The Double Silence (Andas Knutas 7)

farm.’
    ‘Do you remember seeing any other traffic on that day? Cars or bicycles, people walking past?’
    ‘Not many people come by here. Most stay away because they realize that they’ll have to cross our property if they want to keep going. And the rest of the promontory is private. It all belongs to Bergman. There’s no reason for anyone to come here.’
    ‘So you didn’t see anyone else pass by?’
    ‘Not that day. But there was someone in the night.’
    Jacobsson was suddenly alert.
    ‘When was that?’
    ‘Later, after I’d gone to bed on Saturday. I woke up in the middle of the night. Being a farmer, I’m a light sleeper, because of the livestock, you know.’
    Jacobsson nodded even though she didn’t really understand what the man meant by that. She was waiting impatiently for him to go on.
    ‘Anyway, I was woken by the sound of a car. I wondered who would be driving around at that ungodly hour, so I got out of bed to look outside. The bedroom window faces the road.’ He turned around to point at an upstairs window of his house. ‘I managed to see a car driving down the road, but I couldn’t tell what kind it was. Or who was driving.’
    ‘Could you tell if there was more than one person in the car?’ asked Kihlgård.
    ‘I’m afraid not. It happened so fast.’
    ‘Do you know what time it was?’
    ‘As a matter of fact, I checked to see the time. It was almost morning. Ten past four.’
    ‘And you’re sure of that?’
    ‘A hundred per cent sure. I looked at the alarm clock that I keep next to the bed. And it keeps good time.’
    ‘Did you see what colour the car was?’ asked Jacobsson.
    ‘No. I think it was a very dark colour, but it’s difficult to say. It was just before dawn, so the morning fog had come in and made it hard to see. I couldn’t really make it out properly; I just heard the sound.’
    ‘And can you tell us anything about that? Did it sound like an old car?’
    ‘No, I don’t think so. There was nothing special about it. Just a droning sound.’
    ‘And that’s the last you saw of it?’
    ‘Well, I went back to bed but I couldn’t sleep. So I got up and made coffee. Then I went out to the barn. And that’s when I heard the car again. When I was inside.’ The farmer shook his head.
    ‘What time was it then?’
    ‘That must have been almost an hour later. About five.’
    Jacobsson and Kihlgård exchanged glances.
    ‘Do you know whether anyone else here in Hammars noticed that car?’
    ‘No, but I haven’t really asked anyone. I happened to think about it when I saw the pictures of the woman who’s gone missing. I recognized her at once and then I thought maybe the car had something to do with her disappearance, since it was headed in the same direction. And the road goes only to Bergman’s place. And to his neighbour’s house, of course. Valter.’

AFTER THEIR EXPEDITION to Fårö, Jacobsson went into her office and closed the door. She turned on her computer and checked the flights to Stockholm on the following day. There were still seats on the 10.30 departure, and she could return at 5.30. That would give her six hours in the city. She couldn’t wait any longer. At the same time as she was busy with the investigation, the name Hanna von Schwerin kept buzzing in the back of her mind. At this point Jacobsson wasn’t planning to contact her daughter’s adoptive family; she just wanted to see Hanna. Nor did she intend to announce her presence right now. Just have a look. It should be possible on a Sunday. She booked a return ticket to Stockholm. She hoped that Hanna wasn’t away on holiday, but that was a risk she’d have to take. At least she would see the house where her daughter lived. That was always a start.
    Kihlgård and Knutas would have to hold the fort while she was away. Pleased that she’d finally made a decision, Jacobsson leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands behind her head. She tried to imagine what her daughter might look like. Almost twenty-five. Her name didn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe she was a completely ordinary young woman.
    Her musings were interrupted when the phone rang. It was a call from the police in the Latvian town of Ventspils. Surprisingly enough, the officer spoke Swedish. Before she could ask, he explained that his mother was Swedish.
    ‘I’m calling because we discovered a dead man in a rowing boat south ofthe harbour here in Ventspils. Two boys found it when they were searching for