The Fire Witness. Ларс Кеплер

of the girls on the sofa stares at him wide-eyed, but looks down with a smile when he says hello. She’s got a stocky build, her fingernails are badly bitten, and she’s wearing jeans and a black top with the words ‘Razors cause less pain than life’ on it. She’s wearing blue eyeshadow, and has a sparkly hairband around her wrist. The other girl looks slightly older, and is wearing a ripped T-shirt with a horse on it, and a white pearl rosary necklace. She has old injection scars in the crook of her arm, and a khaki jacket rolled up to form a pillow behind her head.

      ‘Indie?’ the older girl asks in a subdued voice. ‘Did you go in and look before the cops came?’

      ‘I don’t want nightmares,’ the larger girl says languidly.

      ‘Poor little Indie,’ the older one teases.

      ‘What?’

      ‘You’re scared of nightmares then …’

      ‘Yes, I am.’

      The other girl laughs: ‘So fucking self—’

      ‘Shut up, Caroline,’ the red-haired girl cries.

      ‘Miranda’s been murdered,’ Caroline goes on. ‘That’s probably a bit worse than—’

      ‘I just think it’s nice not to have to deal with her,’ Indie says.

      ‘You’re so sick,’ Caroline smiles.

      ‘She was fucking sick, she burned me with a cigarette and—’

      ‘Stop bitching!’ the red-haired girl snaps.

      ‘And she hit me with a skipping rope,’ Indie goes on.

      ‘You really are a bitch,’ Caroline sighs.

      ‘Sure, I’m happy to say it if it makes you feel better,’ Indie teases. ‘It’s really sad that an idiot’s dead, but I—’

      The little red-haired girl hits her head against the wall again, then closes her eyes. The front door opens, and the two girls who ran off come in with Gunnarsson.

       18

      Joona leans back in the chair, his face is calm, his dark jacket has fallen open in gentle folds, his muscular body is relaxed, and his eyes are as grey as the frozen sea as he watches the girls walking in.

      The others boo loudly and laugh. Lu Chu is swaying her hips exaggeratedly as she walks, flicking a V-sign with her fingers.

      ‘Lesbian loser,’ Indie calls.

      ‘We could take a shower together,’ Lu Chu replies.

      The counsellor, Daniel Grim, comes into the cottage behind the girls. He’s obviously trying to get Gunnarsson to listen.

      ‘I’d just like you to take it a bit more gently with the girls,’ Daniel says, then lowers his voice before he goes on. ‘You’re frightening them just by being here …’

      ‘Don’t worry,’ Gunnarsson reassures him.

      ‘But I am,’ Daniel replies frankly.

      ‘What?’

      ‘I am actually worried,’ he says.

      ‘Well you can sod off, then,’ Gunnarsson sighs. ‘Just get out of the way and let me do my job.’

      Joona notes that the counsellor hasn’t shaved, and that the T-shirt under his jacket is inside out.

      ‘I just want to point out that for these girls, the police don’t represent security.’

      ‘Yes they do!’ Caroline jokes.

      ‘That’s good to hear,’ Daniel says with a smile, then turns back to Gunnarsson. ‘Seriously, though … for most of our residents, the police have only featured in their lives when things were going wrong.’

      Joona can see that Daniel is well aware that the police officer regards him as a nuisance, but he still chooses to raise another matter: ‘I was speaking to the coordinator outside about temporary accommodation for—’

      ‘One thing at a time,’ Gunnarsson interrupts.

      ‘It’s important, because—’

      ‘Cunt,’ Indie says irritably.

      ‘Fuck you,’ Lu Chu teases.

      ‘Because it could be damaging,’ Daniel goes on. ‘It could be damaging for the girls to have to sleep here tonight.’

      ‘Are they going to stay in a hotel, then?’ Gunnarsson asks.

      ‘You ought to be murdered!’ Almira yells, and throws a glass at Indie.

      It shatters against the wall, scattering water and jagged fragments across the floor. Daniel rushes over, Almira turns away, but Indie manages to punch her in the back several times before Daniel separates them.

      ‘For God’s sake, control yourselves!’ he roars.

      ‘Almira’s a fucking cunt who—’

      ‘Just calm down, Indie,’ he says, blocking her hand. ‘We’ve talked about this – haven’t we?’

      ‘Yes,’ she replies in a calmer voice.

      ‘You’re a good girl really,’ he says with a smile.

      She nods and starts to pick up pieces of glass from the floor with Almira.

      ‘I’ll get the vacuum cleaner,’ Daniel says, and leaves the cottage.

      He pushes the door shut from outside, but it swings open again, so he slams it, making the framed Carl Larsson print rattle against the wall.

      ‘Did Miranda have any enemies?’ Gunnarsson asks the group.

      ‘No,’ Almira replies, and giggles.

      Indie glances at Joona.

      ‘OK, listen!’ Gunnarsson says, raising his voice. ‘I just want you to answer my questions, not start shrieking and messing about. It can’t be that bloody difficult, can it?’

      ‘That depends on the questions,’ Caroline replies calmly.

      ‘I’ll probably stick to shrieking,’ Lu Chu mutters.

      ‘Truth or dare,’ Indie says, pointing at Joona with a smile.

      ‘Truth,’ Joona replies.

      ‘I’m asking the questions,’ Gunnarsson protests.

      ‘What does this mean?’ Joona asks, and covers his face with his hands.

      ‘What? I don’t know,’ Indie replies. ‘Vicky and Miranda were the ones who did all that—’

      ‘I can’t handle this,’ Caroline interrupts. ‘You didn’t see Miranda, that’s how she was lying, there was so much blood, there was blood everywhere. And …’

      Her voice collapses into sobs, and the psychologist goes over and tries to calm her down.

      ‘Who’s Vicky?’ Joona asks, getting up from the armchair.

      ‘She’s the most recent arrival here.’

      ‘So where the hell is she?’ Lu Chu snaps.

      ‘Which one’s her room?’ Joona asks quickly.

      ‘She’s probably sneaked out to see her fuck-buddy,’ Tuula says.

      ‘We usually store up Stesolid pills, then sleep like—’

      ‘Who are we talking about now?’ Gunnarsson asks in a loud voice.

      ‘Vicky Bennet,’ Caroline replies. ‘I haven’t seen her all—’

      ‘Where