Karin Alvtegen - Missing

As soon as she woke up that Sunday morning, she knew why she had recognised Sandimmun Neoral. Her brain had sifted through stored information while she slept and could now present her with the vital item.

Jorgen Grundberg. He had a packet of tablets and had taken some at the end of his meal. She sat bolt upright. This was surely important, it couldn't be a coincidence that two of the murderer's victims took the same medicine?

She felt wide-awake and had to walk about. Impatiently she went into the corridor outside to peer through the only small window. It was light outside and she wondered what time it was. How long before Patrik would come?

She had to wait for hours. While she waited, the effect of this sudden breakthrough became clear to her. Once more, the will to fight was consuming her.

When she finally heard the heavy metal door swing open and Patrik called her name, she couldn't wait a second longer to tell him.

'Jorgen Grundberg took Sandimmun Neoral as well!'

'Did he? Are you sure?'

He gave her a triple-decker sandwich and a beer, but she was too excited to eat.

'Certain. It can't be coincidence, can it?' 'I asked Fiddie's mum.' 'Already? What time is it?'

'Ten past eleven. I phoned her. Woke her up, actually. I said I was doing this Special Subject investigation. No lies!' He grinned.

'I had chased it on the Net first, but couldn't get my head round what it was for.' 'And?'

He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.

'It's called an immunosuppressive drug. If you're on it, it means you've had a transplant. The medicine prevents the new organ being rejected by the person's body cells.'

He looked triumphant when he put his paper away.

'Transplant – like a new organ? A heart or something?'

'That's it. She said there are lots of bits and pieces you replace in people's bodies.'

Sibylla sat down to think. First, Jorgen Grundberg. He had had a kidney disease, or so his hard-hearted widow had told her. Soren Stromberg's widow had told her about his liver cancer. Both were on medicine that reduced the function of their immune systems. Both widows had mentioned that their husbands had undergone major surgery within the last year.

This could not be coincidental.

'Are you thinking the same as me?'

Sibylla nodded.

'As I. Yes, I'm sure I do. If we can we should check it out at least once more. Do you have that list?' He nodded.

'Downstairs. Hang on, I'll get it.'

When he returned, he'd also brought his father's mobile phone. She read the by now familiar names once more.

'What next? Which one do you want to call? Bollnas or Stocksund?'

Put like that, she suddenly didn't think it was such a good idea.

She would have preferred him to call, but it meant ceding control and that was something she definitely didn't want to do. He had got her going again and she was truly grateful, but she wanted to continue under her own steam. 'I'll call Stocksund.'

'Good. Here's the number, I checked it out in the book.'

He helped her dial. At first, the phone rang without anyone answering. Patrik kept watching her and her heart was pounding. It would have been easier alone. She had no practice lying in front of an audience.

'Marten Samuelsson.'

The sudden sound of a voice at the other end threw her. The many signals had distracted her.

I'm sorry to trouble you. Is this Sofie Samuelsson's husband?'

Fantastic introduction. She closed her eyes. Whoever he was, for sure he wasn't Sofie Samuelsson's husband. Not any more. 'Who's speaking, please?'

She looked around, as if useful answers might be lurking in attic corners. 'This is…'

Patrik was miming THE POLICE. '… from the police.' Silence at the other end.

'Just one question. Did your wife have an organ transplant recently?'

I told you so already.'

She nodded to Patrik. He rolled his eyes.

'When was this?'

'Whenever you people came round here.'

'No, I mean the operation.'

'Thirteen months ago.'

'I see. Can you remember the date?'

'The fifteenth March. I'll never forget that date. Why do you ask?'

'No problem. Thank you for your help.'

She handed Patrik the phone. He pressed a button to switch it off and sighed.

'Why don't you try the straight question-approach next time?'

'You can phone yourself if you're so smart. When was Soren Stromberg operated on?'

Patrik was leafing through his papers looking for the hospital notes.

'Many times.'

'Any entry on the fifteenth March?' 'Got it. 98 03 15. Liver transplant.' She nodded. He pushed his fist in the air. 'YEES! We fucking did it!'

Sibylla felt pleased too, but was already thinking ahead. What had they proved, exactly? It seemed likely that all four victims were ex-transplant patients. What did this mean? Why should anyone go to the trouble of murdering four severely ill individuals?

Patrik's eyes were glowing behind his specs.

'I'll pop downstairs and tell Mum!'

'What? Have you gone off your…?'

'Why not? We've got a motive!'

‘Is that so? What motive?'

Patrik fell silent and a small vertical fold between his eyebrows replaced his smile. 'Oh. Fuck.' 'See what I mean?'

He sat down beside her. The attic was chilly and Sibylla wrapped the sleeping bag round their shoulders. 'Is your Mum back then?' She was reaching for the beer and sandwich, I thought you said she wouldn't be back until this evening.' Patrik stared at the floor. He was muttering. 'She didn't feel well and came back early.'

The minutes were crawling along. He'd asked her to come with him but she'd refused. She had no intention of entering his home again, especially not with his mother in bed next door to his room.

Finally he returned, bringing a new stack of papers. He sat down beside her.

I printed out lots, but ran out of paper. Fancy a banana?'

Starting to peel it at once, she thought she was becoming spoiled by this life of luxury. Then she got hold of the first sheet of paper.

DONATIONS. ANSWERS TO THE MOST FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS.

Deep in concentration, they read through all the information in the pile, hoping to find new leads. Patrik was lying on her mat, while she was sitting in an old armchair pulled out from an unlocked box-room.

Can someone else use your kidneys after your death?

Reading on from this initial question, she realised that much had happened while she was out of touch with the whole social system. She definitely had not filled in any Donor Card, but maybe that didn't affect non-people like herself. What would happen to her after an accident? Would anyone want her remains? She had never considered such questions before, not even the matter of her final burial. Were there funeral services held for lost souls like her, homeless beings, whom no one really cared for? Maybe they were easy meat, with organs anyone could have if in need of some replacement or other. Well, it was quite a thought that one day she might be regarded as a useful resource.

Law on Transplantation, third paragraph, section one: Biological material intended for transplantation or other medical procedures may be removed from a deceased person, on condition that the person has declared his or her informed consent or if the deceased's wishes in the matter can be ascertained in any other manner.

Biological material, as simple as that. That's what they all were, when everything was said and done. She wondered what conclusions they would draw about Sibylla Forsenström's wishes in the matter of her biological material, when her day finally came.

Ibid. Third paragraph, section two. In cases other than those indicated in section one, biological material may be removed if the deceased has not in writing declared him- or herself explicitly opposed to such use or made declarations, which unequivocally show that such interventions would be contrary to the deceased's beliefs or value-systems.