The Fire Witness

89

They leave the highway at Jättendal and head toward the coast on a single-lane road that takes them past old farmhouses and falling-down barns and then back into the dark forest. Where the road ends, there’s a cluster of houses in Falun red and before them the opalescent eternity of the sea. The midsummer pole is still standing in the village, its birch leaves and flowers now brown and hanging loose. A large wooden house with a beautiful glass-enclosed veranda faces the water. Once a country store, for several years now it has been owned by the company that manages Brigittagården.

Elin steers the car slowly between the fence posts and parks. As she undoes her seat belt, Daniel warns, “You have to be prepared for these girls. They’ve had rough lives.” He pushes his glasses high on his nose. “They’re going to provoke you. They like to test the boundaries.”

“I’ll be fine,” Elin says. “I was a teenager once, too.”

“This is something completely different,” Daniel says. “It’s not always easy, not even for me. They can be really terrible at times.”

“So what do you say when they try to provoke you?” asks Elin. She looks him in the eye.

“The best thing is to be as honest and clear as possible.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Elin opens the car door.

“Wait, there’s one more thing before we go in. They have a security guard there. I think that he should accompany you the entire time.”

Elin smiles. “Isn’t that a bit excessive?”

“Well, I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, you don’t have to be afraid, but I think-I know that you shouldn’t be alone with two of the girls. Not even for a short time.”

“Which ones?”

“Almira and a little girl named Tuula.”

“Are they that dangerous?”

He holds up a hand. “I’m just saying I would like the guard to be there if you want to talk to them.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, trying to calm her. “They can also be quite nice, all of them.”

The air is cool and carries with it the scent of the sea. Elin pauses after she locks the car.

“One of the girls must know about Vicky’s friends,” she says.

“Even if one of them does, you can’t assume that she’ll want to tell you.”

A path of black slate leads around the gable and to the front steps. Elin’s red heels keep getting caught between the stones. It’s late in the evening, but one girl is lying in the hammock next to the lilac tree, smoking. Her pale face and tattooed arms shine in the darkness.

“Hey, Daniel,” the girl says, and smiles. She sits up and tosses the cigarette onto the grass.

“Hello, Almira,” Daniel says.

“Hello,” Elin says, smiling.

Almira stares directly at Elin but does not smile back. Her dark eyebrows meet over her large nose and her cheeks are peppered with acne.

“Vicky beat his wife to death,” Almira says. “And when Elisabet was dead, she killed Miranda, too. I don’t think she’s going to stop until we’re all dead.”

Almira gets out of the hammock and walks up the stairs and into the house.