than usual. His T-shirt was wrinkled and there were holes in the knees of his jeans.
‘What is it?’
‘Don’t play dumb with me. Come down here.’
Knutas immediately regretted the harsh tone he’d taken, but it was too late now.
Knutas led the way into the living room, turned off the TV and sank down on to the sofa next to Lina. He motioned for Nils to sit on the armchair across from them. Anger overtook the sorrow he felt at not having the right expertise to deal with the situation. He felt as if he were adrift on an ice floe, floating on some distant, ice-cold and bottomless sea.
‘Can you explain to me and your mother why you haven’t said a word to us this whole time about being a witness when Alexander was assaulted? Yet the minute a reporter waves a microphone in your face, you spill out the whole story as if you were getting paid to talk.’
Nils gave him a defiant look. His eyes were filled with contempt.
‘Neither of you ever asked me about it.’
The words were so unexpected that Knutas was left speechless. He cast a glance at Lina. She merely shook her head and then hid her face in her hands.
‘But we’re always asking you how you are and what’s going on. You never want to tell us anything, but we keep trying-’
‘You’re always so busy with your own stuff. You don’t really care how I am or what I have to deal with! You just pretend to take an interest, but the only thing that’s important to you is that fucking cop job of yours!’
Knutas was shocked. He was utterly unprepared for such an accusation. He’d been naive enough to think that Nils would be remorseful and apologize.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You don’t care about me. All you ever talk about is yourself and your sodding investigations, and I don’t give a shit about them. Why should I tell you anything? You pretend to care about me and Petra, but the only effort you ever make is to drag us along once in a while to do something you think is fun. Like when we went to the golf course. We just went along for your sake, even though you acted like you were the best father in the world who was doing something really great for his kids.’
Knutas felt his cheeks flush with indignation, but he forced himself to remain calm.
‘I think you have to agree that you’re being unfair. OK, I admit that there are times when I talk a lot about my work, but that’s only when I’m in the middle of an important case. And that’s not really surprising, is it? And think about all the fun things we’ve done together over the years. You don’t really think it was all for my sake, do you? All those excursions we’ve taken you on, ever since you and your sister were kids? I can’t even count how many times we’ve been to Kneippbyn and Vattenland. We’ve gone to Legoland and to the Astrid Lindgren theme park, and I’ve even gone riding on Iceland horses with you and Petra – and you know how scared I am of horses. Have you really forgotten all those things? I think you ought to show a little gratitude once in a while and not be so bloody sullen and selfish all the time. Your mother and I are doing the best we can!’
Nils stared at his hands, not once looking at his father. He said in a low voice: ‘It’s not Mamma that I’m mad at. She has always come through for us. Unlike you.’
Knutas looked at his son in bewilderment. He couldn’t believe his ears. He swallowed hard. No one else spoke as he searched for words.
‘I really don’t understand what you mean, Nils. I never come through for you? How can you say that?’
‘OK, maybe once in a while. And more often when we were little kids. But nowadays you never have time.’
Knutas leaned back on the sofa. The room began slowly spinning around. He took several deep breaths, blinked away a tear. Lina was silent, her face still buried in her hands.
This conversation with Nils wasn’t going to end with the family reconciliation that he had hoped for. He was shaken to the core by his son’s scorn.
‘But why didn’t you say anything?’ he ventured. ‘Why didn’t you tell us that you were there?’
‘Because I didn’t want to.’
‘Didn’t want to? Don’t you realize how serious this is? You’re a witness, for chrissake!’
‘Take it easy,’ Lina protested. ‘You’ve been a police officer for seventeen years, Anders. You, of all people, should understand how hard it can be for someone to admit that he saw something but either couldn’t or didn’t dare intervene.’
Nils glared at his father.
‘You’ve just made it horribly clear that the only thing you care about is your job.
Nils’s face was rigid with anger, and his eyes flashed as he looked at Knutas.
‘Why should I tell you anything? Give me one good reason!’
He leaped up and ran out of the room.
A few seconds later the front door slammed.
IN SPITE OF the long workday, Johan didn’t feel tired, and he had no desire to go home to the empty house in Roma. Emma had gone with Elin to visit her parents on the island of Faro. They were sitting in front of the fireplace drinking Irish coffee when he phoned. Emma complimented him on his report, which she’d watched on the news, and hearing her praise made him happy.
Pia had left the editorial office right after they had finished, presumably to go and see her sheep farmer. The relationship seemed to be serious. Usually she wasn’t so enthusiastic about her boyfriends.
Johan sat in front of his computer, spending the next few hours aimlessly surfing the Internet. Then he found himself pulling up the website for the Solo Club. They were open. Of course he’d already done several reports from there about the assault case, but he’d never visited the club in the evening when it was actually filled with young people.
It was just after ten o’clock when he left the TV building. He walked through town, heading for the harbour. He found Skeppsbron swarming with teenagers, and many of them looked younger than eighteen.
A long queue had formed outside the Solo Club, where it had all happened just a couple of weeks ago. The guy at the door recognized Johan and waved him through. Inside, the noise level was deafening and the dance floor was packed. He was surprised to see what the young girls were wearing. Many of them were scantily clad, to say the least, in minuscule tops and shorts that barely covered their bottoms. Some of them wore only lacy knickers with a top, and one big-busted girl was dancing around in her bra. Johan could hardly believe his eyes. Was this the latest fashion for teenage girls? It was alarming, and that alone made it worthy of a news report. The boys wore more familiar attire, most of them jeans and a T-shirt. A few were going around shirtless.
Johan ordered a beer and stood at the bar. It wasn’t long before several girls who didn’t look older than fourteen or fifteen came over to order Cokes. One of them wore only a bra and a pair of mini-shorts. He leaned towards her, forced to shout to be heard over the music.
‘Why are you dressed like that?’ he asked.
She giggled and stared at him, uncomprehending. Her eyes were almost invisible behind a thick coating of mascara. Her face was covered with tanning cream, her lips were smeared with a white ointment, and her hair stuck out every which way, sticky with hairspray. A typical fourteen-year-old.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Why are you out in public in your underwear?’
She tittered uncertainly, and then moved away and went back to talking to her friends. Johan saw one of them take a little bottle out of her bag and pour something into her Coke. So that’s how it’s done, he thought. Lots of the kids in the club were noticeably drunk. He signalled to the bartender.
‘Has this place changed since the assault happened?’
The bartender shrugged.
‘Not really. The first couple of weeks it was kind of quiet, but now there are just as many people as before, and they’re all just as drunk. As if it never happened.’
‘How can you make sure that kids under eighteen aren’t drinking?’
‘We can’t. All we can do here at the bar is ask for a valid ID before we serve anybody alcohol. But there’s nothing we can do about it if the kids drink before they get here, or if they hide the booze in the shrubbery and then
