Out of the corner of her eye she saw Per-Erik watching her with a concerned look on his face. She discovered that she had a broad smile on her lips and quickly stifled it. It was important to maintain appearances. That's what Mother always said. And Mother was always right.

The sound of the sirens could be heard from far away. Stig wanted to sit up and protest, demand that they turn the ambulance around and drive him home. But his limbs refused to obey him, and when he tried to speak only a croaking sound came from his lips. Lilian's worried face hovered above him. 'Shh, don't try to talk. Save your energy. We'll be in Uddevalla soon.'

Reluctantly he gave up any attempt to struggle. He hadn't the energy. The pain was still there, and now it was worse than ever.

It had happened so fast. In the morning he had felt quite well and had even managed to eat a little. But then the pain level had risen more and more, and finally it became unbearable. When Lilian came upstairs with morning tea, he was no longer able to speak, and she had dropped the tray in fright. Then the whole circus started up. The sound of sirens outside, stomping on the stairs, hands that carefully lifted him onto a gurney and loaded him into an ambulance. Followed by a high-speed drive, though he was only vaguely aware of it.

The fear of landing in hospital was even worse than the pain he felt. In his mind he saw over and over the image of his father as he lay in the hospital bed, so small and pitiful, so different from the boisterous, happy man who used to lift him up in the air when he was little and affectionately wrestled with him when he was older. Now Stig knew that he was going to die. If he ended up in hospital it was only a matter of time.

He wished he could raise his hand and stroke Lilian's cheek.

Such a brief time they'd had together. Sure, they'd had their quarrels and bad patches, when he thought they might even go their separate ways, but they had managed to find their way back to each other. Now she would have to find someone else to grow old with.

He would also miss Charlotte and the children. The child, he corrected himself, and felt a pang in his heart, a pain that was more than physical. It was the only positive thing he could see about what had happened. He was firmly convinced that there was life after death, a better place. Maybe he could meet the girl there and find out what actually happened on that morning.

He felt Lilian's hand on his cheek. Unconsciousness began to dissolve reality, and he gratefully shut his eyes. It would be pleasant at least to escape from the pain.

The wind whipped at him as he walked towards Morgan's little cabin. Ernst's enthusiasm had dissipated somewhat on the way over, but he was now excited again, now that he had his prey within reach.

An authoritative knock would launch his road to victory, and it was rewarded a few seconds later with the sound of footsteps inside. Morgan's thin face appeared in the doorway, and in his odd, monotone voice he said, 'What do you want?'

His direct question took Ernst by surprise, and he had to regroup mentally for a moment before he spoke. 'You have to come with me to the police station.'

'Why?' Morgan asked, and Ernst felt irritation creeping over him. What a bizarre person this guy was.

'Because we need to talk to you about a few things.'

'You took my computers. I don't have my computers anymore. You took them,' Morgan chanted, and Ernst saw an opportunity open up.

'Precisely, and that's why you have to come with me. So we can give you back your computers. We're finished with them, you see.' Ernst was incredibly pleased with his stroke of genius.

'Why can't you bring them here? You took them from here.'

'Do you want the computers or not?' Ernst exploded. His patience was now seriously starting to wear thin.

After a moment of hesitation and some internal deliberation, the prospect of getting his computers back conquered Morgan's reluctance to venture into uncharted territory.

'I'll come along. So that I can pick up my computers.'

'Fine. Good boy,' said Ernst, smiling to himself as Morgan went to fetch his jacket.

They sat in silence during the whole trip to the station. Morgan stared out of the window on his side, and Ernst saw no reason to engage in small talk. He was saving his ammunition for the official interview. Then he would no doubt get the idiot to talk.

Once they arrived at the station one tiny dilemma remained. How was Ernst going to get the interrogation subject inside without any of the others noticing what he was up to? Such a discovery would ruin his whole brilliant plan; that must not happen under any circumstances. Finally he came up with a fool-proof idea. From his mobile he rang to the reception, and in a disguised voice he told Annika that he had a package to deliver to the rear entrance. He waited a few seconds, keeping a tight grip on Morgan, then with his heart in his throat he led the way to the main entrance, hoping that Annika had hurried off to the other end of the station. It worked. She wasn't in her usual spot. Ernst quickly pulled Morgan past the reception and into the nearest interview room. He closed the door behind him and locked it, then permitted himself a little triumphant smile before he invited Morgan to sit down on one of the chairs. Someone had left a window half open to air the place out. It was unhooked and flapping in the breeze. Ernst ignored the noise. He wanted to get started as soon as possible before someone tried to poke their head in here.

'So-o-o, my friend, here we are.' Ernst made a big production out of turning on the tape recorder.

Morgan's eyes had begun to wander. Something told him that everything was not as it should be.

'You're not my friend,' he said matter-of-factly. 'We don't know each other, so how could you be my friend? Friends know each other.' After a moment's pause he went on. 'I'm supposed to pick up my computers. That's why I came here. You said that my computers were ready.'

'I did say that, yes,' said Ernst with a sneer. 'But you see, I lied. And you're right about one thing: I'm not your friend. Right now I'm your worst enemy.' A bit dramatic perhaps, but Ernst was cruelly pleased with that line. He recalled hearing it once in a film.

'I don't want to be here anymore,' said Morgan and began looking towards the door. 'I want my computers back and I want to go home.'

'You can forget about that. It'll be a long time before you're going to see your home again.' Damn, he was good. He really ought to write screenplays for American action films. He went on. 'We found her jacket in your cabin, and we have plenty of other forensic evidence showing you were the one who murdered her.' Pure lies, the latter statement, but Morgan didn't know that. And in this game there were no rules.

'But I didn't kill her. Even though I wanted to sometimes,' he added tonelessly.

Ernst felt his heart leap. This was going better than he'd ever imagined.

'It's no use trying to feed me those lies. We have other forensic evidence and we have the jacket, so we don't really need anything else. But it's clear, it would be better for you if you told me how you did it. Then maybe you won't have to do life in prison. You won't be able to have any computers in there.'

Now he saw for the first time a genuine emotion in the idiot's face. Good, it looked like panic was starting to set in. Then he'd be softened up soon. But to improve the situation even more he would try a little trick he'd learned from NYPD Blue and the other cop shows from the States that he followed slavishly. He would leave the guy to sweat it out all alone for a while. If he was given time to think about his situation he would confess quicker than Ernst could say 'Andy Sipowicz'.