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

Peugeot 305.
    “I found the key,” Stålnacke said. “It occurred to me that they’d probably done the same as people who go berrypicking. They don’t want to take the car key with them, because if you drop it and lose it in the forest you have a hell of a timegetting home, way out here in the wild. I usually hide mine inside the back bumper. They’d hidden theirs on top of one of the tires, under the wheel arch.”
    “Really?” Mella said patiently.
    “Anyway, I thought I’d try to drive it out onto the road before the snow melts too much in the heat—there are a hell of a lot of stones and rocks, and . . .”
    Mella glanced involuntarily at the clock on her cell phone. Stålnacke hurried to get to the point.
    “When I turned the key, the car started right away, no problem.”
    “Really?”
    “But . . .”
    He raised a finger to emphasize that they had reached the point he wanted to talk to her about.
    “. . . but it ran out of gas after only a few seconds. So there was only a drop in the tank. I thought you’d want to know that.”
    “Really?”
    “So they’d have been stuck. They’d never have made it back to Piilijärvi. The nearest gas station is in Vittangi.”
    Mella made a sort of humming noise to indicate surprise.
    “It’s strange, don’t you think?” Stålnacke said. “I mean, they weren’t stupid, were they? How did they think they were going to get home?”
    “I’ve no idea,” Mella said with a shrug.
    “Oh well,” Stålnacke said, obviously irritated by the fact that she did not share his puzzlement over the empty gas tank. “I just thought you might be interested.”
    “Of course.” Mella made an effort. “Maybe someone siphoned off the gas while the car was standing here during the winter. Someone on a snowmobile, perhaps?”
    “There aren’t any scratches on the cap to the gas tank. Mind you, if I could find the key, no doubt anybody else could have as well. I still think it’s odd, though.”
    “Everything okay?”
    Eriksson knocked on the open door of Martinsson’s office. He remained standing in the doorway. This time he took a good look around the place. The desk was piled high with legal documents. A cardboard box full of material having to do with some environmental investigation occupied the visitor’s chair. It was obvious that she was working her ass off. But he had known that already. Everyone in the police station knew it. When she had taken up her post in Kiruna, she had set lawsuits in motion at such a rate that the local lawyers complained. And God help any police officer who submitted inadequate preliminary investigation documents—she would chase them down, thrust instructions detailing what needed to be done into their hands, then phone and nag them until they did what she wanted them to do.
    Martinsson looked up from the file on a drunk-driving case.
    “No problems at all. How did it go out there? Did you find him?”
    “No. What have you done with Tintin?”
    “She’s here,” Martinsson said, rolling back her desk chair. “Under my desk.”
    “What?” Eriksson said. His face was one big smile as he bent over to investigate. “Now look here, old girl; did it take just one afternoon for you to forget your boss? You’re supposed to jump up and dance out to greet me the moment you hear my footsteps in the corridor.”
    When Eriksson bent down and started talking to her, Tintin got up and walked over to him, her tail wagging.
    “Just look at her,” he said. “Now she’s ashamed because she didn’t show me the respect I deserve.”
    Martinsson smiled at Tintin, who was arching her back submissively, wagging her tail excitedly and trying to lick her master on the mouth. Then she suddenly seemed to remember Martinsson. She hurried back, sat down beside Martinsson’s chair and placed her paw on the woman’s knee. Then she scurried back to Eriksson again.
    “Well, I’ll be damned!” Eriksson said. “Amazing! She stayed under your