Sail of Stone

“Why?”

“I didn’t actually ask.”

“What was the nice old man’s name, then? Would he give it out, or was that a little vague too?”

“Do you always have to be so suspicious, Dad? Either you seem to hate people or else you’re suspicious of them.”

She took out a little red notebook.

“Yes, unfortunately. I don’t want to say it’s an occupational hazard, but…,” said Ringmar.

“Sigge Lindsten,” she said, reading from the notebook. “The nice old man’s name is Sigge Lindsten.”

The name didn’t mean anything to Ringmar.

Aneta Djanali was given concise directions, and she walked around the hill to the car. Sigge Lindsten had offered to drive her there, but it was only a few hundred yards. Climbing back up the way she came was not something she wanted to do. It was dusk now. She didn’t want to get a twig through her eye.

She drove back on the narrow road. It was simpler with the powerful headlights. She didn’t meet anyone. She went by the pullout sign, which wasn’t any color at all now. She could hear the sea to her right.

Sigge Lindsten hadn’t revealed anything more. There’s something I don’t understand here. But it’s my job. You don’t understand and when everything is over you understand even less. No. It’s possible to understand. The problem is that it just gets worse then.

She had colleagues who refused to understand in order to avoid being neurotic. Neurosis was a concept that lived on within the force. Time could stand still in the force. Old values.

That wasn’t always wrong.

When she reached the paved route north, it was with the sense of returning to civilization. At the moment she welcomed it.

She turned after the stop sign and switched on her cell phone. She had wanted it to be turned off when she spoke to Sigge Lindsten. Something had told her that she would learn something important from that conversation. That something had been wrong. Or else she hadn’t understood.

Her voice mail beeped in irritation. She listened to the three messages, all of which were from Fredrik, and she saw that he’d also sent a text.

“It’s nice to call before you go off into the blue,” he had written by way of summary in his message to her.

And that was completely true. What if something had happened? Fredrik knew, and he had never practiced what he preached, and that had become dangerous.

But this is how she had wanted it to be this time.

She called.

“What the hell,” said Halders in greeting, since he had seen her number on his screen.

“Same to you,” she said.

“You’ve never done this before,” said Halders.

“Has something happened?” she asked.

“That’s what I should ask you.”

“I went down to the Lindstens’ beach house. Or cottage, rather.”

“For God’s sake, Aneta.”

“She wasn’t there. Anette.”

“You couldn’t know that. He could have been there.”

“He’s probably at his sister’s house now.”

“He has a sister?”

“Susanne Marke.”

“The Volvo broad?”

“She is a fanatic supporter of Hans Forsblad,” said Aneta.

“Then we should go there and get him,” said Halders.

“I’ll be at headquarters in twenty minutes.”

“I’m the only one here.”

“Who’s with the kids?”

“My permanent babysitter,” said Halders.

“I’m going by Fredriksdal,” said Aneta.

“I am too,” said Halders. “We can at least see if the lights are on inside.”

Everything shone cozily and warmly as they drove through the southern neighborhoods. Someone had lit yard torches. Aneta stopped for a group that seemed to be on the way to a party. It wasn’t Friday or Saturday, but this was a big city. Had become one. For some, it was Saturday every day. The group up ahead took their time crossing the street. Another car came from the opposite direction. It looked like the happy group was starting to play charades in the middle of the street. This was their neighborhood. The driver on the other side leaned on his horn. She caught a glimpse of the driver’s face. Fredrik.

“As discreet as always,” she said when they had parked down the street from the Lindstens’ house and walked up the gravel drive.

“They should be glad I didn’t run them over,” said Halders. “I couldn’t see anything as I was driving up. Did you see any reflections?”

Aneta didn’t answer.

“Do you see any lights?” said Halders.

“We’ll have to walk around,” said Aneta.

They walked between the dense bushes and the southern wall of the house. The window where Halders had seen a figure was a dark rectangle against the lighter wall. Aneta felt a branch against her face. Halders cursed quietly when it hit him. She heard voices a ways away. It still sounded like charades.

“There are lights on, anyway,” said Halders.

In the back, the veranda was lit up by light from the inside. The light cast a circle across the lawn. When her eyes had adjusted to the brightness, she saw a floor lamp inside the window. The window was broken.

“Well,” said Halders, walking quickly up the low stairs to the veranda, but he stayed outside the railing. Aneta searched the room with her gaze, standing next to the small covered lamp, which cast a lot of light. She had her SIG Sauer in hand, and Fredrik had his God-knows-what in his hand. Fredrik would get nailed for that one fine day, or one fine evening like this one; he would hurt someone and the investigation would show what he’d shot with, and it would be the end of this professional team. She had often wondered if everyone actually knew. They ought to know. Did Erik know? Would he forbid it if he knew? Halders kicked down sharp shards that stuck out like icicles. He pulled on a glove and opened the veranda door from the inside. He pushed it open.

It was quiet in there. There was another light on farther in the house.

“I’m calling for backup,” said Aneta.

“No reason to,” said Halders.

“It could-”

“Hello, this is the police,” yelled Halders. She jumped and the hearing in that ear was gone.

“It’s the police,” yelled Halders again, and he ran through the room out into the hall, and she heard his steps going up the stairs as she came into the kitchen, which also faced the back, and the light over the stove was lit but no one was sitting at the table or standing at the sink. She heard Fredrik up there, marching from room to room. It sounded like three rooms. She heard his steps on the stairs again.

“Empty,” he said.

Aneta pulled on her gloves and went out into the hall again and tested the front door, which was locked.

“Came and went through the veranda door,” she said.

“Through is right,” said Halders.

Said the broken record, thought Aneta; she couldn’t help it.

Halders went to the room that faced south. He turned on the ceiling light. Aneta stepped in. They saw an unmade bed and a desk, which was empty. The desk was white. There was a wooden chair in front of it; it was white. A white leather chair stood in one corner, with a little white coffee table in front of it. A white curtain valance hung in the window. The blinds were white. The wallpaper was a shade of white. Two photographs in white frames hung over the bed. The pictures were black as coal in the room. The sheets were white, and they were rumpled.