Eva's Eye

35

Jan Henry was skulking in the garage. He was struggling to turn up the legs of his mechanic’s suit, and when he’d finished, he tried to look at himself in an old, cracked windowpane that was leaning against the wall.

Emma Magnus was in her father’s guest room where she had her bed, looking about with a bewildered expression. “I’d rather sleep with you two,” she wheedled.

“There wouldn’t be room for your bed in there,” her father said miserably.

“I could sleep in the bed with both of you,” she sniffed. “I don’t mind lying in the gap.”

Markus Larsgård was taken to hospital in an ambulance. The crew looked quickly through his house, in case there was a dog or cat that was in danger of being shut in. They looked in every room, even in the cellar, which only contained a load of old junk, a broken washing machine, rotten apples, and a clutch of old paint tins.

Eva Magnus had pulled the blanket over her head. Beneath the blanket it was dark, and quite soon it got hot. Nothing was happening inside her head.

Karlsen and Sejer strolled down the corridor in silence. They continued into the rear lot where the cars were parked. Karlsen aimed for a Ford Mondeo.

“What will Magnus be sent down for, d’you think?” He glanced at Sejer.

“Culpable homicide, I’m afraid.”

Sejer sighed heavily. He felt a knot in his stomach. Children got up to some funny things, they forgot about time, they had no sense of responsibility and anything was possible. Nothing untoward might have happened, it was probably just a small incident. That was what they were hoping, as they walked toward the car. But instinctively, as if at some given signal, they both quickened their steps.