The house, a 1960s affair with brown garage doors facing the street, is made of bricks. A balcony runs half the length of the first floor but despite its generous size, it looks unused: no hint of planters or furniture. The windows are small and far between, the front door is as depressing as the gravel path leading up to it. The whole scene makes a gloomy impression. But Karen knows from experience that houses like this one often look completely different from the back, with big windows overlooking a garden.

Faint light from the downstairs windows illuminates the gravel. They’re expected. Karen called from the car and explained to a drowsy and very annoyed Yngve Formby that the police need to speak to them, tonight. She didn’t tell him what it was about.

‘I assume I can’t stop you from coming to my house, but if this has anything to do with William, you’re wasting your time,’ he’d replied.

Karl slows down after passing the driveway, turns the engine off, and stretches out his neck. They’ve agreed he’s going to take the lead this time. The reason Karen gave for wanting to take a step back during their meeting with Billy Formby’s parents is that she would prefer to observe.

They both know that’s bullshit.

The question is whether Karl Björken will be any more successful at keeping his mouth shut and maintaining a civil tone. Neither one of them is looking forward to meeting Yngve and Idun Formby.

They’ve kept in close contact with the rest of the group during the drive. Smeed has confirmed that Astrid Nielsen, together with Cornelis Loots and two guys from forensics, are now in Billy Formby’s flat, looking for anything that might lead them to the location where Luna is being kept. Sören Larsen has let them know the image analyst feels certain the letters on the poster in the room spell out AMP.

‘Apparently, they’re sure the first letter’s A. We’re running a search for places and names that might be relevant, Larsen said.’

‘And I bet it’s going to turn out to be a tourist poster from Denmark or Norway that has nothing to do with anything,’ Karl had muttered after they hung up.

*

Now, they hear the buzzing of the doorbell on the other side of the front door’s frosted glass. They must have seen us drive up and yet, they make us ring the bell, Karen reflects. Her theory is confirmed when the door opens before she has even taken her finger off the button.