'Was it a sex crime?' The same reporter again.

'I can't go into that,' Mellberg said vaguely.

'How did you confirm it was murder?' the third journalist interjected. 'Did she have external injuries that indicated it was homicide?'

'For investigative reasons I can't comment on that,' said Mellberg, seeing how the frustration was growing on the reporters' faces. It was always like walking a slack line where the press was concerned. Give them just enough so that they felt the police were doing their job, but not so much that it hurt the investigation. Usually he regarded himself as a master of this balancing act, but today he was having a hard time with it. He didn't know what to do about the information he had received in the letter. Could it really be true?

One of the reporters gave him a querulous look, and Mellberg realized he'd missed a question.

'Pardon me, could you please repeat the question?' he said in confusion, and the reporter's expression turned quizzical. They had met at several of these types of meetings, and the superintendent usually acted grandiose and boastful, rather than low-key and absent-minded as he was today.

'All right. I asked whether there is any reason for parents in the area to worry about the safety of their children.'

'We always recommend that parents keep a close eye on their children, but I want to emphasize that this shouldn't lead to any sort of mass hysteria. I'm convinced that this is an isolated event and that we will soon have a suspect in custody.'

He stood up as a sign that the meeting was over. The reporters obediently put away their notebooks and pens and thanked him. They all felt that they might have questioned the superintendent a bit harder, but at the same time it was important for the regional press to maintain a good relationship with the local police. They would leave the hard-hitting questions to their colleagues in the big cities. Here in Bohuslän they were often neighbours of the subjects of their interviews. They had children in the same sports leagues and schools, so they had to forgo any desire to get the big scoop for the sake of harmony in the community.

Mellberg leaned back contentedly. Despite his lack of focus, the newspapers hadn't received more information than he intended to give, and tomorrow the news would be plastered on the front pages of all the papers in the area. Hopefully that would make the general public wake up and start calling in tips. If the police were lucky, there might even be something they could use among all the gossip that usually came in.

He pulled out the letter and began reading it again. He still couldn't believe his eyes.

She lay in her room with a cold, damp washcloth on her forehead. The doctor had examined her carefully and then ordered bed rest. Now he was downstairs in the parlour talking with her father, and for a moment she worried that there might be something seriously wrong with her. An expression of alarm had appeared in his eyes, but it was gone the next instant. Then he patted her hand and told her that everything would be all right. She just needed to rest for a while.

She couldn't tell the good doctor the real reason for her malaise. All those late nights during the winter had affected her health. That was the diagnosis she had come up with herself, but she had to keep it a secret. Hopefully Dr Fern would write a prescription for some restorative drops for her. Since she had now decided to terminate her escapades with Anders, she should soon be her old self again. In the meantime it couldn't hurt to stay in bed and be waited on for a week or two. Agnes pondered what she should ask to have for lunch. Now that she had lost yesterday's dinner in the WC, she could feel her stomach growling and asking to be filled. Maybe pancakes, or those excellent meatballs the cook made, with boiled potatoes, cream gravy and lingonberries.

Footsteps on the stairs made her shrink a little farther under the covers and moan a bit. She would ask for meatballs, she decided, the second before the door to her room opened.

Anger had been growing inside him since the previous day. The nerve of her, that damned woman really had no scruples at all. Fingering him to the police. Kaj wasn't stupid; he knew full well that the rumours would soon start flying all over town, so it really didn't make any difference what he said. The only thing that would slick in people's minds was that the police had been to his house to ask questions about the girl's death. He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. After a moment of hesitation he put on his jacket and went outside, walking with determined steps. The plank fence he'd put up between the lots prevented him from cutting straight across, so he went out to the street and then up the drive toward the Florins' house. He had checked that both Niclas and Charlotte had left the house before he approached. He was going to give her a piece of his mind, that bitch. Since he assumed that she, like everyone else in town, seldom locked her front door, he walked right in without knocking and went straight to the kitchen. She jumped when he came in but quickly collected herself, and her face took on that snippy, holier-than-thou expression. She really thought she was somebody. As if she were a bloody queen and not just an ordinary old bag in a fucking small town.

'What the hell's the meaning of sending the police over to my house?' he yelled, slamming his fist on the kitchen table.

She gave him a cold stare. 'They asked if we knew of anyone who might wish our family harm, so I immediately thought of you. And if you don't hurry up and get out of my house, I'm going to call the police. Then they can see for themselves what you're capable of.'

He had to restrain himself from lunging at her and putting his hands around her throat. Her apparent calm only intensified his rage, and spots began to dance before his eyes.

'Just try it, you shitty fucking bitch!'

'Don't think I wouldn't. Because you can bet I will. You've continually harassed me and my family and threatened and badgered us.' She put her hand to her breast in a histrionic fashion and assumed the martyr expression that he'd learned to hate over the years.

Yet once again she succeeded in pulling off the same trick. To portray him as the villain and herself as the victim. When it was actually just the opposite. He had tried to be the better person, he really had. Tried to remain above the fray and refuse to sink to her level. But a couple of years ago he'd decided that if it was war she wanted, it was war she was going to get. Since then it had been no holds barred.

He again had to restrain himself and simply hissed through clenched teeth: 'You didn't succeed, at any rate. The police didn't seem very inclined to believe your lies about me.'

'Well, there are several other possibilities that the police can investigate,' Lilian said in a nasty tone of voice.

'What do you mean?' Kaj asked, but he answered his own question when he realized what she was getting at. 'You leave Morgan out of this, do you hear me?'

'I hardly need to say a thing.' Her tone was even more malevolent. 'The police will no doubt soon discover for themselves that there's someone living next door who isn't quite right in the head. And everyone knows what someone like that might do. If not, all they have to do is look at the reports on file.'

'Those complaints were pure bullshit, and you know it! Morgan has never even set foot on your property, much less run around looking in your windows.'

'Well, I know what I saw,' said Lilian. 'And the police will work it out as well, as soon as they look through the reports.'