She finds Ingrid’s number; her mother-in-law answers almost right away.
‘Hi, it’s Thea. I’ve got Bertil here; he seems to have gone off by himself.’
Ingrid doesn’t waste any time on her own reaction. ‘Where are you?’
‘In the forest, at the stone circle.’
A brief pause. ‘Where’s David?’
The question takes Thea by surprise; surely Ingrid should be asking how Bertil is?
‘He said he had an early meeting. He’s not answering his phone.’
Another pause. ‘Where can I meet you?’
Thea looks around the glade. Trying to drag Bertil back the way she came doesn’t seem like a good idea; the terrain is too difficult. Obviously he cycled here by a different route, but she doesn’t know the back roads to the village.
‘I can take him to the hunting lodge – it can’t be far, I’m sure I can find it.’
A third pause, a fraction longer this time.
‘Do that,’ Ingrid says, and ends the call.
The sun disperses both the darkness and the mist, helping Thea to locate the muddy canal quite quickly. They follow it to the left. Bertil is exhausted, and has to stop to catch his breath every couple of minutes. He says next to nothing during the walk, he merely continues to move his lips silently as if he’s fully engaged in some internal dialogue. However, he follows her instructions, and seems to have an idea of where he is.
The roof of the hunting lodge appears through the trees. There is smoke coming out of the chimney, which suggests that Kerstin is up and about.
A freshly cut strip of weeds that must be Jan-Olof’s work marks the boundary between the forest and the property. They pass the paddock; as they approach the house Thea can’t help glancing at the figure of the Green Man on the wall. She thinks about the dream she had last night. About Ronny and her father.
The door is flung open before they reach it and Kerstin comes out onto the steps.
‘What’s happened?’
Her voice makes Bertil look up, and his face breaks into a smile.
‘Kerstin,’ he murmurs. ‘Dear Kerstin. There was something I had to do. Something important. But I must have got a little bit lost.’
The two of them shepherd Bertil into the kitchen, wrap him in a blanket and settle him on the sofa next to the wood-burning stove. Kerstin pours tea; the hot drink make Thea realise how cold she’s got without her coat. She examines Bertil as best she can. The colour has returned to his cheeks, his pulse is steady and she can’t find any sign of injury.
‘Dear Kerstin, I really am sorry to be such a nuisance,’ Bertil says.
‘No problem. It’s a good job Thea found you.’
‘It is. She found me in the forest. By the stone circle.’ He looks anxious again, and shakes his head. ‘Poor child . . .’
‘Drink your tea, you’ll soon feel better,’ Kerstin says, gently rubbing his back.
He nods and does as he’s told. The anxious expression disappears. After just a few sips his eyelids grow heavy. Thea helps Kerstin to pile cushions behind him so that he can have a nap.
‘He’s worn out. I added a little camomile to his tea; it’s very calming.’
Kerstin signals to Thea to sit down at the table. The kitchen has a different smell this time, probably thanks to the bunches of fresh nettles hanging above the stove. Kerstin follows her gaze.
‘Nettles are good for the immune system, and they’re at their most nutritious now, in the spring. Another of my tea blends.’ She frowns. ‘It really was a stroke of luck that you found Bertil. Things could have gone very badly. What if he’d fallen into the canal?’
She waves towards the kitchen window and the green water outside. Thea nods; the same thought occurred to her. ‘Why do you think he came out here, of all places? He must have cycled five kilometres from the village.’
Kerstin is considering her answer when they hear the sound of a car engine.
‘That must be Ingrid,’ Thea says, getting to her feet.
But the car is not her mother-in-law’s dark grey Mercedes, but a black three-door BMW. The driver’s door opens and a man with a moustache climbs out; he is wearing jeans and a leather jacket. He takes the steps in one bound and opens the door so fast that the cat who has fallen asleep on the kitchen floor shoots away, terrified.
It’s Arne. Ingrid’s younger brother, David’s uncle. He nods a greeting. ‘Ingrid said you needed help.’
They wake Bertil and lead him out to the car. Bertil thanks Kerstin over and over again, keeps calling her ‘dear Kerstin’.
Arne, on the other hand, says very little. He supports his brother-in-law, eases him into the passenger seat carefully, almost tenderly.
‘Thanks for your help, Kerstin,’ Arne mumbles when Bertil is settled.
‘You’re welcome. I hope he soon feels better.’
Arne flips down the driver’s seat so that Thea can get in the back. The car smells of a Little Tree air freshener, coffee and leather clothing.
Within minutes Bertil has gone back to sleep.
‘Where did you say you found him?’ Arne asks.
‘By the stone circle.’
‘Mhm.’ Arne meets her gaze in the rear-view mirror. ‘And what were you doing in the middle of the forest so early in the morning, if I may ask?’
‘I woke up early and took the dog out.’
She knows what the next question will be a millisecond before he asks.
‘So where’s the dog now?’
Emee. Shit! She’s been so focused on helping Bertil that she’s forgotten all about Emee.
‘I expect she ran off home. I had my hands full with Bertil.’
Arne nods, still watching her in the mirror. ‘Did he say anything about why he was there? Was he rambling?’
Thea takes a deep breath, playing for time to give herself a chance to think.
‘He just said “poor girl”.’
‘Poor girl? Is that all?’ Arne sounds as though he doesn’t really believe her.
‘Yes.’ She pauses, considers whether to continue. ‘He meant Elita Svart. The spring sacrifice.’
No answer, just a long stare. They reach the turning for the castle and lose eye contact.
He drops her at the coach house. There is still no sign of David’s car.
Arne holds out his hand. ‘Thank you so much, Thea.’
‘No problem.’
He squeezes her hand a little harder.
‘The thing is, Thea . . .’ He leans forward in a way that she doesn’t really like. ‘It would be best if we kept this . . . incident to ourselves. Within the family, so to speak. There’s already enough gossip in the village.’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Good.’
Another squeeze; he stops just before it begins to hurt. He lets go, jumps in the car and drives off. Bertil is still sleeping peacefully in the passenger seat.
31
Thea shouts for Emee as soon as Arne’s car is out of sight. She walks around the little garden surrounding the coach house, but there is no sign of the dog. It’s almost eight o’clock, and Dr Andersson will be here to pick Thea up at any minute.
What if something has happened to Emee? What if she’s found her way out of the forest, run out onto a road, been hit by a car? The thought makes it difficult to breathe.
‘Emee! Emee!’ She blows the dog whistle, but to no avail.
She hears a car approaching and hopes it’s David rather than the doctor, but in fact it’s neither of them. A green Land Rover, one of the older models, pulls up outside the coach house. The sunlight is reflected on the windscreen, and she can’t see the driver until he gets out: a short man aged about fifty, in a scruffy oilskin coat, a flat cap and leather gloves. She recognises him from the night of the storm.