"Hi! My name is Johan, and this is Pia. We work for the TV station, and we've been here filming the pasture where the horse was killed. Did you hear anything about what happened?"
"Of course I did," said the boy. "I live right over there."
He nodded at the road behind them.
"Do you know the girls who found the horse?"
"A little. But they don't live here. They're just visiting their grandmother and grandfather."
"Do you know where their house is?"
"Yes, it's right nearby. I can show you."
The boy declined their offer to let him ride along in their car. He led the way down the road, and they drove behind at a snail's pace.
They quickly reached the home of the girls' grandparents.
A well-trimmed hedge surrounded the house, and outside sat the two girls on a big rock, dangling their legs.
Johan introduced himself and Pia, who was right behind him.
"We're not allowed to talk to reporters," said Agnes. "That's what Grandpa said."
"Why are you sitting out here?" asked Johan, ignoring her comment.
"No reason. We were thinking of picking some flowers for Mamma and Pappa. They'll be here tonight."
"How lovely for you," said Pia sympathetically. "After such an awful thing happened. I can't understand how anyone could do something like that to a horse. To such an innocent animal. And he was so adorable, a real sweetheart from what I heard."
"The world's sweetest horse, that's what he was. The world's most adorable pony…"
Agnes's voice faded away.
"What was his name?"
"Pontus," said the girls in unison.
"We're going to do our best to help out so that the police will catch the person who did this. I promise you," Pia went on. "Was it horrible when you found him?"
"It was disgusting," said Agnes. "The whole head was gone."
"I wish we'd never gone into that pasture," added Sofie.
"Now wait a minute-just think about it. You were the ones who went in, and it was actually a very good thing that you did, because otherwise it might have taken much longer before Pontus…Was that his name?"
The girls nodded.
"Otherwise it might have taken much longer before Pontus was found, and for the police it's really important to investigate these sorts of matters as quickly as possible."
Agnes looked at Pia in surprise.
"I guess that's right. We didn't think about it like that," she said, looking relieved. Sofie also looked happier.
Johan pondered for a few seconds the appropriateness of interviewing such young girls without first obtaining permission from their parents. He was always particularly cautious about interviewing children. This was a borderline case. He decided not to interfere. He would let Pia carry on with the conversation.
"Our job, mine and Johan's," said Pia in a soft voice, "is to make TV reports when something like this happens. We'd like to be able to give the viewers a story, but of course we would never force anyone to be on TV. Although it's best when we have eyewitnesses who can describe what happened, because that might prompt other people to come forward with tips for the police. We think that if people watching TV saw the two of you talking about how you found Pontus, they'd be more interested than if Johan just talks. They would care more, to be quite honest."
The girls were listening attentively.
"So we were wondering whether we could ask you a few questions about what happened this morning. I'll run the camera and Johan will ask the questions, and if you can't answer or you think it's too hard, we'll stop. You get to decide. Later we'll edit the interview, so it doesn't matter if there are mistakes. Okay?"
Sofie used her elbow to poke Agnes in the side and then whispered in her ear. "We're not allowed."
"No, but I don't care," said Agnes firmly as she jumped down from the rock. "It'll be fine."
When Pia and Johan drove off, they had an interview on film with the girls describing what they had seen. They had also revealed that the horse's head wasn't merely cut off-it had disappeared without a trace.
"It won't surprise me if we catch shit for this," Johan said to Pia as she drove.
"What do you mean?"
"The police are going to be mad. Not that I care, but I just thought I should warn you."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Pia cast an indignant glance at Johan. "We're doing our job. That's all. There's no need to exaggerate. This is about a dead horse, damn it. Not a person."
"True, but interviewing children is a sensitive issue."
"If we started questioning them right after their mother died, I would understand your reasoning." Pia's voice sounded even angrier.
"Don't misunderstand me," Johan objected. "I just think we need to be careful about interviewing minors. As journalists we have a huge responsibility."
"It's not our fault if people want to talk. We haven't forced anyone. Besides, we found out some new information, thanks to talking to those girls. The part about the horse's head being missing."
She rolled down the window to toss out her wad of snuff. Then she deliberately turned up the music. The discussion was clearly over. Pia was intelligent and bold, but maybe she needed to be a bit more humble, since she was new at the game. Johan sensed that-for good or bad-his colleague was going to be a cameraperson to reckon with in the future.
Emma Winarve was sitting in the hammock in the yard of her house in Roma, leaning against the pillows propped behind her back. She was trying to find as comfortable a position as possible. In her extremely pregnant condition, that wasn't so easy. She was hot and sweaty all the time, even though she stayed in the shade. The high pressure of the past week had taken its toll. Right now she felt huge and shapeless, even though she weighed much less than she had with her other children. So far she hadn't put on more than twenty-five pounds, which seemed to fit in with everything else. This time the pregnancy was different. Previously the children had been eagerly awaited, and there was never any doubt that she would carry them to term. The baby that was now growing in her womb could just as easily have ended up as a bloody lump, scraped out while there was still time. Now, of course, she was glad that hadn't happened. There were still two weeks left before the birth, if everything went as planned.
She and the baby had just enjoyed a fruit salad, consisting of melon, kiwi, pineapple, and star fruit. Tropical fruit never tasted better than when she was pregnant.
She watched Sara and Filip, who were busy playing croquet on the lawn. They had just finished first and second grade and had already been forced to endure their parents' divorce.
Sometimes the feelings of guilt were oppressive. At the same time, Emma didn't think she could have done anything differently. She usually consoled herself with the fact that at least they weren't alone. Almost half the children in their classes had parents who were divorced.
When she'd met Johan Berg during the previous summer, Emma had fallen passionately in love. Emma-who had never thought she could be unfaithful. At first she blamed it on the shock and the despair she had felt when her best friend, Helena, was murdered. She was the first victim of a serial killer, and Johan was one of the reporters who had interviewed Emma, in her role as friend of the victim.
That was when she began to have serious doubts about her marriage. The feelings that she developed for Johan were something she had never experienced before. Several times she tried to break things off and went back to her husband, Olle, who forgave her in spite of everything.
During one of the occasional relapses to which she later succumbed, when she met Johan in secret, she got pregnant. Her first thought was to get rid of the fetus. When she told Olle, he was even prepared to forget about her repeated infidelities, but the condition he laid down for saving their marriage was that she have an abortion. She made an appointment for the procedure and told Johan once and for all that it was over.