The Drowning

16

‘Out of the way, Fatty!’

The boys deliberately bumped into him as they passed in the corridor. He tried to ignore them, to be as invisible at school as he was at home. But it didn’t work. It was as if they had been waiting for someone like him, someone who stuck out, a scapegoat they could pick on. He understood. After spending so many hours reading books, he knew more and understood more than most kids his age. He excelled in all his classes, and the teachers loved him. But what good was that when he couldn’t kick a ball, run fast, or spit far? Those were the sorts of skills that counted, the talents that mattered.

Slowly he made his way home. He kept looking around to see if anyone was waiting to ambush him. Luckily he didn’t have a long walk to school. The route was filled with dangers, but at least it was short. All he had to do was go down the slope of Håckebacken, head left towards the wharf that faced Badholmen, and there was his house. The house they had inherited from the Old Bitch.

Mother still called her by that name. She had said that name with great satisfaction every time she discarded any of the old woman’s possessions, tossing them into the big rubbish bin they had placed in the yard when they moved in.

‘If only the Old Bitch could see this. Here go all her fancy chairs,’ said Mother, cleaning and clearing things out as if she’d gone mad. ‘Now I’m throwing away your grandmother’s china. See that?’

He had never heard why she’d been given that name: the Old Bitch. Or why Mother was so angry with her. Once he had timidly asked Father, but he had merely muttered a few vague words in reply.

‘You’re already home?’ Mother was combing Alice’s hair when he came in.

‘School was out the same time as always,’ he said, ignoring Alice’s smile. ‘What’s for dinner?’

‘You look like you’ve already eaten enough for the rest of the year. No dinner for you today. You can just live on your fat.’

It was only four o’clock, and already he could feel how hungry he was going to be. But when he looked at Mother, he could tell that it would do no good to protest.

He went up to his room, closed the door, and lay down on his bed with a book. Filled with hope, he stuck his hand under the mattress. If he was lucky, he might have missed something. But there was nothing there. She was very clever. She always found the food and sweets that he stashed away, no matter where he tried to hide them.

A couple of hours later, his stomach was growling noisily. He was so hungry that he was on the verge of tears. From downstairs came the smell of freshly baked buns, and he knew that Mother was making cinnamon rolls just so that the fragrance would drive him crazy with hunger. He sniffed at the air, then turned on to his side and buried his face in the pillow. Sometimes he thought about running away. No one would care. Alice might miss him, but he didn’t give a damn about her. She had Mother.

Mother devoted all her free time to Alice. So why couldn’t Alice look at her instead of him with those adoring eyes of hers? And why did she take for granted what he would have given anything to have?

He must have dozed off, because he was awakened by a light tap on the door. His book had fallen over his face, and he had been drooling in his sleep, because the pillow was wet with saliva. He wiped his cheek with his hand and groggily got up to open the door. Alice was standing there. In one hand she had a bun, which she held out to him. His mouth watered, but he hesitated. Mother would be angry if she found out that Alice had slipped upstairs to bring him something to eat.

Alice stared at him with her eyes wide. She wanted him to see her, to love her. An image appeared in his mind. An image and the feeling of a baby’s slippery, wet body. Alice staring up at him from the water. The way she flailed about and then lay still.

He grabbed the bun and closed the door in her face. But it didn’t help. The images were still there.

Patrik had sent Gösta and Martin to Uddevalla to see if Kenneth was feeling well enough to talk to them. Torbjörn Ruud’s team of crime techs was on the way. The team would have to split up in order to deal with both the place where Kenneth had fallen and the house belonging to Christian and Sanna. Gösta hadn’t wanted to leave; he would have preferred to stay and have a talk with Christian. But Patrik wanted Paula to stay instead. He thought it would be good to have a woman speak with Sanna and the children. Nevertheless he had been impressed with Gösta’s handling of the situation, and especially his finding the rag and bottle in the basement. With luck, these items would give them the perpetrator’s fingerprints and DNA. Up until now he or she had been too careful to leave a trace.

He stared at the man sitting at the kitchen table facing him. Christian looked worn-out and old. He seemed to have aged ten years since Patrik last saw him. He hadn’t bothered to tie the belt of his bathrobe properly, and his bare chest made him look even more vulnerable. Patrik wondered if he ought to tell Christian, for his own sake, to close up his bathrobe, but he decided not to say anything. His clothing was undoubtedly the last thing on Christian’s mind at the moment.

‘The boys have calmed down. My colleague Paula is going to talk to them and your wife. She’ll be careful what she says and do her best to make sure they won’t be further frightened or upset. Okay?’ Patrik tried to catch Christian’s eye to see if he was listening. At first there was no response, and he considered repeating what he’d just said. But finally Christian nodded.

‘In the meantime, I thought you and I should have a little chat,’ Patrik went on. ‘I know that you haven’t been keen to talk to us before, but this time you really have no choice. Someone came into your house and went into the room where your sons were sleeping. The boys weren’t harmed physically, but it must have been a terribly scary experience for them. If you have any idea about who might be behind this, you need to tell me. Don’t you understand that?’

Again a long pause before Christian finally nodded. He cleared his throat as if to speak, but no words came.

Patrik continued: ‘It was only yesterday that we found out that Kenneth and Erik had also received threatening letters from the same person who sent letters to you. And this morning Kenneth was seriously injured while he was out taking a run. Someone set a trap for him.’

Christian glanced up, looking startled, but then lowered his eyes again.

‘We have no information that Magnus received similar threats, but we’re working from the assumption that the same person was involved with his death. And I have a feeling that you know more than you’re telling us. Maybe because it’s something you don’t want to drag out into the light, or it’s something you think is trivial, but you need to let us decide what’s important. Even the slightest lead could be significant.’

Christian was tracing circles on the table with his finger. Then he raised his head and met Patrik’s glance. For a moment it looked as though there was something Christian wanted to say. Then he shut down again.

‘I have no idea,’ he said. ‘I don’t know any more than you do who could be doing this.’

‘Are you aware that both you and your family are in grave danger as long as this person is at large?’

An uncanny calm had settled over Christian’s face. All trace of worry or concern had vanished. Instead, his expression was what Patrik could only describe as determined.

‘I understand. And I’m sure that you’ll do your best to find out who the guilty party is. But I’m afraid that I can’t help you. I just don’t know anything.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ said Patrik bluntly.

Christian shrugged. ‘Well, there’s nothing I can do about that. I’m just telling you how it is. I don’t know anything.’ As if suddenly aware that he was practically naked, he closed up his bathrobe and pulled the belt tight.

Patrik felt like shaking the man, out of sheer frustration. He was convinced that Christian was holding something back. He didn’t know what it was, or even if it was relevant to the case. But there was definitely something he didn’t want to discuss.

‘What time did all of you go to bed last night?’ asked Patrik, deciding to move on to another topic, but only for the moment. He wasn’t going to let Christian off the hook so easily. He’d seen how terrified the children were as they sat in the bathtub. Next time it might not be a question of red paint. He had to make Christian understand how serious the situation was.

‘I went to bed late, just after one o’clock. I have no idea when Sanna went to bed.’

‘Were you home all evening?’

‘No, I went out for a walk. Sanna and I are having a few… problems. I needed to get some air.’

‘Where did you go?’

‘I’m not really sure. No place in particular. I just wandered around a bit, and then I walked through town.’

‘Alone? In the middle of the night?’

‘I didn’t want to be in the house. Where was I supposed to go?’

‘So you came back home around one? And you’re sure about the time?’

‘I’m positive. I looked at the clock over on Ingrid Bergman Square, and it said quarter to one. It takes about ten or fifteen minutes to walk home from there. So it should have been just about one o’clock when I got back.’

‘Was Sanna asleep?’

Christian nodded. ‘Yes, she was asleep. And the boys were too. The house was quiet.’

‘Did you look in on the kids when you came home?’

‘I always do that. Nils had kicked off the covers, as usual, so I tucked him in.’

‘And you didn’t notice anything odd or out of the ordinary?’

‘You mean like big red letters on the wall?’ he said sarcastically.

Patrik could feel himself getting annoyed.

‘I’ll repeat my question: You didn’t see anything unusual, anything you reacted to, when you came home?’

‘No,’ said Christian. ‘I didn’t see anything that I reacted to. If I had, do you think I would have just gone to bed?’

‘No, probably not.’ Patrik was sweating again. Why did everyone have to keep their homes so hot? He tugged at his shirt collar. It felt like he wasn’t getting enough air.

‘Did you lock the door after you got home?’

Christian paused to think. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I think so. I usually lock the door. But… but I don’t really recall doing it.’ Now all sarcasm was gone from his voice. He was almost whispering when he said, ‘I don’t remember locking the door.’

‘And you didn’t hear anything during the night?’

‘No, nothing. At least I didn’t. I don’t think Sanna did either. We’re both very sound sleepers. I didn’t wake up until Sanna started screaming this morning. I didn’t even hear Nils…’

Patrik decided to try again. ‘And you have no idea why anyone would do this? Or why someone would send you threatening letters for a year and half? No suspicions at all?’

‘Why the hell aren’t you listening to what I’m saying?’

The outburst came out of the blue, and Patrik actually jumped. Christian had shouted so loudly that Paula called from upstairs:

‘Is everything okay?’

‘We’re fine,’ Patrik called in reply, hoping he was right. Christian looked on the verge of collapse. His face was bright red, and he was vigorously scratching the palm of his hand.

‘I don’t know anything,’ Christian repeated, as if he were trying desperately not to shout. He was scratching so hard that he was leaving marks on his skin.

Patrik waited for Christian to relax a bit, and for the colour of his face to return more or less to normal. When he stopped scratching, he looked in surprise at the marks on the palm of his hand, as if he couldn’t understand where they’d come from.

‘Is there anywhere you and your family could stay until we find out more?’ asked Patrik.

‘Sanna and the boys could go to her sister’s house in Hamburgsund and stay there for a while.’

‘What about you?’

‘I’m staying here.’ Christian sounded as if he’d made up his mind.

‘That doesn’t seem like a good idea,’ said Patrik, his voice equally firm. ‘We can’t offer you police protection 24/7. I’d rather you stayed at a different location where you would feel safer.’

‘I’m staying here.’

Christian’s tone of voice indicated there was no room for discussion.

‘All right,’ said Patrik reluctantly. ‘Make sure that your family leaves as soon as possible. We’ll try to keep an eye on the house as best we can, but we don’t have the resources to -’

‘I don’t need police protection,’ Christian interrupted him. ‘I’ll be fine.’

Patrik fixed his eyes on him. ‘A seriously disturbed person is on the loose. This individual has already committed one murder, possibly two, and seems determined to make sure that you and Kenneth, and maybe Erik, end up dead too. This is not a game. You don’t seem to understand that.’ He spoke slowly, clearly enunciating every word to make sure his message got through.

‘I assure you that I fully understand how serious this is. But I’m staying here.’

‘If you change your mind, you know where to find me. And as I said, I don’t believe you for a minute when you say that you know nothing about this. I hope you realize what you’re putting at risk by not speaking up. No matter what it is you’re keeping back, we’ll find out what it is sooner or later. It’s just a matter of whether we find out before or after somebody else gets hurt.’

‘How’s Kenneth?’ muttered Christian, avoiding looking Patrik in the eye.

‘All I know is that he was injured. Nothing more.’

‘What happened?’

‘Someone stretched a cord across the path and spread a thick layer of broken glass on the ground. So maybe now you’ll understand why I’m asking for your cooperation.’

Christian didn’t reply. He turned away and looked out of the window. His face was as pale as the snow outside, and his jaws were clenched. But his voice was cold and devoid of any emotion as he repeated, his eyes fixed on some distant spot:

‘I know nothing. I. Know. Nothing.’

‘Does it hurt?’ Martin looked at the man’s bandaged arms resting on top of the blanket. Kenneth nodded.

‘Are you up to answering a few questions?’ Gösta pulled over a chair and motioned for Martin to do the same.

‘Seeing as how you’ve already sat down, it seems you assume that I’m up for it,’ said Kenneth with a faint smile.

Martin couldn’t take his eyes off the bandages. It must have hurt like hell, falling on to all that glass and then having the pieces removed.

He cast an uncertain glance at Gösta. Sometimes it felt as if he’d never have enough experience to know how to proceed in the situations that he landed in as a police officer. Should he just plunge in and start asking questions? Or should he show respect for his older colleague and let him steer the conversation? It was such a balancing act. He was always the youngest, always the one sent off to do one thing or another. He too would have preferred to stay at Christian’s house, which was what Gösta had been muttering about all the way out to Uddevalla. He would have liked to interview Christian and his wife, to talk with Torbjörn and his team when they arrived; to have been in the thick of things.

He was disappointed that Patrik usually chose to work with Paula, even though Martin had joined the station a couple of years before she arrived. Of course she had experience from working in Stockholm, while he had spent his entire brief career on the Tanumshede police force. But was that necessarily such a negative thing? He knew the area, he was familiar with all the resident troublemakers, he knew how people thought and how a small town operated. In fact, he had even gone to school with a couple of the worst offenders, while they were complete unknowns to Paula. And after the rumours about her personal life had spread through the district like wildfire, many people had started eyeing her with suspicion. Martin himself had nothing against those who chose to live with a partner of the same sex, but many of the people they dealt with on a daily basis were not as understanding. So it seemed a little odd that Patrik kept on choosing Paula to work with him. All Martin wanted was to get a certain amount of respect from his colleagues. He wished they would stop treating him like some young whippersnapper. He really wasn’t all that young any more. And now he was a father too.

‘I’m sorry?’ Martin was so immersed in his own gloomy thoughts that he’d missed what Gösta had said to him.

‘I was just saying that maybe you’d like to start.’

Martin stared at Gösta in surprise. Was he a mind-reader? But he seized the opportunity and asked:

‘Could you tell us in your own words what happened?’

Kenneth reached for a glass of water standing on the table next to his bed before he realized that he couldn’t use his hands.

‘Wait, let me do it.’ Martin picked up the glass and helped him take a drink through a straw. Then Kenneth leaned back against the pillows. In a calm and matter-of-fact voice, he recounted what had happened to him, starting with tying his shoes before going out for his usual morning run.

‘What time did you leave the house?’ Martin had taken out a notebook and pen.

‘Six forty-five,’ replied Kenneth, and Martin wrote down the time without hesitation. It was his impression that if Kenneth said it was six forty-five, then that was the time. Without a doubt.

‘Do you always go running at the same time each morning?’ Gösta leaned back with his arms crossed.

‘Yes, give or take ten minutes or so.’

‘And you didn’t consider not… I mean, given that…’ Martin stammered.

‘You didn’t consider skipping your run, given that your wife died yesterday?’ Gösta interjected, without sounding unkind. And without turning the question into an accusation.

Kenneth didn’t respond immediately. He swallowed hard and then said in a low voice:

‘If there was ever a morning when I needed to go running, it was today.’

‘I understand,’ said Gösta. ‘Do you always take the same route?’

‘Yes, except sometimes on the weekend, when I do it twice. I suppose I’m a bit of a stick-in-the-mud. I don’t like surprises, adventures, or things that change.’ He fell silent. Gösta and Martin both knew what he was thinking about and didn’t say a word.

Kenneth cleared his throat and turned away so they wouldn’t see the tears welling up in his eyes. He cleared his throat again so he’d be able to speak without faltering.

‘As I said, I like routines. I’ve been running the same route now for over ten years.’

‘And I assume that plenty of people are aware of that, right?’ Martin looked up from his notebook after jotting down 10 years and drawing a circle round it.

‘There’s never been any reason to keep it a secret.’ A smile suddenly appeared on Kenneth’s face, but vanished just as swiftly.

‘Did you meet anyone while you were out running this morning?’ asked Gösta.

‘No, not a soul. I seldom do. Sometimes I’ll see someone who’s up early walking their dog, or someone out pushing a pram. But that rarely happens. Usually I’m alone on the path. Like this morning.’

‘And you didn’t see a car parked somewhere near your route?’ Martin received an appreciative glance from Gösta when he asked that question.

Kenneth paused to consider. ‘No, I don’t think so. I can’t say for sure. It’s possible that someone was there and I just didn’t see them. But no, I’m sure I would have noticed.’

‘So there was nothing out of the ordinary?’ Gösta persisted.

‘No, it was just like every other morning. Except that…’ His words hung in the air and tears began spilling down his cheeks.

Martin was ashamed that he found it embarrassing to see Kenneth cry. He felt at a loss for words and didn’t know whether he should do something or not. But Gösta calmly reached across Kenneth and took a tissue from the table. Then he gently wiped the tears from Kenneth’s face. After that, he again reached across and put the tissue back on the table.

‘Have you heard anything yet?’ whispered Kenneth. ‘About Lisbet?’

‘No, it’s much too early for that. It’ll be a while before we know what the medical examiner can tell us.’

‘She killed her.’ The man in the bed flinched and then seemed to shrivel up, staring into space.

‘Sorry, what did you just say?’ asked Gösta, leaning forward. ‘Who is “she”? Do you know who did this to you and your wife?’

Martin could tell that Gösta was holding his breath. He was too.

Something flashed in Kenneth’s eyes.

‘I have no idea,’ he said firmly.

‘You said “she”,’ Gösta pointed out.

Kenneth avoided looking at him. ‘The handwriting on the letters looks like it was done by a woman. So I’m just assuming that it’s a “she”.’

‘Ah, so that’s it,’ said Gösta, making it clear to Kenneth that he didn’t believe him, although he wasn’t going to say that to the man’s face. ‘There must be something that has made the four of you the targets. Magnus, Christian, Erik, and you. Someone has unfinished business with you. And all of you – well, except for Magnus – insist that you have no idea who is doing this, or why. But there must be an intense hatred behind such actions. The question is: what prompted that hatred? I have a hard time believing that none of you knows anything. You must at least have a theory.’ He leaned close to Kenneth.

‘It must be someone who’s mentally disturbed. I can’t think of any other explanation.’ Kenneth turned away again, pressing his lips tight.

Martin exchanged glances with Gösta. They both knew that they weren’t going to get anything more out of Kenneth. At least not for the time being.

Erica stared at the phone in shock. Patrik had called from the station to tell her that he was going to be late. Briefly he had also explained why, and she could hardly believe what she’d heard. To think that someone had gone after Christian’s children. And after Kenneth too. A cord strung across the path – simple but brilliant.

Her brain immediately began working overtime. There must be some way to make the investigation go faster. She could hear how frustrated Patrik had sounded, and she sympathized. The chain of events had begun to escalate, and the police were no closer to a solution.

She weighed the mobile in her hand as she thought things over. Patrik would be furious if she interfered in any way. But she was used to doing research for her books. Of course, what she wrote dealt with crimes that had already been solved, but it shouldn’t be much different to take a closer look at an ongoing investigation. And besides, it was so dreary just to hang around the house. She was itching to do something useful.

She could also rely on her gut instinct. It had helped her so many times in the past. Right now it was telling her that the answer would be found with Christian. After all, he had been the first to receive letters, he was very secretive about his past, and he was clearly nervous. Small but crucial factors. And after their conversation in the boathouse, she’d had the feeling that Christian knew something; there was something he was hiding.

Quickly, so as not to have time to regret her decision, she threw on her winter coat. As she drove, she would ring Anna and ask her if she could pick up Maja from the day-care centre. She’d be home before evening, but not in time to collect her daughter. It took an hour and a half to drive to Göteborg; that was quite a distance to go, just on a whim. But if she didn’t find out anything, she could always drop by to see Göran, her newly discovered half-brother.

The idea that she and Anna had a big brother was still almost incomprehensible. It had been upsetting to find out that during the Second World War their mother had given birth to a son and then given him up for adoption. But the dramatic events that had led to all this coming to light last summer had ended up producing something positive, and she and Anna had developed a close relationship with Göran. Erica knew that she was always welcome to stop by to see him and the woman he had grown up calling his mother.

Anna agreed at once to pick up Maja, who was much beloved by all the children, both Anna’s and Dan’s. Erica had no doubt that her daughter would come home worn out from playing, and stuffed with sweets.

Then Erica turned her attention to the task at hand. The work she had done writing books about real murders – books that had proved a big hit with the public – had provided good training in doing research. She just wished that she knew Christian’s civil registration number; that would have saved her a number of conversations. But she’d have to make do with his name. It suddenly came to her that Sanna had once mentioned that Christian was living in Göteborg when they met. At the library May had mentioned Trollhättan, and that was still nagging at Erica, but she decided that Göteborg had to be the logical place to start. That was where he had lived before coming to Fjällbacka, so she would begin there. She hoped she could then backtrack if necessary. She had absolutely no doubt that the truth lay in Christian’s past.

After speaking to four different people, she finally had something: the address where Christian used to live before he moved to Fjällbacka with Sanna. Erica stopped at a Statoil petrol station just outside of Göteborg and bought a map of the city. She also took time to use the loo and stretch her legs. It was terribly uncomfortable to drive with two babies in between her and the steering wheel. Her back and legs felt stiff and achy.

Just as she had wedged herself back into the driver’s seat, her mobile rang. Balancing her paper coffee cup in one hand, she grabbed the phone with the other and looked at the display. Patrik. She’d better let her voicemail take the call. She’d explain things later. Especially if she came home with something that might help the investigation. Then she could at least avoid some of the reproaches that she sensed were in the offing.

After one last glance at the map, she started up the car and pulled back on to the motorway. It was a little more than seven years since Christian had lived at the address where she was now headed. She suddenly had some doubts. What were the odds that she’d find anything that Christian might have left there? People moved all the time without leaving any trace behind.

Erica sighed. Well, she was already here, and Göran was sure to offer her a cup of coffee before she drove back home. So the drive wouldn’t have been totally in vain.

She heard a beep. Patrik had left a message on her mobile.

‘Where is everybody?’ Mellberg was still feeling groggy as he looked around. He’d dozed off for just a few minutes, and when he awoke the station was deserted. Had the others gone off to the café without asking his permission?

He rushed out to the reception area, where he found Annika.

‘What’s going on here? Does everybody think it’s already the weekend? Why isn’t anyone working? If they’re over at the bakery, they’re in for a reprimand when they get back. The municipality expects us to be on the job at all times, and we have an obligation’ – he started waving his finger in the air – ‘to be here when our fellow citizens need us.’ Mellberg loved to hear the sound of his own voice, particularly when he adopted an authoritative tone.

Annika stared at him without saying a word. Mellberg began to fidget. He’d expected her to shower him with excuses and apologies on behalf of her colleagues. Instead, he suddenly had a most unpleasant feeling come over him.

After a moment Annika said calmly:

‘They were called out to Fjällbacka. A lot of things have happened while you were working in your office.’ She said the word ‘working’ without a hint of sarcasm, but something told him that she was fully aware that he’d been taking a little siesta. So it was up to him to salvage the situation.

‘Why didn’t anyone tell me?’

‘Patrik tried. He knocked on your door for a long time. But you had locked the door, and there was no answer. Finally he was forced to leave.’

‘Er… yes, well, sometimes I get so immersed in my work that I don’t hear a thing,’ said Mellberg, swearing to himself. Why did he have to be such a bloody sound sleeper? It was both a gift and a curse.

‘Hmmm…’ replied Annika, turning back to her computer screen.

‘So what’s happened?’ Mellberg demanded, still feeling that he’d been played for a fool.

Annika quickly gave him a summary of what had happened at Christian’s house and to Kenneth on the jogging trail. Mellberg listened, open-mouthed. Things were getting stranger and stranger.

‘They’ll be back soon; at least, Patrik and Paula will. They’ll be able to tell you more of the details. Martin and Gösta drove down to Uddevalla to have a talk with Kenneth, so it might be a while before they get back.’

‘Tell Patrik to come and see me as soon as he gets in,’ said Mellberg. ‘And tell him to knock louder this time.’

‘Okay, I’ll tell him. And I’ll make sure that he does knock louder. In case you’re engrossed in your work again.’

Annika looked at him with a serious expression, but Mellberg still couldn’t shake the feeling that she was mocking him.

‘Can’t you come with us? Why do you have to stay here?’ Sanna tossed a couple of shirts into her suitcase.

Christian didn’t reply, which just made her more upset.

‘Answer me! Why do you have to stay here all alone in the house? It’s so crazy, so…’ Angrily she threw a pair of jeans at the suitcase, but she missed and they landed on the floor at Christian’s feet. She went over to pick them up, but instead cupped his face in her hands. She tried to catch his eye, but he refused to look at her.

‘Christian, sweetheart. I don’t understand. Why won’t you come with us? It’s not safe for you to stay here.’

‘There’s nothing to understand,’ he said, removing her hands. ‘I’m staying here, and that’s all there is to it. I have no intention of running away.’

‘Running away from whom? From what? I hope to God you don’t know who is doing this and you’re just not telling us.’ Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she could still feel the warmth of Christian’s face on the palms of her hands. He never let her come close, and that stung. In situations like this, they ought to be able to support each other. But he was turning his back on her, refusing to let her in. Humiliation made Sanna’s cheeks turn red, and she looked away. Then she went back to her packing.

‘How long do you think we need to stay there?’ she asked, stuffing into the suitcase a fistful of knickers and stockings that she’d taken from the top drawer.

‘How should I know?’ Christian had taken off his bathrobe, washed the red paint from his chest, and put on jeans and a T-shirt. She still thought he was the handsomest man she’d ever seen. She loved him so much it hurt.

Sanna closed the drawer and glanced out into the hall where the boys were playing. They were quieter than usual. More serious. Nils was pushing his cars back and forth, while Melker was making his action figures fight with each other. Both were playing without making the normal sound effects, and without quarrelling, which almost never happened.

‘Do you think they…?’ She started to cry again and had to start over. ‘Do you think they were harmed?’

‘They don’t have a scratch on them.’

‘I don’t mean physically.’ Sanna couldn’t understand how Christian could be so cold, so calm. This morning he had seemed just as shocked, confused, and scared as she was. Now he was acting as if nothing had happened, or as if it were a mere trifle.

Someone had come into their home while they were asleep and gone into the boys’ room. And now they might feel scared and unsafe for ever after, no longer secure in the knowledge that nothing could happen to them when they were at home in their own beds. That nothing could happen when their parents were only a few yards away. Their feeling of security might now be gone for good. Yet their father sat there, so calm and distant, as if he didn’t care. And because of that, right now, at this particular moment, she hated him.

‘Children forget so quickly,’ said Christian, looking down at his hands.

She saw that he had deep scratches on the palm of one hand, and she wondered how he’d got them. But she didn’t ask. For once she didn’t ask. Could it be that their marriage was over? If Christian couldn’t let her in and love her even when something evil and horrible was threatening them, maybe it was time for her to give up.

She kept on tossing things into the suitcase, not caring what sort of clothes she was packing. Her tears made everything look blurry, and she simply grabbed whatever she could pull off the hangers. Finally the suitcase was filled to overflowing, and she had to sit on it to close it properly.

‘Wait, let me help you.’ Christian got up and added his weight to the suitcase so that Sanna could close the zipper. ‘I’ll take it downstairs.’ He grabbed the handle and carried it out of the room, past the boys.

‘Why do we have to go to Aunt Agneta’s? Why are we taking so many things with us? Are we going to be gone for a long time?’ Melker sounded so anxious that Christian stopped halfway down the stairs. Then he continued on, without saying a word.

Sanna went over to her sons and squatted down next to them. She tried to sound calm as she said:

‘Let’s pretend that we’re going on holiday. But we’re not going far away, just over to visit your aunt and cousins. You usually think that’s lots of fun. And I’ll make you a special treat for dinner tonight. Since we’re on holiday, you can have some sweets after dinner, even though it’s not Saturday.’

The boys looked at her a bit suspiciously at first, but the promise of sweets seemed to work magic. ‘Are we all going?’ asked Melker, and then his brother repeated, with a slight lisp: ‘Are we all going?’

Sanna took a deep breath. ‘No, just the three of us. Pappa has to stay here.’

‘That’s right. Pappa has to stay here and fight with those stupid people,’ said Melker.

‘What stupid people?’ said Sanna, patting his cheek.

‘The people who messed up our room.’ He crossed his arms and looked angry. ‘If they come back, Pappa can beat them up!’

‘Pappa isn’t going to fight with any stupid people, because they’re not coming back.’ She stroked Melker’s hair, silently cursing Christian. Why wouldn’t he go with them? Why didn’t he say anything? She stood up.

‘This is going to be so much fun. A real adventure. I just need to go and help Pappa load everything in the car, then I’ll come back and get you. Okay?’

‘Okay,’ both boys said, but they didn’t sound very enthusiastic. She could feel them watching her as she went downstairs.

She found Christian at the car, loading the suitcases in the boot. Sanna went over to him and took him by the arm.

‘This is your last chance, Christian. If you know something, if you have the slightest clue about who is doing these things to us, I beg you to tell me now. For our sake. If you don’t tell me, and later I find out that you did know something, then it’s over. Do you understand? It’s over!’

Christian stopped, the suitcase hovering halfway inside the boot. For a moment she thought that he was really going to tell her something. Then he shook off her hand and dropped the suitcase inside.

‘I don’t know anything. Stop nagging me!’

He slammed the boot shut.

When Patrik and Paula arrived back at the station, Annika stopped Patrik before he headed to his office.

‘Mellberg woke up while all of you were gone. He was a bit upset that he hadn’t been informed.’

‘I stood outside his office and pounded on the door, but he never opened it.’

‘That’s what I told him, but he claimed that he must have been so engrossed in his work that he didn’t hear you.’

‘Oh, right,’ said Patrik, noticing once again how sick and tired he was of his incompetent boss. But to be honest, it had been a relief not to have Mellberg in tow. He cast a quick glance at his watch. ‘Okay, I’ll go and inform our honourable leader now. Let’s meet in the kitchen for a quick briefing in fifteen minutes. Please tell Gösta and Martin too. They’re on their way back right now.’

He headed straight for Mellberg’s office and loudly knocked on the door.

‘Come in.’ Mellberg looked as if he were deeply immersed in studying a stack of documents. ‘I heard that things are heating up, and I must say that it doesn’t look good for the police to respond to important emergency calls without the chief in attendance.’

Patrik opened his mouth to reply, but Mellberg held up one hand. Apparently he wasn’t done yet.

‘It sends the wrong signal to the citizens if we don’t take such situations seriously.’

‘But -’

‘No, not another word. I accept your apology. Just don’t do it again.’

Patrik could feel his pulse hammering in his ears. The bastard! He clenched his hands into fists, but then opened them again and took a deep breath. He had to try to ignore Mellberg and focus on what was important: the investigation.

‘Tell me what happened. What have you found out?’ Mellberg leaned forward eagerly.

‘I was thinking we should all get together for a meeting in the kitchen. If that works for you?’ said Patrik, his jaw tight.

Mellberg thought for a moment. ‘That might actually be a good idea. Then we won’t have to go over everything twice. All right, shall we get going, Hedström? Time is of the essence, you know, when it comes to this type of investigation.’

Patrik turned his back on his boss and left the room. Mellberg was undeniably right about one thing. Time was of the essence.