One Step Behind (1997)

walked to the men's room. The cut in his cheek was deep and probably needed stitches, but the thought of dragging himself to the hospital made him weak. It would have to wait. It was now 5.30 a.m. He went to his office and closed the door behind him.

Martinsson was the first to arrive the next morning. He had slept badly and anxiety had forced him to come into the station. Thurnberg was still there and told him the news. Martinsson then called Hoglund, Nyberg and Hansson in quick succession. Shortly afterwards Holgersson arrived. It was only when they had all gathered at the station that someone asked where Wallander was. Thurnberg told them he had disappeared. They assumed he had gone to the hospital to have his cheek looked at.

At 8.30 a.m. Martinsson called Wallander at home but there was no answer. That was when Hoglund wondered whether he was in his office. They went there together. The door was closed. Martinsson knocked gently. When there was no answer, they pushed open the door. Wallander was stretched out on the floor, the phone book and his jacket tucked under his head for a pillow. He was snoring.

Hoglund and Martinsson looked at each other. Then they pulled the door shut and let him rest.

EPILOGUE

On Friday, 25 October, rain fell steadily over Ystad. When Wallander stepped out onto the footpath on Mariagatan shortly after 8 a.m., it was 7degC. Although he was trying to walk to work as often as possible, this time he took the car. He had been on sick leave for two weeks, and Dr Goransson had just ordered him to remain off duty for one more. His blood-sugar levels were much lower, but his blood pressure remained high.

He wasn't driving to the station this morning in order to work. He had an important meeting to attend, one that he had agreed to during those chaotic August days when they were still searching blindly for the man who had carried out the most appalling series of murders they had ever investigated.

Wallander could still recall the particular moment quite clearly. Martinsson had come to his office, and at the end of their conversation he had told him that his 11-year-old son was thinking of becoming a police officer. Martinsson had complained that he didn't know what to say to his son, and Wallander promised to speak to him once the investigation was over. Now the time had finally come. He had even promised to let the boy, David, try on his his policeman's cap, and had spent the entire evening looking for it.

Wallander parked the car and hurried into the building, hunching his shoulders against the rain and wind. Ebba had a cold. She warned him to keep his distance and blew her nose. Wallander thought about the fact that she wouldn't be working there in a little less than a year.

David was due at 8.45 a.m. While he was waiting, Wallander cleaned up his desk. In a few hours he was leaving Ystad. He still wasn't sure if this was the right decision or not, but he looked forward to the prospect of driving his car through the autumn landscape, listening to opera.

David was punctual. Ebba showed him to Wallander's office.

'You have a visitor,' she said smiling.

'A VIP by the looks of it,' Wallander said.

He looked like his father. There was something introverted about him, something that Wallander noticed in Martinsson as well. Wallander put his policeman's cap on the table.

'What should we start with?' he asked. 'Your questions or the cap?'

'The questions.'

David took a piece of paper out of his pocket. He was well prepared. 'Why did you become a policeman?'

The simple question threw Wallander. He was forced to think for a minute, since he had already decided to take the meeting seriously. He wanted to make his answers honest and thoughtful.

'I think I believed I would make a good policeman.'

'Aren't all policemen good?'

This was not a question written on the sheet.

'Most of them, but not all. In the way that not all teachers are good.'

'What did your parents say about you becoming a policeman?'

'My mother didn't say anything. She died before I had made up my mind.'

'What about your dad?'

'He was against it. He was so much against it, in fact, that we almost stopped talking to each other.'

'Why?'

'I don't even really know. That may sound strange, but it's the way it was.'

'You must have asked him why.'

'I never got a good answer.'

'Is he dead?'

'He died not so long ago. So now I can't ask him any more, even if I wanted to.'

Wallander's answer seemed to worry David. He hesitated over his next question.

'Have you ever regretted becoming a policeman?'

'Many times. I think everyone does.'

'Why?'

'Because you have to see so much suffering. You feel helpless, and you wonder how you're going to hold out until your retirement.'

'Don't you ever feel that you're helping people?'

'Sometimes, but not always.'

'Do you think I should become a policeman?'

'I think you should take your time to make a decision. I think you have to be 17 or 18 years old before you really know what you want to do.'

'I'm going to be either a policeman or a road construction worker.'

'Road construction?'

'Helping people get around is also good.'

Wallander nodded. This was a thoughtful child.

'I only have one question left,' David said. 'Are you ever scared?'

'Yes.'

'What do you do then?'

'I don't know. I end up sleeping badly. I try to think of other things, if I can.'

The boy put the piece of paper back in his pocket and looked at the cap. Wallander pushed it towards him and he tried it on. Wallander gave him a mirror. The cap was so large it fell down over his ears.

Wallander accompanied him out to the reception area. 'Feel free to come back and see me again if you have more questions.'

He watched the boy walk out into the blustery cold. Then he returned to his office in order to finish cleaning it out, although his desire to leave the station was growing. Hoglund appeared in the doorway.

'I thought you were on sick leave.'

'I am.'

'How was your meeting? Martinsson told me about it.'

'David is a smart boy. I tried to answer his questions as honestly as possible, but I think his dad could have done as well.'

'Do you have time to talk?'

'A little. I'm about to leave town for a couple of days.'

She closed the door and sat down in the chair across from his desk.

'I don't know why I'm telling you this,' she said. 'I want you to keep it to yourself for the time being.'

She's quitting, Wallander thought. She can't take it any more.

'Promise?'

'I promise.'

'Sometimes it's such a relief just to tell one other person.'