There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment.

“I’m not sure I’m with you,” said Kerstin uncertainly.

“I thought as much,” said Sandra. “That you didn’t mean to send it. It was a picture of something pretty hard to make out—might have been a car or something, seen through a crack.”

“Ah, now I’m with you,” said Kerstin. “I sent that this afternoon—around four o’clock. But I lost coverage out there after you and I spoke on the phone. The message must have got stuck in cyberspace somehow and only been sent once I returned to civilisation.”

“No writing and terrible picture quality,” Sandra laughed. “What exactly were you trying to say?”

“I wouldn’t say it was a cry for help,” Kerstin said. “But it was meant to be a clue as to what had happened. If we didn’t come back.”

“What are you telling me, Kerstin? Did someone turn up at the hunting cabin who scared you so much that you weren’t sure you were going to leave there?”

There was silence at the other end of the line. Sandra could hear Kerstin’s breathing as she walked, her footsteps on the asphalt.

“Hello?” she said. “What’s going on?”

“So you don’t know?” said Kerstin.

“That’s becoming increasingly apparent. Tell me now.”

So Kestin did as she was asked.

“I had found the bags and chucked them out onto the grass when a car showed up,” she explained. “I caught sight of it at the last moment, and I was totally convinced that I had been spotted and that the driver was on their way over to where I was hiding in the privy. I thought I’d reached the end of the line, and I realised I could take a photo through the crack in the door and send it to you.”

“But nothing happened?” Sandra said, encouraging her to go on.

“Something happened,” said Kerstin. “But the visit had nothing to do with the money, which was obviously what I was worrying about.”

“So what was the purpose of the visit?” Sandra asked.

“To undo the bolt on the door to the root cellar,” Kerstin replied.

“That’s all?” Sandra said in confusion. “They came to undo a bolt?”

“Exactly.”

“But why?” Sandra demanded.

She had a strong feeling that she was being told something very important right now, but she couldn’t for the life of her understand what it was all about.

“Because it had to seem as if the boy being held captive in the cellar had wandered in there by himself,” Kerstin said.

Sandra couldn’t understand what she was hearing—she was unable to file the words into the right compartment of her brain.

“The boy?” she said, dumbfounded.

“Erik,” Kerstin clarified.

Sandra felt her pulse quicken and her cheeks flush. What was going on?