And she won’t have time to sleep any time soon. Food might raise my energy levels, she muses.

‘Sounds good,’ she says. ‘Preferably fat and fast carbs. I’m just going to check who called while I was on with Bergman.’

She checks her missed calls.

‘Someone from the CID?’

‘No, I don’t recognise the number. Oh, I have a message. Why don’t you pull into the nearest petrol station while I check my voicemail, I’m suddenly realising I’m bloody starving.’

‘“Fat and fast carbs”? But what about your gallstones . . . ? Doesn’t your condition require . . .’

For a moment, her thumb hovers over the display. She hesitates.

Then capitulates.

‘Fine, Charlie-boy,’ she says. ‘I get that you’ve puzzled it out. Yes, I’m pregnant. But no one at work knows yet, so can we drop it? I need to listen to this.’

And in a cowardly attempt to avoid questions, she types in the pin to her voicemail before Karl even has time to open his mouth.

You have one new message.

‘Hi, hello, this is Idun Formby. You were here a while ago. I just wanted to say that I think I know where those pictures were taken. Call me at this number, not our home phone. My mobile, not the house.’

Message recorded at 2.43 a.m.

Chapter 57

57

Idun Formby picks up after the first ring. She must have been waiting, phone in hand, Karen muses.

She had succinctly relayed Idun Formby’s message to Karl and he had pulled over at a rest stop and is now sitting at the ready with a pen in hand and a notepad propped against his knee.

‘Hi, Idun, this is Karen Eiken Hornby. I got your message.’

‘Can you hold on one second?’

The faint sound of quick footsteps and a door closing. Then Idun’s voice is back. Low, almost a whisper, as though she’s afraid of being overheard.

‘I had to go outside, Yngve doesn’t know I’m calling. He’s asleep now, but if he . . .’

She trails off.

‘I understand,’ Karen says. ‘I have you on speaker so Karl Björken can hear you, too. Tell me as much as you can, and he will take notes while we listen.’

A brief pause.

‘Well, it was the pictures you showed us. That room. I recognise the wallpaper. The table, too, I think, but it was the floral pattern that rang a bell first.’

‘So you know where it is?’

‘I knew straight away when you showed us the pictures, but . . . well . . .’

‘You didn’t want to say anything in front of Yngve. I understand.’

‘He doesn’t need to know, does he? That I called, I mean.’

‘He doesn’t need to know,’ Karen says, with more conviction than is strictly justified. ‘But now, tell me, where have you seen that wallpaper and that table before?’

‘The summer camp. The Church of the Covenant youth camp.’