Morelius reached for the microphone:

“Eleven-ten here. We’re closer, we’re in Korsvägen and will deal with it.”

“Okay, eleven-ten.”

The patrol car from the Lorensberg police district left the roundabout and drove up to the shopping center. A group of youths were huddled together in the car park. As the police pulled up, one of them ran over to the door that Bartram had just opened.

“It was me who called,” said a girl who looked no more than sixteen. She was waving her mobile phone as if it might confirm what she’d just said. Her hair was straight and shiny, molded to her head by the rain. Big, scared eyes. She smelled of alcohol and tobacco. Arms flailing. “She’s lying over here. Maria’s lying over here, but she’s better now.”

“I’ll call an ambulance,” Bartram said.

Morelius went with the girl to the group of youngsters. They were gathered in a semicircle around a girl who was slowly getting to her feet. As Morelius came up to her she staggered and he reached out an. arm to grab hold of her. She weighed nothing. She looked like the twin of the girl they’d been talking to, but her eyes were miles away. Certainly nobody at home here, thought Morelius.

She stank of alcohol and vomit. Morelius could feel the sticky mess under his shoes. Be careful not to slip. Seconds later the girl was staring at the police officer, her eyes suddenly focused.

“I want to go home,” she said.

“What have you taken?” Morelius asked.

“No-nothing,” she said. “Just a couple of beers.”

‘A couple of beers, eh?“ Morelius eyed the group of friends. ”What has she got inside her? This is important. If you know, speak up now, and I mean RIGHT NOW, DAMMIT.“ They looked frightened.

“It’s like she said,” a boy in a woolly hat and a tracksuit top piped up. ‘A couple of beers… and some liquor.“

“Liquor? What liquor? Who’s got the bottle?”

They looked at one another.