This is another blood-curdling story from the Patrick and Erica series, which takes us back to the mysterious, dystopian atmosphere of Felbacka, where Inspector Patrick Hedström and his colleagues investigate the murder of Mats Swerin, CFO of a multi-million construction project. His former school friend Annie takes refuge on her family's inherited Ghost Island with her five-year-old son Sam, determined to protect him from the evil that stalks them. Another murder, a suicide, and an escape out of desperation followed. It turns out that a hundred years earlier on Ghost Island lived the strange lighthouse keeper Carl, who maintained an unusual relationship with his friend Julian and his wife Emelie. Gradually, the tension thickens, the intrigue becomes entangled, and the denouement is more unpredictable than ever.
She has been called "the Scandinavian Agatha Christie" because of the surgical precision with which she constructs the plots and psychological profiles of her characters. Camila Lekberg was only 29 years old when her debut crime novel - The Ice Princess - was published. Today, her portfolio includes nine chilling thrillers, seven of which have already been released in Bulgarian. In 2008, Leckberg received the Grand National Prize for Crime Literature, and in 2010, he was ranked sixth in the French magazine Livre Hebdo and the British Booksellers. Novels such as "The Little Mermaid", "The German Child" and "Procoba" testify to the richness of her talent and make her one of the most preferred authors of thrillers on the territory of the Old Continent.
It wasn't until she grabbed the steering wheel that she saw her hands were covered in blood. Her palms were sticking to the leathery surface, but she decided to ignore them. He put it in reverse and sped off. He heard the crunch of gravel under his tires as he pulled the car out of the driveway.
They had a long journey ahead of them. He glanced at the back seat. Sam was sleeping wrapped in the blanket. She should have buckled him in with her belt, but she didn't have the heart to wake him up. He had to drive as carefully as possible. Instinctively I let off the gas pedal.
The summer night was beginning to brighten. Darkness had barely fallen and was already rising. Still, the night seemed endless to her. Everything had changed. Fredrik's brown eyes stared fixedly at the ceiling and she realized there was nothing else she could do. She was forced to save herself and Sam. He couldn't think about the blood, nor about Fredrik.
There was only one place to go.
Six hours later they arrived. Felbaka was waking up. He parked the car in front of the Coast Guard building and thought about how to carry everything. Sam was still fast asleep. She pulled a pack of tissues from the glove compartment and wiped her hands as best she could. It wasn't easy to remove the blood. Then he took the suitcases out of the trunk and quickly moved them towards Badholmen, where the boat was. He was worried that Sam might wake up during that time, but the car was locked, so there was no way he could get out and fall into the water.
He picked up the suitcases with difficulty and placed them in the boat, then unlocked the chain that was put in place to stop the thieves. Then he hurried back to the car and was relieved to see Sam still sleeping so peacefully. He picked him up along with the blanket and carried him to the boat. He climbed inside, careful where he stepped and managed not to slip. He carefully placed Sam on the deck, inserted the key into the starter and turned. The engine coughed. She hadn't driven the boat in a long time, but she had a feeling she would be fine. He backed her up, then steered her out of the harbor.
The sun was shining, but it had not yet started to warm. She felt the tension gradually relax her, the midnight terror loosening its hold on her. He looked at Sam. What if what happened has scarred him for life? Five year olds are fragile, who knows what part of his psyche has been damaged. She would do anything in her power to help him recover. She would kiss the bad away like she did when he fell off his bike and scraped his knees.
He knew the way by heart. He knew every island, every rock. He took a course towards Vederyobud, moving further and further away from the coast. The waves got a little higher. The bow of the boat bumped into the water with each heave. She enjoyed the s alt water splashing her face and even allowed herself to close her eyes for a few seconds. As soon as he opened them, he saw Groscher in the distance. Her heart skipped a beat, as it did every time she approached the little house and the white lighthouse that rose proudly into the blue sky. They were still too far away to make out the colors of the house, but he remembered the light gray facade and the white corners and windows. He also remembered the pink roses that grew against the leeward wall.
This was her refuge, her paradise. Her Grosser.