'I have to go take a piss. We'll continue this conversation in a moment.' He turned his back on Morgan and started towards the door.

Morgan was now babbling incessantly in an entreating tone. 'I didn't do it. I can't sit in prison for the rest of my life. I didn't kill her. I don't know how the jacket ended up at my place. She was wearing it when she went into her house. Please, don't leave me here. Get my mamma, I want to talk to Mamma. Mamma can work all this out, please

Ernst quickly shut the door behind him so the idiot's babble wouldn't be heard out in the corridor. After a couple of steps Annika caught sight of him and gave him a suspicious look.

'What were you doing in there?'

'Oh, I was just checking something. I thought I left my wallet in one of the interview rooms.'

She didn't look as though she believed him, but let it go. The next second she looked out of the window and cried, 'What in the world?'

'What is it?' said Ernst, feeling a sudden pang of uneasiness in his stomach.

'A guy just climbed out one of the windows and now he's running towards the highway.'

'What the hell!' Ernst almost dislocated his shoulder as he slammed against the door, in his haste forgetting that it was always locked.

'Open the door, for God's sake!' he yelled at Annika, and she obeyed in fright. He tore open the second door and dashed out after Morgan. He saw Morgan look back and run even faster. In horror Ernst saw a black mini-van approaching at speed.

'No-o-o-o!' he shrieked in panic.

Then came the thud and everything was quiet.

Martin wondered what it was that Charlotte and Niclas had been in such a hurry to talk to Patrik about. He hoped it was something that would allow them to remove Niclas from the list of suspects. The thought that the murderer might be the girl's own father was too horrendous to contemplate.

He couldn't get a handle on Niclas. Albin's medical reports were pretty serious, and Niclas hadn't managed to convince him that he was innocent of inflicting injuries on the boy. And yet there was something that didn't fit. Niclas was a complex man, to say the least. He gave the impression of a kind and stable person when you sat eye to eye with him, but he seemed to have made a total mess of his private life. Although Martin had been no angel in his swinging single days, now that he was living with someone he couldn't understand how anyone could betray his better half like that. What did Niclas tell Charlotte when he came home after being with Jeanette? How could he make his tone of voice sound natural? How could he look her in the eye after rolling around in bed with his lover only a few hours earlier? Martin simply couldn't understand it.

Niclas had displayed a temperament that was difficult to pinpoint. Martin had seen the look in his eyes when he turned up at his father's house earlier in the day. Niclas looked like he'd wanted to kill his father. God knows what might have happened if Martin hadn't shown up.

And yet. Despite Niclas's contradictory nature Martin didn't believe that he knowingly and willingly would have drowned his own daughter. And what would have been his motive for doing so?

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard footsteps in the corridor and saw Charlotte and Niclas hurry past. He was curious to know what the rush was.

Patrik appeared in the doorway, and Martin raised his eyebrows as he gave his colleague an inquiring look.

'It was Sara who hurt Albin,' Patrik said, sitting down in the visitor's chair.

Whatever Martin was expecting, it certainly wasn't that. 'How do we know they're telling the truth? Couldn't Niclas be trying to divert attention from himself?'

'Yeah, he could be, of course,' said Patrik wearily. 'But I have to say that I believe them. Even though we do have to substantiate their story. They gave me names and phone numbers of people we can contact. And Niclas's alibi does seem to hold up after all. He claims that Jeanette lied when she said he wasn't with her, as a way to get back at him after he dumped her. And there too I'm inclined to take him at his word, although naturally we'll have to have a serious talk with Jeanette.'

'What a screwed-up…' said Martin, and he didn't have to finish his sentence before Patrik agreed.

'Yes, humanity has not shown its noblest side in this investigation,' he said, shaking his head. 'And apropos that very subject, should we get started on that interview now?'

Martin nodded, took his notebook and got up to follow Patrik, who was already on his way out the door. To his back he said, 'By the way, have you heard anything from Pedersen yet? About the ashes on the little boy's shirt?'

'No,' replied Patrik without turning round. 'But they were going to shift into high gear and analyse both the shirt and Maja's overalls ASAP. I'd be willing to bet that they'll find the ashes came from the same source.'

'Whatever that may be,' said Martin.

'Yeah, whatever that may be.'

They entered the interrogation room and sat down across from Kaj. No one said a word at first as Patrik calmly leafed through his papers. He saw to his satisfaction that Kaj was nervously wringing his hands, and that tiny drops of sweat had formed on his upper lip. Good, he was scared. That would make the questioning easier. And considering how much evidence they'd gathered from the search of the house, Patrik didn't feel worried in the least. If only they had evidence this good in all their investigations, life would be much easier.

Then his mood shifted. He'd come to a photostat of the boy's suicide note, and it was an abrupt reminder of why they did this job, and who the man before them was. Patrik clenched his fists in determination. He looked at Kaj, who averted his eyes.

'We actually don't need to talk to you. We have plenty of evidence from the search of your house to put you behind lock and key for a long, long time. But we still want to give you a chance to explain your side of the story. Because that's the way we are. Nice guys.'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' said Kaj in a quavering voice. 'This is a miscarriage of justice. You can't hold me here. I'm innocent.'

Patrik merely nodded sympathetically. 'You know, I almost believe you. And I might even do so if it weren't for these.' He took some photos out of his thick folder and pushed them over to Kaj. He was pleased to see Kaj first turn pale and then red. He gave Patrik a bewildered look.

'I told you we had skilled computer guys, didn't I?' Patrik said. 'And didn't I say that things don't disappear just because you delete them? You've been very efficient at erasing stuff from your computer, but unfortunately not efficient enough. We got hold of everything you downloaded and shared with your paedo-pals. Photos, email, video files. All of it. Lock, stock and barrel.'

Kaj opened and closed his mouth. It looked as though he was trying to shape words, but they stubbornly stuck to his tongue.

'Not so much to say now, is there? Two colleagues from Göteborg are coming here tomorrow and they'd like to talk to you as well. They consider our discoveries to be extremely interesting.'

Kaj didn't say a word, so Patrik continued, determined to shake him in some way. He detested the man in front of him; he detested everything he represented, everything he had done. But he didn't let it show. Calmly and in a matter-of-fact tone he went on talking to him as if discussing the weather, not child abuse. For a moment he considered taking up the matter of Sara's jacket directly, but decided at last to wait a while with that. Instead he leaned across the table, looked Kaj in the eye and said, 'Do you people ever think about the children who are your victims? Do you give them the slightest thought, or are you too wrapped up in satisfying your own needs?'