The Double Silence (Andas Knutas 7)

mobile.’
    ‘All of these facts are based on Håkan Ek’s testimony. Who’s to say that any of it is true? For instance, did Stina really tell him that she had to work? Håkan is the only one who can confirm that; nobody else received a text. Wouldn’t she have texted her children, or her best friend, Andrea?’
    ‘And Håkan Ek threw his mobile into the sea,’ muttered Knutas. ‘I think we need to have another talk with him.’
    They got in the car and drove over to the Slow Train Inn, where the group of friends had stayed.
    Jacobsson pulled into the small car park outside the garden. Everything seemed calm and peaceful. There was no one in sight.
    They went up on to the porch and knocked on the front door. When noone came, they went in. They could hear music from a radio coming from the kitchen, and a pale woman with beautiful long hair appeared at once in the doorway. She spoke with a strong French accent when she asked: ‘Can I help you with something?’
    Knutas introduced himself and his colleague and then explained the reason for their visit.
    ‘You had a group of people staying here for a couple of nights over the weekend. I’m sure that you’ve heard that one of them, Sam Dahlberg, was found dead on Stora Karlsö.’
    The woman nodded.
    ‘It turns out now that another person from the group is missing. A woman with Asian roots. Stina Ek. Do you remember her?’
    ‘Yes. She was staying with her husband in one of the cabins down by the water. She was very nice.’
    ‘Well, she has been missing for several days now. In fact, she hasn’t been seen since Saturday afternoon here on Fårö when she set off for a bike ride from the inn.’
    ‘Is that right? Would you mind if we sat down?’
    ‘Not at all.’
    They followed her into the dining room, where they sat down at a long table.
    ‘Did you notice anything special about these guests? Or about Stina Ek, for that matter?’
    ‘No, they were all so happy and nice. They talked a lot and they got pretty loud. But they were very pleasant.’
    ‘And nothing special happened while they were here?’
    ‘No, nothing.’
    ‘When did you last see Stina Ek?’
    The woman paused to think.
    ‘It must have been when they ate breakfast here. On Saturday morning.’
    ‘And everything seemed perfectly normal?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘And you didn’t see her again after that?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Has anyone stayed in the cabin after she and her husband left?’
    ‘Yes. This is our busy season, so we’re fully booked. We have guests staying there right now.’
    ‘Could we have a look at the place?’
    ‘Of course. I’ll take you there.’
    They followed the woman, who gracefully led the way across the road and down to the water on the other side. She seems almost unreal, thought Knutas. Like some sort of ethereal being.
    The cabin was locked when they arrived. The owner knocked several times, but no one answered. She turned to Knutas.
    ‘They’re probably down at the beach. But I’ll let you in.’
    She unlocked the door and they peered inside. It was a small, charming space with a bed and a dining table. Clothes and other belongings were strewn everywhere.
    ‘Have other people stayed here since then?’ asked Jacobsson.
    ‘Yes, a couple of other people before these guests.’
    ‘If there was any evidence, it’s gone by now,’ sighed Knutas. ‘But thanks anyway.’
    He handed the woman his card.
    ‘Phone me if you happen to think of anything at all that might be important.’
    ‘Of course.’
    They walked back to the car. When Knutas turned around at the road, the Frenchwoman was still standing near the cabin. She had turned to gaze out at the sea.

HE HAD BEEN sitting among the trees at a safe distance, studying her for quite a while now. He could see her clearly through the big picture window of the house. He had never grasped why people would choose to have that much glass, reaching all the way down to the floor. They must be exhibitionists, harbouring a secret longing to be observed, seen. He’d never had such a need. He liked to melt into the crowd, to become erased and merge with all the others. He’d never understood people who wanted to stand out. On the other hand, it allowed him to admire them in secret with a combination of horror and delight. Like her. She had been like that. She loved having others look at her, admire her. And they did. She was just as alive inside of him now as she had been back then. Even though they’d managed to