This seemed to be exactly what Kerstin had been hoping for.

“You didn’t go to the police with the photographs—that much I know,” said Sandra. “Was it enough for you to know who had caused the accident? Did that make you feel better?”

“No,” said Kerstin.

“You didn’t feel better?”

“No. And it wasn’t enough, either.”

“It sounds like there’s more to tell here . . .”

“I’m gathering my thoughts,” said Kerstin. “You’re not going to report me?”

Sandra wondered what was coming next, and deliberated for a moment.

“No,” she then said. “I’m not going to. Whatever you did, I won’t instigate any legal proceedings against you. You have my word.”

“Thank you,” said Kerstin.

“Tell me what you did with the information.”

Kerstin lit a cigarette in the background and took a long drag.

“I blackmailed him,” she said eventually.

“You blackmailed him?” Sandra said in surprise.

She would never have guessed. Blackmail felt like a crime that rarely happened, and which—for whatever reasons—had passed its best-before date.

“I actually did,” said Kerstin, unmoved. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“But how? What did you threaten him with?”

“I sent the photos to him.”

“I understand that—but what did you want in return? You wanted him to hand himself in, I suppose?”

“No,” said Kerstin, audibly blowing out a cloud of smoke. “Well, he was obviously welcome to. But I didn’t demand it. I also enclosed a key to a locker down at the ferry terminal with a brief instruction.”

“You wanted money?” Sandra said doubtfully.

She had difficulty seeing this grieving person as an old-school blackmailer.

“Yes,” said Kerstin, breathing in.

“How much?”

“Six million.”

“Six million? What made you think he would be able to pay?”

Kerstin took a while to answer—perhaps thinking Sandra naïve.

“He has an expensive car and a beautiful house,” she said. “A well-paid job and a well-dressed wife with diamond earrings. I reckoned he’d find a way.”

“Or what?”

“It was implied I would go to the police with the photographs if he didn’t do as I said.”

“Did he?”

“No,” Kerstin sighed. “He didn’t.”

“And you didn’t follow through on your threat either, I take it?”

“No,” Kerstin admitted, taking another drag on her cigarette. “And I didn’t have it in me to blackmail him anymore.”

“But why didn’t you go to the police?” Sandra persevered.

“I had blown my chance—don’t you get that? If I had gone to the police, they would have done me for blackmail. I might have ended up in prison while he got off due to lack of evidence. I couldn’t be sure, and still don’t know, how good those photos are as evidence. But I do know one thing—and that is that I have no wish to go to prison.”

“I understand,” said Sandra. “But you must realise how dangerous it is to go up against people like this? To threaten them? He could have watched the locker, waiting for you, before . . . Well, use your imagination. We know he doesn’t put much value on human life.”