Free Mercy by Jussi Adler-Olsen

don’t!’ was all she managed to shout before the cap plunged into the sea.
    It was a Christmas present and Uffe’s most-beloved possession. The minute it was gone, he regretted what he’d done. It was clear that he was considering jumping after the cap, in an attempt to get it back.
    ‘No, Uffe!’ she yelled. ‘You can’t do that. It’s gone!’ But Uffe had already set one foot on the metal barrier of the railing. He stood there bellowing over the wooden rail, his body’s centre of gravity far too high up.
    ‘Stop it, Uffe! There’s nothing you can do,’ she shouted again, but Uffe was strong, much stronger than she was, and he was far away. His consciousness was down in the waves with the baseball cap that had been a Christmas present. It was a relic of his simple, godless life.
    Then she slapped him hard in the face. She’d never done that before, and she instantly pulled back her hand in fright. Uffe couldn’t understand what was happening. He forgot about his cap and touched his cheek. He was in shock. It was years since he’d felt pain like that. He didn’t understand. Then he looked at her and struck back. He hit her harder than he’d ever done before.

12
    2007
    Homicide chief Marcus Jacobsen had spent yet another night without much sleep.
    The witness in the case of the cyclist murdered in Valby Park had tried to kill herself with an overdose of sleeping pills. Jacobsen couldn’t understand what the hell could have pushed her so far. She had children and a mother who loved her, after all. Who could have threatened a woman into taking such extreme measures? The police had offered her witness protection and everything else within their powers. She was under surveillance day and night. Where on earth had she got those pills?
    ‘You should go home and get some sleep,’ said his deputy when Marcus came back from his usual Friday-morning meeting with the police chief in the commissioner’s conference room.
    He nodded. ‘Well, maybe just for a couple of hours. But you and Bak need to go out to the National Hospital and see what you can get out of that woman. And make sure to take her mother and children along, so she can see them. We need to try and bring her back to reality.’
    ‘Uh-huh, or away from it,’ said Lars Bjørn.
    All phone calls were supposed to be redirected, but the phone rang anyway. ‘Don’t let anybody through except the queen or Prince Henrik,’ he’d told his secretary. So it was probably his wife. ‘Yeah?’ he said, feeling suddenly more tired than ever.
    ‘It’s the police commissioner,’ whispered Bjørn, holding his hand over the receiver.
    He handed the phone to Marcus and tiptoed out of the room.
    ‘Marcus,’ said the commissioner in her distinctive voice. ‘I’m calling to tell you that the justice minister and the committees have made fast work of things. So the extra allocation of funds has been approved.’
    ‘That’s good to hear,’ replied Marcus, immediately trying to work out in his mind how the budget could be divided up.
    ‘Yes, well, you know the chain of command. Today Piv Vestergård and the Judicial Committee of the Denmark Party met with the justice minister, so now all the wheels will start turning. The chief of police has asked the head of the National Police to find out if you’ve got the new department set up yet,’ she said.
    ‘Yes, I believe we have,’ he said with a frown as he pictured Carl’s weary face.
    ‘That’s good. I’ll let them know. So what’s the first case you’re going to tackle?’
    That was not exactly a question he found particularly energizing.
    Carl was just getting ready to head home. The clock on the wall said 16:36, but his inner clock was several hours ahead. So it was undeniably a disappointment when Marcus Jacobsen rang to say that he’d be coming downstairs to pay Carl a visit. ‘I need to report what you’re working on.’
    Carl looked with resignation at the blank bulletin board and the row of