“Even if that was the case, I wouldn’t admit it to you, would I Sandra? If anything I say makes you suspect that I’m planning to commit a serious crime you’ll contact the police.”

“You know, I’m not sure I would in this case,” Sandra said softly.

This was mostly for herself and in some sort of half-hearted hope that Kerstin wouldn’t hear it. Or perhaps, on consideration, it was the other way around. Once again she was deviating from the few guidelines she had to follow as part of Friends-on-call. Once again it was Kerstin who had conjured up this disobedience. And for some peculiar reason, this insight disturbed Sandra—she didn’t let anyone else control her, no one had to do anything. It also gave her the courage to ask one of the questions that she had wanted an answer to for so long.

“Photo evidence, you said. Tell me about this so-called photo evidence.”

“I heard what you said,” said Kerstin with a smile in her voice.

Sandra pretended to be nonchalant about Kerstin’s comment, but a smile crossed her lips too. Tempting a smile out of gloomy Kerstin was a victory in itself.

“How is that you know more about this accident than the police?” Sandra said, developing her question.

Straight away, the natural seriousness in Kerstin’s voice became palpable.

“I received a letter,” she said. “A few days after they found him, I got a letter. Well, actually, just an envelope with a few photographs inside. Without any comment.”

“And what did the photographs show . . .?”

“The wrecked car seen from a couple of angles from above. On one of the photos you can see his upper torso through the side window. Awful photos.”

“Including the head?” Sandra dared to ask. “The face?”

“Yes, unfortunately,” said Kerstin mournfully. “At a distance, so it’s a little fuzzy, but when I looked with a magnifying glass I could see well enough. I can’t erase that picture from my memory.”

“I understand how you feel,” said Sandra. “At the same time, you don’t have to speculate. You know what state he was in, what circumstances. Sometimes it’s better knowing, even if the knowledge is almost unbearable.”

“I suppose so.”

“Was he dead when the photo was taken? Your husband?”

“It’s hard to say, but presumably not.”

“What makes you think that?”

“The third photo,” Kerstin replied. “There was another photo in that envelope.”

“That showed . . .?”

“The other car leaving the scene. A blue Audi.”

“Of course,” said Sandra, who was beginning to put the pieces of the puzzle together. “But how do you know that it was a hit-and-run? How do you know that your husband was forced off the road?”

“I think the person who sent those photographs thought I deserved to see the full picture. The other car was standing still on the road above the ravine—on the left-hand side of the road, but not in the ditch, not at an angle, and seemingly undamaged. The driver was down by the wreckage, saw that there was a seriously injured person in the car, but he chose not to call the emergency services.”