The Stonecutter by Camilla Läckberg

man’s job to lead the woman. There was security in that. Since her father had been like Arne in many ways, a world in which the man decided was the only world she knew. And he was so smart, her Arne. Everyone agreed about that.
    Even the new pastor had praised Arne recently. He had said that Arne was the most reliable sexton he had ever had the privilege to work with, and God would be grateful to have such loyal servants. Arne had told her this, swelling with pride, when he had come home. But it was not for nothing that Arne had been the sexton in Fjällbacka for twenty years. Not counting the unfortunate years when that woman was the pastor here, of course. Asta would not relive those years for anything in the world. Thank goodness the woman had finally understood that she wasn’t wanted, and stepped aside to make way for a real pastor. How poor Arne had suffered during that woman’s tenure. The thought of a woman in the pulpit of his beloved church had almost destroyed him. It was the first time in more than fifty years of marriage that she had ever seen Arne cry. But he’d also said that he trusted that God would finally cast the moneylenders out of the temple. And this time too, Arne was right.
    Her only wish was that he could somehow find room in his heart to forgive his son for what had happened. Until then, she would never have a day of happiness. But she also understood that if Arne could not forgive Niclas now, after this terrible news, there was no hope of reconciliation.
    If only she had gotten to know the girl. Now it was too late.
    Two days had passed since Sara was found. As difficult as it was to resume normal life, the gloom that had prevailed over the station had slowly dispersed as daily tasks reasserted themselves. Police work didn’t stop because a child had died.
    Patrik was writing up the last lines of a report on an assault case when the telephone rang. He saw the medical examiner’s number on the display and picked up the receiver with a sigh. Just as well to get it over with. He and Pedersen exchanged polite greetings before they broached the actual reason for the call. The first indication that Patrik was not hearing what he had expected was that a furrow formed between his eyebrows as he scribbled his notes. A few moments later, it had deepened; and when he had heard everything the M.E. had to report, he slammed down the receiver with a bang. He tried to collect himself for a minute as the thoughts swirled in his head. Then he got up, grabbed his notebook, and went into Martin’s office. Actually he should have gone to Chief Mellberg first, but he needed to talk to someone he trusted. Unfortunately, his boss was not in that category. Martin was the only one of his colleagues who qualified.
    ‘Martin?’
    Martin was on the phone when Patrik came in, but he motioned toward a chair. The conversation sounded like it was winding down, and Martin concluded it cryptically with a quiet ‘hmm … sure … me too … hmm … likewise,’ as he flushed from his scalp downward.
    Despite his own concerns, Patrik couldn’t resist teasing his young colleague a little. ‘So, who were you talking to?’
    He got an inaudible mumble in reply from Martin, whose face flushed even more.
    ‘Someone calling to report a crime? One of our colleagues in Strömstad? Or Uddevalla? Or maybe Leif G. W. Persson, interested in writing your biography?’
    Martin squirmed in his chair but then muttered a bit more audibly, ‘Pia.’
    ‘Oh, I see, Pia. I never would have guessed. Let’s see, what’s it been—three months, right? That must be a record for you, don’t you think?’ Up until this past summer, Martin had been known as something of a specialist in short, unhappy love affairs, usually because of his talent for getting mixed up with women who were already taken. But Pia was not only available, she was also an extremely attractive and serious young woman.
    ‘We’re celebrating three months on Saturday.’