The Double Silence (Andas Knutas 7)

replied. ‘Thanks for a nice evening.’
    She gave him a quick hug.
    In the stairwell on the way up to her flat, she realized that she hadn’t felt this happy in a long, long time.

THE NEXT MORNING Karin Jacobsson was the first to arrive at the offices of the Criminal Division. That wasn’t unusual. Now that Knutas was on sick leave, she was often alone in the office, at least for the first few hours of the day. Normally Knutas was always there with her, since they were both early risers. She missed him more than she’d expected, on both a professional and personal level.
    She got a cup of coffee from the vending machine in the corridor before she went to her office. On the threshold she stopped abruptly, hardly able to believe her eyes. On the desk was a vase with a huge bouquet of red roses. Slowly she moved closer and found an envelope among the flowers. The card inside said simply:
Will you have dinner with me again soon? Hugs from Janne in Terra Nova
.
    Karin sank on to her chair. She couldn’t help smiling. Was he courting her? She could hardly remember what it felt like to be the object of someone’s attention – that hadn’t happened for such a long time. And she couldn’t recall ever receiving a bouquet of red roses.
    She sat there staring at the flowers. They were big, long-stemmed, and blood-red. Very beautiful. But red roses, she thought to herself. Is he crazy? Did anyone send flowers like this after meeting only twice? Didn’t red roses signify love? Was this a warning that he might be a psychopath? No, she swore to herself the next second. Why do you always have to think like that? Knocking down anyone who shows a little appreciation? Karin was well aware of her inability to accept gifts and compliments. She alwaysfelt embarrassed and thought people were putting on an act; she never thought they were sincere. She couldn’t explain why she’d ended up this way. But at least now she knew that’s what she tended to do.
    She picked up the card and read it again.
    There was a knock on the door. Wittberg appeared in the doorway. He was about to say something but stopped when he caught sight of the flowers.
    ‘What’s going on? Is it a big birthday? No, that can’t be right. You’re already over forty.’ He grinned. Wittberg was always teasing Jacobsson about her age. ‘I know – you’ve got a lover! About time. Congratulations!’
    ‘Shut up,’ said Jacobsson, moving the vase off to the side. ‘How come you’re here so early? What do you want?’
    ‘Seriously. Have you met someone?’
    ‘No. But even if I had, you’d be the last person I’d tell. Come on, tell me what you want.’
    ‘I’m here early because I never went home. Kihlgård and I and a few others from the NCP have been up all night trying to locate Andrea Dahlberg while you were home in bed. We’ve checked out all the possible places we could think of, but she’s nowhere to be found. Not at home, not in her shop. None of her friends know where she is, or any of the neighbours in Terra Nova, or anyone else in her gigantic social circle. A couple of officers drove over to her house and went inside. No one was there, but they didn’t find any sign of where she might have gone. The whole thing seems really weird. It’s been three days since anybody saw her.’
    Jacobsson felt an uneasiness clutch at her stomach. Not another victim.
    ‘What about Sten Boberg? Is there any news about him?’
    ‘Yeah, listen to this. We had an address for him outside Stockholm, and our colleagues went over to his flat during the night, but it was empty. We just found out that it was the wrong address. He no longer lives in Stockholm. He lives here on Gotland.’
    Jacobsson jumped out of her chair.
    ‘What the hell are you saying?’
    ‘And his place is very close to Andrea’s house. He lives in Gråbo – on Jungmansgatan. He moved there six months ago.’
    Jacobsson grabbed her jacket and service weapon and was already out of the door.

THE PARSONAGE WAS about a kilometre from our house. I cycled over there. I was going to return a pie plate that had been left behind after dinner a few days before. Now the pastor’s wife needed it back. She had been out picking blueberries and wanted to surprise her husband with his favourite pie. When I reached their house I stopped at the grand iron gate and walked my bike up the gravel path to the forecourt. It was a short distance from the church, beautifully situated on a hill with a view