When she came out onto the path that ran along the sea, she realized how deserted the area was. She hadn't noticed before that there were no buildings nearby. The desolation was palpable. Bushes and trees lined the path, and from the darkness that was finally descending, she could hear the crickets' invisible orchestra.
On the other side of the water, machines were screeching from the nightly work going on at the harbor. A truck fully loaded with timber drove along the wharf, past the white wind-power station, whose blades were hesitantly turning in the feeble wind. A monstrous crane with a huge iron claw rose up into the air like some strange beast. The activity down at the harbor never seemed to cease.
Farther along, the vegetation was thicker. The willow trees on either side had been allowed to grow unchecked. Their curving branches stretched over the path and reached for each other like lovers hungry for an embrace. They formed a natural tunnel, which, in the solitude of the night, seemed frightening. Martina had sobered up as she walked, and now she regretted that she had come out here alone.
She turned around and realized that the distance back to the others was farther than it was to her room. She might as well keep going. Besides, she had such a craving for a cigarette. She walked faster, doing her best to shake off the feeling of uneasiness.
After she had gone partway into the tunnel of trees, she discovered a silhouette outlined against the light at the exit, about thirty yards ahead. Fear gripped her, and her mind was suddenly stone-cold sober. The figure was coming straight toward her, getting bigger with every step.
She suppressed her first impulse to turn around, squinting her eyes to see better. At first she wasn't sure if it was a man or a woman. All she could see was a dark figure wearing a cap, a black jacket, and black pants.
No footsteps were audible. The ground was damper here.
The second she realized that it was a man coming toward her, terror lurched in her stomach.
He was walking with his head bowed, and the bill of his cap hid his face.
Mechanically she continued moving forward-as if there were no going back, no alternative. Her thoughts rushed around in her head like frightened sparrows. What was he doing here, in the middle of the night? The concert had ended long ago. Panic shot up inside her, without enabling her to act. Like a robot, she walked forward, rigidly programmed for her own doom.
She didn't dare glance up to see his face now that he was so close. The second they passed each other, she stopped breathing. He was several inches away from touching her arm. She sensed a rank, slightly stale smell that she couldn't place.
To her surprise he walked past and nothing happened.
The distance between them grew. The stranger continued on at the same pace, getting farther and farther away. She cautiously dared to take a breath.
All of a sudden she felt ashamed. It was stupid to scare herself like that. Good Lord, a poor innocent man who probably worked at the hotel and was on his way home. Sometimes she actually felt sorry for men; they were suspected of all sorts of things, just because they were men.
The path widened, and she could see the light from the front door of the youth hostel. Relief made her dizzy. He wasn't dangerous. She had been imagining things. But I'm not going out again, she thought. Now all she longed for was the safety of her bed.
The fact that the man behind her had turned around was something that she noticed only when it was too late.
SUNDAY, JULY 4
Eva woke up because it was unbearably hot in the room. With great effort she turned onto her stomach and placed the pillow over her head to escape the relentless light. The pain was somewhere behind her eyes, and it wouldn't let up. How long had she been asleep? It was Sunday, which meant no excavating, thank God. She had a churning feeling in her stomach, reminding her that she had drunk much more than she could tolerate. Judging by the sunlight, it must be at least noon. She squinted her eyes at Martina's bed. It was empty, just as it was when Eva came home in the wee hours of the morning.
She yawned, climbed out of bed, and went down the hallway to take a shower. When she came back, she discovered that it was only ten o'clock.
Mark and Jonas had both had a hard time hiding their disappointment when they realized that Martina wasn't coming back after going off to use the toilet last night. It was obvious that they were both hoping they could get it on with her. Eva had assumed, as they had, that Martina had gone to bed. She had been far from sober. Apparently that was not what happened. She must have met someone.
Eva looked out the window, as if expecting Martina to come walking along the path. She went up to the kitchen, got out some things for breakfast, and made a pot of strong coffee. Jonas turned up after a while and sat down next to her with a cup of tea and a few pieces of toast. They chatted about the previous evening, and it wasn't long before he asked her where Martina was.
"I actually have no idea where she is. She didn't sleep here last night, anyway."
That would serve him right. She didn't like Jonas. He was a conceited and stubborn kind of guy. It would do him good to suffer a little.
"She didn't?" He paused with the glass halfway to his lips.
"No. Her bed wasn't slept in," Eva told him with ill-concealed glee.
"But that means something might have happened to her."
"Oh, cut it out. She slept with some guy she met, of course. There were several who seemed interested in her at the concert. Didn't you notice that tall blond guy from Stockholm that she was dancing with? He's probably the one she's with. She thought he was cute."
Jonas's face grew pale. "Who knows what kind of guy he is, a complete stranger like that. Is he staying here?"
"My dear boy, she wasn't born yesterday, you know. Martina can take care of herself. She's a grown woman, for God's sake. Besides, I have no idea where he's staying."
Unperturbed, Eva went back to her yogurt.
On Sunday afternoon the students gathered to play volleyball on the beach. Martina still hadn't made an appearance. Eva had tried calling her cell phone several times but got no answer. She could at least give us a call, she thought with annoyance. She didn't really know Martina very well; they had only met a few weeks ago. Of course, they'd had fun together, both at the excavation site and during their off-hours, but Eva didn't really know much about her. None of the others seemed to think there was anything strange about the fact that Martina still hadn't shown up.
Eva tried to shake off a growing sense of concern. Maybe she was being silly, yet she couldn't help feeling seriously worried that something might have happened to her friend. It didn't help matters that Jonas and Mark kept hovering around, asking her where Martina could be.
MONDAY, JULY 5
When Martina still hadn't come home by the following morning, Eva decided to call the excavation leader, Staffan Mellgren, even though it was only 6:00 a.m. She didn't care whether she woke him up. She had lain awake most of the night, gripped by a growing sense of dread. Staffan answered the phone after a dozen rings, sounding bleary with sleep. He came wide awake when he heard that one of his students was missing.
"She's been gone since Saturday night?" he said angrily.
"Yes." Eva regretted not calling Staffan earlier. "We went to the concert, and then a bunch of us sat out on the hotel porch afterward. Martina left to go to the bathroom, but she never came back. We thought she had gone to bed."
"What time was that?"
"Maybe one or two in the morning. I didn't notice the time."
"What did the rest of you do?"
"We stayed where we were, talking."