The Double Silence (Andas Knutas 7)

badly injured. A huge gash was visible on his forehead, crusted with blood.
    The man wasn’t moving.

DETECTIVE INSPECTOR MARTIN Kihlgård of the National Criminal Police arrived early the following morning. Kihlgård had assisted the Visby police on several previous occasions, and it was obvious from the reception he received at police headquarters that he was more than welcome. Everyone seemed aware that the boisterous and popular colleague from Stockholm had arrived, because more and more people poured out of their offices to greet him. Knutas couldn’t help being impressed by the sheer number of friendships that Kihlgård had managed to make among the police during the time he’d spent on Gotland. He seemed to know more people than Knutas did, which was admittedly a bit annoying. He’d always felt slightly competitive towards Kihlgård, even though he tried to hide it. He actually found the effusive welcome rather pathetic, since it was exactly what was expected whenever NCP officers arrived in an out-of-the-way town to offer assistance. In spite of the island’s sixty thousand inhabitants, their district was small potatoes compared to Stockholm. But there was no denying that Kihlgård was a nice guy. In addition to his fun-loving personality and good humour, he was energetic, tenacious and fearless. He also possessed a sensitivity and empathy for others that he put to good use in his job as police interrogator. One of Kihlgård’s most distinguishing traits was his tremendous love of food. There was never any risk of too much time passing between meals whenever he was around. Knutas noted that a large basket of fresh cinnamon rolls had been ordered for their usual morning coffee, just so that Kihlgård would feel at home.
    He’d brought along two colleagues, and as soon as the introductions were over, everyone sat down for the meeting.
    Knutas began by giving a brief summary of the case and reporting on the latest developments.
    ‘Right now we’re putting all of our efforts into finding the woman who disappeared a week ago. Stina Ek.’
    Kihlgård pushed his glasses up on to his forehead and leaned back in his chair.
    ‘As I understand it, you consider her a prime suspect. Is that right?’
    ‘Yes, at least the way things stand at the moment. But we’re not locking ourselves into any particular theory.’
    ‘That’s good. She could just as well be a victim. How are you going about searching for this Stina Ek? And by the way, do you have a photograph of her?’
    ‘Of course.’
    Erik Sohlman got up and clicked on his computer to produce a picture on the screen at the front of the room. It was a photo of Stina Ek. She was a beautiful woman. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She wore a white blouse, a pink cardigan and jeans.
    Kihlgård studied the photo thoughtfully.
    ‘And you said that she’s thirty-seven years old? Christ, she doesn’t look more than twenty.’
    ‘The picture is a couple of years old,’ muttered Sohlman. ‘But she does look awfully young.’
    ‘Nobody has seen her since she left for a bicycle ride on Fårö, except for a crew member on the Stora Karlsö ferry,’ said Jacobsson. ‘He thinks that he saw her, but he’s not sure.’
    Kihlgård shook his head, but didn’t take his eyes off the photo.
    ‘We did find a few traces of her,’ Knutas reminded the others. ‘Her bag, plus what was found on Stora Karlsö.’
    ‘The last person to see Stina Ek was her husband Håkan. On Fårö, on the afternoon of Saturday, the twenty-eighth of June. Just before she left for her bike ride. After that no one has seen either her or her bicycle. In my opinion, that’s where we need to start. Where did Stina go? Who did shemeet? What happened? Who is the man that she claimed to have met, the old classmate of hers?’ Kihlgård gave Knutas an enquiring glance. ‘Have you talked to him?’
    ‘No,’ sighed Knutas. ‘We don’t know who he is. Or what his name is.’
    ‘When were they in school together? In primary school? Middle school? Secondary school? Or even nursery school?’
    ‘Håkan Ek says that he thinks it was in middle school.’
    ‘But you haven’t checked up on that?’
    The colour of Knutas’s face had grown significantly redder under Kihlgård’s cross-examination.
    ‘No,’ he exclaimed. ‘We haven’t done that yet because we didn’t think it was particularly urgent. We suspect that Stina Ek was lying about that too.’
    ‘But what if it’s true?