It was not without bitterness that he recalled Sandra had accused him of kidnapping a child and attempted murder. What was so awful was that Jan actually had something to gain from Sandra’s boy ceasing to exist. He would evade the paternity issue, the demands for child support, the rape accusations, and the suspected involvement in the hit-and-run by the ravine. If there was no child, then none of the rest existed either—and Sandra could sit there with her serial and her accusations without there being any evidence to back them up.

But now the boy had been found, and it seemed to be Sandra’s own life that was suddenly at stake. This actually suited Jan even better than her computer just disappearing from the face of the earth. That meant the police would never get interested in Sandra’s story, and Jan would never be investigated. The beautiful façade that the Hallin family had maintained for so long would continue to stand, just like the good reputation of Jan and his wife. The family wouldn’t have to suffer, and there would be no derision at what had gone on behind the scenes.

There was a sound from the foot of the bed and Jan was roused from his contemplation. He lifted the covers, picked up the computer, and opened it. Of course, it was the book manuscript that he was interested in rather than the email that had just arrived, but he still clicked on the email out of reflex. There were a number of pictures on the computer screen of a car, a body, and a face.

But not just any face.

The email had been sent by someone at Gotlands Allehanda and contained a question: “Is this to do with Erik’s kidnapping?” Jan gasped for breath, turning to ice on the spot. Of course, he said to himself. How had he managed to avoid seeing it?

The face was Gunilla’s.

And here was Sandra, lying there completely knocked out—perhaps dying—right in front of him, while he held her laptop in his hands.

How was he supposed to deal with this?

75. Sandra

75

Sandra

WHEN SHE CAME to, the room was in semidarkness, but some daylight was filtering in from somewhere. She was tucked in bed, and she felt around the foot of the bed with her feet. The bastard had taken advantage of the situation, stolen the computer, and got out of there. Hallin’s campaign of persuasion hadn’t succeeded, so all that remained was to commit further crimes—in the classic style—to protect himself from accusations relating to the earlier ones.