B0031RSBSM EBOK

undoubtedly all over the news: the story about the local reporter from Swedish TV who had been stabbed by one of the arrested perpetrators and who was now undergoing surgery at Visby Hospital.
    She thought that this was her punishment for not accepting Johan and his love. She had shut him out. She now regretted doing that, but it was too late. The doctors had told her that he had internal bleeding as a result of multiple stab wounds to the abdomen. A team of doctors was working to save his life.
    When the door to the intensive care unit opened, she gave such a start that Elin let go of her nipple.
    A doctor came out. She recognized him. He was one of the doctors who had spoken to her earlier. He was a tall man, with a sympathetic air, maybe ten years older than she was. It was a long way to the door, which gave her time to study him. She realized that he was coming to talk to her. He had a loping gait; he was wearing white wooden clogs, and some of the polish had scuffed off the toes. She noticed that he was wearing a wedding ring. A ballpoint pen was sticking out of his breast pocket. Did doctors always have pens in their breast pockets? She couldn’t remember ever seeing a doctor without one. He was suntanned, and he had those white rings around his eyes that people got from going sailing.
    He looked at her. He came closer. He was only a few yards away. Should she fall over now? She ventured a glance up at his face. He was very close.
    The sun was shining, Elin was sleeping, it was summer outside the window.
    The doctor looked kind, but she couldn’t read anything at all from his expression.
    She felt him take her hand.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 13
    NOT THAT KNUTAS was superstitious, but the day’s date hadn’t gone unnoticed. Feeling rather despondent, he noted that his vacation was starting on Friday, the thirteenth of August. Rain was pouring down outside the windows of police headquarters. He had four weeks’ vacation ahead of him. All that remained was for him to clear off his desk and compile his last report before he could put the shocking investigation behind him.
    The court proceedings for charging Aron Bjarke and Eskil Rondahl had been held on Thursday and resulted in both of them being arrested for the murders of Martina Flochten, Staffan Mellgren, and Gunnar Ambjörnsson. The charges also included attempted murder, theft, breach of the laws regarding national cultural treasures, illegal threats, fencing of stolen goods, and animal abuse.
    It was Aron who was thought to have carried out the actual murders. He was the stronger of the two brothers and the one more inclined to violence. Eskil handled the stolen goods operation, but he had also helped his brother with the homicides.
    Both of them denied any crime, which made no real difference. There was strong evidence against them—both the testimony of witnesses and the technical evidence, including the plastic packages containing blood that were in Eskil Rondahl’s freezer. Aron Bjarke’s fingerprints had been found on both the packages and the freezer itself. The stolen gold armlet that had disappeared from the Antiquities Room was discovered among Eskil Rondahl’s possessions at the farm in Hall, along with a large quantity of other artifacts that had gone missing from various excavation sites on Gotland. His computer, which contained information about the sale of relics, had been confiscated. In addition, there was the film that Pia Lilja had given to the police. At the farm in Hall the body of a standardbred stallion was found buried under a mound of dirt. The horse had been sent out to graze in the summer pastures at Sudret along with sixty other horses, and that was why it hadn’t been missed. It had been transported alive to the farm and decapitated there. The clothing of the victims was found in a locked chest in the burned-out bedroom belonging to the brothers’ parents.
    After the arrest of the brothers at the farm in Hall, a whole new series of facts had emerged. It turned out that Staffan Mellgren belonged to a small group led by Aron Bjarke that practiced an extreme form of Æsir worship and shamanism. During the past week the police had succeeded in locating every single one of the twelve members. The little Æsir group existed solely in the minds of its members—there were no Web sites, no documents, and no group roster. Maybe that was how they had managed to keep it so secret. They had devoted themselves to an occult form of idol