Sara had always thought it was dumb to play with dolls. She said they were too old for that. Dolls were for babies, Sara had said, but Frida loved playing with dolls. Sara could be so tiresome sometimes. She always had to be the one to decide. Everything had to be the way she wanted it, or else she would sulk and break things. Mamma would get really mad at Sara when she broke Frida's things. Then Sara would have to go home, and Mamma would ring Sara's mamma and her voice sounded so angry. But when

Sara was nice then Frida liked her a lot, so she still wanted to play with her. Just hoping that she'd be nice.

She didn't understand what had happened to Sara. Mamma had explained that she was dead, that she drowned in the sea, but where was she then? In heaven, Mamma had said, but Frida had stood for a long, long time looking up at the sky, and she hadn't seen Sara. She was sure that if Sara had been in heaven she would have waved to her. Since she hadn't, that must mean she wasn't there. So the question was: where was she? She couldn't just disappear, could she? Imagine if Mamma disappeared like that. Frida felt scared all over. If Sara could disappear, could mammas disappear too? She hugged her doll tight to her chest, trying to push away that nasty idea.

There was something else she wondered about too. Mamma had said that the old men who came and rang the doorbell and told them about Sara were police officers. Frida knew that you were supposed to tell the police everything. You could never lie to them. But she had promised Sara not to tell anybody about the nasty old man. Did she have to keep her promise to someone who was gone? If Sara was gone, then she wouldn't find out that Frida had told about the old man. But what if she came back and heard that Frida had tattled? Then she'd be madder than she ever was before. She might even smash everything in Frida's room, including her doll. Frida decided that it was best not to say anything about the nasty old man.

'Flygare, have you got a minute?' Patrik had been careful to knock on Gösta's door, but he saw his colleague hastily shut down a golf game on his computer.

'Sure, I probably have a minute,' said Gösta sullenly, painfully aware that Patrik had glimpsed his less than noble pursuit during working hours. 'Is this about the girl?' he went on in a more pleasant tone. 'I heard from Annika that it wasn't an accident. Bloody awful,' he said, shaking his head.

'Yes, Ernst and I have just been out talking with the family,' Patrik said, taking a seat in the visitor's chair. 'We told them that now it's a murder investigation. We asked all the family members where they were at the time Sara disappeared, and whether they knew anyone who'd want to harm her.'

Gösta gave Patrik an inquisitive look. 'Do you think that someone in the family might have killed her?'

'Right now I don't think anything. But in any case, it's important to eliminate them from the investigation as soon as possible. At the same time we'll have to check whether there are any known sex offenders in the area.'

'But I thought the girl hadn't been violated, from what Annika told me,' said Gösta.

'Not according to what the M.E. could see, but a little girl who's been murdered…' Patrik didn't finish his sentence, but Gösta understood what he meant. There had been far too many stories in the media about the exploitation of children for them to ignore that possibility.

'On the other hand,' Patrik went on, 'to my surprise I got an immediate answer when I asked whether they knew anyone who might wish them harm.'

Gösta held up his hand. 'Let me guess: Lilian threw Kaj to the wolves.'

Patrik gave a little frown at the expression. 'Well, I suppose you could put it that way. In any event there doesn't seem to be any love lost between them. We canvassed the neighbourhood and had an informal interview with Kaj as well. You might say there are plenty of old grudges beneath the surface.'

Gösta snorted. 'Beneath the surface isn't the expression I'd use. It's a drama that's been going on in broad daylight for almost ten years. And personally I'm fed up with it.'

'Well, I gathered from Annika that you're the one who has taken the reports they've filed against each other over the years. Could you tell me a bit about them?'

Without answering at once, Gösta turned round and took a binder from the bookshelf behind his desk. He hastily paged through it and found what he was looking for.

'I only have stuff from the most recent years here; the rest is down in archives.'

Patrik nodded.

Gösta leafed through the binder, skimming over some of the pages he found.

'You might as well take this binder. There's a bunch of good details in here. Complaints from both sides about everything you could imagine.'

'About what, for example?'

"Trespassing – Kaj apparently cut across their property on one occasion, and his life was actually threatened – Lilian clearly said to Kaj that he should watch out if he valued his life.' Gösta kept paging through the binder. 'And then we have a number of complaints about Kaj's son, Morgan. Lilian claimed that he was spying on her, and I quote, " boys like that have an overdeveloped sex drive, I've heard, so he's surely planning to rape me," end quote. And this is just a small selection.'

Patrik shook his head in astonishment. 'Don't they have anything better to do?'

'Apparently not,' said Gösta dryly. 'And for some reason they always insist on coming to me with their woes. But I'll gladly let you take over for the time being,' he said, handing the binder to Patrik, who took it with some misgivings.

'But even if both Kaj and Lilian are quarrelsome devils, I find it hard to believe that Kaj would have gone so far as to kill the girl.'

'No doubt you're right,' said Patrik, getting up with the binder in his arms, 'but, as I said, now his name has been brought up, so I'm at least going to have to examine that possibility.'

Gösta hesitated. 'Let me know if you need any more help. Mellberg couldn't have been serious when he said that you and Ernst were supposed to take care of this by yourselves. It's a homicide investigation, after all. So if I can be of any assistance…'

'Thanks, I appreciate it. And I think you're right. Mellberg was probably just trying to rile me. Not even he could have meant that you and Martin wouldn't be allowed to help out. So I thought I'd call in everyone for a briefing, probably tomorrow. If Mellberg has anything against it, he'll have to speak up. But as I said, I don't think he will.'

He thanked Gösta with a nod before he left the office and turned left towards his own. Settled in his desk chair, he opened the binder and began to read. It turned out to be a journey through the pettiness of humankind.

Her hand shook a bit as she cautiously knocked on his window pane. The window was opened at once, and she thought with satisfaction that he must have been sitting there waiting for her. It was warm in the room, and she didn't know whether his cheeks were flushed from the warmth or from the prospect of the hours they had before them. Probably the latter, she thought, because she felt the same heat in her own face.

Finally they had arrived at the moment she had been longing for ever since she threw that first pebble against his window. She had instinctively known that she needed to proceed cautiously with him. And if there was one thing she knew how to do, it was to read men. Read them and then give them the woman they wanted. In Anders's case that meant she would have to play the shrinking violet for a couple of interminable weeks, even though she wanted to creep into his room and slip into his bed that very first evening. But she knew he would have been scared off by such behaviour. If she wanted to win him she would have to play the game. Whore or madonna. She could give men both.