The Fire Witness. Ларс Кеплер

bedspread and pink satin duvet onto the floor, then turns back to the television.

      ‘Am I going to have to sit here all day?’ she asks.

      ‘No, you can go back to your room if you want,’ the support person says.

      ‘Sinä olet vain pieni lapsi,’ Joona says in Finnish. You’re only a small child.

      ‘Ei,’ she replies, and looks him in the eye.

      ‘You shouldn’t have to live in institutions.’

      ‘I like it there,’ she says blankly.

      ‘Nothing bad ever happens to you?’

      Her neck flushes and she blinks her white eyelashes.

      ‘No,’ she says bluntly.

      ‘Miranda hit you yesterday.’

      ‘Oh, yeah,’ she mutters, and tries to squeeze the cushion.

      ‘Why was she angry?’

      ‘She thought I’d been poking about in her room.’

      ‘Had you?’

      Tuula licks the heart-shaped cushion.

      ‘Yes, but I didn’t take anything.’

      ‘Why were you poking about in her room?’

      ‘I poke about in everyone’s rooms.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘It’s fun,’ she replies.

      ‘But Miranda thought you’d taken something from her?’

      ‘Yeah, she was a bit cross …’

      ‘What did she think you’d taken?’

      ‘She didn’t say,’ Tuula smiles.

      ‘What do you think it was?’

      ‘I don’t know, but it’s usually pills … Lu Chu pushed me down the stairs once when she thought I’d taken her fucking benzos.’

      ‘And if it wasn’t drugs – what might she have thought you’d taken?’

      ‘Who cares?’ Tuula sighs. ‘Make-up, jewellery …’

      She sits on the edge of the bed again, leans back, and whispers something about a studded necklace.

      ‘What about Vicky?’ Joona asks. ‘Does Vicky fight as well?’

      ‘No,’ Tuula smiles again.

      ‘What does she do, then?’

      ‘I shouldn’t say, because I don’t know her. I don’t think she’s ever spoken to me, but …’

      The girl falls silent and shrugs.

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Don’t know.’

      ‘But you must have seen her when she’s angry?’

      ‘She cuts herself, so you don’t …’

      Tuula stops and shakes her head.

      ‘What were you going to say?’

      ‘That you don’t have to worry about her … she’ll kill herself soon, then you’ll have one less problem,’ Tuula says without looking at Joona.

      She stares at her fingers, mutters something to herself, then stands up abruptly and walks out of the room.

       39

      Caroline, the slightly older girl, comes into the room with the man from Victim Support. She’s wearing a long, baggy T-shirt with a kitten on it. She has a runic tattoo, and the scars of old injections glint white in the crook of her arm.

      She smiles shyly when she says hello to Joona. Then she sits down carefully on the armchair by the brown desk.

      ‘Tuula says Vicky creeps out at nights to meet a boy,’ Joona says.

      ‘No,’ Caroline laughs.

      ‘What makes you say that?’

      ‘She doesn’t do that,’ Caroline smiles.

      ‘You sound very sure.’

      ‘Tuula thinks everyone’s a total whore,’ she explains.

      ‘So Vicky doesn’t creep out?’

      ‘Oh, she does that,’ Caroline says, looking serious.

      ‘What does she do when she gets out?’ Joona asks, trying to hide his eagerness.

      Caroline looks him in the eye briefly, then turns to gaze at the window.

      ‘She sits behind the brew-house and phones her mother.’

      Joona knows that Vicky’s mother died before Vicky arrived at the Birgitta Home, but instead of confronting Caroline with this he asks calmly: ‘What do they talk about?’

      ‘Well … Vicky just leaves little messages on her mother’s voicemail, but I think … if I’ve got this right, her mum never calls back.’

      Joona nods, thinking that no one seems to have told Vicky that her mother is dead.

      ‘Have you ever heard of someone called Dennis?’ he asks.

      ‘No,’ Caroline says instantly.

      ‘Think carefully.’

      She looks him calmly in the eye, then jumps when Susanne Öst’s phone buzzes as a text message arrives.

      ‘Who would Vicky turn to?’ Joona goes on, even though the energy has gone out of the conversation.

      ‘Her mum – that’s the only person I can think of.’

      ‘Friends, boys?’

      ‘No,’ Caroline replies. ‘But I don’t know her … look, we’re both doing ADL, so we see each other quite a bit, but she never talks about herself.’

      ‘ADL?’

      ‘Sounds like a condition, doesn’t it?’ Caroline laughs. ‘It stands for All Day Lifestyle. Only for people who are really good. You get to try going out, you tag along to Sundsvall to get the groceries, exciting stuff like that …’

      ‘You must have talked to each other when you were doing that?’ Joona prompts.

      ‘A bit, but not much.’

      ‘So who else would she talk to, then?’

      ‘No one,’ she replies. ‘Except Daniel, of course.’

      ‘The counsellor?’

       40

      Joona and Susanne leave the bridal suite and walk back along the corridor to the lift. She laughs as they both reach for the button at the same time.

      ‘When can we talk to Daniel Grim?’ Joona asks.

      ‘His doctor said it was too soon yesterday, which is understandable,’ she says, glancing at him. ‘This isn’t easy. But I’ll try prompting, and see what happens.’

      They get out on the ground floor and head towards the front door, but stop at the reception desk when they see Gunnarsson standing there.

      ‘Oh yes, I got a text message to let me know that the post-mortem’s underway,’ Susanne tells Joona.

      ‘Good. When do you think we’ll get the first results?’ he asks.

      ‘Go