A small tiled stove with a delicate flower pattern had been preserved over the years. In the winter it warmed the whole ground floor. Since there were power outages occasionally in the archipelago, it was a useful asset.
Upstairs there were two bedrooms, one for her and Henrik and one for the boys. When they’d moved in they had treated the house to a complete and much-needed renovation of the kitchen and bathroom. Nothing too over the top, just enough to make it functional and inviting.
The best thing about the house, however, was the sunny, old-fashioned greenhouse; she had filled the windowsills with Mårbacka pelargoniums. From there, it was possible—with a little bit of effort—to catch a glimpse of the sea to the west. The main thing visible, however, was Signe’s house, rising up on the hill and making Nora’s place look like a little hut by comparison.
“Hi, we’re home,” Nora shouted up the stairs to Henrik, but the house was silent. She had been nursing a faint hope that he might have gotten Adam up while she was out with Simon, but obviously they were still asleep. Despite the fact that Henrik was used to going without sleep for many hours when he was on duty at the hospital, he had no problem making up for it when they were on vacation.
With a sigh she started up the stairs.
“Boo!”
Nora jumped as Adam leaped out from behind the bathroom door.
“Were you scared?” He was beaming. “Daddy’s still asleep. But I made my bed.”
Nora gave him a hug. She could feel his ribs under his T-shirt. Where had her chubby baby gone, and where had this skinny little creature come from?
“Come on, you need something to eat before your swimming lesson.”
She took him by the hand and went down to the kitchen. As she got out the fresh rolls she’d bought on the way home, Adam set the table.
“Don’t forget your insulin, Mom,” he reminded her.
Nora smiled and tried to sneak an extra hug. He was a typical big brother, responsible and caring. Since he’d been old enough to understand how important it was for a type 1 diabetic like her to take her insulin before every meal, he had made it his job to remind her. Whenever she was a little careless, particularly when they weren’t at home and were eating snacks, he got terribly anxious and told her off.
She opened the fridge and took out the pen-like device she used to inject herself with insulin. With an exaggerated gesture she held it up and showed it to Adam.
“There we are, General! Mission accomplished!”
With practiced hands she fitted the ampule to the syringe and injected the insulin into her stomach just below the navel. To her relief it appeared that neither Simon nor Adam showed any sign of developing diabetes, but it was impossible to be completely certain until they were fully grown.
She could hear Simon running in to Henrik and doing his best to wake him up by jumping up and down on the bed, which was fine by her. If she took Simon early in the morning, Henrik could at least make sure Adam got off to his lesson. And besides, Thomas was coming for coffee.
CHAPTER 6
The police station on Sandhamn shared its accommodation with the post office. It was a buff-colored building that looked like a typical vacation home, situated just below the old sandpit, known as Gropen, or the Hollow.
Inside was a modern office with a dozen workstations and a meeting room. About fifteen people worked there, mainly women, and they dealt with most things, from violent crime and robbery to stolen cell phones and bicycles. The station opened early in the morning and didn’t close until ten o’clock at night.
As the station was linked to the police intranet, it was no problem for Thomas to use one of the terminals to write up and send his report on the dead man. There wasn’t much to say, apart from the fact that they had found a body, cause of death unknown.
While he was there, he took a look at the register of missing persons.
In the district of Stockholm, two men had been reported missing. One was retired, aged seventy-four, with dementia. The report had come in two days ago.
He’s probably lost in some clearing in the forest, poor guy, thought Thomas. If they didn’t find him soon, he’d die of exhaustion and dehydration. It wasn’t particularly unusual.
The other was a man in his fifties, Krister Berggren, who worked in an off-license that was part of the state-owned alcohol monopoly, Systembolaget, commonly known as Systemet. His employer had contacted the police at the beginning of April when he’d failed to turn up for work for ten days. He hadn’t been seen since Easter weekend, the last week in March. Krister Berggren was of medium height, had dark-blond hair, and had worked at Systemet since 1971, immediately after leaving school, if Thomas’s calculation was correct.
Thomas took out his cell phone and called Carina, the DCI’s surprisingly pretty daughter, who worked as an administrative assistant with the police in Nacka as experience for her application to the police training academy.
“Hi, Carina, it’s Thomas. Can you get in touch with the pathologists and tell them the body that’s coming in might be a match for one Krister Berggren from Bandhagen, who’s been missing for a few months?” Thomas gave her Berggren’s ID number and address. “And you might as well find out who we’ll need to contact if it is a match. If we’re lucky, they might find a driver’s license or ID card on him when they do the preliminary exam.”
He looked back at the description of Krister Berggren on the screen. Through the window he could hear the laughter of a group of children cycling past. Another reminder that it was summer, and he’d soon be able to take off to Harö, the only place he’d found a sense of calm since Emily died. He suddenly felt a powerful longing to be sitting alone in peace on the jetty.
“It would be nice if we could solve the case this quickly and easily,” he said to Carina. “It’s nearly vacation time, after all.”
THURSDAY, THE FIRST WEEK
CHAPTER 7
When Thomas walked into Nacka station on Thursday morning, Carina was ready and waiting. She pushed over the report that had just arrived, stamped with the pathology department logo.
“This just came in. The dead man on Sandhamn was Krister Berggren, as you thought. His wallet was in his pocket, and it was possible to make out the text on his driver’s license, even though it had been in the water for so long.”
As Thomas read through the report, Carina studied him. Ever since she’d started at Nacka she had been stealing glances at him. There was something about him that attracted her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
He had thick blond hair, cut very short, and she had the feeling it would grow wild if it weren’t tamed. There was something outdoorsy about him; it was obvious he liked to spend time in the fresh air. Around his eyes there was a mass of tiny lines, from years of squinting into the sun. He was fit and tall. She was quite a bit shorter than Thomas.