‘Shut up!’ he hissed crossly. ‘No talking!’
They kept walking as darkness drew in. The wind whipped up little flurries of sharp snow into their faces, and quickly obliterated their footprints. Laura was glad they didn’t have to go any further out onto the lake. It would be very easy to lose your bearings if you didn’t have the shoreline to follow, and the black eye was out there waiting. Ice-cold, deep water that never froze.
Milla waited for Laura, took her arm and slowed her down. Peter raised an eyebrow, but Milla waved him on.
‘You know he’s in love with you, don’t you?’ she said.
‘Who?’ Laura tried to play dumb.
‘Peter, of course. Unfortunately for him you’re not interested, as I’ve already explained to him.’
‘Why?’
Milla shrugged. ‘It’s true, isn’t it? Or are you ready to give up on Jack?’
Laura set off again without answering.
‘I thought not,’ Milla said with a laugh. ‘But don’t worry – Jack won’t be able to take his eyes off you at the Lucia party.’
After about five minutes they reached the jetty belonging to the house – three pairs of concrete posts supporting the walkway, about a metre above the ice.
Tomas continued to take the lead.
‘OK, as I said I don’t know where they hide the spare key – or if there is one. It’s not in the shed where they keep the lawnmower, anyway.’ He pointed to a low wooden building in one corner of the garden. ‘I’ve brought this just in case,’ he went on, producing a hammer from his jacket pocket.
‘We’ll let Laura take a look around first,’ Milla said. ‘She’s good at working people out.’
Laura swallowed. Her plan had been to do a circuit of the house, then say she hadn’t found anything. Get them all to head back to Gärdsnäset without having done anything illegal.
However, Tomas’s hammer changed the situation.
Using a key to enter the house without permission was one thing, a bit like when she’d cleaned the cabins last summer and had taken the opportunity to poke around among the visitors’ possessions. Breaking a window was another matter, a proper break-in that was bound to be discovered and reported to the police.
Milla patted her on the back.
‘It’s all down to you now.’
Laura swallowed again. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Peter shifting uneasily from one foot to the other.
There was a carport at the front, and a small wooden structure with a roof, just big enough for the bins.
‘I’ve already checked in there,’ Tomas said. ‘I felt behind all the beams and pillars you can reach from the ground. I did the same with the house.’
It was clear that he had no faith in Laura’s ability. She had only minutes before he lost patience and insisted on using the hammer. Maybe he was right, maybe there was no hidden key – but she wasn’t prepared to give up before she’d even started.
So, not the carport or the shed. Where did that leave? The jetty? No, nobody would be stupid enough to hide a key near the water. One slip and it would be gone.
She walked around the house, peered in through the windows. The walls looked as if they’d been painted recently, possibly in the summer, and the kitchen couldn’t be very old. These people looked after their property.
‘Are there tools in the shed?’
‘Yes.’
‘Old or new?’
‘Mainly old.’
‘Anything electrical? A drill? A chainsaw?’
‘No, only hammers and nails and a few garden tools. Why do you ask?’
Laura nodded to herself. So the owners weren’t into DIY, yet the inside of the house looked freshly renovated. Therefore, they regularly employed skilled tradesmen, which meant there should be a key somewhere. In a hiding place that was relatively easy to explain to a tradesman over the phone. The conclusion gave her a fresh burst of energy.
‘How’s it going?’ Milla asked. She too was beginning to sound impatient.
‘Give me a minute.’
Laura positioned herself by the front door. On the right was a WELCOME sign with a white goose and the flag of Skåne. Just above the sign was a little half-moon-shaped mark in the façade, where something had scraped against the wood not once but many, many times. She reached out and felt the wood, then the sign. Noticed that there was a screw missing. Her excitement was rising.
The sign was only attached at one side. It could be pushed up, covering the mark on the wood and revealing a metal pipe inserted in the wall.
She pushed her fingers inside and drew out a key.
36
Everyone’s afraid at some point, Princess. Anyone who says differently is lying. Everyone has something they fear.
Laura is woken by loud knocking. It takes a few seconds before she remembers where she is, and what happened during the night.
Did she really see someone out there in the forest, or was it all a part of her dream?
The knocking comes again. She pulls on her jacket, pushes her feet into her shoes.
Peter is standing on the top step. Behind him she sees a liveried police car and two uniformed officers.
‘What time is it? Have I missed the meeting?’
Peter shakes his head. ‘Can I come in?’
She moves back. ‘Of course, but the place is still a tip.’
She glances at Hedda’s planning board; to her relief she’s turned it around so that only the painting can be seen.
Peter waves to his colleagues and follows her inside.
‘Do you have any coffee?’
‘I’m sure there’s some in there.’ She points to the kitchen. Her head still feels heavy, her mind slow.
She sits down on a stool she scrubbed yesterday, hears Peter rummaging around in the other room. Through the window she sees one of the officers walking around the boathouse.
After a while Peter reappears with two cups of instant coffee and hands one to her.
‘I don’t drink coffee,’ she says, but he stands there holding out the cup, so she takes it and forces down a couple of sips. The coffee is lukewarm and tastes bitter.
‘We’ve just come from Källegården,’ Peter says. ‘There was a fire out there last night.’
Laura gives a start. ‘Was anyone hurt?’
‘Fortunately not.’
Peter falls silent as if he’s expecting her to say something, but her brain is preoccupied.
‘Where was the fire?’ she asks eventually. At least it’s a sensible question.
‘In an accommodation block behind the stables. Polish immigrant workers live there in the summer, but in the winter it’s empty. Thank goodness.’
He gazes at her pensively, then takes his notebook out of his pocket.
‘What time did you leave Källegården?’
‘About ten thirty. When did the fire start?’
‘Fredrik discovered it just after midnight and woke his father. They called the emergency services, then Christian, before tackling the blaze as best they could. Did you see anyone as you drove away?’
Laura shakes her head.
‘No, it was snowing heavily. It was hard even to see the road.’
Peter makes a note. ‘Why did you come here instead of going back to your hotel?’
‘As I said, it was snowing heavily. I was tired, and I didn’t want to risk getting stuck in a drift or in a jam on the motorway.’
He makes another note. His expression is tense, almost grim.
Maybe it’s down to the coffee, but her brain finally wakes up.
‘Am I suspected of something?’
‘We’re talking to everyone who was in the area.’
‘That doesn’t answer my question.’
Peter meets her gaze.
‘This is the second fire in two days. You were there on both occasions.’