She hurried off to find Knutas.
Johan was awakened by a bang outside the window. With great effort he got out of bed and pulled aside the curtain.
The pastry shop across the street was getting its daily delivery. The bakery truck was parked in the narrow alley, and the driver was taking out boxes, which he loaded onto a hand truck. The owner of the pastry shop then took the hand truck and with a clatter disappeared through the back door. That meant that it couldn't be more than six in the morning. With a groan Johan went back to bed and pulled the covers over his head. The deliveries were made at six on weekdays, at eight on the weekend. He had learned that by now. If he had known in advance that this upheaval was going to take place every single morning, he would have made Swedish TV arrange for a different apartment.
Wrapped up in the warm covers, he lay there thinking about Emma and their newborn child. He had spent nearly the entire weekend over at the hospital. He wasn't allowed to sleep there, since it was already overcrowded, and Emma had to share a room with two other women who had just given birth.
The delivery of their baby was the biggest event of his life so far. The experience of becoming a father was more overwhelming than he could have imagined.
His mother and youngest brother had flown over from Stockholm on Saturday. She could hardly contain her joy at becoming a grandmother. Her first grandchild. Ever since the death of Johan's father a couple of years ago, her life had been very lonely. Johan had always been close to his mother, and he knew that she missed him now that he was working on Gotland. In his role as the eldest son, he had largely functioned as a replacement for his father after his death.
With the birth of the child, Johan realized that everything was going to be different. From now on he had to make his own family his first priority. He had suddenly become a family man with all new responsibilities. He found the thought both appealing and frightening.
The head office in Stockholm had sent flowers, but Grenfors expected Johan to be back at work right after the weekend. He had been assigned to cover the island, and they had agreed that he would wait to take any paternity leave until fall. He now regretted that decision. All he wanted to do was spend time with his new family.
The insistent buzzing of his cell phone interrupted his ruminations. I really need to change the ringtone, he thought as he flew out of bed to grab the phone from under his clothes, which were piled in a heap on the chair. He now paid attention to his phone in a whole different way. Emma might be calling him.
Instead the call was from Niklas Appelqvist, one of the few personal friends Johan had on Gotland. Even though Niklas was ten years younger, they enjoyed each other's company, mostly because they shared an interest in sixties rock 'n' roll. Johan had gotten to know the young archaeology student a year earlier, in connection with a murder case. Niklas lived in the same building as a newspaper photographer on a disability pension who had been found murdered in the basement. Niklas had helped Johan by giving him a number of tips during the investigation. When Johan moved to the island, they started spending time together.
"Hi, how're things going?"
"Fucking great," Johan managed to say. He cleared his throat and wearily sat down. "I became a father on Friday."
"Really? That's great! Congratulations! Boy or girl?"
"A girl," said Johan, feeling himself smile.
"Did everything go all right?"
"Well, it was a little dramatic for a while, but she got here just fine. So beautiful. Eight pounds two ounces, and twenty inches long."
"Wow. How's Emma?"
"Good, although she's really tired, of course."
"We need to celebrate this." Niklas sounded enthusiastic. "Let me take you out for a beer tonight."
"Thanks, but I can't. I'm going to bring Emma and the baby home from the maternity ward. Maybe another time."
"Okay. By the way, I heard about something that might interest you."
"What's that?"
"A girl who's studying archaeology has disappeared. She's taking an excavation course at the college. Students from all over the world come here to work on a dig during the summer."
"How long has she been missing?"
"Since Saturday night. They're really upset about it over at the Warfsholm youth hostel where she's staying. Apparently she disappeared after the Eldkvarn concert on Saturday, and no one has seen her since. I know a girl who's helping out with the course, and she just told me about it."
"Do you have someone visiting you this early?"
"You mean this late."
"What's her name?"
"The girl who disappeared or my visitor?"
"The one who's missing, of course."
"Martina something or other." Johan could hear Niklas murmuring to someone in the background. "Martina Flochten. She's from the Netherlands."
"Flochten," repeated Johan. "How old is she?"
"Young. Twenty-something."
"Okay. Thanks."
Shit, what bad timing. There was nothing he would rather do than go over to see Emma and the baby, but he was the only TV reporter on the island. The story of a missing girl had to be checked out, even though the whole thing sounded a bit vague. He called the hospital, and according to the nurse who answered, Emma and the baby were fine. Both were asleep at the moment. They had stayed at the maternity ward longer than planned because the breast-feeding hadn't started the way it should.
His concern must have been audible in his voice, because the nurse assured Johan that it was completely normal and nothing to worry about: The breast-feeding would undoubtedly proceed as it was supposed to within a few days. He wondered if this was how his life was going to be, now that he'd become a father. Constant worry about all sorts of things.
It was eight forty-five. He phoned Knutas but was told that the superintendent would be busy all morning, and no one could or would say anything about the missing young woman. He took a shower, shaved, and gulped down a cup of coffee and ate a piece of toast. Then he called Pia. She could pick him up in fifteen minutes. They decided to drive straight out to the Warfsholm hotel and youth hostel.
The hotel consisted of a late-nineteenth-century wooden building painted yellow, with a lovely tower. It stood on a headland overlooking the sea. On one side of the building was an idyllic sandy beach. Beyond it could be seen the bird sanctuary at Vivesholm, where the spit of land stuck straight out into the water. On the other side of the building was the harbor, which, with its silos and wind-power station, formed a sharp contrast to the beach.
When Johan and Pia got out of the car in the parking lot, they discovered a police car. Two uniformed officers were walking along the beach and talking to families with children. The news team went down to the water and admired the view of the nature preserve on the islands of Big Karlso and Little Karlso.
"What's that?" asked Johan, pointing at something that was sticking out of the water just beyond the harbor entrance.
"That's the wreck from a freighter, the Benguela, that went aground out there. It must have been at least twenty years ago now."
"What happened?"
"The freighter was coming from Sodertalje, on its way to Klintehamn. The accident happened in the winter. I think it was early morning. It was foggy, with a strong wind, and the vessel went aground so hard that they couldn't get her to budge."
"What about the crew?"
"I think they all made it, actually."
"Why hasn't she ever been salvaged?"
"There was something about a loophole in the law that meant the shipping company couldn't be held responsible, and the owner didn't feel he could afford to have the boat towed away. That's why it's still there."