‘Because it’s the stop from which the boys always catch the bus to the tennis centre, according to their parents. And because she says the boy had the kind of bag that’s used to carry a tennis racquet.’
His first day at work was actually his second.
Peder Rydh slithered along on the fresh snow that hadn’t yet been cleared from the pavements. His sons had cheered when he dropped them off at day care and they saw the thick white blanket of virgin snow waiting for them in the playground.
‘We’ll be able to get the toboggans out!’ one of the boys had roared with delight.
There were days when Peder wished he was five years old, wanting nothing more from life than good weather and time to play freely. His brother Jimmy’s life had been a bit like that; he had remained a child after falling from a swing and injuring his head.
On that occasion they had been playing a bit too freely.
Peder walked faster. It was never a good idea to start the day by thinking about Jimmy. The memory still hurt; the sense of loss was still immense.
But I avenged your death, little brother. And it was worth the cost.
The smell of coffee greeted him as he arrived at the Solomon Community. The air felt thin, as if too many people were all trying to breathe it in at the same time. The noise level was muted; some people had been there all night, ringing around to ask about the boys.
No one had seen anything.
No one had heard anything.
The general secretary took Peder to one side and went over everything that had happened since Peder went home at just after two o’clock in the morning to grab a few hours’ sleep. The general secretary hadn’t slept at all, which made Peder feel a little unsure of himself. Should he have stayed all night too, then worked all day as well?
‘Still no sign of them,’ his boss said. ‘The police have no information either. The parents have kept their phones switched on, of course, but no one has contacted them to demand a ransom or anything like that. So it doesn’t seem to be a kidnapping.’
‘I think perhaps it’s a little early to draw that kind of conclusion,’ Peder said. ‘There are different kinds of kidnapping.’
The general secretary went on as if Peder hadn’t spoken:
‘The parents aren’t rich; they wouldn’t be able to pay a large ransom. My guess is that some lunatic has taken them, and that it’s exceptionally important that they are found as quickly as possible.’
The police officer in Peder, the one who had been sacked in disgrace, suddenly came to life.
First of all, people were sometimes kidnapped in spite of the fact that their relatives weren’t rich.
Secondly, the possibility that the boys had disappeared voluntarily couldn’t be ruled out.
And thirdly, it didn’t matter whether they had gone off on their own or been abducted by someone else – finding them was still a matter of urgency.
‘What about their phones?’ he said. ‘I’m assuming both boys have their mobiles with them – do they ring when you call the numbers?’
‘They seem to be switched off.’
‘We’ll check with the police, see if they’ve managed to pinpoint their position. There’s no guarantee that the boys and the phones will be in the same place, but at least it would be a start.’
A shadow passed across the general secretary’s face.
‘If the person who’s taken them is thinking far enough ahead to realise he can be tracked using their phones, and has dumped them…’ he began.
‘Then he’s a man with a plan,’ Peder finished the sentence for him.
Silently he added: And in that case we’re in trouble, because even the weather is on his side.
The boys would have had no chance of surviving the night if they had managed to get away from their abductor. They would have frozen to death within an hour.
The police officer inside Peder refused to go away.
Two children and a pre-school teacher.
All members of the Solomon Community.
All with a clear link to the Solomon school.
It was obvious that this couldn’t possibly be a coincidence.
The only question was what was going to happen next?
One of the boys had definitely been seen at the bus stop on Karlavägen. The elderly lady confirmed this when Fredrika Bergman showed her some pictures of the children.
‘He’s the one I saw,’ she said, pointing to the photograph of the one called Simon. ‘I spoke to him.’
‘What about?’
‘I asked him what time it was, and he answered very politely.’
Fredrika looked at the photographs provided by the parents. Both boys looked so serious; Simon in particular wore a melancholy expression that affected his whole appearance. The other boy, Abraham, looked more insolent. Cocky. The kind of kid who might get hold of a boy like Simon and shove his head down the toilet, just because it was fun.
Fredrika stopped her train of thought. It was wrong to think badly of children. They deserved more protection than adults in that respect; they weren’t yet fully formed individuals. It wasn’t right for Fredrika to come up with aspects of Abraham’s character when she didn’t even know him.
‘Have you remembered anything else?’ she said to the woman, keen to bring the conversation to an end as quickly as possible so that she and Alex could get over to Östermalm.
‘I have, actually. He looked so angry.’
‘Angry?’
‘Yes, really upset. Almost as if he was standing there getting quite worked up about something. And I was surprised when he didn’t get on the bus.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he was obviously waiting for it. Lots of different routes use that stop, but I saw his face change when we spotted the bus. And then he didn’t move a muscle. It was as if he was standing there debating with himself, deciding whether to get on or not.’
Fredrika could clearly see the boy at the bus stop in the snow. It had been just after four o’clock, and the tennis lesson was due to begin at four thirty. Even if he’d already changed, which his parents said was usually the case, he didn’t have much time. She presumed he hadn’t caught the bus because Abraham wasn’t there – but why was Abraham late? He was due at the tennis centre at four thirty as well.
Fredrika thanked the woman for taking the time to come in, and showed her how to find her way out.
The last sighting of Simon was at the bus stop, which meant that at least they had a geographical location to start from.
‘We need to go over what we know,’ she said to Alex a little while later when they were in the car on the way to Östermalm.
‘Haven’t we already done that?’
‘No. We’ve had too much to think about – first the fatal shooting, then the missing boys. I’m not saying that everyone isn’t doing what they’re supposed to be doing – they are. But we haven’t yet sat down and worked out a clear picture. For example, do we have the slightest idea where the boys went missing?’
‘On their way to their tennis lesson,’ Alex said. ‘Both of them were in school, then they went off to do some homework with different friends. They always met at the bus stop at four o’clock.’
‘Exactly. But we don’t think they got on the bus?’
‘We’ve spoken to the bus company and all the drivers who might have picked them up, but no one remembers seeing them.’
‘So where does that take us? Do we think that they decided to go and do something else, for some unknown reason? Or that they started walking instead of catching the bus? The woman who saw Simon at the stop said she thought he looked as if he wanted to get on the bus when it arrived, but then stayed where he was.’
Alex pulled up at a pedestrian crossing and waited for a man pushing a buggy to cross.
‘In that case I suppose we can assume he was waiting for Abraham,’ he said. ‘And when he turned up…’
‘Yes?’