The Furulundsskogen woods comprised a charming but compact area consisting of delightful beech trees with dense canopies in places, while elsewhere there were a variety of trees including a sprinkling of pine. The chirping of birds and the dancing sunlight filled the treetops, while the ivy struggled to make its way up towards the sky. The ground was covered in goutweed and moss, soft and bewitching. There were a thousand shades of green, each one the source of a unique scent. A great place to take kindergarten kids on an outing. No water, no obvious dangers. On the other hand, it was surrounded on all sides by houses and roads. Houses with people living in them who might take it into their heads to take a kid home, roads that led to bigger roads, bigger forests, and the sea, which was everywhere.

The world grew around Sandra, while at the same time her field of vision shrank.

Children and grown-ups were tugging at her—they had things to tell her and questions to ask. That made the gravity of the situation even more palpable. Maybe this wasn’t a warning sign—maybe Erik was gone for real? Forever? The police had a thousand questions, were talking about mobilising search parties and inquiring about Erik’s habits and things he didn’t do, his appearance, his build, medical issues, clothing, and interests. Did the child have a father? Any threats?

Were there? What was she supposed to say? If there was no child then there was no father—that was the nature of the threat. But yes, she had already reported threats to the police. And yes, there was a father—not a nice one. Concentrate on him, do it now, but be discreet, and don’t make yourselves known. Follow his every movement and sooner or later you’ll find Erik. Unless he’s dead already—then we won’t find him for a long time.

Over and over, she had tried to get the policeman to understand this vital point. It was only when he pointed out that he had got the message long ago that she fell silent. He promised that they wouldn’t prioritise police procedure over Erik’s health and well-being. And that they would immediately put Hallin under surveillance.

She had irrevocably taken matters to the extreme, created desperation of a calibre that had put her own child in mortal peril. Had she really not grasped until now that she was facing something that might already be fact? But—she had to remind herself—it might not be.

Contacting Hallin was out of the question—terrified as she was of riling him up. Driving by his house to look for traces of Erik would be both futile and dangerous. An approach from the police would be even worse. If Erik was unharmed, Sandra’s and the police’s actions couldn’t be allowed to change that.