Until Thy Wrath Be Past by Åsa Larsson Read Free Book Online

people riding snowmobiles along the riverbank would have noticed it. The young man did well to drive it that far, though. The trees have all been felled down toward the rapids, but the area’s full of big stones and stumps.”
    Martinsson seemed to snap out of her trance, standing there in front of the girl.
    “She might have been the one driving,” she said, nodding toward the body. “According to the statistics, women are better drivers than men.”
    She gave Stålnacke a knowing smile.
    Normally, he would have responded with a snort, making his graying scrubbing brush of a mustache stick straight out. He would have said that stastistics were lies, damned lies, and then asked where Martinsson got her ideas from. He would have had a self-satisfied giggle while Martinsson and Mella rolled their eyes.
    But all he said was: “You may be right.”
    He asked Mella what she wanted them to do with the car.
    Oh dear, Martinsson thought. Things really are frosty between the pair of them.
    “There’s no reason to suspect a crime,” Mella said. “If we can get hold of a spare key, someone can drive it back to town.”
    “Well, we can try, I suppose,” Stålnacke said doubtfully. “If we can get it onto the road, that is.”
    “I’m only asking you to try,” Mella said, a splinter of ice in her voice.
    Stålnacke turned on his heel and walked away just as Eriksson was returning.
    “Oh,” Mella said, disappointed. “I’d hoped to hear her barking.”
    “No, she didn’t find anything. I’ll take a walk with Roy, but I don’t think the boy is here.”
    “What do you mean?” Mella said.
    Eriksson shrugged.
    “I don’t know,” he said. “But I’ll take a walk with Roy, and we’ll see.”
    Patting Tintin, he told her what a good job she had done. Opening the trunk of Martinsson’s car, he allowed the dogs to change places. Roy could not believe his luck. He danced the dance of the happy tracker dog, in the end not knowing what to do with all the joy in his body. So he sat down and gave a huge yawn.
    Tintin was not happy with the changeover. She barked away in desperation. Was that little nothing going to go out with the boss and have fun while she, the alpha bitch, was shut up in the car? Unacceptable. Totally unacceptable.
    Her barking penetrated the bodywork of the car as she spun around and around in her cage.
    “Not good,” Eriksson said, as he watched her through the rear window. “She’s not supposed to get stressed in her condition. I’m sorry, Anna-Maria, but this is no good.”
    “Should I put her on her lead and take her for a walk?” Mella said. “Maybe if she’s outside . . .”
    “That would only make things worse.”
    “I could take her back to town with me,” Martinsson said. “Do you think that would calm her down?”
    Eriksson looked at her. Now that the sun was out, she had taken off her wool hat. Her hair was slightly tousled. Those sand-colored eyes. That mouth. He wanted to kiss that mouth. She had a scar running from her upper lip to her nose, from the time Lars-Gunnar Vinsa had thrown her down the cellar steps. A lot of people thought it was ugly, felt sorry for her, went on about how pretty she had been before. But he liked the scar. It made her look vulnerable.
    Desire coursed through his body like a jet of hot water. Her beneath him on all fours. One hand sifting through her hair. The other gripping her hip. Or she’s sitting astride him. His hands cupping her breasts. He whispers her name. A strand of her hair is sticking to her face, wet with perspiration. Or she’s on her back beneath him. Her knees drawn up. He thrusts into her. Slowly now.
    “What do you say?” she said again. “She can wait in my office. Nobody will mind. You can come get her when you’ve finished.”
    “Yes, why not?” he said, averting his eyes in case she saw through him. “That would be fine.”
    Mella and Stålnacke were standing by the car that had been discovered near the river, a