Frozen Tracks

“And where could he have done that?” asked Ringmar.

“He might have been carrying the dry ice in a thermos,” said Winter. “For instance.”

“Would it leave any traces afterward?” asked Bergenhem.

“I wouldn’t have thought so,” said Winter. “Who would know about this kind of thing? Animals and dry ice and that kind of stuff?”

He looked at Ringmar.

“Inseminators,” said Ringmar. “They keep sperm in a deep freeze.”

Winter nodded.

These guys are in the wrong business, Bergenhem thought.

15

THE CHILDREN WERE ASLEEP. HALDERS AND ANETA DJANALI WERE on the sofa, and Halders was listening to U2. All That You Can’t Leave Behind.

He had flashes of black memories.

He didn’t know if Aneta was listening. She was contemplating the rain lashing the glass door leading out onto the patio.

It’s a beautiful day, sang Bono. He could hardly be heard above the noise of the rain that was getting louder now. Perhaps this is an Irishman’s idea of a beautiful day, Halders thought. Or a Gothenburger’s.

He felt Aneta’s hand around his neck.

“Do you want that massage now?”

He bowed his head slightly; she got up and stood behind him and started massaging his damaged vertebrae.

He could feel himself relaxing as she massaged away.

Stuck in a moment you can’t get out of, sang Bono. Exactly. That was a good thing right now.

Was it a year ago that his ex-wife was killed? It was in the begi

They caught up with the bastard eventually. Halders had tried to track him down himself, but failed. Then he’d been injured in the course of duty. An idiotic injury. Caused by an idiot-himself. No, he thought, as Aneta kneaded the back of his neck like a professional, it wasn’t me, then. It was somebody else.

The bastard hit-and-run driver was a pathetic type who was not worth pummeling to death. When Halders saw him, long afterward, the cretin meant nothing to him anymore. He felt no hatred. He had neither the time nor the strength for that. He’d needed all his strength for the children, who had been slowly begi

“Mom’s in heaven now,” Magda would sometimes say.

Her big brother would look at her without comment.

Maybe he doesn’t believe her, Halders sometimes thought, as he sat with them at the breakfast table. Doesn’t believe in heaven. Heaven is up there in the sky, just something we can see from the earth. It’s the same up there as it is down here. Mainly air and rain, and big distances between everything.

“How’s it feel now?” asked Aneta.

Slow down my beating heart, sang Bono, in a voice that could have been black, as black as Aneta’s hands that he could see on his shoulders. One hand on his chest. Slow down my beating heart.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said.

Angela drove through the rain. It was really evening now, even if the transformation had been barely noticeable. She smiled. December was almost here, and she was looking forward to the Christmas holidays. Her work with her patients was getting more arduous. They grew more tired as the year drew to a close, and she too became more tired. She had managed to get time off between Christmas and New Year’s. Erik had muttered something earlier on about going to the Costa del Sol. She had hoped that Siv would call. She got along well with Siv. She also got along well with a blue sky and some sun and a glass of wine and charcoal-grilled langoustines.

But first she had a few errands to run in Haga. The shopping mall would be open until eight this evening.

She crossed over Li

The police car was still there. She wondered why they’d been called out. I can’t pull over here to let them pass. Now they’ve switched on the siren. Yes, yes, all right, I will pull over as soon as I can.

She saw a spot outside a pub and pulled into it.

The police car parked behind her. The light was still spi

She looked in the mirror again and saw one of the officers get out of the car, and she turned icy cold, totally mute, completely filled with terror, as everything she had been through not so very long ago came back to her, the memories were there, like beams of light spi

There was a tap on the window, and she could see his black glove. She didn’t want to look. More knocking, and she looked, quickly. She saw his gesture: Roll down this window.

She felt for the panel on the door but couldn’t find the button. Now. The window rolled down in a series of nervous jerks.

“Didn’t they teach you at driving school that you’re supposed to stop when a police car tells you to?” he said, and there was brutality in his tone.

She didn’t answer. She thought: Didn’t they teach you the basics of politeness and civility at police school? Have you even been to school? Primary school?

“We’ve been behind you for ages,” he said.

“I… I didn’t think… it was me you were after,” she said.

He looked at her, seemed to be studying her face. His own face was in shadow, flecked with the evening’s electric lights. There was hardness in his eyes, perhaps even something worse than that. A desire to hit something or somebody. A calculated provocation. Or maybe he’s just tired. Everybody gets tired by work. She was tired out herself at the moment. Even so she could still behave in a civilized ma

She knew a few police officers by sight, but this wasn’t one of them. She glanced in the mirror to see if there was anybody else in the police car, but she couldn’t see anything through the rain streaming down the rear window of her Golf.

Her first week in a small car, and this happens.

“Are you feeling all right?” he asked.

She didn’t answer.

“Driver’s license,” he said.

She found it eventually. He checked it and said: “Angela Hoffman?” and she nodded.

He took a couple of steps back. She assumed he was ru

She calmed down. She could have made her irritation obvious. Or her fear. But that might only make things worse.

Maybe we should get married? I could add Winter after Hoffman.

I might feel safer in the streets then.

A wedding by the sea.

Admit that you have thought about that.

The officer returned and handed back her license, muttered “Angela Hoffman” again, and returned to his car and the blue light that had been spi