He and Henry had come to a halt outside the front door. Not a sound could be heard from inside. Then the loud, shrill cries of a child pierced the silence and roused them from the temporary inertia that seemed to have settled over them. They knocked once and then went in. ‘Hello?’ called Gösta. And now, as he sat here at his desk in the station so many years later, he wondered how he was able to remember everything in such detail. Nobody had replied, but the child’s cries got louder. They hurried towards the sound and then stopped abruptly as they entered the dining room. A little girl was tottering about all alone, crying her heart out. Instinctively Gösta rushed over and picked her up.
‘Where’s the rest of the family?’ said Henry, peering around. ‘Hello?’ he shouted and then went back to the hall.
No answer.
‘I’ll check upstairs,’ he said, and Gösta nodded, fully occupied with trying to soothe the little girl.
He’d never held a child before, so he was uncertain what to do to make her stop crying. Awkwardly he rocked her in his arms, stroking her back and humming a tune. To his surprise, it worked. The little girl’s cries subsided to a few sobs, and he could feel her chest rise and fall as she leaned her head on his shoulder. Gösta continued to rock her as he hummed, filled with emotions that he couldn’t put into words.
Henry came back into the dining room shaking his head. ‘There’s nobody up there either.’
‘Where could they have gone? How could they leave such a little girl all alone? Something terrible could have happened to her.’
‘Yes, and who the hell made that phone call?’ Henry took off his cap and scratched his head.
‘Do you think they’ve gone out for a walk around the island?’ Gösta cast a sceptical glance at the table with the half-eaten Easter food. ‘But in the middle of lunch? They must be pretty odd to do something like that.’
‘That’s for sure.’ Henry put his cap back on. ‘And what’s this sweet little girl doing here all alone?’ he cooed, moving towards the child in Gösta’s arms.
She immediately started to cry, clinging so tightly to Gösta’s neck that he could hardly breathe.
‘Leave her alone,’ he said, taking a step back.
A sense of warm contentment filled his chest, and he wondered if this was what it would have been like if their boy had lived – the son that he and Maj-Britt had had. He quickly dismissed the thought. He had made up his mind not to think about what might have been.
‘Was their boat down there?’ he asked after a moment when the child had stopped crying.
Henry frowned. ‘There was a boat tied up at the dock, but don’t they have two? I think they bought Sten-Ivar’s boat last fall, and all I saw was the Fiberglas boat. But would they really set off in the boat and leave the little girl behind? Surely they can’t be that crazy, even if they are city folk.’
‘Inez is from here,’ Gösta automatically corrected him. ‘Her family is from Fjällbacka and goes back generations.’
Henry sighed. ‘Well, it’s definitely strange. I suppose we’ll have to take the child to the mainland with us and then wait for somebody to show up.’ He turned to leave.
‘The table is set for six,’ said Gösta.
‘Yes, but it’s the Easter holiday, so presumably only the family are here.’
‘Should we leave things like this?’ The situation was odd, to say the least, and the departure from routine made Gösta uneasy. He paused to think. ‘Okay, we’ll do as you suggest and take the girl with us. If we don’t hear from anyone, we’ll come out here tomorrow. If they’re not back by that time, we’ll have to assume that something has happened to them. And in that case, this is a crime scene.’
Still not sure that they were doing the right thing, they went outside, closing the front door behind them. They walked down towards the dock, and when they were only a short distance away, they saw a boat approaching on the water.
‘Look, there’s Sten-Ivar’s boat,’ said Henry, pointing.
‘I can see several people in the boat. Maybe that’s the rest of the family.’
‘If it is, I’m going to give them a piece of my mind. How could they leave this little girl here like this? They deserve a good thrashing.’
Henry strode down to the dock. Gösta had to jog to keep up, but he didn’t dare go any faster for fear of stumbling and dropping the child. The boat pulled up to the dock, and a boy who looked about fifteen jumped out. He had raven-black hair and he was glaring at them angrily.
‘What are you doing with Ebba?’ he snarled.
‘And who might you be?’ asked Henry when the boy took up position in front of him, his hands on his hips.
Four more boys climbed out of the boat and came over to Henry and Gösta, who had now joined his colleague.
‘Where are Inez and Rune?’ asked the boy with the black hair. The others stood behind him, silently waiting. It was clear that he was the leader of the group.
‘That’s what we’d like to know too,’ said Gösta. ‘Somebody rang the police station to say that something had happened here, and when we arrived, we found the girl all alone in the house.’
The boy stared at him in surprise. ‘Ebba was all alone?’
So her name is Ebba, thought Gösta. This little girl whose heart was beating fast against his own.
‘Are you Rune’s students?’ Henry now wanted to know, speaking with the voice of authority, but the boy didn’t seem intimidated. He calmly stared at the officer and replied politely:
‘We’re pupils at the school. We’re staying here over the holiday.’
‘Where have you been?’ Gösta gave them a stern glare.
‘We went out in the boat early this morning. The family was going to have Easter lunch, but we weren’t invited. So we went out fishing instead, to “build character”.’
‘Catch anything?’ Henry’s tone of voice showed that he didn’t believe the boy’s story.
‘We caught a whole shitload of fish,’ replied the boy, pointing at the boat.
Gösta looked in that direction and saw the towline tied firmly to the stern.
‘You’ll need to come with us to the station until we work out what’s going on,’ said Henry, leading the way to his own boat.
‘Can’t we wash up first? We’re filthy, and we stink of fish,’ said one of the boys, sounding alarmed.
‘Do as the officer said,’ snapped the boy who seemed to be in charge. ‘Of course we’ll go along. I apologize if we’ve been rude. It made us nervous to see strangers with Ebba. My name is Leon Kreutz.’ He reached out to shake hands with Gösta.
Henry had already gone on board the boat and was waiting for them. Holding Ebba in his arms, Gösta followed the boys. He cast one last glance up at the house. Where on earth was the family? What had happened here?
Gösta returned to the present. His memories were so vivid that he could almost feel the warmth of the little girl in his arms. He sat up straight and pulled a photo from the stack. The picture was taken at the station on that Easter eve. It showed the five boys: Leon Kreutz, Sebastian Månsson, John Holm, Percy von Bahrn, and Josef Meyer. Their hair was dishevelled, their clothes dirty, their expressions sombre. All except Leon. He was smiling cheerfully at the camera, and he looked older than his sixteen years. He was a handsome boy, almost beautiful, Gösta realized as he stared at the old photo. He hadn’t really given it much thought back then. He leafed through the investigative material. Leon Kreutz. I wonder what he’s done with his life? Gösta jotted down a note. Of the five boys, it was Leon who had left the strongest impression on his memory. He’d be a good person to start with.