Unspoken

police and the media. But that didn’t mean that the relationship was always easy to handle.
    “What’s going on here?” asked Johan.
    Peter had immediately started the camera rolling, as he always did. Knutas realized that he might as well tell them the truth.
    “We’ve discovered what we think is Dahlström’s camera.”
    “Where?”
    Knutas pointed to the grove of trees.
    “Someone tossed it over there, and a canine unit found it a short time ago.”
    “What makes you think that it was his?”
    “It’s the same type of camera that he always used.”
    Just as Knutas spoke, they heard a shout from some shrubbery outside the area that had been cordoned off.
    “We’ve got something,” called one of the dog handlers.
    The German shepherd began barking nonstop. Peter instantly turned the camera in that direction and jogged over to the shrubbery. Johan was right behind him. On the ground lay a hammer with brown splotches on the handle, the head, and the claw. Johan held out the microphone, and Peter let the camera record the ensuing commotion. They recorded the comments of the police, the camera on the ground, the dogs, and the drama when everyone present realized that the murder weapon had probably been found.
    Johan couldn’t believe his luck. It was sheer coincidence that they happened to show up at the decisive moment in a murder investigation, and then managed to get pictures of the whole thing.
    They got Knutas to agree to an interview in which he confirmed that a discovery had just been made that might prove to be of interest. He refused to comment further, but that didn’t matter.
    Johan did a stand-up at the site with all the activity going on around him and reported that it was most likely the murder weapon that had just been found.
    Before he and Peter left, Johan told Knutas, without revealing his source, about Dahlström’s meeting down at the harbor.
    “Why didn’t this person come to the police?” asked Knutas angrily.
    “The individual doesn’t like the police. Don’t ask me why.”
    Back in the car and with a gleeful smile on his face, Johan called Grenfors’s direct line at the newsroom in Stockholm.
    Several Months Earlier
    He had called her cell phone again and again, asking her to forgive him. He had sent sweet picture messages and even a real bouquet of flowers. Fortunately, her mother had left for work before the flowers arrived.
    Fanny had decided never to meet him alone again, but now she was wavering. He called and kept saying that he needed to make amends with her. No dinner this time. Horseback riding. He knew that was something she liked. He had a friend who owned some horses in Gerum, and they could each borrow one and go riding for as long as they liked. The invitation was tempting. Her mother couldn’t afford riding lessons, and it was rare that she was allowed to ride any of the horses at the stable.
    He suggested going riding on Saturday. At first she declined, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He said he would call again on Friday night, in case she changed her mind.
    She had such mixed feelings. More than two weeks had passed since that evening, and it no longer seemed as dangerous as it had then. Deep inside he was probably a very nice man.
    When she stepped through the stable door on Friday afternoon, the horses greeted her with a low whinny. She pulled on her rubber boots and started working. Got out the wheelbarrow, the shovel, and rake. She took Hector out first and fastened his halter to chains on either side of the passageway. He had to stand there while she mucked out his stall. The horses stood on a bed of sawdust and hay, so the piles of manure were easy to gather up with the rake. It was much harder to deal with the urine, which soaked into the sawdust and turned it into heavy piles. She took care of one stall after the other. Eight stalls and almost two hours later, she was completely worn out, and her back ached. Her cell phone was ringing. What if it was him? Instead she heard her mother’s twittering voice.
    “Sweetheart, it’s Mamma. Something has come up. The thing is that I’ve been invited to Stockholm for the weekend. Berit was supposed to go to the theater with a girlfriend, but the friend got sick, so Berit asked me to go with her instead. She won a whole theater package tour from the Bingo Lotto, you know, and we’re going to see Chess and have dinner at the Operakällaran and stay at the Grand Hotel. Can you believe it!