On the left side is a row of shops with dwellings above. Visberg Grill, the local pizzeria. Then some kind of café with blacked-out windows. Then an Apoteket pharmacy. Then Konsum, a small supermarket. A town this size doesn’t justify an ICA Maxi or a Co-op Forum. The row of shops to my left is bathed in sunlight. Which is more than can be said for the ones opposite.

I drive on. Slowly. Trundling, really. Not another car on the road.

I turn right at Konsum and pass the Hive. A thriving self-storage business. Biggest in the Kommun. Bigger than anything in Gavrik. I almost stored Mum’s things here – and Dad’s, although I think of those as Mum’s now – but instead I keep them all in a rented lock-up in Karlstad. It took me a whole weekend to move them from the hospice and her old flat. Her sewing machine. Her favourite blanket. Her photo albums in year order. The white shoes she wore on her wedding day. I donated most of her clothes to charities, but kept a few items. I’ve stored them in suitcases, even though I doubt I’ll ever revisit them. I cried all my tears that weekend. Alone in a windowless storage unit.

Past the Hive is the dark side of the square.

First, a dental surgery. Tammy told me she came here one time for whitening but she didn’t like the place. Never came back. Then two empty shops, and then some kind of watch shop with a huge, heavy clock jutting out from the wall. Looks too big for the building. Too heavy. Looks like it might pull the whole block crashing down into the square.

So, this is Visberg.

Hill town.

If you mention this place to a Gavrik local they might say, ‘airs and graces’ or ‘mind that road’ or ‘some of us got to work for a living’.

My GPS tells me, ‘you have reached your destination’ and sure enough, Ragnar Falk is standing on the pavement waiting for me. I wonder how he feels about Lena and her husband buying his failing newspaper and giving me his town to cover. How does a person come to terms with that?

I get out.

‘Welcome to Visberg,’ he says, holding out his hand.

White beard. Blazer and elasticated jeans. V-neck underneath.

I know Ragnar a little from police conferences over the years, but he’s aged significantly since I last saw him at Midsommar. Back then he was asking Chief Björn about Tammy going missing. Now he’s introducing me to his town.

‘Thanks, Ragnar,’ I say.

‘Although I wish I was welcoming you with a better news story. Lena told me you were right there in the forest last night.’

‘It was a shock,’ I say.

‘Of course it was, my dear. That kind of awful business is a shock even for the most seasoned journalist.’