“What do you think? Arson?”
“Hard to say. It appears to have started in the back, but has spread rapidly to the rest of the building.”
“By a series of explosions,” Haver said.
“I think you could safely call them that. Come over here and let me show you something.”
The fireman walked off with Haver hurrying behind. The heat emitted by the burning building was even more intense. Haver was forced to shield his face with his hand.
They stopped at the hole in the fence. The fire commander pointed silently to the swept tracks on either side of the fence. Haver got down on his knee and scrutinized the snow.
“Someone has been here and tried to sweep away their tracks,” he said and got up again.
The sound of another explosion made him jump.
“You’d better go back now,” the fireman said. “There’s gas in there.”
Haver shot him a look.
“What can you do about that?”
“Try to cool it down,” the other one said curtly, and now all of his attention was directed at his colleagues’ efforts to contain the violent blaze.
Haver slowly walked back to the street, went over to the construction site, and placed himself behind a tall steel container. This thing can stand up to a lot of punishment, he thought and fished out his cell phone. Ryde answered right away. Haver started to explain where he was but was interrupted and informed by his colleague that he was already on his way.
Before Haver had time to put the phone back again it rang. It was Ann Lindell, and for a moment Haver felt that everything was back to normal. Ann wanted to explain why she had left Berit’s apartment so suddenly. She told him about the ham and her parents.
“Sagander’s workshop is burning,” he interrupted. “It could be arson.”
He heard her catch her breath.
“Has the boy turned up?”
He sensed what she was thinking.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“It could be coincidence,” she said slowly. Haver heard in her voice that she was on edge.
“We have to make sure he’s safe.”
Haver peeked around the corner of the container. A new explosion shook the building, but Haver didn’t think it was from the gas, because then it would have been more violent.
“It’s burning like hell.”
“Where is the workshop? Does it pose a risk to the surrounding area?” Lindell wondered.
“The wind is pretty strong,” Haver said and explained where the workshop was.
“Where do you think Justus is?” Lindell asked. “It’s getting dark now. He’s probably beside himself. I think we should take Berit’s concern seriously.”
“Sure,” Haver said.
He saw Ryde walking in the distance with a firefighter at his heels who was gesticulating and from the looks of it arguing vehemently, but Ryde gave him only a cursory glance and walked on. Haver smiled and told Lindell he had to go.
“One last question,” she said. “Have you checked out Lennart? Justus might have gone to see him.”
“Ryde’s here. See you,” Haver said and hung up.
He waved to Ryde, who looked energized.
“They talk too damned much,” he said, and Haver understood that he meant the firefighters.
“There’s gas in there,” he said.
“Did someone start it?”
Haver told him about the tracks around the fence, and before he was finished, Ryde walked around the side of the container.
“Idiot,” Haver said to himself.
He stuck his head out and saw Ryde kneeling by the hole. He took a camera out of his bag and started to work. Snow started to fall. Ryde worked quickly. Haver sympathized with his eagerness, his energy perhaps bolstered by the fear of a gas explosion.
The phone rang again, but before he managed to answer the signal cut out. He didn’t bother checking to see who had called. At that moment there was an incredible bang and Haver saw how Ryde instinctively threw himself to the ground. One end of the building collapsed completely. Haver watched in fascination as part of the roof hesitated for a moment before it started to sink as if in slow motion, sending off a shower of sparks that transformed the sky into a sparkling show.
“Jesus, Ryde!” Haver shouted as the latter crawled through the hole in the fence and ran hunched over toward the contruction site. Thank God, Haver thought, but was then struck by the thought that several of the firefighters had been close to the explosion. He saw how one of the firefighters’ cranes swung around and a powerful stream of water was directed into the gaping hole. Clouds of steam rose and shrouded the other end of the building completely for a few seconds. Then another fire truck with a sky lift pulled up and Haver saw two men in the cage.
“Amazing,” he mumbled at this display of bravery, and listened to the orders shouted over the din.
Ryde came walking down the street. He stopped under a streetlight and checked his camera. He was bleeding on one cheek but seemed completely oblivious to the fact. Haver ran over to him.
“That was a hell of an explosion,” Ryde said. “But the camera made it.”
“You’re bleeding,” Haver said and made an attempt to check his wound.
“I fell,” Ryde said. “Someone has crawled in and out of that hole, that’s for sure. Hard to say if it’s one person or several, but it’s clear the guy tried to sweep away his own tracks. There’s a strange look about it.”
“Any prints?”
Ryde shook his head.
“Looks like someone dragged a two-by-four behind them. I’ll try to do a more thorough check. Do you think it’s going to blow?”
Haver shrugged. In spite of all the dramatics, he felt calm. He knew the anxiety and shock would make themselves felt later.
The ham was a lost cause, Ann realized as soon as she got into the kitchen. The temperature had reached almost ninety degrees. She turned off the burner and pulled the pot to the side. She resisted the impulse to throw the whole thing away. It was still food. Maybe she could fry it up.
She sighed, sat down at the kitchen table, checked the time, and thought about Justus. Where was he? Berit had called everyone she could think of, even Lennart, but the latter hadn’t answered. Berit knew he had caller ID and perhaps he was deliberately not answering. If Justus was there, he would know that she was worried and he wouldn’t have anything against letting her stew.
Ann got up, checked the time again, and went to Erik. He had been fed and was now sleeping in his bed. The apartment was quiet. It was too quiet for her tastes. The anxiety drove her to the window and she looked out into the late-afternoon dark. A car drove into the parking lot, a man got out, took a number of grocery bags from the trunk, and went to the front door of number 8.
She thought about Edvard, who had called to wish her a Merry Christmas. It was the first time they had spoken since they had said good-bye to each other at the hospital in Östhammar that fateful evening last summer.
She had been forced to pull off onto the side of the motorway, although she knew it was dangerous, but she was unable to talk to Edvard and continue to drive safely. What more had he said? She couldn’t remember. His words were obscured by fog, as if the conversation had taken place decades ago. She had asked him how he was and how his teenage boys were doing. Had he asked about Erik? She couldn’t remember, but she had at least sensed a question about how things were going for her and the baby.
They had ended the conversation after a few minutes, stressed as she was by cars honking as they drove by. He had sounded like himself, thoughtful and warm, the way he did when they had felt so much for each other.
Soon her parents would be here and Ann thought about rushing down to the nearest store to pick up a new ham, but suddenly she didn’t care what they thought. Her parents could eat dry ham. There was enough broth to please her father.