Free The Killer's Art by Mari Jungstedt

dismissed the idea. Somebody who was either drunk or on drugs wouldn’t have been able to carry out such a complicated plan. Another possibility was that the killer didn’t know that police headquarters was so close. Maybe he was from the mainland. The question was, what was his connection to Egon Wallin? Did the murder have something to do with his art dealings, or was it about something else entirely?
    Knutas sighed wearily. It was past eleven p.m.
    Sooner or later they would undoubtedly know the answer.
    J ohan woke up in the big double bed in the house in Roma. He stretched out his hand to stroke the smooth skin on Emma’s shoulder and touch a lock of her hair. From the cot he could hear a gurgling sound, which quickly got him out of bed. The room was dark, but he felt Elin’s soft body, warm with sleep, against his own as he lifted her up and placed her on the changing table.
    With a light twist of the key he switched on the music box and hummed along with ‘Baa, Baa, Black Sheep’. Elin grabbed hold of her feet and prattled with delight. He burrowed his head against her chubby belly, making a smacking sound so that she whooped with laughter. In the midst of the game he suddenly stopped and held perfectly still, with his face pressed against her little body. For several seconds he stood there like that while Elin relaxed and fell silent.
    Finally he had a child, but it had been two weeks since he last saw her. What kind of life was this? She was growing up with her mother, sharing the daily routines with her. For Elin, Emma was the one who represented security. He was just a minor figure – someone who occasionally popped up like a jack-in-the-box and was around for a few hours, a day or two at most, only to disappear again. What sort of relationship was that? How had things got to this point?
    When Johan was back in Stockholm and his days were filled with work, everything seemed more or less OK. It was in the evenings when he was at home that the sense of longing would set in. Of course, he’d only been discharged from hospital a couple of months ago, so they hadn’t really been living apart as parents for very long.
    During the Christmas holidays they’d spent almost the whole time together, which had been great. After that, daily life had rolled along as usual, and the days had slipped by, one after the other, turning into weeks. He came over to Gotland as often as he could. But now he realized that he couldn’t keep on this way.
    He picked up Elin, warmed up some formula in the microwave, and sat down on the sofa in the living room to give her the bottle. He was suddenly overcome by a great sense of calm. His old life had now come to an end. It was definitely over.
    Emma appeared in the doorway, her light-brown hair tousled and longer than before. Previously her hair had reached to her shoulders, but now it hung to the middle of her back. It was thick and glossy. She stood there, wearing only knickers and his light blue T-shirt, peering at him sleepily. Even though she was pale and bleary-eyed, he thought she was beautiful. His feelings for her were so self-evident and clear, in spite of the fact that nothing else in their relationship seemed simple. Things had been complicated right from the start. Yet here he now sat, holding his daughter in his arms, with the woman he loved standing nearby. And now all the struggling had to come to an end. He didn’t care whether he could find a job as a journalist on Gotland or not. That shouldn’t be the deciding factor. He’d take any kind of work he could find, even at the check-out stand at Hemköp, or washing cars. It made no difference at all.
    ‘Are you already up?’ Emma yawned and headed for the kitchen.
    ‘Come here,’ he said as quietly as he could.
    Elin was sleeping in his arms with her mouth open.
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘Sit down.’
    Emma looked surprised, but sat down next to him on the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her. He turned to look at her.