Chapter 108
Adrian al-Hadid was in Halmstad when he heard the call, and he hurried down to the garage as fast as he could, the binder from Rasmusg?rden in one hand and the bag containing Jakob Lindell’s shirt in the other.
As he sped through Oskarstrom, he heard the voices of officers who’d beat him to the scene coming over the police radio: it was over. One dead, no other serious injuries. The ambulance, which was a mile ahead of Adrian, could stand down.
Adrian slowed down, too, as he saw a lone figure staggering through the rain. He was walking along the county road up toward Skavboke. A drunk?
Adrian stopped the car and got out.
“Hello,” Adrian said gently. “How are we doing here?”
“I’m the one who says that stuff,” the old man barked, swaying on his feet. “I’m the priest here, dammit.”
The heavy stench of alcohol rose off him.
“But what are you doing out here in the rain?”
“My bicycle was broken, what else was I supposed to do?”
Adrian raised an eyebrow.
“Where are you going?”
The old man nodded sadly into the dark, toward the flashing blue lights in the distance.
“To the emergency.”