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his hand and started speaking. Pia heard him order those present to go home now, but to return on the following night to complete the ritual when the moon was full. If they came back, they would all experience something extraordinary.
    Some tried to ask Aron what he meant, but he merely raised his hand and gave them a faint smile.

 
    At the very moment when they discovered that Eskil Rondahl was gone, he came back. They watched him go over to his brother, they watched Aron speak to all the people gathered in the room, and they watched as a certain amount of confusion arose when the ritual was interrupted. One by one the participants left the house. The moonlight forced the three police officers to back so far away from the house that they had a hard time hearing what was said or seeing who came out. Neither Knutas nor Jacobsson recognized any of the individuals in the mysterious sect, except for Aron and Eskild. Since everyone’s face was painted, it was hard to make out their features.
    Knutas was getting more and more worried about Johan and Pia. Where had they gone? He was afraid that something had happened to them.
    Where the hell were the police cars?
    They decided to wait to launch an assault until the guests had driven off. As soon as the last car disappeared beyond the hill, the door to the house opened and the two brothers came out. They walked briskly across the yard toward the dark barn. With tense and serious expressions, they went in, carefully closing the door behind them. A light went on inside.
    Knutas had an ice-cold feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he urged his colleagues to hurry. The three of them raced across the barnyard. When Knutas peered through the window, his fears were confirmed. Both brothers were bending over someone lying on the ground, and Aron was holding a knife.
    The man on the ground was Johan. It took only a few seconds before Knutas, followed by his colleagues, stormed through the door with their pistols drawn.
    “Police!” shouted Knutas. “Drop your weapon and put your hands up!”
    Aron and Eskil were leaning down, with their backs to the door. For a second they froze.
    “Drop the knife!” Knutas shouted again.
    He tried to see whether Johan was still alive, but the reporter’s body was hidden from view. Slowly the two men straightened up and turned around. Even though Knutas had met Aron several times before, he hardly recognized him. His face had changed, but Knutas couldn’t figure out what was different about it. His expression was not the same; his mask had fallen away. Knutas was struck by how similar the brothers looked.
    So far Aron had made no sign of letting go of the knife. He stared at Knutas with a remote look in his eye, as if he weren’t really present in the room.
    “Drop the weapon!” Knutas shouted for the third time.
    He sensed Jacobsson and Kihlgård on either side of him, standing a couple of paces back. They had their guns aimed at the brothers.
    Knutas had to summon all his forces to make himself stand still. Precious time was being wasted while the life was possibly running out of Johan as he lay motionless on the floor.
We have to call for an ambulance
, thought Knutas.
He could be dying
.
    Slowly Aron released his grip on the knife, and with a hollow clang it fell to the floor. The officers immediately rushed forward and seized the men.
    Johan lay on the floor, his face white and his eyes closed. His shirt was dark red with blood that had soaked through and run out onto the floor.
    “He has a pulse, but it’s faint,” said Jacobsson.
    The door opened, and Pia came in, holding the camera in her hand. When she caught sight of Johan, she screamed and ran over to him.
    “He’s alive,” said Jacobsson, “but just barely.”

SUNDAY, AUGUST 8
    THE WALLS WERE painted with soothing colors, and all the sounds were muted. She sat with the baby in her arms, as the chair she was sitting in rocked back and forth. It might have been a day like any other. She was nursing Elin. The baby greedily sucked in life, letting it flow through her little body. Emma had no tears. She wished that she could cry, but her anguish and despair were dry. Something became petrified inside her when she received word that Johan had been seriously wounded and was hovering between life and death. Inside she felt frozen solid, and she didn’t know whether she would ever thaw out again.
    She looked down at Elin. It was quiet in the waiting room. By now it was