However, eventually they were allowed to go, under strict instructions that they should stay at home while they were the subject of further inquiries. Two chastened castaways trotted downheartedly towards their bikes in the woods. They pulled away the branches, tore off the plastic and threw it to one side. They checked the contents of the two holdalls and their eyes met in a smile, before they each slung a bag over their shoulders and cycled away from what had become a crime scene. Six million kronor richer.

IT WAS ONLY once they were on the bus with their hands clasped around the bags that Kerstin noticed that the expression on Jeanette’s face had changed. Despite the harassment from the police, there had been an air of exhilaration about her entire being since they had found the boy—a feather-lightness to her movements. Kerstin interpreted it as a form of redress—that Jeanette had been vindicated in her own self-perception. She had contributed to a big, important event: a child’s life had been saved, and Jeanette had been involved. Not all children died in her arms—this time she had been able to do something and she had done it, too. And with remarkable decisiveness and command.

But now the darkness had crept back over her—the hollowness in her gaze had returned and Kerstin didn’t understand why. She tried to read her facial expressions and patterns of movement to discover what was going on inside her, but Jeanette turned her back to her and directed her gaze out of the window. Kerstin was tempted to put her hand onto Jeanette’s and ask how she was feeling, but she thought that could wait until she shifted position and wasn’t making it quite so clear that she wanted to be left in peace with her thoughts.

Around ten minutes passed, and Kerstin could feel the anxiety spreading through her body. Now and then, she glanced at Jeanette but without getting the response she was looking for. Judging by her breathing, she was still awake, yet she didn’t make the slightest motion to seek contact. They were a duo now—they had surpassed themselves and not only found the money but also saved Erik’s life—what had gone awry? The thoughts continued to grind away in Kerstin’s head, and the situation began to feel unbearable.

She followed the contours of Jeanette with her gaze, her finely shaped ear and the hair, which, despite being wet and tangled, still fell so beautifully around her face. Her slender arm in the anorak, the bend at the elbow, and the forearm resting on the big bag. The small white hand peeping out from the sleeve and the vicelike grip on . . . Well, on what exactly?

The luggage tag on the bag. On one of the holdalls that Karl-Erik had taken from home when he had gone to the mainland to collect the loot from the robbery.