clothes on. Otherwise I shall take your daughters straight to Social Services and tell them that you’re unable to look after them at present. Then I’ll get the next plane back to Stockholm."
Still no answer. Not a movement.
“Okay,” said Rebecka after a while.
She took a deep breath as if to indicate that she had finished waiting around. Then she turned and walked toward the kitchen door.
That’s it, then, she thought. I’ll ring the police and tell them where she is. They can carry her out of the house.
Just as she placed her hand on the door handle she heard Sanna sit up on the bed behind her.
“Rebecka” was all she said.
Rebecka hesitated for half a second. Then she turned round and leaned on the door. She folded her arms again. Like somebody’s mother: Now let’s get this sorted out once and for all.
And Sanna was like a little girl, chewing on her lower lip, pleading with her eyes.
“Sorry,” she mumbled in her husky voice. “I know I’m the worst mother in the world and an even worse friend. Do you hate me?”
“You’ve got three minutes to put your clothes on and get yourself out here to eat something,” ordered Rebecka, and marched out.
S ven-Erik Stålnacke had parked outside the hospital Emergency department. Anna-Maria leaned on the car door when he fumbled in his jacket pocket for the keys. It wasn’t that easy to take deep breaths when the air was so cold it actually took your breath away, but she had to try and relax. Her stomach had grown as hard as a snowball on the short walk from the autopsy out to the car.
“The Church of All Our Strength has three pastors,” said Sven-Erik, groping in his other pocket. “They have informed us that they are available to receive the police for the purpose of interrogation. They are setting aside one hour, no more. And they have no intention of being interrogated individually; all three of them will talk to us together. They say they wish to cooperate, but—”
“But they have no intention of cooperating,” supplied Anna-Maria.
“What the hell do you do?” wondered Sven-Erik. “Go in hard, or what?”
“No, because then the whole community will just shut up like a giant clam. But you have to wonder why they’re not prepared to speak to us one-on-one.”
“No idea. One of them did explain. Gunnar Isaksson, his name was. But I hadn’t a clue what he was talking about. Maybe you can ask when we meet them. Bloody hell, Anna-Maria, I should have had them dragged out of bed first thing this morning.”
“No,” replied Anna-Maria, shaking her head thoughtfully. “You couldn’t have done anything differently.”
The Aurora Borealis was still swirling its veils of white and green across the sky.
“It’s just unbelievable,” she said, tipping her head backwards. “It’s been like this all winter. Have you ever known anything like it?”
“No, but it’s these sun storms,” replied Sven-Erik. “It looks fantastic, but any day now they’re bound to decide it causes cancer. We should probably be walking around with a silver parasol to protect us from the radiation.”
“Now, that would really suit you,” laughed Anna-Maria.
They got into the car.
“On that particular subject,” Sven-Erik went on, “how are things with Pohjanen?”
“I don’t know, it wasn’t really the right time to ask.”
“No, of course not.”
He can ask Pohjanen himself, thought Anna-Maria crossly.
Sven-Erik parked below the church and they began to walk up the hill. The piles of snow by the side of the path had disappeared, and the tracks of both people and dogs crisscrossed the snow all around the church. The whole area had been searched for the murder weapon, in the hope that whoever had murdered Viktor Strandgård would have thrown away the weapon outside the church, or perhaps buried it in a mound of snow But nothing had been found.
“What if we don’t find a weapon,” said Sven-Erik, slowing down as he noticed that Anna-Maria
Still no answer. Not a movement.
“Okay,” said Rebecka after a while.
She took a deep breath as if to indicate that she had finished waiting around. Then she turned and walked toward the kitchen door.
That’s it, then, she thought. I’ll ring the police and tell them where she is. They can carry her out of the house.
Just as she placed her hand on the door handle she heard Sanna sit up on the bed behind her.
“Rebecka” was all she said.
Rebecka hesitated for half a second. Then she turned round and leaned on the door. She folded her arms again. Like somebody’s mother: Now let’s get this sorted out once and for all.
And Sanna was like a little girl, chewing on her lower lip, pleading with her eyes.
“Sorry,” she mumbled in her husky voice. “I know I’m the worst mother in the world and an even worse friend. Do you hate me?”
“You’ve got three minutes to put your clothes on and get yourself out here to eat something,” ordered Rebecka, and marched out.
S ven-Erik Stålnacke had parked outside the hospital Emergency department. Anna-Maria leaned on the car door when he fumbled in his jacket pocket for the keys. It wasn’t that easy to take deep breaths when the air was so cold it actually took your breath away, but she had to try and relax. Her stomach had grown as hard as a snowball on the short walk from the autopsy out to the car.
“The Church of All Our Strength has three pastors,” said Sven-Erik, groping in his other pocket. “They have informed us that they are available to receive the police for the purpose of interrogation. They are setting aside one hour, no more. And they have no intention of being interrogated individually; all three of them will talk to us together. They say they wish to cooperate, but—”
“But they have no intention of cooperating,” supplied Anna-Maria.
“What the hell do you do?” wondered Sven-Erik. “Go in hard, or what?”
“No, because then the whole community will just shut up like a giant clam. But you have to wonder why they’re not prepared to speak to us one-on-one.”
“No idea. One of them did explain. Gunnar Isaksson, his name was. But I hadn’t a clue what he was talking about. Maybe you can ask when we meet them. Bloody hell, Anna-Maria, I should have had them dragged out of bed first thing this morning.”
“No,” replied Anna-Maria, shaking her head thoughtfully. “You couldn’t have done anything differently.”
The Aurora Borealis was still swirling its veils of white and green across the sky.
“It’s just unbelievable,” she said, tipping her head backwards. “It’s been like this all winter. Have you ever known anything like it?”
“No, but it’s these sun storms,” replied Sven-Erik. “It looks fantastic, but any day now they’re bound to decide it causes cancer. We should probably be walking around with a silver parasol to protect us from the radiation.”
“Now, that would really suit you,” laughed Anna-Maria.
They got into the car.
“On that particular subject,” Sven-Erik went on, “how are things with Pohjanen?”
“I don’t know, it wasn’t really the right time to ask.”
“No, of course not.”
He can ask Pohjanen himself, thought Anna-Maria crossly.
Sven-Erik parked below the church and they began to walk up the hill. The piles of snow by the side of the path had disappeared, and the tracks of both people and dogs crisscrossed the snow all around the church. The whole area had been searched for the murder weapon, in the hope that whoever had murdered Viktor Strandgård would have thrown away the weapon outside the church, or perhaps buried it in a mound of snow But nothing had been found.
“What if we don’t find a weapon,” said Sven-Erik, slowing down as he noticed that Anna-Maria
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