What was worse was that the third photograph was of his car. There was no question about it: it was his blue Audi parked above the wreck as he took in what had happened and considered how to respond to the situation. On the wrong side of the road, to top it all, which seemed more than ominous.

Inside the envelope there was also a handwritten note, which he now discovered. He mopped the sweat from his brow and tugged the small slip of paper out.

Leave six million kronor in locker number 67 at the ferry terminal in Visby. No later than 10th February at 12:00 p.m.

That was what it said, and it left him completely stunned. Six million kronor—where was he supposed to find that? He had ten days, which was fairly generous, but he wouldn’t be able to pull together six million in ten months. Not even once. Unless he was forced out of house and home and sold both the car and the SUV. And he couldn’t do that.

On the other hand, he couldn’t go to prison either. For that was surely what awaited him if this came to the attention of the police. That he had been at the scene of the accident before the snowfall—in direct connection with the accident itself. That he had been on the wrong side of the road just after the bend, which suggested—even if it didn’t prove it—that he had caused the tragedy. That he had been on the scene when the accident happened, but had failed to call an ambulance or tell the police. They would ask why this was, and dig up old receipts from his visits to the Lindgården Inn. And maybe even an old case about a rape nearby, if such a police report existed and had stumped the investigators.

Fucking hell! That was what he wanted to shout. But he didn’t, because Jan was a problem solver and the only one who kept his calm when everyone else was running around like a headless chicken. It had to be possible to get himself out of this tight corner. All it demanded was a little imagination and a dash of luck.

The question remained: who had taken those bloody photos?

Thanks to the impending heavy snow, there had been hardly any traffic out on the roads at the time of the accident—especially not on that country lane out in the wilds where there was probably never much traffic at any time. Was there someone other than the driver in the crashed vehicle? Someone who had been thrown clear of the car as it plunged downward, or had managed to climb the steep slope before Jan had been able to bring his own car to a halt and reverse?