effort. He nods while wiping the sweat from his forehead and whispers to Joona, “Sorry about that.”

“It’s humid today.”

There are stickers near the doorbell. Antinuclear, fair trade, and the peace symbol. Joona gives Erixson a brief glance, then puts his ear to the door. His eyes narrow.

“What is it?”

Joona presses the doorbell while still listening. He waits another moment before he pulls his picklock from his inner pocket.

“Maybe it was nothing,” Joona says as he carefully jimmies the simple lock.