“Where to?”

“Home.”

“Is there anybody there?”

“No. But I have to check that everything’s OK.”

“You can come to my place later if you want,” said Winter.

“Last night was enough. But thanks for the offer.”

“Just come if you change your mind.”

Ringmar nodded. He started walking off.

“Did you find out anything new?” Winter asked.

“It was Birgitta,” he said.

“And?”

“She wanted to talk to me, at least.”

“What about?”

“Don’t push your luck, Erik.”

“What about?” said Winter again.

“About Martin, what the hell do you think?”

Winter said nothing. They could hear footsteps in the distance, in the stairwell. The elevator clattered into action.

“There’s light at the end of the tunnel,” said Ringmar.

“Come home with me,” said Winter.

“I’ll be in touch,” said Ringmar, pulling on his overcoat as he walked away.

“Your car’s outside,” said Björck as he passed the front office.

Ringmar drove out to the highway in his official car, heading north. He drove in silence, no radio. He didn’t know if Smedsberg would be at home.

Winter turned off the lights and left. His footsteps echoed in the brick corridor. His mobile rang.

“I can’t accept that you’ll be alone tonight, Erik.”

His sister. She hadn’t accepted that he was alone. She’d called yesterday, and the day before that. And the day before that.

“I have to work, Lotta.”

“You mean that you have to be alone in order to think, is that it?”

“You understand how it is.”

“You should have food.”

“That’s true.”

“You should have company.”

“I might come by a bit later,” he said.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Come on, Lotta, I haven’t chosen this of my own free will.”

“You’re welcome to come whenever you want,” she said, and hung up.

There was a layer of ice on the car windows. He scraped and smoked. The smoke was like breath.

He was alone in the streets, the only person out and about at this hour. No buses, no streetcars, no taxis, no private cars, no police cars, no motorbikes, no pedestrians, nothing at all.

Vasaplatsen was white and silent. He stood in the entrance and breathed in the air that felt cold without being raw.

He poured himself a Springbank in the kitchen and took it into the living room, where he lay down on the sofa with the glass on his chest. He closed his eyes. The only sound to be heard was the faint hum from the freezer. He leaned his head forward and took a sip of the whiskey.

He sat up and ran his hand through his hair. He thought about playgrounds and day nurseries, parks, cars, squares such as Doktor Fries, Linnéplatsen, Kapellplatsen, Mossen, about Plikta, about-tracks. Tracks heading in all di-di-di-directions.

He thought about all that simultaneously. He couldn’t keep things apart, everything came at the same time, as if they were linked. But they weren’t linked.

He rubbed his face. A shower and something to eat, then I can think again. And I have Christmas presents to look for as well.

He took off his clothes as he walked to the bathroom. I’ll take a bath. The whiskey can keep me awake.

Nevertheless, he reached for the telephone in the hall and called England. It was one of several such calls that late autumn and winter.

Steve answered.

“Merry Christmas, Steve,” said Winter.

“Same to you, Erik. How are things?”

Winter told him how things stood.

“Have you checked all the parents thoroughly?” asked Macdonald. “All of the parents?”

Winter would remember that question when it was all over.

41

HE PUT ON HIS BATHROBE AND LEFT THE STEAMING BATHROOM. His drowsiness fell away as he walked around the apartment. He glanced at the whiskey bottle in the kitchen, but left it untouched. The centimeter he had drunk already would have to suffice for the time being. He might need to drive later tonight.

He read the instructions in the kitchen, and started his search. Elsa’s present was indeed like a fish under a rock-in a flat box taped underneath the double bed. Drawings: the sea, the sky, beaches. Snowmen. Angela’s present was hidden in among the drawings: another volume for the bookcase. Some newly discovered texts by Raymond Carver,

Call If You Need Me.

He sat in the bedroom and phoned Spain.

“Siv Winter.”

“Hello, Mom. Erik here.”

“Erik. We wondered when you would call.”

“That moment has come,” he said.

“It’s after nine. Elsa’s almost asleep.”

“Can I speak to her? Merry Christmas, by the way.”

“Are you at Lotta’s?”

“Not tonight,” said Winter.

“Are you spending Christmas Eve all alone, Erik?”

“That’s why I stayed behind here.”

“I don’t understand you,” said Siv Winter.

“Can I speak to Elsa now?”

He heard her voice, she was halfway into a dream. He recognized Angela in her. It was the same voice.

“Thank you for the doll,” she said. “It was lovely.”

“Thank you for the wonderful drawings.”

“You found them!”

“The snowman seemed to be having a good time on the beach.”

“He’s on vacation,” she said.

“Good for him.”

“When are you coming, Daddy?”

“Soon. When I get there we’ll have another Christmas Eve!” he said.

She giggled, but as if in slow motion.

“Are you tired, Elsa?”

“Nooo,” she said. “Grandma said I could stay up as long as I want.”

“Is that what she said?”

“As looong as I want,” said Elsa, sounding as if she might drop the receiver at any moment and lie down to sleep on the marble floor.

“Have a nice evening, sweetie,” said Winter. “Daddy loves you.”

“Love and kisses, Daddy.”

“Can you ask your mommy to come to the telephone, sweetie?”

He heard Mooommy in the half distance, and then Angela’s voice.

“Are you still at work?”

“No. I’m still working, but not at work.”

“You sound tired.”

“Drowsy, more like it, but I’m waking up again. I took a bath.”

“Good thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking much at all at the time.”

“Any news since we last spoke?”

“I found the book and called right away.”

He heard a giggle, just like Elsa’s.

“I’ve got a question for you,” he said. “Do you know anybody at the nursery school who stutters? An adult. Staff or parents.”

“Stutters? As in st-st-stutters?”

“Yes.”

“No. I can’t say I do. Why do you ask?”

“Or Lena Sköld. When you spoke to her. Did she say anything about somebody stuttering then?”

“No, not as far as I recall. What are you getting at, Erik?”

“We think the person Ellen met stuttered. I think she is trying to tell us that. Or, has told us already.”

“What’s that got to do with the nursery school?”

“You know that we are checking up on everybody connected with the place.”

“I was thinking about all this earlier today,” said Angela. “What if the things the children have been saying were just figments of their imagination after all?”

“It wasn’t a figment of the imagination for Simon Waggoner.”

“No. But the others.”

“Three parents have reported the same thing,” said Winter.

“Have you spoken to them?” she asked. “About the stuttering?”

“No. We didn’t get this lead until late this afternoon. I’ll speak to them.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes.”

“It’s starting to get late,” she said.

“Everybody understands how serious this is,” he said. “Christmas Eve or no Christmas Eve.”

“Any new tips on the boy? Micke Johansson?”

“All the time. We have extra staff on the switchboard throughout the holiday period.”