kitchen table, and they silently obeyed. Patrik and Martin sat down across from them.
'I'm sorry, Charlotte, but I have…' he hesitated, 'terrible news for you.' The words lurched stiffly out of his mouth. His choice of words already felt wrong, but was there any right way to say what he had to say?
'An hour ago a lobsterman found a little girl drowned. I'm so, so sorry, Charlotte…' Then he found himself incapable of going on. Even though the words were in his mind, they were so horrific that they refused to come out. But he didn't need to say any more.
Charlotte gasped for breath with a wheezing, guttural sound. She grabbed the tabletop with both hands, as if to hold herself upright, and stared with empty eyes at Patrik. In the silence of the kitchen that single wheezing gasp seemed louder than a scream. Patrik swallowed to hold back the tears and keep his voice steady.
'It must be a mistake. It couldn't be Sara!' Lilian looked wildly hack and forth between Patrik and Martin, but Patrik only shook his head.
'I'm sorry,' he said again, 'but I just saw the girl and there's no doubt that it's Sara.'
'But she said she was just going over to Frida's to play. I saw her heading that way. There must be some mistake. I'm sure she's over there playing.' As if in a trance Lilian got up and went over to the telephone on the wall. She checked the address book hanging next to it and briskly punched in the numbers.
'Hello, Veronika, it's Lilian. Listen, is Sara over there?' She listened for a second and then dropped the receiver so it hung from the cord, swaying back and forth.
'She hasn't been there.' She sat down heavily at the table and stared helplessly at the police officers facing her.
The shriek came out of nowhere, and both Patrik and Martin jumped. Charlotte was screaming, motionless, with eyes that didn't seem to see. It was a loud, primitive, piercing sound. The raw pain that pitilessly forced out the scream gave both officers gooseflesh.
Lilian threw herself at her daughter, trying to put her arms round her, but Charlotte brusquely batted her away.
Patrik tried to talk over the scream. 'We've tried to get hold of Niclas, but he wasn't at the clinic. We left him a message to come home as soon as he can. And the pastor is on his way.' He directed his words more to Lilian than to Charlotte, who was now beyond their reach. Patrik knew that he'd handled the situation terribly. He should have made sure that a doctor was present to administer a sedative if needed. Unfortunately the only doctor in Fjallbacka was the girl's father, and they hadn't been able to get hold of him. He turned to Martin.
'Ring the clinic on your mobile and see if you can get the nurse over here at once. And ask her to bring a sedative.'
Martin did as he asked, relieved to have an excuse to leave the kitchen for a moment. Ten minutes later Aina Lundby came in without knocking. She gave Charlotte a pill to calm her down, and then with Patrik's help led her into the living room, so she could lie down on the sofa.
'Shouldn't I be given a sedative too?' asked Lilian. 'I've always had bad nerves, and something like this
The district nurse, who looked to be about the same age as Lilian, merely snorted and continued tucking a blanket round Charlotte with maternal care as she lay there, teeth chattering as if she were freezing.
'You'll survive without it,' she said, gathering up her things.
Patrik turned to Lilian and said softly, 'We'll probably have to talk to the mother of the friend Sara was going to visit. Which house is it?'
'The blue one just up the street,' said Lilian without looking him in the eyes.
By the time the pastor knocked on the door a few minutes later, Patrik felt that he and Martin had done all they could. They left the house which had been plunged into grief with their news and got into their car in the driveway. But Patrik didn't start the engine.
'Bloody hell,' said Martin.
'Bloody hell indeed,' said Patrik.
Kaj Wiberg peered out of the kitchen window facing the Florins' driveway.
'I wonder what the old cow's up to now?' he muttered petulantly.
'What?' his wife Monica called from the living room.
He turned halfway in her direction and shouted back, 'There's a police car parked outside the Florins'. I bloody well bet there's some mischief going on. I've been saddled with that old woman as a neighbour to pay for my sins.'
Monica came into the kitchen with a worried look. 'You really think it's about us? We haven't done anything.' She was combing her smooth, blonde page-boy but stopped with the comb in midair to peer out of the window.
Kaj snorted. 'Try to tell her that. No, just wait till the small claims court agrees with me about the balcony. Then she'll be standing there with egg on her face. I hope it'll cost her a bundle to tear it down.'
'Yes, but do you think we're really doing the right thing, Kaj? I mean, it only sticks over a few centimetres into our property and it's not really bothering us. And now poor Stig is sick in bed and everything.'
'Sick, oh yeah, thanks a lot. I'd be sick too if I had to live with that damn bitch. What's right is right. If they build a balcony that Infringes on our property, they're either going to have to pay or tear the bleeding thing down. They forced us to cut down our tree, didn't they? Our fine old birch tree, reduced to firewood, just because Lilian Florin thought it was blocking her view of the sea. Or am I wrong? Did I miss something here?' He turned spitefully towards his wife, incensed by the memory of all the injustices that had been done to them in the ten years they had been the florins' neighbours.
'No, Kaj, you're quite right.' Monica looked down, well aware that retreat was the best defence when her husband got in this mood. For him Lilian Florin was like a red flag to a bull, and it was no use talking to him about common sense and reason when her name came up. Though Monica had to admit that it wasn't only Kaj's fault there had been so much trouble. Lilian wasn't easy to take, and if she'd only left them in peace it never would have come to this. Instead she had dragged them through one court appearance after another, for everything from incorrectly drawn property lines, a path that went through the lot behind her house, a garden shed that she claimed stood too close to her property, and not least the fine old birch tree they'd been forced to cut down a couple of years ago. And it had all started when they began building the house they lived in now. Kaj had just sold his office supply business for several million kronor, and they had decided to take early retirement, sell the house in Goteborg, and settle down in Fjallbacka where they had always spent their summers. But they certainly hadn't found much peace. Lilian had voiced a thousand objections to the new construction. She had organized petitions and collected complaints to try and put obstacles in their way. When she failed to stop them, she'd begun to quarrel with them about everything imaginable. Exacerbated by Kaj's volatile temperament, the feud between the neighbours had escalated beyond all common sense. The balcony that the Florins had built was only the latest bone of contention in the battle. The fact that it looked as though the Wibergs would win had given Kaj the high ground, and he was happy to exploit it.
Kaj whispered excitedly as he stood peering out behind the curtain. 'Now two guys are coming out of the house and getting in the police car. Just you wait, now they're going to come knock on our door any minute. Well, whatever it's about, I'm going to tell them the facts. And Lilian Florin isn't the only one who can file a police report. Didn't she stand there screaming insults over the hedge a couple of days ago, saying she'd make sure I got what I deserved? Illegal intimidation, I think that's what it's called. She could go to jail for that…' Kaj licked his lips in anticipation and prepared for the coming battle.
Monica sighed and went back to the easy chair in the living room. She picked up a women's magazine and began to read. She no longer had the energy to care.
'We might as well drive over and talk to the friend and her mother, don't you
