'It's too early for that. Have we heard anything from Lund?'
'I can try to call now.'
'Good. Tell them it's urgent. What we really need is to establish a time of death. It would also be good to know who was killed first, if possible.'
'Why is that important?'
'I don't know if it's important. But it's possible the killer was actually only after one of the three.'
Martinsson promised to call Lund straight away.
Wallander put his phone back in his pocket. 'I'm going back to Ystad,' he told the others. 'Let me know if you find anything.'
He started walking back to the car and bumped into Edmundsson and his dog along the way. Hoglund must already have made the call. Edmundsson had been equally swift.
'Did you fly him in?' Wallander asked, pointing at the dog.
'A colleague drove him in. What was it you wanted us to do?'
Wallander showed him the place and explained what he wanted. 'If you find anything, you should let Nyberg know. When you're done, join the search up at the crime scene. They're looking for a place to start digging right now.'
Edmundsson went pale. 'Are there more bodies?' he asked.
His words jolted Wallander. He hadn't even considered this possibility, but he realised it was improbable.
'No,' he said, 'we don't expect to find more bodies, just a spot where they might have been buried for a while.'
'Why would they have been buried?'
Wallander didn't answer. Edmundsson is right, he thought. Why would the killer hide the bodies? We've raised the question and tried to answer it, but it may turn out to be more important than we thought. He got into his car. His jaw still ached. He was about to start the engine when his phone rang. It was Martinsson.
He's got information from Lund, Wallander thought and felt a rising excitement.
'What did they say?'
'Who?'
'You haven't talked to Lund?'
'No, I haven't had time. I've just had a call.'
Wallander could tell that Martinsson was worried, which was uncharacteristic.
Don't let it be someone else, he thought. Not more dead bodies. Not now.
'The hospital called,' Martinsson said. 'Isa Edengren has disappeared.'
It was 8.03 a.m. on Monday, 12 August.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Wallander drove straight to the hospital, much too fast. Martinsson was waiting for him when he arrived. He left the car in a no-parking zone.
'What happened?'
Martinsson was carrying a notebook. 'No one really knows,' he said. 'She must have left around dawn, but no one saw her leave.'
'Did she call anyone? Did anyone come and pick her up?'
'It's hard to get a straight answer. There are so many patients in her ward, and almost no staff on night duty. But she must have left before 6 a.m. Someone came in at 4 a.m. and saw her sleeping.'
'Which of course she wasn't,' Wallander said. 'She was waiting for the right moment to take off.'
'Why?'
'I don't know.'
'Do you think she'll try to kill herself again?'
'Possibly. But let's think this through. We tell her what happened to her friends and the next day she makes her escape. What does that mean?'
'That she's scared.'
'Exactly. But what is she scared of?'
There was only one place Wallander could think of to start looking for her, and that was the house outside Skarby. He wanted Martinsson with him, if only so he wouldn't have to be alone. When they arrived in Skarby, they stopped first at Lundberg's house. The man was out in the yard inspecting his tractor. He looked surprised when two cars pulled into his driveway. Wallander introduced Martinsson.
'You called the hospital last night and were told that Isa was OK, all things considered. Sometime early this morning, between 4 a.m. and 6 a.m., she disappeared. Escaped. What time do you get up?'
'Early. My wife and I are up by 4.30 a.m.'
'And Isa hasn't turned up?'
'No.'
'Did you hear any cars go by early this morning?'
The answer was very firm. 'Ake Nilsson, who lives up the road, went by at about 5 a.m. He works at the slaughterhouse three days a week. But apart from him there was no one.'
Lundberg's wife appeared at the door. She had heard the last part of the conversation.
'Isa hasn't been here,' she said. 'And there haven't been any cars, either.'
'Is there anywhere else she might have gone?' Martinsson asked.
'Not that we know of.'
'If she contacts you, you'll have to let us know,' Wallander said. 'It's very important for us to find out where she is. Is that clear?'
'She never calls,' the woman said.
Wallander was already on his way back to his car. They drove to the Edengrens' house. He put his hand into the drainpipe and pulled out the spare keys. Then he showed Martinsson the gazebo in the back of the house. Everything seemed as it had when he was last there. They returned to the main house and unlocked the door. The house looked even bigger from the inside. No expense had been spared on the interior decorating but the impression was chilly, like a museum. There were few traces of the inhabitants. They walked through the rooms on the first floor, then went upstairs to the bedrooms. A large model aeroplane was suspended from the ceiling of one of the bedrooms. There was a computer on a desk, and someone had thrown a sweater over it. It was probably Jorgen's room, the brother who had committed suicide. Wallander went into the bathroom and saw a plug by the mirror. Reluctantly he pointed it out to Martinsson. It was probably here that Isa's brother had died.
'I bet that doesn't happen every day,' Martinsson said. 'Who kills himself with a toaster?'
Wallander was already on his way out of the bathroom. Next door was another bedroom. When he entered he knew it was Isa's.
'We have to search this room,' he said.
'What are we looking for?'
'I don't know. But Isa was supposed to have been out there with them in the nature reserve. She tried to commit suicide, and now she's run away. We both think she's scared.'
Wallander sat down at her desk while Martinsson started going through the dresser and the large cupboard that took up a whole side of the room. The drawers in the desk were unlocked, which surprised him. But after going through them he realised there was no need for privacy. The drawers were almost completely empty. He frowned. Had someone emptied them? He picked up a green writing pad. Underneath it was a poorly executed watercolour.
In a bookshelf next to the bed were several rows of books. He recognised some that Linda had read. He felt along the back of the shelves and found two that had fallen behind the others or were concealed. Both of them were in English. One had the title
