He was interrupted in his thoughts by the phone. It was Viktorsson, calling to see where he was since he hadn’t shown up for the meeting. Wallander walked over to the district attorney’s office, nervous about running into Martinsson. But then he realized Martinsson had probably already left to be at Robert Modin’s side in Falk’s office.
The conversation with Viktorsson didn’t take long. Wallander forced himself to put all other thoughts aside and focused on the main events of the case. He told Viktorsson where they thought they were and what direction they were planning to take. Viktorsson asked a few questions but had no objection to what he had heard.
“What do you think you will find in Falk’s computer?”
“I don’t know. But I think it may help us clarify the issue of motive.”
“Did Falk commit any kind of a crime?”
“Not as far as we know.”
Viktorsson scratched his head.
“Do you know enough about these things? Shouldn’t experts from the National Police be stepping in here?”
“We have a local expert working on it for us. But we have decided to contact Stockholm.”
“I would urge you to do so as soon as possible. They can be touchy about these kinds of things. Who is this local expert?”
“His name is Robert Modin.”
“And he’s very good?”
“Better than most.”
Wallander realized he should tell Viktorsson the truth about Modin’s criminal past, but before he had gathered himself enough to do so, the moment was past. Wallander had in effect chosen to safeguard the investigation rather than himself. He had taken the first step on a path that could lead straight into personal disaster. Even if he escaped suspension for the business with Eva Persson, this could be the clincher. And Martinsson would have more than enough grounds to crush him.
“I take it you have been informed about the internal investigation that is now underway?” Viktorsson said abruptly. “The girl’s lawyer has filed a complaint with the Justice Department ombudsman as well as charging you with assault.”
“That picture tells a lie,” Wallander said. “Whatever anyone says, I was simply protecting the mother.”
Viktorsson didn’t say anything.
Is there anyone zuho believes me? Wallander thought. Anyone?
Wallander left the station at nine o’clock. He drove directly to the Hökbergs’ house. He had not called them in advance to notify them of his visit. The most important thing was to get away from the station for a while. He still felt it was too early to run into Martinsson. It would happen sooner or later, but right now he still didn’t trust his ability to control himself.
When he stepped out of his car the cell phone rang. It was Siv Eriksson.
“I’m sorry to have to bother you,” she said.
“No problem.”
“I’m calling because I need to talk to you.”
He suddenly could tell that she was upset. He pressed the phone closer to his ear and tried to turn out of the wind.
“Has anything happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. Please come as soon as possible.”
It must be urgent. He promised to drive over right away. The conversation with Sonja’s mother would have to wait. He drove back toward Ystad and parked in Lurendrejargrand. A wind from the east was bringing colder air into the region. Wallander pressed the bell to her apartment. She buzzed him in and came out to meet him on the landing. He saw that she was frightened. When they walked into the living room together, she stopped to light a cigarette. Her hands were shaking.
“What happened?” he asked.
It took a while for her to get the cigarette lit. She inhaled deeply, then put it out.
“I often go to see my mother,” she began. “She lives in Simrishamn, and I went to visit her yesterday. It got late and I decided to spend the night. When I got back this morning I saw what had happened.”
She interrupted herself and walked out into her study. Wallander followed her. She pointed to her computer.
“I had just sat down to work, but when I turned on the computer, nothing happened. At first I thought the computer had been unplugged, but then I realized what it was.”
She pointed to the screen.
“I don’t follow you,” Wallander said.
“Someone has deleted all my files,” she said. “My hard drive is completely empty. But it gets worse.”
She walked over to a cabinet and opened the doors.
“All of my backup disks are gone. Nothing is here. Nothing. I even have a reserve hard drive. That’s gone, too.”
Wallander looked around.
“So someone broke into your apartment last night.”
“But there are no signs of burglary. And how did they know I wasn’t going to be here last night?”
Wallander thought for a moment.
“Did you happen to leave a window open? Were there any marks on the front door?”
“No, I checked.”
“Does anyone else have the keys to your apartment?”
Her answer came slowly.
“Yes and no,” she said. “I gave Tynnes a set of spare keys.”
“Why did you do that?”
“So that he would have access to my apartment when I was away. In case anything happened. But he never used them as far as I know.”
Wallander nodded. He understood why she was so upset. Someone had used her spare keys to enter her apartment when she was away, and the only person who had had access to those keys was dead.
“Do you know where he kept them?”
“He said he was going to keep them in his apartment on Apelbergsgatan.”
Wallander nodded. He thought about the man who had tried to shoot him.
Perhaps he had finally been given the answer to what the man had been looking for.
The spare keys to Siv Eriksson’s apartment.
Chapter Thirty-One
For the first time since the beginning of the investigation, Wallander felt that he had a clear picture of what had happened.
After checking the front door and the windows of the apartment, he was convinced that Siv Eriksson was right. The person who had cleaned out her computer had used keys to enter her home. There was another conclusion he could also draw. Someone had been watching her and waiting for the right moment to strike.
They returned to the living room. She was still upset, and lit another cigarette that she also immediately put out. Wallander decided to wait a while before calling in Nyberg. There was something else he wanted to clarify first. He sat down across from her.
“Do you have any idea who might have done this?”
“No. It’s totally incomprehensible to me.”
“Your computer equipment must be quite valuable, but the burglar didn’t come for money. He wanted what was inside.”
“Everything is gone,” she repeated. “Everything. All my work. Even the hard drive I kept in reserve.”
“I imagine you must have used some kind of password to protect your work.”
“Of course I did.”
“But the burglar must have known what it was?”
“Or been able to get around it somehow.”
“Which means this was no ordinary burglar. It was someone who was very skilled with computers.”
She followed his train of thought now and understood where he was trying to go.
“I haven’t even been able to think that far,” she said. “I’ve been too distraught.”
“That’s understandable. What was your password?”
“‘Cookie.’ That was my nickname when I was a child.”
“Did anyone else know about it?”
“No.”
“What about Falk?”
“No.”