The Lost Boy. Camilla Lackberg

too much for her. For all that Erica understood, she couldn’t help wishing it wasn’t so. Anna needed Dan more than ever, and Dan needed Anna. Now they stood there, side by side, like two strangers as the little coffin was slowly lowered into the ground.

      Erica reached out and put her hand on her sister’s shoulder. Anna didn’t brush it away.

      Filled with a restless energy, Nathalie began cleaning the house. It had helped to air out the place, but the stuffy smell still clung to the curtains and bed linens. She threw them all into a big laundry basket, which she lugged down to the dock. Equipped with some laundry detergent and the old scrubbing-board that had been in the house for as long as she could remember, she rolled up her sleeves and began the hard work of doing the wash by hand. Every once in a while she would glance up towards the cottage to make sure that Sam hadn’t awakened and come running outside. He’d been asleep for an unusually long time. Maybe it was in response to the shock. In that case, it was probably best to let him sleep. One more hour, she decided, and then she’d wake him up and see to it that he got something to eat.

      Suddenly Nathalie realized that there actually wasn’t much food in the house. She hung the laundry on the clothesline outside and then went in to have a look at the pantry. All she found was a tin of Campbell’s tomato soup and a tin of Bullen’s pilsner sausages. She didn’t dare look at the expiry dates. Surely that sort of tinned food would last for ever? Regardless, she and Sam would have to settle for that today.

      There was no temptation to go into town. She felt safe here. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She wanted to be left in peace. Nathalie paused to consider the situation as she held the soup tin in her hand. There was only one solution. She would have to call Gunnar. He had looked after the house for her after her parents died, and she could undoubtedly ask him for help. The landline no longer worked, but she was able to get good reception on her mobile, so she tapped in his number.

      ‘SVERIN.’

      The name stirred up so many memories that Nathalie gave a start. It took a few seconds before she composed herself enough to speak.

      ‘Hello? Is anyone there?’

      ‘Yes. Hi. It’s Nathalie.’

      ‘Nathalie!’ exclaimed Signe Sverin.

      Nathalie smiled. She had always loved Signe and Gunnar, and the feeling was mutual.

      ‘Sweetie, is that really you? Are you calling from Stockholm?’

      ‘No, I’m here on the island.’ To her surprise she felt the words catch in her throat. She’d slept only a few hours, and fatigue must be making her overly sensitive. She cleared her throat. ‘I got here yesterday.’

      ‘But, my dear, you should have warned us so we could go out there and do some cleaning. The place must look terrible, and—’

      ‘Don’t worry about the cleaning.’ Nathalie interrupted Signe’s torrent. She’d forgotten how much she talked, and how fast. ‘You’ve kept everything so nice out here. And it did me good to clean up a bit and do the laundry.’

      Signe snorted. ‘Well, you could have at least asked for help. We’ve got nothing to occupy ourselves these days, Gunnar and I. Not even any grandchildren to look after. But Matte has moved home from Göteborg. He’s got a job working for Tanum council.’

      ‘That’s nice for you. Why did he decide to do that?’ She pictured Matte. Blond, tanned, and always cheerful.

      ‘I don’t really know. It all happened rather fast. He was involved in an accident, and afterwards I had the impression that … No, it’s nothing. Don’t pay any attention to an old woman who talks too much. So what’s on your mind, Nathalie? Is there something we can do for you? And do you have the little guy with you? It would be so nice to see him.’

      ‘Yes, of course, Sam is here. Only he’s not feeling very well.’

      Nathalie fell silent. Nothing would make her happier than to introduce Signe to her son. But not until they were settled on the island; not until she saw what effect the recent events might have had on him.

      ‘That’s why I thought I’d ask for your help. We don’t have much food out here, and I don’t want to make Sam get up so we could go into—’

      Before she could finish her sentence, Signe interrupted.

      ‘But of course we’d love to help. Gunnar is taking the boat out this afternoon anyway, and I can do your grocery shopping for you. Just tell me what you need.’

      ‘I can pay Gunnar back in cash, if you wouldn’t mind buying the food for me.’

      ‘Absolutely. That’s no problem, dear. So, what should I add to my shopping list?’

      Nathalie could picture Signe putting on her reading glasses, sliding them down to the very tip of her nose as she reached for pen and paper. Gratefully Nathalie rattled off everything she could imagine they might need. Including a bag of sweets for Sam. Otherwise things could get difficult when Saturday arrived. He always kept track of the weekdays, and on Sunday he was already counting down to the next bag of Saturday sweets.

      When she finished the phone conversation, Nathalie considered waking Sam. But something told her that she should let him sleep another hour.

      Nobody was doing any work at the police station. Displaying a sensitivity that was unusual for him, Bertil Mellberg had asked Patrik whether he wanted his colleagues to attend the funeral. Patrik had merely shaken his head. He’d only been back on the job a few days, and everyone was tiptoeing around him. Even Mellberg.

      Paula and Mellberg had been the first officers to arrive at the scene of the accident. When they caught sight of the two cars, crumpled beyond recognition, they didn’t think that anyone could have survived the crash. They peered in one of the windows and immediately recognized Erica. Only half an hour earlier an ambulance had come to the station to take Patrik to the hospital, and now his wife was dead, or at least seriously injured. The medics were unable to specify what the extent of her injuries might be, and it seemed to take an unbearably long time for the fire brigade to cut open the car.

      Martin and Gösta were busy with another case and only heard about the accident and Patrik’s collapse several hours later. They drove to the hospital in Uddevalla and spent the whole evening pacing the corridors. Patrik was in Intensive Care, and both Erica and her sister Anna, who had been seated next to her in the car, underwent emergency surgery.

      But now Patrik was back on the job. Thankfully he hadn’t had a heart attack, as was first thought; instead, he’d suffered a vascular spasm. After nearly three months on sick leave, the doctors had given him permission to return to work, although with strict orders to avoid stress. As if that’s going to be possible, thought Gösta. With newborn twins at home, and considering what happened to Erica’s sister. The devil himself would be stressed in that situation.

      ‘Do you think we should have gone anyway?’ asked Martin, stirring his coffee. ‘Maybe Patrik said no but he really wanted us to attend the funeral.’

      ‘No, I think Patrik meant what he said.’ Gösta scratched Ernst, the station’s dog, behind one ear. ‘I’m sure there are plenty of people at the church. We can do more good here.’

      ‘How can you say that? We haven’t heard a peep from anyone all day.’

      ‘It’s the calm before the storm. By July you’ll be longing for a day without any drunks, burglaries, or other sorts of trouble.’

      ‘That’s true,’ said Martin. He’d always been the newbie at the station, but he no longer felt like such a beginner. By now he’d had a few years of experience on the police force, and he’d participated in several investigations that had been very difficult, which was putting it mildly. He had also become a father, and he felt as if he’d grown several inches the minute that Pia gave birth to their daughter.

      ‘Did you see the invitation we received?’ Gösta reached for a Ballerina biscuit and began his usual routine of meticulously separating