Unspoken

mother from some other country?”
    “Her father is from the West Indies.”
    “Where does he live?”
    “In Stockholm, with his wife and kids. They don’t have any contact with each other.”
    “Could she have gone there?”
    “We’ve talked to the father, of course. And she’s not there.”
    “She could still have gone to Stockholm,” said Johan.
    “Sure.”
    “Did she take along any money, or her passport?”
    “There’s nothing to indicate that. All her belongings are still at home,” replied Knutas impatiently. Why couldn’t Johan Berg ever be satisfied with the same information he gave to all the other journalists? He never gave up asking more questions.
    “The fact that her bike was found tossed aside could mean that she got into a car. Was it found near a road?”
    “That’s right. I have to go now.”
    “I realize that you’ve got your hands full, what with the murder investigation, too. Is there anything to indicate she might have fallen into the hands of the same perpetrator as Dahlström?”
    “Not at the moment.”
    Knutas shook his head as he put down the phone. What a stubborn man that journalist was.
    The next second the phone rang again. The switchboard told him that a woman from the youth clinic in Visby wanted to talk to him. He told the operator to put her through.
    “Hi, my name is Gunvor Andersson, and I’m a midwife. The girl that I think you’re looking for was here recently.”
    “Is that right? How do you know it was her?”
    “I recognized her from the description on the radio. She was here several months ago, asking for birth control pills.”
    “Did she say why?”
    “She said that she had a steady boyfriend. I asked her whether she really felt old enough to have intercourse. I said that we usually don’t recommend the Pill for such young girls. She said that they had already done it. I told her that since she’s under fifteen, it’s a crime to have sexual intercourse with her. On the other hand, we can’t very well refuse to give the Pill to a girl who wants to protect herself. We usually require a parent’s consent in the case of such young girls, but when I said that I would have to call her mother, she didn’t want anything more to do with us. She just got up and left. I tried to stop her, to say that we could talk about it, but before I knew it, she had walked right out the door.”
    “Did you find out who her boyfriend was?”
    “No, unfortunately. She refused to say anything about him.”
    After Knutas finished talking to the woman, he called Majvor Jansson.
    “Did you know that Fanny has a boyfriend?”
    “No, I’m sure she doesn’t.”
    “She went to the youth clinic to ask for birth control pills.”
    “What?”
    “Yes, I’ve just talked to someone over there. She went there several months ago to get a prescription for the Pill, but when they told her that they would have to contact you, she left. I need you to think about this some more. Was there anything to indicate that she had a boyfriend? Was she spending time with anyone?”
    There was a long silence on the other end of the line.
    “She never said anything about it. But it’s hard to keep tabs on her, because I work nights and I’m a single mother. She could always meet someone in the evening, since that’s when I’m at work.”
    Majvor Jansson was clearly about to start crying again.
    “I was thinking of trying to get a different shift, now that she’s getting older. But I didn’t think there was any danger yet. She’s only fourteen, after all.”
    In the meantime, the search continued. A hundred volunteers offered to help the search-and-rescue groups that had been organized at various sites. The sense of alarm about what had happened to Fanny was growing with every hour that passed.
    At 8:00 p.m. the investigative team gathered for a meeting at police headquarters. The mood was tense. Knutas told them about his phone conversation with the woman from the youth clinic and Fanny’s failed attempt to obtain birth control pills. Sohlman, who looked worn out, told them about the results of searching Fanny’s room.
    “We’ve found three packets of morning-after pills hidden among the clothes in Fanny’s closet. Two were empty; one still had both pills. That proves that she has had intercourse with someone.”
    “It doesn’t take much detective work to come to that conclusion,” Jacobsson interjected acidly. “But morning-after pills? Aren’t they supposed to be