Following Sandra’s unannounced visit, Gunilla had cried in disappointment over the misery that Jan had drawn down upon them—she had reproached him for speaking about Sandra in derogatory terms, for not treating her with enough respect. The impression that Gunilla had given at the time was that in spite of the act of infidelity, she empathised with Sandra. It was now clear to him, however, that she was even more coldhearted towards her than Jan was. Even more derisive and damning. This was because Sandra was throwing a wrench in the works for Gunilla, and that wasn’t allowed to happen.

Disgrace was not to be drawn down on the Hallin family, and major and unforeseen expenses were not welcome additions to the budget either. On that topic, Mr. and Mrs. Hallin were most certainly in agreement, but when it came to how to achieve this goal, they seemed to have diametrically opposed views. On the whole, Jan had shied away from the problem, hoping that everything would resolve itself if he simply bellowed his refusal and expressed his contempt for beggars and gold diggers and other belittling terms for people like Sandra with sufficient emphasis.

While Gunilla, for her part, had kidnapped a three-year-old. To what end? he asked himself. The ultimate aim must have been to get rid of the boy. Gunilla must have had roughly the same thoughts he had, but with the not insignificant difference that she had tangibly grappled with the task of ridding herself of the child.

It must have been so much easier for a woman than a man to leave the woods with a child in her arms. What was more, if the child had been sleeping then it was doubtful whether any outsiders would even have noticed it. Erik must have got separated from the kindergarten group, and that had left Gunilla just enough scope to do what she needed to do. A quick injection of anaesthetic or whatever it might be—something that a nurse with an imagination would be able to lay her hands on without much difficulty. Then she must have driven him away unnoticed, and what she had subjected him to after that wasn’t even worth speculating about. With one miscalculation on her part: the boy had been found again. “Exhausted, but alive,” as the media had put it—what did that mean? Had the boy miraculously survived a murder attempt? Floated ashore on a beach? Jumped out of a burning building? Escaped from captivity or recovered from an overdose of some narcotic concoction?