Angel Maker: An Unputdownable Scandinavian Crime Thriller With A Chilling Twist (DI Jamie Johansson Book 1)

Jamie and Wiik got about five hundred yards before his phone started ringing.

It flashed up on the centre console and filled the cabin. He reached out and pressed the button. ‘Anders Wiik,’ he said, glancing across at Jamie.

‘Kriminalinspektör Wiik?’ came a breathless voice. Female.

‘Yes – who is this?’ he asked.

‘My name is Sanna Eliasson – I’m a nurse at Södersjukhuset Hospital,’ she said speaking quickly. ‘There’s a note on the file here to inform you of any developments concerning Tomas Lindvall.’

‘Is he awake?’ Wiik asked, leaning forward a little in anticipation.

‘I don’t know how to… He has—’ She cut herself off, coughed away from the phone, and then came back to the receiver. ‘He has escaped.’

Wiik stood on the brake so violently that Jamie nearly headbutted the dashboard. Her neck clicked nastily, and she swore under her breath as Wiik wrestled the Volvo onto the hard shoulder at the side of the road, sending it snaking to a stop on the icy tarmac. ‘What did you just say?’

‘Tomas Lindvall regained consciousness, and while he was being assessed, he assaulted a nurse, took her hostage, and then escaped.’

Wiik slammed his open palm into the steering wheel so hard it made the whole car shake. ‘Goddamnit! When was this?’

‘About forty minutes ago?’

‘Forty minutes?’ He nearly yelled it. ‘Why didn’t somebody call me?’

Sanna Eliasson scoffed. ‘Lindvall assaulted a nurse! He threatened her life, terrified half the patients here. We’ve had our hands full.’

Wiik hung his head between his taut shoulders and muttered something under his breath. ‘Did you manage to get anything from him before he escaped?’

‘I don’t understand the question,’ the nurse said plainly.

‘Information – did he say anything? Did he mention anyone? Friends, family, where he might have been going?’

‘No, inspector,’ Eliasson said, her voice taking on a cold air of scorn. ‘We concern ourselves with the welfare of our patients – not their interrogations.’ And with that, she hung up.

Wiik’s nostrils were flaring wildly, his anger bubbling over.

Jamie rubbed her neck. ‘We’ll find him. If he’s got a history of mental illness, then his information will all be on file. Next of kin, family contacts, previous addresses. All of it.’

Wiik said nothing, but slowly picked his head up and looked out of the windscreen. Cars streaked past and made the car rock slightly in their wake. The city swam in front of them, hazy in the cold air. Jamie remembered this weather well. There was an eerie stillness at work now, the clouds sagging low over the buildings. They’d burgeon as night closed in, descend to street level in a freezing fog, and then beckon a frozen drizzle in their wake. By morning, the ground would be covered in fresh snow.

Wiik spoke suddenly. ‘Does Lindvall fit into this?’ His voice was quiet.

‘Into the case?’ Jamie confirmed, resting her head back. ‘I don’t know – he ran when we cornered him. He’s got the history for it. He was in proximity to one of the murders – but does he have the guts, the skills, the intelligence to pull off something of this magnitude? I don’t know.’

‘“You don’t understand,”’ Wiik repeated. ‘What don’t we understand?’

That question was like a rasp being run along Jamie’s teeth. It made her uneasy to think about it. ‘I don’t know.’

‘I bet there’s a lot a paranoid schizophrenic would think we wouldn’t understand.’

‘Maybe. Though he was unconscious when I drove out to Rättvik and had the note put on my car,’ Jamie offered diplomatically. ‘But whether he’s involved in this or not, we need to find him.’

Wiik nodded slowly. ‘I’ll get Hallberg to go through his records, and then we’ll dispatch officers to see his family, see whether he turns up. But for now, I think we need to keep our attention on Eriksson. Lindvall is just…’ He looked pained to say it. ‘Collateral damage. This is on me.’ He looked at Jamie now, boxing up the guilt and responsibility he felt and stuffing down inside him. ‘But we can’t let it cloud the investigation. We stay on Eriksson, and we get him talking.’

Jamie nodded to confirm that she thought that was the best course of action, and then Wiik pushed the car into drive and pulled swiftly onto the road, the electric motor hurling them back towards the city at speed.

An hour later, they were back in Ingrid Falk’s office, polishing the statement they were going to make to the press. A press liaison had already been briefed and had lined up a spot on the evening news with the three local channels and sent a photograph of the victim to the local newspapers.

To circulate the photo like this was a last resort. To alert parents to the death of their daughter by way of showing her picture on the evening news? It was the sort of thing that could blow up in the department’s face and put them under a microscope for misconduct.

But it was all they had. No one had come forward to report her missing. There were no DNA matches on the database. There was nothing. Total radio silence.

But the killer knew who she was. And more frighteningly, knew her parents as well if history was anything to go by.

They needed to find out who she was, and fast.

Falk was reading over the latest draft of the statement – a matter-of-fact delivery of information that did its best to sound apologetic, consolatory, humble, concise, honest about the potential danger faced by the victim’s family, and yet not alarming. Which was proving to be difficult.

Jamie and Wiik sat in silence, watching Falk go through the page, the words reflecting in the lenses of her reading glasses, a pen flicking back and forth between her raised fingers.

A light knock on the door behind Wiik and Jamie made them turn.

Hallberg was hanging through the gap and Falk looked up. ‘Officers are on scene at the church with CSTs now,’ Hallberg said.

‘And?’ Wiik asked, trying to read her tone.

Hallberg bit her lip and averted her eyes, looking at Falk instead. ‘No sign of Eriksson. And the church minibus is gone.’

Wiik hung his head, massaging his temples with his thumb and middle finger of his right hand, his face buried in his palm. ‘He’s running.’

Jamie cursed silently, but tried to focus on what they did have. ‘Pull his records – see if he has any other properties, another house, an apartment, or—’

‘Already did,’ Hallberg cut in. ‘And he doesn’t. A tactical team can be on site at the church in fifteen if you want me to put the request in?’ She was still looking at Falk.

‘Do it,’ she said sternly. ‘I want that place pulled apart. Leave nothing.’

Hallberg nodded.

‘Find him, Hallberg,’ Falk commanded. ‘If he’s driving a sign-written church minibus, he won’t be able to go far.’

‘Do you want me to set up checkpoints? Put out a notice?’

Falk thought on that for a second and Wiik looked up, waiting for her to answer.

‘No,’ Falk said measuredly. ‘No, it’s too soon for that.’

‘Falk,’ Wiik said, his voice wringing with insubordination. ‘You can’t be serious?’

She looked at him now, about as sternly as her fine features could manage. ‘He’s a suspect, Wiik, and we have no evidence to—’

‘No evidence?’ Wiik scoffed.

‘Yes, no evidence,’ Falk finished. ‘We have three words written on a piece of paper tucked under Johansson’s windscreen, and a letter from Hans Sjöberg that quite frankly proves nothing at all.’

‘The letter is key,’ Wiik said, leaning forward and putting his hand flat on Falk’s desk.

Falk looked at it and waited for him to remove it before she continued, refusing to rise to his volume or match his tone. ‘The letter is a plea to an old friend to come and see a dying man – it mentions nothing of the original case, it mentions nothing of either Sjöberg’s or Eriksson’s involvement, and it will have absolutely no bearing whatsoever in court.’

Wiik was seething. But Jamie knew Falk was right. She’d read the letter. All Sjöberg apologised for was for not being a better friend: I’m sorry about what happened – I still don’t quite understand how it all worked out the way it did. I’m sorry for not reaching out sooner. I hope you’re doing well. I’ve elected to stop treatment. It would mean a lot if I could see you before the end. I hope you can find it in yourself to hear me out. Blah, blah, blah.

In legal terms it was jack shit. And whether Wiik knew how to origami it into the shape of a pistol or not, it was never going to be the smoking gun he needed.

Falk carried on, sitting back in a relaxed pose, defusing Wiik by the second. ‘We cannot get ahead of ourselves here, Wiik. You know that, don’t you?’

He sulked.

‘Eriksson could be doing a thousand things right now – and only one of them is fleeing because he’s the Angel Maker. We’re already going out on a limb here by releasing a photograph of an unidentified victim – and a minor at that – to the public. Which puts us in a very vulnerable position, as I’m sure you know. I’m not going to exacerbate the situation by putting up roadblocks and sending every officer we have scouring the city for a borderline-geriatric priest who may or may not even be involved with this crime.’

Wiik’s fists had balled on the arms of the chair.

Hallberg was still hovering by the door, but knew not to get in the middle of it.

‘And,’ Falk went on, beating Wiik fully into submission, ‘that’s not even taking into account the paranoid schizophrenic you interrogated into a manic state, and then set loose upon the city.’ She lowered her head to catch his eye. ‘The last thing I want is for the press to catch wind of that, too. I can see the headlines now: “Suspect in original case now prime suspect in new killings – Stockholm Polis bungled original Angel Maker investigation… Paranoid schizophrenic pushed to breaking point by Stockholm Polis, attacks nurse and escapes custody…. Kriminalinspektör without patience causes widespread panic in the city by acting rashly.”’ She paused for effect. ‘Dealer’s choice.’

Wiik had clammed up totally and judging by the way he was pouting, he got the message.

Falk drew a breath and looked up at Hallberg. ‘Have CSTs go over the church with a fine-tooth comb. Bag and tag everything. Same goes for Eva Sjöberg’s house.’

‘They’re already there and working on it,’ Hallberg added.

Falk continued to smile politely, but Jamie could tell by the twitch at the corner of her eye that the woman didn’t like to be interrupted. ‘Good. You can put out a notice for the church minibus – any officers who see it are to report it, but not to approach – follow at a safe distance. Same goes for the tolls. I don’t want him arrested in public. Not yet. But I want to know the second we have eyes on him.’

Hallberg dared to glance at Wiik, but then quickly came back to Falk. ‘Got it.’

‘Was there something else?’ Falk asked.

‘Yes,’ Hallberg said, looking at Jamie now. ‘I’ve got that information you wanted on Tilde Gunnarson’s parents.’

Jamie sat more upright now. ‘The sixth victim.’

Hallberg nodded. ‘Looks like Tilde’s parents are both prominent business people – both still working. Her mother, Åsa Gunnarson, is a solicitor – works in international tax law for a big firm in the city. Her father, Mikael, owns a company that works in renewable energies – he’s one of the founding partners in Grön Framtida Industria – they specialise in wind and solar.’

‘Green Future Industries,’ Jamie repeated, committing it to memory. ‘And they’re both alive?’

Hallberg nodded. ‘Alive and well by the looks of things – Tilde was an only child, and they moved after her death. But both are still working in the city and are still together.’

Wiik was eyeing Jamie, as was Falk.

‘Okay, good,’ Jamie said. ‘Can you send across their details, I’d like to talk to them.’

Wiik spoke up now. ‘What for?’

‘I want to know.’

‘Want to know what?’ He hauled himself more upright in the chair.

‘I want to know why they’re still alive when all the other parents aren’t. If there’s something we don’t understand – then I’m betting we’re going to find out what it is with the Gunnarsons.’

Falk clasped her hands under her chin. She seemed pleased with that answer. Or perhaps she was just taking the chance to get Wiik out of her office. ‘Go,’ she commanded. ‘Speak to them – see what you can find.’

Wiik didn’t seem enthralled with the idea. ‘We need to stay on Eriksson,’ he said. ‘We need to be here if they find him, to question him, to—’

‘Fine,’ Falk said. ‘Hallberg, you go with Johansson. It’ll be good for you.’

Wiik’s mouth opened, but he knew he’d just backed himself into a corner.

Hallberg looked down at Jamie, trying to restrain a grin.

She understood what Hallberg was feeling, but couldn’t reciprocate it. There was a killer out there, and Jamie was starting to get the feeling that he was toying with them.

And that frightened her.

Too much to smile.

Too much to do anything except keep working the case. And not take her eye off the ball for a second.

Jamie pushed herself out of the chair wordlessly and pulled her coat off the back.

Wiik had found something interesting to look at on his phone and didn’t bother to wish them goodbye. That didn’t surprise Jamie. Things hadn’t gone his way and this was the result. Miserable silence.

Better than the alternative, she supposed.

Though Jamie didn’t know how she felt about Hallberg watching her back instead. Then again, if the girl was anything like she was at that age, then things could have been worse.

At the very least, she felt better than she would have going alone.

And Falk knew that, too. Jamie’s instincts had taken her to Rättvik, and it had rattled someone’s cage.

Maybe Falk was hoping that sending her to see the Gunnarsons would do the same, draw Eriksson, or whoever else was behind this, out of the shadows.

Jamie didn’t know if that made her bait or not, but as she walked next to Hallberg, the girl with a spritely bounce in her step, Jamie’s fists had clenched at her sides. Not out of anger though, or even determination. Simply, to stop them from trembling.