Henrietta

Henrietta ran on past the engines lit by bright headlights and into the darkness behind pipes and hoses. Somewhere behind her, a person entered through the engine room doorway, casting a long shadow along the floor. The person appeared to be walking cautiously along the machine, as if looking for something. Henrietta bent down and huddled behind a large pipe. It was greasy and hot in the cramped space, but she bit back and watched as someone dressed in dark came ever closer. There was still maybe twenty meters between them, but now there was nowhere to go. The engines drowned out all sounds and the shaking of the ship did it´s best to make Henrietta feel really scared. Then she saw how a second, giant shadow, quickly approached from the door.

A fire had broken out in a building belonging to the Free Church congregation in Viserum. The actual sanctuary was spared, but an adjacent community hall was completely destroyed. This was the seventh fire at a religious site in Småland in recent times. It had started with the Swedish Alliance Mission church in Värnamo on August 7th, and like the others that followed, it was confirmed to be arson. Murder by fire, the headlines screamed in bold type-which was also the accurate legal classification of the crime. The fires were now being investigated by Superintendent Peter Krantz and Inspector Pierre Valfridsson, both of whom had been sent from the Växjö police and were in charge of the overall case. Krantz stood staring at a charred plank he held in his hand, cursing quietly to himself over having to investigate something he already believed he knew the answer to. - That fucking idiot. We should've killed him back then, he said, looking meaningfully at his colleague, who gave a small nod. - I know, I know, Valfridsson muttered sourly. But come on, we've got nothing, not a damn thing, and you know that... He didn't get further before Krantz snapped: - Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know! Fuck, we should have killed the bastard. Goddamn it, he finished, moving away from the burned-out building. Krantz kicked at a few boards and threw the one he was holding over his head-nearly hitting one of the techs who was crouched down, digging through a trash bin by the side of the house. He strode out onto the cordoned-off street, shaking his head angrily while muttering about all the things he should have done.

Henrietta´s pat of luck is running out fast. Once, she had a life that almost looked normal. A job. A city she knew. People who still spoke to her without fear. But some mistakes cannot be undone, and some enemies never stop coming. Now someone is hunting her. Behind her trail follows a woman who has built her reputation on cruelty - a violent, heartless creature who enjoys the chase almost as much as the kill. Patient, methodical and utterly without mercy, the hunter is closing the distance step by step. Between them stands the only man who might slow things down: a police officer who no longer believes in justice, redemption, or even in the usefulness of getting out of bed in the morning. Bitter, exhausted, and quietly falling apart, he is the last person to raise an eybrow when the heat is on. But sometimes the most broken people are the only ones left standing when everything collapses. As the streets grow darker and the city tightens around them, Henrietta must learn to survive a hunt where every decision can be fatal. Trust is rare, time is running out, and the gang behind her has never lost his prey before. In this game, there are no rules. Only hunters and prey. And those who refuse to die.

Former Inspector Pontus Hilmersson sat slumped on the sofa, staring blankly into nothing. Exactly as he'd done for months now, after nearly dying twice and witnessing more raw violence than any one man should. Since he came back from Norway, a month in psychiatric care at Sahlgrenska had been traded for his daughter's flat, where he now spent most of his days. Vicky zipped up his fly and stood, wiping her mouth. Dropping by had become a habit. Almost always at lunch, when his overprotective daughter was safely at work across town. "I'll get going, loads to do," she said, turning towards the door. "Okay, say hi," Pontus croaked, his voice broken, flat as a cracked violin. "Don't think so, you," Vicky shot back, walking slowly through the room. At the threshold she stopped, looked at him with a sad expression, then disappeared-back to her office and the endless stream of bestial murders. In her car she switched her phone back on-the one she always turned off for those daily visits to the gloomy flat. Inside, her only real love lay down on the sofa, shut his eyes, and tried to sleep. Hoping that things would be better when he woke. Hands clasped, a silent prayer muttered that life might somehow return to how it used to be, before everything turned into days of torment and nights of anxiety and tears.

Henrietta belived the hunt for her was over. It was not. A thrilling story for those who are not weak.