The Rabbit Hunter
It begins with a nursery rhyme. Nineteen minutes later you die…The sixth gripping thriller in Lars Kepler’s bestselling series featuring Joona Linna. Perfect for fans of Stieg Larsson and Jo Nesbo.There’s a face at the window.A masked stranger stands in the shadow of a garden, watching his first victim through the window. He will kill him slowly – play him a nursery rhyme – make him pay.A killer in your house.The police offer ex-Detective Joona Linna a chance to clear his name: help Superintendent Saga Bauer track down the vicious killer terrorising Stockholm, before he strikes again.Only one man can stop him.Now Joona stands between a disturbed predator and its prey. He must catch a killer who hunts in the shadows and who is dangerously close to losing control…
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THE RABBIT HUNTER
LARS KEPLER
Translated from the Swedish by Neil Smith
This is entirely a work of fiction. Any references to real people, living or dead, real events, businesses, organizations and localities are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. All names, characters and incidents are either the product of the authorâs imagination or are used fictitiously, and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.
HarperCollinsPublishers
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London SE1 9GF
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2018
1
Copyright © Lars Kepler 2016
Translation copyright © Neil Smith 2018
All rights reserved
Originally published in 2016 by Albert Bonniers Förlag, Sweden, as Kaninjägaren
Lars Kepler assert the moral right to
be identified as the authors of this work
Cover layout design by Claire Ward © HarperCollinsPublishers 2018
Cover photography © plainpicture / Dave Wall (main image);
Mark Owen / Trevillion Images (man); DenGuy / Getty Images (boatyard).
Back cover photography © Mark Owen / Arcangel Images
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books
Ebook Edition © MAY 2018 ISBN: 9780008205928
SOURCE ISBN: 9780008205904
Version: 2018-09-24
Table of Contents
Itâs early morning, and the still water of the inlet is shimmering like brushed steel. The luxurious villas are asleep, but outdoor lights glint behind tall fences and hedges.
A drunk man is walking along the road by the shore, a bottle of wine in his hand. He stops in front of a white house whose elongated façade faces the water. Very carefully, he puts the bottle down in the middle of the road, steps across the ditch, and climbs the black metal railing.
The man weaves his way across the lawn, then stops and sways as he stares at the big windows, the reflections of the patio lights, the indistinct outline of the furniture inside.
He heads towards the house, waving at a large, porcelain garden gnome, and then stumbles out onto the wooden deck. He manages to hit one knee, but keeps his balance.
The water of the pool shines like a blue sheet of glass.
The man stands unsteadily on the edge, unzips his trousers and starts to urinate into the pool, then weaves his way over to the navy-blue garden furniture and proceeds to soak the cushions, chairs and round table.
Steam rises from his urine in the chill air.
He zips up his trousers and watches a white rabbit as it hops across the lawn and disappears under a bush.
Smiling, he walks back towards the house, leaning against the fence. He makes his way down to the lawn, then stops and turns around.
His befuddled brain tries to make sense of what he just saw.
A black-clad figure with a strange face was staring at him.
Either the person was standing inside the dark house, or was outside, watching him in the reflection.
Summer
Drizzle is falling from the dark sky. The city lights glow high above the rooftops. Thereâs no wind, and the illuminated drops form a misty dome that covers Djursholm.
Beside the still waters of Germaniaviken lies a sprawling villa.
Inside a young woman walks across the polished floor and Persian carpet as warily as an animal.
