‘And Christian must have intended for him to find out. Otherwise he never would have given Magnus the manuscript.’

‘But why Magnus? Why not Kenneth or Erik?’

‘I think Christian was drawn back here to Fjällbacka, and to all three of the men,’ said Erica, thinking about what the psychiatrist Thorvald had said. ‘It may seem strange, and he probably couldn’t explain it himself. Then I think he may have actually grown to like Magnus. From everything I’ve heard about him, Magnus seems to have been a very nice person. He was also the one who participated against his will.’

‘How do you know that?’ asked Patrik, giving a start. ‘In the novel it just says that three boys were involved. But there aren’t a lot of details.’

‘I had a talk with Kenneth,’ said Erica calmly. ‘He told me everything about what happened on that night.’ Then she recounted Kenneth’s story, as Patrik’s face grew paler and paler.

‘Bloody hell. And they got away with it. Why didn’t the Lissanders ever report the rape? Why did they just leave Fjällbacka and then send Alice away?’

‘I don’t know. But I’m sure that Christian’s foster parents could answer those questions.’

‘So Erik, Kenneth, and Magnus raped Alice while Christian watched. Why didn’t he try to stop them? Why didn’t he help her? Is that why he got those threatening letters, even though he didn’t participate in the assault?’

Some of the colour had returned to Patrik’s face, and he took a deep breath before he went on:

‘Alice is the only one who had any reason to seek revenge, but she can’t be the one who did it. We also don’t know who’s to blame for this.’ He shoved a stack of papers over to Erica. ‘Here’s all the documentation from the investigation into the murders of Maria and Emil. They were drowned in their own bathtub. Someone held a one-year-old boy under the water until he stopped breathing, and then did the same thing with his mother. The only clue the police had was that a neighbour saw a woman with long dark hair leaving the flat. But as I said, it couldn’t have been Alice, and I don’t think it was Iréne either, even though she would also have a motive for doing such a thing. So who the hell was that woman?’ He pounded his fist on the table out of sheer frustration.

Erica waited for him to calm down. Then she said quietly:

‘I think I know. And I think I can prove it to you.’

Erik carefully brushed his teeth, put on his suit, and meticulously knotted his tie. Then he combed his hair and finished by ruffling it a bit with his fingers. He looked at himself in the mirror with satisfaction. He was a handsome and successful man who had his life under control.

He picked up his suitcase in one hand and his carry-on bag in the other. The plane ticket had been left for him at the front desk and was now securely stowed in his jacket pocket along with his passport. He took one last look in the mirror and then left the hotel room. He’d have time for a beer at the airport before boarding the plane. He could sit there in peace and quiet, watching all the Swedes rushing about, knowing that soon he would no longer have to deal with them. He’d never been especially fond of the Swedish temperament. Too much group thinking, too much talk about how everything had to be fair. Life wasn’t fair. Some people had better qualities than others. And in another country, he would have a good chance of taking advantage of those qualities.

He would soon be on his way. His fear of her was something that he pushed aside, burying it deep in his subconscious. Soon it wouldn’t matter. She would never be able to find him.

‘How do we get inside?’ asked Patrik as they stood at the door of the boathouse. Erica hadn’t wanted to say anything more about what she knew or suspected. She just insisted that he come with her.

‘I picked up the keys from Sanna,’ said Erica, taking a big key ring out of her purse.

Patrik smiled. Erica was nothing if not resourceful.

‘What are we looking for?’ he asked as he followed his wife into the small building.

She didn’t answer his question directly, but said, ‘This is the only place I could think of that Christian had all to himself.’

‘Doesn’t the boathouse belong to Sanna?’ Patrik asked, blinking his eyes to get used to the dim lighting.

‘On paper, yes. But this was where Christian always retreated in order to be alone and to write. I think he must have considered it his private refuge.’

‘And?’ said Patrik, sitting down on the narrow sofa next to the wall. He was so tired that his legs could barely hold him up any longer.

‘I don’t know.’ Erica looked around uncertainly. ‘I just thought that…’

‘What did you think?’ said Patrik. The boathouse wasn’t much of a hiding place, no matter what they were looking for. It consisted of two miniscule rooms, and the ceiling was so low that Patrik had to stoop. The place was filled with old fishing gear, and over by the window stood a worn drop-leaf table. Anyone who sat there would have a magnificent view of the Fjällbacka archipelago. And of Badholmen.

‘I hope we find out soon,’ said Patrik as he stared at the diving tower, a looming black shape against the sky.

‘Find out what?’ Erica was aimlessly roaming about in the cramped space.

‘Whether it was murder or suicide.’

‘You mean Christian?’ said Erica, but she didn’t wait for his answer. ‘If only I could find… damn it, I thought… then we’d be able to…’ She was muttering incoherently, and Patrik couldn’t help laughing at her.

‘You look like you’re really confused. Can’t you at least tell me what we’re looking for? Then maybe I could help.’

‘I think that Magnus was murdered here. And I was hoping I could find something…’ She scrutinized the rough, blue-painted wooden walls.

‘Here?’ Patrik got up and began studying the walls too. Then he looked at the floor and after a moment he said:

‘The rug.’

‘What do you mean? It’s perfectly clean.’

‘Exactly. It’s too clean. In fact, it looks brand-new. Here, help me lift it up.’ He grabbed hold of one end of the heavy rag rug. With an effort Erica picked up the other end.

‘Oh, sorry, sweetheart. It might be too heavy for you. Don’t strain yourself,’ said Patrik with concern as he heard his very pregnant wife puffing.

‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘Come on, let’s do it instead of standing here chattering.’

They moved the rug aside and looked at the wooden floorboards underneath. They looked very clean.

‘Maybe in the other room?’ said Erica. But when they glanced inside, they saw a floor that was equally clean, and without any rug on top.

‘I wonder if…’

‘What?’ asked Erica, but Patrik didn’t answer. Instead, he knelt down on the floor and began examining the cracks between the floorboards. After a moment he stood up.

‘We need to get the tech guys over here and then wait for their results. But I think you’re right. The place has been meticulously cleaned, but it looks like blood ran down between the planks.’

‘If that’s true, shouldn’t the planks have soaked up some of the blood too?’ said Erica.

‘Yes, but that would be hard to see with the naked eye if someone scrubbed the floor afterwards.’ Patrik squinted at the old planks, which were discoloured with age in numerous places.

‘So he died here?’ Even though Erica had been sure of her theory, she could still feel her heart beating faster.

‘Yes, I think so. And this place is close to the water, where the body could be dumped. So now will you tell me what’s going on?’

‘Let’s take another look around first,’ she said, ignoring the look of frustration on Patrik’s face. ‘Go and check up there.’ She pointed to the attic above them. The only access was by means of a rope ladder.

‘Are you kidding?’

‘It’s either you or me.’ And Erica demonstratively placed her hands on her huge stomach.