A short time later Gråskär appeared on the horizon. Nathalie hadn’t sounded very enthusiastic when Erica called, but after a little coaxing, she’d agreed to the visit. Erica was convinced that she would enjoy hearing more about the island’s past.

‘Can you manage to bring the boat in on your own?’ Nathalie shouted from the dock.

‘No problem. As long as you’re not worried about the pier.’ She smiled to show she was joking and smoothly brought the boat alongside. She switched off the motor and tossed the mooring line to Nathalie, who carefully fastened it.

‘Hi,’ Erica said as she climbed out of the boat.

‘Hi.’ Nathalie smiled but didn’t meet her eye.

‘How’s Sam?’ Erica looked up towards the house.

‘Better,’ said Nathalie. She looked thinner than the last time Erica saw her, and the outline of her collarbone was visible through her T-shirt.

‘I brought you some freshly baked buns,’ said Erica, taking out a bag. ‘Oh no, I forgot to ask if you needed any groceries.’ She was annoyed with herself. She should have asked when she phoned. Nathalie probably hadn’t wanted to bother her with such a request again, since they didn’t know each other very well.

‘No, don’t worry. You brought over so much last time, and I can always ask Gunnar and Signe. But I don’t know if I should trouble them right now.’

Erica hesitated, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell Nathalie the news just yet. She would wait until they sat down.

‘I thought we could have coffee in the boathouse. It’s such beautiful weather.’

‘Yes, it’s not the kind of day to spend indoors.’ Erica followed Nathalie to the open-sided boathouse where coffee cups were set on a weather-beaten table with benches on either side. Fishing gear hung on the walls, along with the gleaming blue and green glass balls that were used as floats. Nathalie filled their cups with coffee from a thermos.

‘How do you handle living so isolated like this?’ asked Erica.

‘You get used to it,’ said Nathalie quietly, gazing out at the water. ‘And I’m not totally alone out here.’

Erica gave a start and looked at her inquisitively.

‘I mean, I do have Sam, you know,’ Nathalie said.

Erica had to laugh at herself. She’d immersed herself so deeply in the stories about Gråskär that she’d actually started to believe them.

‘So there’s no truth behind the nickname Ghost Isle?’

‘I don’t think anybody believes those old ghost stories,’ said Nathalie, again looking out at the water.

‘Well, the name does give the island a certain allure.’

Erica had put all the information she’d collected about Gråskär in a folder, which she now took out of her purse and slid across the table towards Nathalie.

‘It may be a small island, but it has quite a colourful past. With a few highly dramatic events.’

‘Yes, I’ve heard a little about that. Mamma and Pappa knew a lot about the island, but I’m afraid I never paid much attention to what they said about it.’ Nathalie opened the folder. A light breeze riffled the pages.

‘I put everything in chronological order,’ said Erica. Then she fell silent as Nathalie leafed through the photocopies.

‘I can’t believe all the information you’ve found,’ said Nathalie, crimson patches appearing on her cheeks.

‘It was fun doing the research. I need to do something other than change nappies and feed crying babies.’ She pointed at an article that Nathalie was looking at. ‘That’s the most mysterious incident in the island’s history. A whole family disappeared without a trace from Gråskär. Nobody knows what happened to them or where they went. The house looked as if they’d got up and walked out the door, leaving everything just as it was.’

Erica could hear that she sounded a bit too enthusiastic, but she found the incident so intriguing. Mysteries had always sparked her imagination, and this one was a true-life suspense story.

‘Look what it says there,’ she said, her voice calmer now. ‘The lighthouse keeper Karl Jacobsson, his wife Emelie, their son Gustav, and the lighthouse assistant Julian Sontag lived here on the island for several years. Then they simply vanished, as if they’d gone up in smoke. Their bodies were never found, and there wasn’t a single clue as to what might have happened to them. Nor was there any reason to believe that they’d left voluntarily. There was nothing. Isn’t that strange?’

Nathalie glanced at the article with an odd expression on her face.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Very.’

‘You haven’t seen them lurking about, have you?’ asked Erica jokingly, but Nathalie didn’t respond. She merely continued to stare at the article. ‘I wonder what happened,’ Erica went on. ‘Maybe somebody came here by boat, murdered the whole family, and then disposed of the bodies. Their own boat was still moored to the dock.’

Nathalie murmured to herself as she ran her finger over the page. Something about a blond little boy, but Erica couldn’t really hear what she was saying. She turned to look at the house.

‘Aren’t you worried that Sam might wake up and wonder where you are?’

‘He fell asleep just before you got here. He usually sleeps for a long time,’ said Nathalie, sounding distracted.

Neither of them spoke for a while, until Erica suddenly remembered the other reason for her visit. She took a deep breath and said:

‘There’s something I have to tell you, Nathalie.’

Nathalie looked up. ‘Is it about Matte? Do they know who …?’

‘No, not yet, although they have a few leads. But this does have to do with Matte.’

‘What is it? Tell me,’ said Nathalie. Her hand still rested on top of the article.

Erica took another deep breath and told her what had happened to Gunnar.

‘No. That can’t be true. Why?’ Nathalie looked as if she could hardly breathe.

With a heavy heart Erica told her about the little boys who found the cocaine, about Matte’s fingerprints on the bag, and about what happened after the press conference.

Nathalie started shaking her head. ‘No, no, no. That can’t be, that just can’t be.’ She turned away.

‘Everyone says the same thing. And I know that Patrik was sceptical too. But everything points in that direction, and that might also explain why Matte was murdered.’

‘No,’ said Nathalie. ‘Matte hated drugs. He hated everything that had to do with drugs.’ She clenched her teeth and then said, ‘Poor, poor Signe.’

‘Yes, it must be terrible to lose both your son and your husband in a matter of weeks,’ Erica murmured.

‘How is she?’ Nathalie’s eyes were filled with empathy and sorrow.

‘I’m not really sure. All I can tell you is that she’s in hospital, and apparently not doing well.’

‘Poor Signe,’ said Nathalie again. ‘So much misfortune. So many tragedies.’ She looked down at the article lying on the table.

‘Yes.’ Erica didn’t know what else to say. ‘Do you think I could go up in the lighthouse?’ she asked at last, wanting to change the subject.

Nathalie gave a start, as if she’d been lost in thought.

‘Oh … sure. I just need to get the key.’ She hurried off towards the house.

Erica stood up and walked over to the lighthouse. When she stood at its base, she tilted her head back to look up. The white paint gleamed in the sunlight. A few seagulls circled overhead, shrieking.

‘Here it is.’ Nathalie was panting a bit as she approached. She was holding a big, rusty key.

The key did not turn easily in the lock, but finally she pulled open the heavy door. It creaked and groaned on its hinges. Erica stepped inside and began climbing the narrow, winding stairs, with Nathalie right behind her. Halfway up, Erica was breathing hard, but when she reached the top, she saw that it was worth the effort. The view was spectacular.

‘Wow,’ she said.

Nathalie nodded proudly. ‘Yes. It’s amazing, isn’t it?’

‘But imagine spending hours in this cramped space,’ said Erica, looking around.