Unspoken

even think about that.
    “No, she’s not here,” replied the man, sounding friendly. “She was here yesterday afternoon. But shouldn’t she be in school right now?”
    “She’s not there, and she didn’t come home last night, either.”
    Now the man on the phone sounded uneasy. “That’s odd. Wait a minute,” he said, and she heard him put down the receiver, then the sound of voices in the background as he shouted to someone. After a moment he was back.
    “No, unfortunately, no one has seen her. I’m sorry.”
    A call to the hospital proved equally fruitless.
    What about her room? Normally Majvor didn’t go in there, since she and Fanny had a mutual understanding that the room was her private space.
    At first glance everything looked the same as usual. The bed was neatly made and a book lay on the nightstand, next to the alarm clock. On the desk was a jumble of pens, several schoolbooks, elastic bands for her hair, scraps of paper, and newspapers. Majvor rummaged among Fanny’s things, pulled out all the dresser drawers, then searched the bookshelf and the closet. She turned everything in the room upside down without finding any note with a message, or an address book or a phone number that might give her a clue about where Fanny had gone.
    But hidden under several decorative pillows at the head of the bed she found what were obviously spots of blood on the reverse side of the bedspread. She tore off all the bedclothes. No blood on the sheet or the blanket, but under the bed she found a towel with more traces of blood. She was shaking all over as she punched in the phone number for the police.
    As soon as he stepped inside, Knutas felt weighted down. He was glad that Sohlman had come with him. The whole apartment was depressing, with its cramped rooms and dreary colors. It was in a four-story building on Mästergatan in the Höken district, in the north-eastern section of Visby and about half a mile outside the ring wall.
    Majvor Jansson’s eyes were red from crying when she opened the door. Since Fanny was not with her father, either, the police were taking the report of her disappearance very seriously. The bloodstains on the bedspread meant that there was reason to suspect an assault or a rape. That’s why the police had decided to do a proper crime scene investigation of the girl’s room. Sohlman immediately got to work.
    Knutas noticed a faint smell of liquor on Majvor Jansson’s breath.
    “When did you last see Fanny?” he asked when they were sitting at the kitchen table.
    “Yesterday morning. We had breakfast together before she left for school. I didn’t have to go to work until five, but she usually goes to the stable after school, so we rarely see each other in the afternoon.”
    “How did she seem?”
    “Tired. She’s always tired, especially lately. That’s probably because she doesn’t eat properly. She’s awfully thin.”
    “What did you talk about?”
    “Nothing special. There’s not much to talk about in the morning. She ate toast for breakfast, as usual. Then she left.”
    “What was the mood like between the two of you?”
    “Same as always,” replied Majvor flatly. At the same time she cast a pleading glance at Knutas, as if he might be able to tell her where her daughter was.
    “What did she say when she left?”
    “She just said bye.”
    “Is anything missing from the apartment? Clothes, a toiletry case, money?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “And Fanny didn’t leave a message? You’re sure about that?”
    “Yes, I’ve looked high and low.”
    “Tell me about Fanny. What’s she like?”
    “Well, what can I tell you? What are most kids like at that age? She doesn’t say much, but I don’t think she likes school. She’s started cutting classes a lot. Maybe she’s lonely. I don’t know. She never brings any friends home.”
    “Why is that?”
    “I have no idea. Maybe she’s shy.”
    “Do you ever talk about these problems with your daughter?”
    Majvor Jansson seemed disconcerted, as if it had never occurred to her that she was the one responsible for her daughter, and not the other way around.
    “It’s not easy to talk about things when you’re a single mother and have to work all the time. I don’t have a husband to support me. I have to do everything myself.”
    “I can understand that,” said Knutas sympathetically.
    Suddenly she fell apart and buried her face in her hands.
    “Shall we take a break?” asked Knutas tactfully.
    “No,