Missing

you doing here? And with her!’
    Mrs Hedlund was making no bones about it – she didn’t care at all for the scene at her husband’s grave. Her voice held surprise, but also anger and suspicion.
    ‘Kerstin – please!’
    The man called Ingmar took a step towards the agitated woman.
    ‘I’m not here “with her”. I thought she was a friend of the family.’
    He was at Kerstin Hedlund’s side, looking at Sibylla. His move over to the right team had been fast. Sibylla was left with the guilt, one foot still planted among the crocuses. Kerstin was staring at her now, her eyes brimming with an emotion that was composed of grief and hatred. At the same time, her face expressed such condescension that Sibylla felt ready to apologise for just existing.
    Ingmar turned his head from one woman to the other. Finally his curiosity won.
    ‘Who is she?’
    He was clearly struggling to keep his voice neutral. Kerstin Hedlund answered, her eyes pinning Sibylla to the spot.
    ‘She’s nobody. I’d be grateful if you got her out of here. At once.’
    He looked at Sibylla, who nodded quickly and stepped across to the path. Anything to end this performance.
    ‘Hurry up, and come with me!’
    He made an impatient gesture. Sibylla obeyed immediately, but gave the furious woman a wide berth. Mustn’t get involved in anything noisy.

    Neither of them spoke before reaching the parking lot. Her rucksack was still hidden in the shrubbery, but there was no way she could fetch it now. She had to come back later, somehow.
    He turned to her.
    ‘What was all that in aid of?’
    Knowing that evasiveness was pointless, Sibylla hesitated just a fraction of a second.
    ‘She thinks I’m Rune’s mistress.’
    He laughed abruptly. Maybe she ought to take offence.
    ‘She’s convinced he had one, because somebody is putting a red rose on his grave every week.’
    His smile faded and was replaced by a frown. He sighed deeply.
    ‘Do you know Kerstin?’
    ‘No.’
    He glanced at the cemetery, as if to reassure himself that they had not been followed.
    ‘I understand that you felt very uncomfortable, but you must try to forgive her.’
    ‘Forgive her – I don’t understand what you mean.’
    He sighed again. It seemed to distress him to speak ill of the widow.
    ‘You see, it’s Kerstin herself who puts roses on the grave. She forgets it afterwards and goes around accusing people she meets in the cemetery. She’s been very distraught and unlike her usual self, ever since Rune died.’
    Sibylla stared at him. He sensed her confusion and went on with his explanation before she got round to asking more questions.
    ‘I came here today in a reflective mood. I don’t know what I can do to help her, but I feel I owe Rune the effort.’
    Sibylla still didn’t get it. If there was no mistress, then … the next conclusion was inevitable. ‘In what way hasn’t she been her usual self?’
    He looked downcast and embarrassed.
    ‘She’s been off work for a couple of months now. She was employed at the Health Centre as a practice nurse, but they felt she was behaving irrationally and told her to take some time off. Sadly, she seems to have gone from bad to worse since she stopped working.’
    Sibylla recalled the white clothes under Kerstin Hedlund’s coat when they first met.
    ‘But I’m sure I’ve seen her in her uniform.’
    He nodded sadly.
    ‘Yes. I know, I know.’
    So, her instinctive reaction had been right. She was the one, that woman with hate in her eyes. The healthcare job would mean easier access to the transplant lists. Having traced the victims, all she did was to find them and bring back what she reckoned was justly hers.
    That Sibylla Forsenström’s life was crushed in the process was obviously of zero importance. Well, in some ways it had actually been an encouraging coincidence, which could be put to good use. She closed her eyes to hide the fury in them. The desire to hurt that woman, badly enough to mark her for life, invaded Sibylla’s whole body. So much anguish, so many anxious moments – and above all, the loss of her savings and her hopes of a better future. She turned and walked towards the cemetery gates.
    He called after her.
    ‘Where are you off to?’
    Sibylla didn’t answer.
    Looking around the cemetery she realised that it was empty. Kerstin Hedlund must have left by another gate. She rejoined Ingmar.
    ‘Where does Kerstin live?’
    He looked concerned.
    ‘Why do you ask?’
    ‘I’d like to