The Voices Beyond: (Oland Quartet Series 4) by Johan Theorin Page A

the campsite in Stenvik was just metres from the shore, and the views were stunning.
    As she drove in she saw tents and caravans, but there was also a kind of wildness about the place. Campsites were usually neat and well planned, with large, rectangular grass plots, but this was stony and uneven, with lots of bushes and undergrowth. There were no straight roads; the tents and caravans were all over the shop, standing on their own or in groups. Many were old and faded by the sun; a few were new, protected by wooden fences.
    She found her way easily following Veronica’s directions and arrived at an old-style caravan, white and rounded, with no fence. It was far from new, but at least it appeared to be clean and rust-free.
    She unlocked the door and looked inside. It wasn’t very big: one room with a kitchen area, with a small bedroom beyond, but it had definitely been cleaned. She sniffed and picked up the smell of disinfectant. No mould.
    Good. She sat down on the narrow bed and took out her mobile. Time to call Silas, tell him she’d arrived and see how he was feeling.

The Homecomer
    An impressive fence. Not the highest fence the Homecomer had ever seen, but very robust.
    Steel posts supported a green wire mesh. The steel sparkled in the sun, and between each pair of posts was a yellow sign: No U NAUTHORIZED E NTRY .
    The Homecomer took out his wooden box and slowly picked up a pinch of snuff. The warning was absurd, but the fence was worth examining. It was almost three metres high. It wasn’t an electric fence but was topped with four strands of barbed wire. To the left it ran down towards the water, to the right was a dense deciduous forest.
    ‘They haven’t enclosed the whole area,’ he said.
    Pecka was standing beside him, just in front of his girlfriend, Rita.
    ‘No,’ Pecka said. ‘Kloss has only fenced off the things he wants to protect … The central electricity supply and the dock.’
    The Homecomer nodded.
    ‘And what about Rödtorp?’
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘A little croft, south of the dock.’
    ‘Never heard of it.’ Pecka didn’t sound remotely interested. ‘But the fence stops just south of the dock, by the bathing area.’
    ‘Can we get in?’
    Pecka nodded.
    ‘There’s a gate down by the water, but it has a CCTV camera.’
    The Homecomer looked up at the fence.
    ‘It’s too high for me.’
    ‘We’re not climbing it,’ Pecka said. ‘There are other openings … Come with me.’
    He set off among the trees and headed east. It was difficult to get through the undergrowth, but Rita and the Homecomer followed him.
    The Homecomer had his gun with him, tucked into the waistband of his trousers.
    After perhaps sixty paces they reached a small glade; there was a steel gate in the fence. It was locked, but Pecka pulled a key out of his pocket. He smiled.
    ‘I “forgot” to hand this in last year when they kicked me out.’
    He unlocked the gate, and all they had to do was walk through.
    Pecka raised a hand; it was time to be quiet. It was obvious that he knew the area; he walked straight through the trees and led them to a path. He chose the right-hand fork.
    The further they got into the forest, the more cautious Pecka became. He moved slowly, and seemed to be listening all the time. He kept on going, and after a few minutes the Homecomer heard a faint rushing sound. He glimpsed the water through the trees.
    The sea, and an open area covered in tarmac.
    ‘This is the dock,’ Pecka whispered.
    He and Rita stopped, but the Homecomer kept on going, past the tarmac and on through the forest. The path led through trees and dense undergrowth, and he was astonished – he recognized this place from his childhood, and yet he didn’t.
    The trees were new, but the earth and the water and the smells were the same.
    Suddenly, he heard the sound of breaking glass beneath his boot.
    A piece of an old windowpane.
    He looked up and saw the space just twenty metres away. Everything had been