“Hi. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
“When can we meet?”
“I don’t know. Olle is home right now. We had a talk. He’s going back to be with the children today. They’re at Olle’s brother’s house in Burgsvik. His parents are there, too.”
“So we can meet, can’t we?”
“I don’t know. How?”
“If your husband is going to be away, you’ll be alone. I can come out to see you.”
“Here? No, that’s impossible, you must realize that. We can’t meet here at my house.”
“Then you could come here.”
“I can’t keep sneaking around, scared to death that somebody will see me.”
An idea popped into Emma’s head. It was crazy, of course, but what the hell.
“I just remembered that I have to go out to my parents’ house on Faro one of these days. No one’s there. They’re away on a long vacation, and I promised to keep an eye on the house for them. I was thinking of taking along my friend Viveka and staying for a few days. You could come with me instead. I’d like to get out of here today. I’m going crazy here at home. I really need to get away. The house is right on the sea. It’s an amazing place.”
“What about your friend?”
“That’s no problem. I’m sure that Viveka can come later. I’ll talk to her. She actually knows about you.”
“She does?” He felt his cheeks burning and couldn’t help feeling flattered.
“That sounds great, but I can’t stay for several days. I’ve got work to do, what with the latest murder and all. But one night should be all right, and I can start work a little later tomorrow. I won’t be ready to leave until about six this evening, though.”
“That doesn’t matter. I’ll go out there first.”
Emma went back inside the house. The feeling of doom in her body was mixed with anticipation and a dose of guilt.
When Olle woke up, she served him breakfast in bed.
“I’ve come to a decision,” she said. “I need time to think. I have to have some space. So much has been happening lately. I really don’t know what to make of it all. I don’t know what I want anymore.”
“But last night you said…” He sounded disappointed.
“I know, but I’m still not sure,” she apologized. “About us. I don’t know what we have left anymore. Or maybe it’s just everything with Helena and these murders. I need to get away.”
“I understand,” he said sympathetically. “I know this has been really rough on you. What are you going to do?”
“Well, first of all, I’m going out to my parents’ house. I promised to keep an eye on it anyway. I’m going there today.”
“Alone?”
“No. Viveka said she’d go with me. I’ve already talked to her.” She felt a pang in her heart. Yet another lie. It was scary to see how easy it was to lie.
“I was hoping you’d come with me today, you know. What should I tell the kids?”
“Tell them the truth. That I have to go out and take care of their grandparents’ house for a few days.”
“Okay,” said Olle. “I’m sure they’ll understand, and you’ll have a lot of time to spend together the rest of the summer.”
She felt guilty that he was being so understanding. It would almost be easier if he got mad, she thought. A feeling of irritation rose inside her.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” was all she said, giving him a quick hug.
Knutas had asked Kihlgard to call everyone in for a meeting at police headquarters that afternoon, after he and Jacobsson got back to Gotland. Knutas started the meeting.
“So we’ve found what we think are the clothes of the victims inside a fishing shack in Nisseviken. They’re being analyzed right now by our techs before they’re sent on to SCL. The shack has been cordoned off, and we’re in the process of investigating who the owner is. It was apparently abandoned and hasn’t been used in years. Family members are on their way here to identify the items of clothing. This discovery proves that the killer is probably here on Gotland, so we need to focus all our investigative work here from now on. In the meantime, what else have we found out that’s new?”
“We received an answer today regarding the fingerprints on the asthma inhaler that was found on Gunilla Olsson’s property,” said Kihlgard. “There was no match with any prints in police records. We’ve checked to see who among the victims’ circle of friends had asthma or some similar kind of respiratory allergy. It turns out that both Jan Hagman and Kristian Nordstrom suffer from asthma. Later today their inhalers will be compared with the one found at Gunilla Olsson’s home.”
“Good,” said Knutas. “What did your interviews with them turn up?”
“Regarding the interview with Jan Hagman, we confronted him with the question of why he didn’t tell us about the abortion when we were out at his place earlier. He gave us a reasonably credible explanation. He didn’t think the abortion was of any importance to us. Also, his children don’t know about his relationship with Helena Hillerstrom, so he didn’t want to go into too many details. During the time we were there, he seemed terrified that his son might hear what we were talking about.”
“I can understand that,” said Knutas. “We should have asked him to come here instead. What about Nordstrom?”
“It seemed incomprehensible that he kept on stubbornly insisting that he never had any relations with Helena. When we told him about the letters, he caved in and admitted it at once. On the other hand, he couldn’t explain why he had previously denied it. He just said that he didn’t want to be considered a suspect.”
“What else?”
“Witnesses have told us that a strange man was seen at Gunilla Olsson’s house during the past few weeks. He was seen at her property both in the morning and in the evening, so it’s not unlikely that we’re talking about a boyfriend,” Kihlgard continued. “The witnesses describe him as tall and good-looking, and about the same age as Gunilla.”
“Have the witnesses had a look at any photographs? Of Kristian Nordstrom or Jan Hagman, for instance?”
“No, they haven’t,” Kihlgard admitted, a bit shamefaced.
“Why is that?”
“To be quite honest, I don’t have a good answer for that. Does anyone else?” Kihlgard looked around at his colleagues.
“We just have to acknowledge that it’s something we failed to do. It simply fell through the cracks,” said Wittberg.
“See that it’s done. Right after the meeting,” said Knutas sternly. “What about the alibis for Nordstrom and Hagman? Have they been checked out again?”
“Yes,” replied Sohlman, “and they seem to hold up.”
“Seem to?”
“Hagman’s alibi is based on statements from his son and a neighbor. The neighbor confirms that they were out emptying nets when the first murder was committed. When Frida Lindh was killed, Hagman’s son was visiting him. Both claim to have been asleep at the time of the murder, since it happened in the middle of the night. When the last murder occurred, he was out fishing with the same neighbor who had been emptying nets with him before. That was on the night before Midsummer. After that they celebrated at the neighbor’s house, and Hagman passed out on the couch.”
“What about Nordstrom?”
“Apparently he has no alibi for the first murder,” Sohlman went on. “He was at the party at Helena Hillerstrom’s summer house until close to three in the morning. Then he shared a cab as far as Visby with Beata and John Dunmar. Afterward, he continued on to his house. He arrived home just before four in the morning. He lives in Brissund. The taxi driver confirms that he got out of the cab at his house and that he was very drunk. It seems highly unlikely, to put it mildly, that he would then go back forty miles to the Hillerstrom cabin and wait on
