The voices out there sounded like a swishing noise, just like the rain. He liked both sounds, the way in which they blended so softly and gently that made him want to sit there forever and ever and listen to them.

Then came that feeling that was a new feeling, and he knew that it made him feel frightened, and he tried to shake his head so that it would sink back down inside him like it had done before, but it didn’t. It made him stretch and open the car door and step out onto the ground that was covered in rotting leaves that smelled more strongly than they had the previous time, and now he was standing at the side of the car and the feeling was getting even stronger, and it was like a band of steel across his chest. He could hear his own breathing, and it was so loud that he thought everybody else must be able to hear it as well. But nobody heard. Everybody ran. Everybody laughed. Everybody was happy and he didn’t want to think about when he was that little and maybe had run and laughed just like they were doing. With Mom. Mom had always held his hand and the ground had been covered in leaves of many colors.

There was a little girl, running.

A good hiding place.

He followed her.

Here’s a better one.

Yes. I’m playing with them as well. Now they’re looking this way! What if they see you!

Here, here.

This is a better hiding place.

In here.

He’d seen this path before, a sort of corridor between the boulders and the trees where he’d left the car. Behind the hill. He was almost surprised by how easy it was to drive there from the parking lot.

This is the best place, over here. Nobody will find you here.

He felt the rain on his tongue when he realized it had been sticking out.

He’d thought the police would want to talk to him again, but why should they? He hadn’t done anything. It was the other one. Everybody had understood that. They’d understood that at work. Have a rest for a few weeks, and we’ll take a good look into what happened.

I don’t need a few weeks. I need my work. That’s what he’d told them. He’d answered their questions about what had happened, he’d told them everything.

Have you never had anybody like that in your streetcar? Somebody like that! Gothenburg is full of them, in the streetcars, in the buses. It was dangerous for the public, and dangerous for the drivers. Just look at this mess! Isn’t this proof of what can happen? What caused the accident?

Yes, this is my car. Who’ll be able to find you in here? This is the best place.

9

JANNE ALINDER STRETCHED OUT HIS ARM IN AN ATTEMPT TO EASE the pain in his elbow. He raised it to an angle of about forty-five degrees, palm down, and it occurred to him that if anybody were to come into his office now it might look a little odd.

Johan Minnonen came in and stood behind him.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody,” said Minnonen.

“Tennis elbow,” said Alinder.

“Unusually straight for that.”

“You can believe whatever you like.”

“My dad fought on their side.”

“Whose side?”

“The Germans, of course. Against the Russians.”

“Not all Germans were Nazis,” said Alinder.

“Don’t ask me.” Minnonen’s expression became more somber. “I was too little. And Dad never came back home.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Alinder.

“Neither did I, actually. Come home again, that is. I was sent to Sweden, and I stayed here.” Minnonen hadn’t sat down. “A war child, as they called us. My real name was Juha, Johan in Swedish.”

“What about your mother?”

“Oh yes, we met again after the war; but there were a lot of us brothers and sisters. Ah well…”

Alinder knew that was as much as Minnonen was going to let on. He had never been as forthcoming as this before.

Oh my God; he realized that he still had his arm raised.

The telephone rang. He lowered his right arm and picked up the receiver. Minnonen clicked his heels and saluted, then left and made his way toward the police cars.

“Police, Majorna-Linnéstaden, Alinder.”

“Er, yes, hello. My name is Lena Sköld. I called a few days ago about my daughter, Ellen.”

Sköld, Sköld, Alinder thought. Daughter. He had some vague recollection.

“It was about Ellen. She said she’d been with, er, with some stranger or other.”

“I remember now. How is she?”

“She’s fine. Everything’s normal.”

“Hmm.”

“Anyway, you said I should get in touch again if I thought that… that something was missing. I think that’s what you said?”

If you say so, Alinder thought. Hang on a minute, yes, I remember now.

“Yes, I remember saying that.”

“Well, she always has a good-luck charm in a pocket in her overalls, but it’s missing,” said Lena Sköld.

“A good-luck charm?”

“Yes, you know, one of those-”

“Yes, I know what it is. I mean…” Hmm, well, what the hell do I mean? “A charm, you say?”

“An old good-luck charm, one that I used to have myself when I was a kid. It’s a sort of superstition thing, from me. It’s supposed to bring you good luck.”

Silence.

“Yes?”

“She always has it in the left-hand chest pocket of her overalls. A special extra pocket. I can’t understand how…”

Silence again.

“Yes?”

He waited for whatever she was going to say next.

“I can’t understand how it could have fallen out,” said Lena Sköld.

“Could Ellen have taken it out herself?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“And this is the first time?”

“What do you mean?”

“The first time it’s been lost?” Alinder asked. A daft question, but what am I supposed to do? This is the type of conversation I don’t really have time for.

“Yes, of course.”

“What do you think happened?”

“Well, if what Ellen says is true, then it could be that the man in the car took it.”

“Have you asked Ellen about him again?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“She says more or less the same thing as before. Odd that she should remember, don’t you think?”

I have a file with notes on what was said before, Alinder thought. I guess I can add a few sentences.

“Can you describe that charm for me,” he said, picking up his pen.

“It’s a little bird, silver,” she replied.

Just a little thing. A souvenir. He’d be able to take it out and look at it, and that would be enough.

For now at least. No. No! That would be enough. Enough!

He knew that it wouldn’t be enough. He would have to make use of it.

He closed his eyes and looked toward the wall and the bureau that stood next to the bookcase with the videos.

He had that little drawer in his bureau, with the boy’s car and the girl’s little silver bird. The car was blue and black, and the bird glistened and showed off a color of its own that wasn’t like anything else.

He had in his hand the little ball that the other girl had had in her pocket. It was green, like a lawn at the height of summer. Maja, her name was. That was a name that also suggested summer. Maja. It wasn’t a name for this time of year. He didn’t like the autumn. He felt calmer in the summer, but now-now he wasn’t so calm anymore.

He would go out driving, driving around. He drove around, didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help it. Playgrounds. Day nurseries.

Being there and joining in the fun.

He dropped the ball and it bounced up as high as the top drawer in the bureau, then down again, and he leaned to one side and caught it in one hand. A one-handed catch!

When it was so dark outside that he didn’t need to draw the curtains in order to watch the video recording, he switched on the television.