‘It all fits, don’t you think?’ said Patrik with the same excitement in his voice.

‘So if we catch the person who killed Lillemor Persson, we also solve the other murders,’ Martin said quietly.

‘Yes. Or vice versa. If we solve the other cases, we find the person who killed Lillemor.’

Both sat silent for a moment.

‘What have we got now to go on in the Lillemor investigation?’ Patrik asked rhetorically. ‘We have the dog hairs and we have the tape from the night of the murder. You looked at all the footage again on Monday. Did you see anything else of interest?’

Something stirred in Martin’s subconscious, but it refused to come up to the surface, so he shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t see anything new. Only what Hanna and I reported from that evening.’

‘Then we’ll have to start by checking the list of the dog owners. I got it from Annika the other day.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll go and tell the others the news.’

‘Do that,’ said Martin absentmindedly. He was still trying to remember what had slipped his mind. What the hell was it he’d seen on the video? Or not seen? The more he tried to pinpoint it, the further away it slipped. He sighed. Might as well drop it for a while.

The news hit the station like a bomb. At first everyone reacted with the same disbelief as Martin, but when Patrik presented the facts in the case they accepted the news with ever increasing enthusiasm. Once they were all informed, Patrik went back to his desk to try and formulate a strategy for how they should proceed.

‘That was some shocking news you uncovered,’ said Gösta from the doorway. Patrik simply nodded. ‘Come in, have a seat,’ he said, and Gösta sat down in the visitor’s chair.

‘The only problem is that I don’t know how to put it all together,’ said Patrik. ‘I thought I’d go over the list of dog owners that you compiled and look through the documents that arrived from Ortboda.’ He pointed at the fax lying on his desk. It had arrived ten minutes earlier.

‘Yep, there’s a good deal to go over,’ Gösta sighed, looking around at all the things pinned up on the walls. ‘It’s like some gigantic spider web, but without any clue to where the spider has gone.’

Patrik chuckled. I didn’t know you had such a poetic streak, Gösta.’

Gösta only muttered in reply. Then he got up and walked slowly around the room, his face only inches from the documents and photographs that were pinned up.

‘There must be something, some detail that we missed,’ he said.

‘Well, if you find anything I’d be more than grateful. I seem to have stared myself blind at all this.’ Patrik swept his hand round the office.

‘Personally I don’t understand how you can work with these pictures all around you.’ Gösta pointed at the photos of the dead victims that were arranged in the order they’d been killed. Elsa closest to the window, and Marit near the door.

‘You haven’t put up Jan-Olov yet,’ Gösta then said dryly, pointing at the space to the right of Elsa Forsell.

‘No, I haven’t got around to it,’ said Patrik, casting a glance at his colleague. Sometimes the man had a sudden inclination to work, the good Gösta Flygare, and this was clearly one of those times.

‘Shall I get out of your way?’ said Patrik as Gösta tried to squeeze in behind his desk chair.

‘Yes, that would help,’ said Gösta, stepping aside to let Patrik by. Patrik went and leaned on the opposite wall and crossed his arms. It was probably a good idea that someone was taking another look.

‘You got all the book pages back from NCL, I see.’ Gösta turned to look at Patrik.

‘They arrived yesterday. The only page we don’t have is Jan-Olov’s. But the police no longer had it.’

‘That’s a shame,’ said Gösta, still moving back in time in the direction of Elsa Forsell. ‘I wonder why it’s Hansel and Gretel specifically,’ he said pensively. ‘Is it random, or does it have some meaning?’

‘I wish I knew. There’s a lot more I wish I knew too.’

‘Hmm,’ said Gösta, now standing in front of the section of the wall where the photos and documents dealing with Elsa were pinned up.

‘I rang Uddevalla,’ Patrik said, anticipating Gösta’s question. ‘They haven’t found the files about her accident yet. But they’ll fax over the documents as soon as they locate them.’

Gösta didn’t reply. He just stood there in silence for a while, gazing at what was displayed on the wall. The spring sunshine filtered in from the window, illuminating some of the papers in bright light. He frowned. Took half a step back. Then leaned forward again, this time so close that he almost pressed his ear to the wall. Patrik observed him in amazement. What was the guy doing?

Gösta seemed to be studying the book page from the side. Elsa’s page was the first in the fairy tale, and the story of Hansel and Gretel began there. With a triumphant expression Gösta turned to Patrik.

‘Stand over here where I’m standing,’ said Gösta, taking a step to the side.

Patrik hurried to take up the same position, leaned his head close to the wall by the book page, just as Gösta had done. And there, in the backlight from the window, he saw what Gösta had discovered.

Sofie felt as if she were frozen inside. She watched the coffin being lowered into the ground. Watched, but didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand. How could it be her mamma lying in the coffin?

The pastor spoke, or at least his lips were moving, but Sofie couldn’t hear what he said because of the white noise in her ears that drowned out everything else. She glanced at her pappa. Ola looked solemn and withdrawn, with his head bowed and his arm around Grandma. Sofie’s maternal grandparents had come down from Norway yesterday. They looked different from the way she remembered them, though she had seen them last Christmas. But they seemed shorter, greyer, thinner. Grandma had furrows on her face that weren’t there before, and Sofie hadn’t known how to approach her. Grandpa had also changed. He was more silent, more vague. He had always been cheerful and boisterous, but this time he had just wandered about the flat, speaking only when spoken to.

Out of the corner of her eye Sofie saw something moving by the gate, on the other side of the churchyard. She turned her head and saw Kerstin standing there in her red coat, her hands clutching the grating of the gate. Sofie had to look away. She felt ashamed. Because Pappa was standing here but not Kerstin. Ashamed that she hadn’t fought for Kerstin’s right to be here and say farewell to Marit. But Pappa had been so belligerent, so determined. And she simply couldn’t fight him anymore. He’d been berating her ever since he found out she’d given the newspaper article about Marit to the police. He said that she’d disgraced the whole family. Made a fool of him. Then he had started talking about the funeral, saying that it would be only for close relatives, Marit’s family. He hoped ‘that person’ wouldn’t dare show herself. So Sofie had taken the only way out and shut up. She knew it was wrong, but Pappa was so hateful, so furious, that she knew trying to protest would have cost her too much.

But when Sofie saw Kerstin’s face in the distance she was deeply sorry. There stood her mamma’s life partner, alone, with no chance to say a last farewell. Sofie should have been braver. She should have been stronger. Kerstin hadn’t even been mentioned in the obituary in the paper. Instead Ola had submitted a death announcement in which he, Sofie, and Marit’s parents were listed as the closest family members. But Kerstin had sent in one of her own. Ola was livid when he saw it in the paper, but he couldn’t do a thing about it.

Suddenly Sofie was so tired of everything: all the hyp o crisy, the injustice. She took a step onto the gravel path, hesitated a second, and then strode rapidly towards Kerstin. For a moment she again felt her mother’s hand on her shoulder, and Sofie smiled when she threw herself into Kerstin’s arms.