The people he’d had dealings with could easily track her down. At the same time, she knew that she’d had no choice other than to come here and wait to be found or to be forgotten. They knew that she was weak. In their eyes she had been nothing more than Fredrik’s accessory, a beautiful jewel, a shadow who discreetly made sure that their glasses were filled and the humidor was never empty. For them she hadn’t been a real person, and now that might be to her advantage. There was no reason to chase down shadows.

Nathalie went out into the sunlight, trying to convince herself that she was safe. But the doubts lingered. She walked around the corner of the house, gazing out at the water, past the islands to the mainland. One day a boat might appear, and then she and Sam would be caught here like rats in a cage. She sat down on the bench, hearing how it creaked under her weight. The wind and the salt had taken a toll on the wood, and the old bench leaned wearily against the wall of the house. There were many things on the island that needed attention. On the other hand, some of the flowers kept coming up in the flowerbeds. The hollyhocks were the ones she remembered best. When she was little and her mother tenderly tended the flowers, the hollyhocks had filled the entire back row. Now only a few lonely stocks had come up, and it remained to be seen what colour they would be. The roses hadn’t yet bloomed, but she was hoping it would be the ones that she loved most, the light pink variety, that had survived. But all of her mother’s herbs had long since perished. Only a few strands of chives bore witness to the fact that at one time a herb garden had thrived there, so delightfully fragrant whenever she had run her hand through the plants.

She got up and looked in the window. Sam was lying on his side, with his face turned away from her. He slept for a long time in the mornings now, and she had no reason to make him get out of bed. Maybe he needed to sleep and dream in order to heal what had been damaged.

Quietly she sat back down. The restlessness in her body was slowly calmed by the steady sound of the water lapping against the rocks. They were on Gråskär Island, she was a shadow, and no one was going to find them. They were safe.

‘Couldn’t Mamma do it today?’ Patrik sounded disappointed. He was talking on his mobile as he took the tight curve near Mörhult, driving too fast.

‘Tomorrow afternoon? Well, I suppose it can’t be helped. It’ll have to wait until tomorrow then. Hugs. See you later.’

He ended the call, and Martin gave him an enquiring look.

‘I was thinking of taking Erica with me to talk to Sverin’s old girlfriend, Nathalie Wester. According to his parents, Mats was planning to go and see her, but they don’t know if he ever did.’

‘Couldn’t you just phone her and ask?’

‘Yes, I suppose I could. But I usually get better results meeting someone face to face, and I want to talk to as many people as possible who knew Mats, even if it was long ago. He’s a mystery. I need to know more.’

‘And why should Erica go with you?’ Martin gratefully climbed out of the vehicle in the car park in front of the block of flats.

‘She went to school with Nathalie. And Mats.’

‘Oh, that’s right. I heard about that. So it’s probably a good idea if she goes with you. She might make Nathalie feel more at ease.’

They walked up the stairs and stopped at the door to Mats Sverin’s flat.

‘I hope Mellberg and Gösta haven’t made too much of a mess,’ said Martin.

‘We can always hope.’ Patrik had no illusions that his colleagues had been particularly careful. Not Mellberg, at any rate. Gösta could sometimes rise to the occasion and prove to be quite competent.

They stepped cautiously around the patches of dried blood in the hall.

‘Somebody is going to have to deal with this eventually,’ said Martin.

‘I’m afraid that’s going to be the job of the victim’s parents. I hope they can find someone to help them. No one should have to clean up their own child’s blood.’

Patrik went into the kitchen.

‘Here’s the computer cable that Gösta was talking about. I wonder whether Gösta and Paula have found the laptop by now. They probably would have phoned if they had.’ He was thinking aloud.

‘Why would Sverin have left it at Badis?’ said Martin. ‘No, I’ll bet it was the person who shot him who took the computer.’

‘It looks as if Torbjörn and his team have taken fingerprints from the cable, at any rate. If they got some good prints, maybe that will give us a lead.’

‘A killer who was careless, you mean?’

‘Luckily there seem to be plenty who fall into that category.’

‘But they seem to be getting more careful since TV started showing those forensics crime shows. Seems like every petty thief now knows the basics about fingerprints and DNA.’

‘That’s true, but there will always be idiots in the world.’

‘Then let’s hope that it’s an idiot we’re dealing with here.’ Martin went back to the hall and continued on to the living room. ‘I see what Gösta meant,’ he called.

Patrik stayed where he was, standing in the middle of the kitchen.

‘About what?’

‘About this place feeling like a temporary residence. It’s very impersonal. Nothing that says anything about who he was. No photos, no knick-knacks, and nothing but reference books on the shelf.’

‘Like I said: he’s a mystery.’ Patrik came into the living room.

‘Hmmm, maybe he was just a very private person. Why should that be so mysterious? Some people are more reserved than others, and I don’t find it so strange that he didn’t discuss girlfriends and personal matters at the office.’

‘That’s not the only thing though,’ said Patrik, slowly walking around the room. ‘He doesn’t seem to have had any friends. His flat is extremely impersonal, as you said yourself. And he didn’t tell anyone about the terrible beating he suffered …’

‘You don’t have proof of that last statement, do you?’

‘No, I don’t. But something’s not right. Besides, he was found shot to death in his own front hall. I mean, your average person doesn’t end up getting shot like that. The stereo and TV are still here, so if it was a burglary, we’re dealing with a thief who was very stupid or very lazy.’

‘The laptop is missing,’ Martin reminded Patrik as he pulled out a drawer from the TV stand.

‘Yes, but … I have a gut feeling about this.’ Patrik went into the bedroom and started looking around. Everything Martin had said was true. There was no evidence to support the churning feeling in his gut, the sense that below the surface there was another layer to Mats Sverin that needed to be brought to light.

They spent an hour meticulously going through everything, only to arrive at the same conclusion that Gösta and Mellberg had reached on the previous day. There was nothing here. The flat might as well have been an IKEA room set. Except that even those were more personal than Mats Sverin’s home.

‘Shall we go?’ said Patrik with a sigh.

‘Yes. There’s not much else we can do. Let’s hope that Torbjörn’s come up with something useful.’

Patrik locked the door to the flat. He’d been hoping to find a lead that they could pursue. So far all he had were vague suspicions, and not even he was prepared to act on those alone.

‘Lunch at Lilla Berith?’ asked Martin as they got in the car.

‘That sounds good,’ replied Patrik without enthusiasm, backing the vehicle out of the car park.

Vivianne quietly opened the door to the dining room and went over to Anders. He didn’t look up. He was typing rapidly on the computer keyboard.

‘What did they want?’ She sat down across from him, on the chair where Paula had been sitting. It was still warm.

‘They asked about Mats and the work we did together. They wondered whether his laptop was here.’ He didn’t look up.