THEY GOT OFF the bus just before ten o’clock and then used their bikes and Kerstin’s mapping apps to make their way along increasingly narrow tracks in the forest. It transpired that they could have driven all the way up to the cabin—at least if they had had a car. They abandoned their bikes a little way into the woods, where the overgrown forest track leading to the cabin began. In order to be on the safe side, they left them behind the roots of a fallen tree and covered them in pine branches. In the unlikely event that anyone passed by, at least the bikes wouldn’t give them away.

The fact that it was a hunting cabin and nothing else was unmistakable. It was a proper log cabin and at the gable end above the door there were half a dozen or so roebuck horns on shields made from a very dark wood. The house was set on a wild plot where just enough brush had been cleared to ensure that trees and bushes didn’t completely take over, and to enable free access to the two smaller buildings also standing there. But it had to be years since anyone had done anything—probably more than four, at a guess.

After searching for barely a minute, they found the door key on top of a ledge and entered the house. The cabin itself was bigger than Kerstin had expected, including a small kitchen, a large common area with a dining table and chairs for eight, and a sofa suite around an open fireplace. On either side of the fire there was a door, behind each of which there was a bedroom with bunk beds for four people. Apart from the size, there wasn’t much that differed from how Kerstin had pictured a hunting cabin. The hunting trophies were there, and there were a few candleholders—the decorative approach was otherwise not especially impressive.

It was dark and drab, and there was little in the way of natural light. The house appeared to be connected to the power grid, but Kerstin was wary about turning on the electricity. Against the odds, someone might catch sight of the light and wonder what was going on, and neither of them was in a position to deal with the consequences of being discovered. However, what they were searching for was so large in volume that they could hardly miss it due to poor lighting.

Even though they were in Peter’s house, it didn’t really contain anything that could be associated with him. No photos, no clothing, no handwritten notes, no nothing. In short, the house was impersonal, and that was probably a contributing factor to Jeanette’s buoyant mood. The entire enterprise seemed exciting, and the rain pattering on the roof enhanced the thrilling sensation and created a new sense of relaxed intimacy between them.