They first checked at the front desk to see whether Martina's valuables were still in the safe where they'd been kept. Everything was there: her passport, her Visa card, and her insurance documents. So she hadn't left the country-at least not voluntarily.
They met Martina's roommate, Eva Svensson, on the stairs of the main building. She had shoulder-length ash blond hair, and she was wearing a white cotton camisole, a skirt, and sandals. As she led the way over to the youth hostel, they asked her about Martina.
'Does she have a boyfriend?' asked Jacobsson.
'She's seeing this guy back in Holland, or at least she was when she left home. But I actually think she met someone else here on Gotland.'
'Why do you think that?'
'She's been gone a lot, and sometimes she slips away without giving any explanation.'
'So this isn't unusual? For her to be missing?'
'The difference is that she hasn't called anyone. She always calls.'
'How well do you know Martina?' Knutas carefully studied the young woman.
'Not too well. We liked each other at once, and we had a lot of fun right from the start. The course began with two weeks of theory at the college in Visby, so we were in town all the time. Then Martina started going off on her own in the evenings. During the second week I hardly saw her at all.'
'Did you share a room in Visby, too?'
'No, we all had our own dorm rooms, so we didn't keep tabs on each other the same way we do here. Since we've been here at Warfsholm, she's often gone off on her own. Her excuse is that she has errands to run or that she wants to meditate, but I don't believe it. She's not the type.'
'Has she ever been gone for a whole night before?'
'One night last week she slept somewhere else. She claimed that she was going to meet some friends of her family in Visby. They usually come here on vacation.'
'Do you know who they are? These friends?'
'No. I never asked her, and she never told me. I'm not from here, so I wouldn't know them anyway.'
'Couldn't that be what's happened now? That she's simply visiting friends?'
'I don't think so. She would have called.'
'If she has a boyfriend here, who could it be?' asked Jacobsson.
'I actually have no idea. I've been trying to figure it out, to see if there's something going on between her and someone in the group, but it's hard to tell because she jokes around with everybody.'
'Why didn't you ask her?'
'I've tried, but she always changes the subject as soon as I bring it up.'
'Who would she have an opportunity to meet other than the students in the course? You don't have contact with many other people, do you?'
'No, although there are other guests staying at the hotel and the campground nearby. And she might have met someone in Visby earlier.'
When they stepped into the entryway of the youth hostel, they could tell at once that the building was a venerable old place, even though it had been remodeled. In the hall hung a bulletin board with instructions for everything from parties to fishing trips to the laundry room. From upstairs came the smell of toast, and subdued voices could be heard conversing. The room that Eva and Martina shared was on the ground floor, almost at the end of the corridor. It was long and narrow and cramped, with a window on one wall. A modest, iron-framed bunk bed stood on each side of the room, with barely enough space to walk between them. A sink with a mirror above it was fastened to one wall. Every nook and cranny was filled with clutter. A tape player stood on the wide windowsill along with bottles of hairspray, cosmetic bags, perfume, nail polish, bags of chips, and CDs. Clothing was either strewn about or hanging from the posts of the top bunks. Several books about the Viking Age signaled that archaeology students were staying in the room. Knutas gave up as soon as he stood in the doorway and saw all the mess. He let Jacobsson search the place on her own. There wasn't enough space for both of them anyway.
He sat down outside, actually lit his pipe for a change, and made a number of phone calls to see to it that the site was secured. He spoke to Erik Sohlman, who wanted to wait to do a technical examination of Martina's room. For the time being, they had no reason to suspect that a crime had been committed.
Meanwhile, Jacobsson did her search of the room. Eva had told her which side was Martina's, and Jacobsson began systematically going through the girl's belongings. Her toiletry case was there, containing her toothbrush and a pack of birth control pills, which revealed that Martina hadn't taken any pills since Friday, July 2-which was several days ago. If she had left voluntarily, she would have taken her toiletry case with her, thought Jacobsson as she opened the suitcase that had been shoved under the bed. In addition to clothing it held a number of books, an unopened carton of cigarettes, and some makeup. In a slot she found a photograph of a young man with dark hair and brown eyes. Jacobsson turned it over, but there was nothing written on the back.
She slipped the picture into her pocket so she could ask Eva about it later and then looked around the cramped room. There wasn't much else to search. Except for the bed, of course. Carefully she removed the floral- patterned cover. There was a rustling sound, and under the pillow she found a page torn out of a newspaper. She sat down on the edge of the bed and unfolded the page. It was an article from Gotlands Allehanda, which had done a story on the first excavation course of the summer. The article was about what the students would be doing and where they came from. A picture showed the excavation leader, Staffan Mellgren, and several of the students in action out in the field. Jacobs-son studied the article with surprise. Why would Martina keep it under her pillow?
That was where someone would usually keep something that was especially precious, maybe even hiding it there.
Staffan Mellgren was smiling broadly at the camera; the others could be seen in the background. He had to be twice as old as Martina. Jacobsson knew that Mellgren was married and had children. He was well known on Gotland because of his work at the college and at the archaeological excavations. Had they been seeing each other? Was he mixed up in her disappearance?
She hurried off to find Knutas.
Johan was awakened by a bang outside the window. With great effort he got out of bed and pulled aside the curtain.
The pastry shop across the street was getting its daily delivery. The bakery truck was parked in the narrow alley, and the driver was taking out boxes, which he loaded onto a hand truck. The owner of the pastry shop then took the hand truck and with a clatter disappeared through the back door. That meant that it couldn't be more than six in the morning. With a groan Johan went back to bed and pulled the covers over his head. The deliveries were made at six on weekdays, at eight on the weekend. He had learned that by now. If he had known in advance that this upheaval was going to take place every single morning, he would have made Swedish TV arrange for a different apartment.
Wrapped up in the warm covers, he lay there thinking about Emma and their newborn child. He had spent nearly the entire weekend over at the hospital. He wasn't allowed to sleep there, since it was already overcrowded, and Emma had to share a room with two other women who had just given birth.
The delivery of their baby was the biggest event of his life so far. The experience of becoming a father was more overwhelming than he could have imagined.
His mother and youngest brother had flown over from Stockholm on Saturday. She could hardly contain her joy at becoming a grandmother. Her first grandchild. Ever since the death of Johan's father a couple of years ago, her life had been very lonely. Johan had always been close to his mother, and he knew that she missed him now that he was working on Gotland. In his role as the eldest son, he had largely functioned as a replacement for his father after his death.
With the birth of the child, Johan realized that everything was going to be different. From now on he had to make his own family his first priority. He had suddenly become a family man with all new responsibilities. He found the thought both appealing and frightening.
The head office in Stockholm had sent flowers, but Grenfors expected Johan to be back at work right after the weekend. He had been assigned to cover the island, and they had agreed that he would wait to take any paternity leave until fall. He now regretted that decision. All he wanted to do was spend time with his new family.
The insistent buzzing of his cell phone interrupted his ruminations. I really need to change the ringtone, he
