He went out to the garage and took the one remaining police vehicle. Martin and Paula had taken the other one to Uddevalla. Forty minutes later he parked outside Strömstad hospital. The receptionist told him that Mattias was in stable condition and then explained how to find the patient’s room.

Gösta took a deep breath before entering the room. No doubt there would be family members with the boy. Gösta didn’t like meeting relatives. It was always so emotional, making it so hard to stick to the task at hand. Yet at times he’d actually surprised both his colleagues and himself by displaying a certain sensitivity when talking to people in traumatic situations. If he’d had the energy and the will-power, he might have been able to utilize that talent in his job and turn it into an asset. Instead, it rarely made an appearance these days, and for him it wasn’t a particularly welcome guest.

‘Did you get him?’ A tall man wearing a suit and tie stood up when he entered the room. He’d had his arms around a sobbing woman. Gösta assumed this must be the mother, judging by her resemblance to the boy in the hospital bed. Or rather, her resemblance to the boy Gösta had interviewed outside the Frankels’ house; the Mattias he was looking at now was unrecognizable. His face was like a swollen, inflamed wound with emerging bruises. His lips were twice the normal size, and he seemed able to use only one eye. The other was swollen shut.

‘When I get hold of that… bastard,’ swore Mattias’s father, clenching his fists. He had tears in his eyes, but despite Gösta’s qualms about dealing with family members he resolved to press on and do his job, especially since his feelings of guilt had intensified at the sight of Mattias’s pummelled face.

‘Let the police handle it,’ said Gösta, sitting down in a chair next to them. He introduced himself and then gave Mattias’s parents a stern look to make sure they were listening.

‘We took Per Ringholm down to the station to interview him. He admitted to beating up your son, and he will definitely suffer the consequences. At the moment, I don’t know what they may be; that’s up to the prosecutor to decide.’

‘But you’ve got him locked up, right?’ said Mattias’s mother, her lips quivering.

‘Not right now. It’s only in exceptional cases that the prosecutor will take a minor into custody. So he was sent home with his mother while we conduct an investigation. We’ve also brought social services into the picture.’

‘So he was allowed to go home to his mother, while my son lies here and…’ said Mattias’s father, his voice breaking. In disbelief he looked from Gösta to his son.

‘For the time being, yes. As I said, there will be consequences, I can promise you that. But I need to have a few words with your son, if possible, to make sure we’ve covered everything.’

Mattias’s parents looked at each other and then nodded.

‘Okay, but only if he feels up to it. He’s not fully conscious all the time. They’ve got him on pain medication.’

‘We’ll let him decide how long he wants to talk,’ said Gösta soothingly as he moved his chair over to the bed. He had some trouble understanding the boy’s slurred words, but in the end he had the whole story confirmed. His account matched what Per had told them.

When he was done questioning Mattias, he turned to the boy’s parents.

‘Is it all right if I take his fingerprints?’

Once again the parents exchanged glances. And again it was Mattias’s father who spoke. ‘All right, go ahead. If it’s necessary to…’ He didn’t finish the sentence, just looked at his son with tears in his eyes.

‘It’ll only take a minute,’ said Gösta, getting out the finger-printing equipment.

A short time later he was back in his vehicle, looking at the box displaying Mattias’s fingerprints. They might not have any significance to the case. But he’d done his job. At last. That was some small consolation, at least.

‘The final stop for today, okay?’ said Martin as he climbed out of the police car in front of the editorial offices of Bohusläningen.

‘Sounds good. It’s about time to head for home,’ said Paula, looking at her watch. She hadn’t said a word after their visit to the offices of Sweden’s Friends, and Martin had let her ruminate in peace. He understood how hard it must be for her to be confronted by that type of person. The sort that judged her before she even had time to say hello, who saw only the colour of her skin, nothing else. He found it unpleasant too, but with his chalk-white complexion and fiery red hair, he was never subjected to the kind of stares that Paula had to endure. He’d suffered a certain amount of teasing in school because of his hair, but that was long ago, and it wasn’t the same thing at all.

‘We’re looking for Kjell Ringholm,’ said Paula, leaning over the reception desk.

‘Just a minute and I’ll tell him you’re here.’ The receptionist picked up the phone to let Ringholm know that he had visitors.

‘Please have a seat. He’ll be right out.’

‘Thank you.’ They sat down on two armchairs next to a coffee table. After a few minutes a rather pudgy man with dark hair and a dark beard came towards them. Paula thought that he looked a lot like Björn from ABBA. Or Benny. She could never tell which was which.

‘Kjell Ringholm,’ he said, shaking hands with them. His handshake was firm, bordering on painful, and Martin couldn’t help grimacing.

He led the way to his office and invited them to sit, then said, ‘I thought I knew all the police officers in Uddevalla, but I must say that you’re both new faces to me. Who do you work for?’ Kjell sat down behind his desk, which was cluttered with papers.

‘We’re from the Tanumshede station, not Uddevalla.’

‘Is that so?’ said Kjell, looking surprised. Paula thought she caught a momentary flash of something else, but it vanished instantly. ‘Well, what’s on your mind?’ He leaned back, clasping his hands over his stomach.

‘First of all, we have to tell you that today we brought your son down to the station after he assaulted one of his classmates,’ said Martin.

The man behind the desk sat up straight. ‘What? Are you telling me you’ve arrested Per? Who was it he…? How is…?’ He stumbled over the words pouring out of his mouth, and Paula waited for him to pause so they could answer his questions.

‘He beat up a student named Mattias Larsson. The boy was taken to hospital, and the latest report is that he’s in stable condition, but he has sustained serious injuries.’

‘What?’ Kjell seemed to be having a hard time taking in what they were telling him. ‘Why didn’t you phone me earlier? It sounds as though this must have happened hours ago.’

‘The school phoned Per’s mother, so she came to the station and was present when we interviewed him. Then he was allowed to go home with her.’

‘It’s not exactly an ideal home situation, as you may have guessed,’ said Kjell, looking at both Paula and Martin.

‘From the interview we understood that there were certain… problems.’ Martin hesitated. ‘So we’ve asked social services to look into the situation.’

Kjell sighed. ‘I should have dealt with the matter sooner. But other things kept coming up. I don’t know…’ He stared at a photograph on his desk, showing a blonde woman and two children who looked to be about nine years old. For a moment nobody spoke. Then Kjell asked, ‘What happens now?’

‘The prosecutor will look over the case and then decide how to proceed. But it’s a serious matter.’

Kjell waved his hand. ‘I understand. Believe me, I don’t take this lightly. I can see how serious it is. You’ve experience in these cases, what do you think will…’ He glanced at the photo again, but then turned his gaze to the police officers.

It was Paula who answered. ‘It’s hard to say. My best guess is a home for troubled youth.’

Kjell nodded wearily. ‘That actually might be for the best. Per has been… difficult for a long time, so maybe this will force him to understand how serious it is. But it hasn’t been easy for him. I haven’t been much help, and his mother… Well, you could see what the situation is. But she wasn’t always like that. It was the divorce that…’ His voice faded, and he glanced again at the photograph on his desk. ‘It was really hard on her.’