Despite her budding optimism, the fear wouldn’t go away entirely. It wasn’t just any old person she was dealing with—she occasionally had to remind herself that the guy was literally capable of murder. Peter Norling had been lured to a secluded spot before being brutally beaten to death. Despite his presumed innocence. After all, he hadn’t taken those photographs, let alone sent them to Hallin. Hallin was ruthless, stopping at nothing to conceal his mistakes. Which were only mounting up.

And he was the father of Sandra’s child.

But she refused to see it like that. Erik was her son. He had no father, and if he were ever to get one in future, it wouldn’t be Hallin. He was more than welcome to pay child support—in fact, he was going to—but she didn’t view it as child support. Thus far, she had managed just fine to cover the expense of food, clothing, toys, housing, and childcare. Erik got what he needed. This was money for Sandra—damages. For the pain and suffering, the sick leave, the anxiety, and all the harrowing memories. An unwanted pregnancy that she had initially been uncertain how to deal with. And a tenacious fear of men in general, and intimate relationships as a whole.

THE FIRST TIME it rang, she was at work standing in a circle with her colleagues issuing instructions to them on how to structure the rest of the afternoon and evening. She glanced at the display while continuing to talk, noting that it was the kindergarten calling. She rejected the call, meaning to call them back straight after the meeting. Less than a minute later, she had another call from the same number and realised that something might have happened. Maybe Erik had come down with a fever or started throwing up; in that sort of situation the staff were usually keener than the parents were to have the child picked up quickly. So she rejected that call too, although her anxiety was rising. When they rang again immediately afterwards, she excused herself and went into an adjacent room where she could shut the door.

“Erik is missing,” said the head.

“Missing?” Sandra said, dumbfounded.

“We were in the woods at Furulundsskogen on an outing and suddenly he was gone.”

Sandra pulled out a chair and sat down while thoughts whirled around her head. She concluded that if the head of school was compelled to contact a parent on such a sensitive matter, then it had presumably been a while since the child had gone missing.

“When did this happen?” she asked.

“Around two o’clock. We’ve looked everywhere, but we can’t find him. I’m sorry—I never thought I’d have to impart news like this.”