Free Silenced by Kristina Ohlsson Page A

the sheet of paper and telling her to shove it up her fat arse, and making a run for it. But then he remembered that Alex knew the story and even seemed to be in on the conspiracy. Peder clenched one fist so hard that the knuckles went white, and snatched the paper with the other hand.
    ‘Was there anything else?’ he said with effort.
    Margareta shook her head.
    ‘Not for now,’ she said. ‘But I shall be keeping a close eye on how you deal with your colleagues from now on. Try to see it as a fresh start, a second chance. Take the opportunity of getting something out of this, especially out of your talk to the psychologist.’
    Peder nodded and left the room, convinced he would fucking well kill the woman if he stayed a second longer.

Neither Alex Recht nor Joar Sahlin said a word as they drove the short stretch from HQ in Kungsholmen to Bromma Church where Jakob and Marja Ahlbin had worked. Ragnar Vinterman, the vicar, had promised to meet them at the parish rooms at two thirty.
    Alex’s thoughts went to Peder. He knew he had been hard on him at the meeting in the Den, but he did not really know what else he could have done. The croissant episode was as odd as it was unacceptable, and revealed poor judgement in a colleague whose employer had placed a good deal of trust in him. Alex knew well enough that the boy had been having a hard time in his private life over quite a long period. It was only natural for that sort of thing to affect one’s judgement, and if Peder had ever commented on his own conduct in a way that showed he knew he was behaving badly, people might have been more tolerant. But Peder had not. He got himself into awkward situations more and more often, embarrassing his employer in front of other employees.
    In front of other female employees.
    Alex suppressed a sigh. And then there was Peder’s peculiarly lousy sense of timing. The last thing they needed at the moment was any negative publicity, with the special investigation group’s continued existence currently under discussion. It was enough that their only civilian appointment and only female investigator had been forced to go part time by a more than hellish pregnancy which Alex’s bosses had initially construed as symptoms of stress and exhaustion. He had been more than thankful the day Fredrika finally gave in and followed the rules for a proper reduction in hours backed up by a convincing doctor’s note.
    Meanwhile, the group had acquired new blood in the shape of Joar. Admittedly only for a limited period, but still. The decision was in itself an indication that the group had not been written off. It had not taken Alex long to appreciate Joar as an exceptionally talented detective. By contrast with both Peder and Fredrika, he also seemed mentally stable. He never flared up like Peder, and never seemed to misconstrue things the way Fredrika tended to. He always stayed calm and his integrity appeared boundless. For the first time in many months, Alex felt as though he had someone he could talk to at work.
    ‘Mind if I ask about your surname?’ Joar suddenly said. ‘Is it German?’
    Alex gave a laugh; it was a question he was often asked.
    ‘If we go back far enough in our family tree it apparently is,’ he replied. ‘Jewish.’
    He glanced sideways at Joar, keen to see if he reacted. He did not.
    ‘But that was a long time ago,’ Alex added. ‘The men whose surname it was married Christian women, and the Jewish blood ties between mother and child were broken.’
    They were approaching the church. Alex parked outside the parish rooms as arranged. A tall, dignified-looking man was on the front steps in his shirtsleeves and dog collar, waiting for them. He was silhouetted like a dark statue against the white building and pale grey sky. Commands respect, was Alex’s assessment before he was even out of the car.
    ‘Ragnar Vinterman,’ said the clergyman, taking Alex’s hand and then Joar’s.
    Alex noted that he could not have