Hundreds of households visited in Moerbeck, Odinswalla and Lemdal. Concerned neighbours, worried neighbours, helpful neighbours. And neighbours who for whatever reason didn’t want to talk to the police. Hostile voices through cracked doors: ‘No, I already told you, I don’t know anything’, or ‘this is the second time you’re here’, or ‘I’m going to fucking report you for harassment’.

They’ve managed to collect a handful of tips about grown men who ride mopeds from neighbours who wanted to help. ‘I always found it odd that he still drives a moped, at his age’, or ‘well, I’m not sure exactly how old he is, but it’s a bit weird for a grown man to be riding around on a moped’, or ‘I don’t know if it’s a moped or a small motorcycle, but he’s always driving around the area. Far too fast’.

Every last tip needs to be followed up on, and they all know the drivers are unlikely to match the victims’ descriptions of a large man or their internal assumptions about the perpetrator’s age. And among the few who potentially match either one or the other, the explanation for their chosen mode of transportation will almost certainly be DUIs and suspended licences.

Following their conversation with Anita Kollbar, Karen and Karl had contacted Sandrine Broe, who had no recollection of hearing or seeing a moped.

‘But then, I hardly remember any part of it,’ she’d told them. ‘Not until I woke up after the surgery.’

And Karen had silently prayed it would remain that way, for Sandrine’s sake. That the memories of the terror she must have felt, wandering around the shrubberies of Moerbeck town centre in the middle of the night, covered in blood, would never resurface.

They don’t know yet if the third survivor, the nurse who had taken a taxi home from her work at Thysted Hospital last autumn and been attacked outside the building where she lived, had noticed a moped. No one opened when they rang the Hansens’ door and Greta didn’t answer her phone, either.

Instead, she had called them back this morning, saying she would prefer if they didn’t come to her house, but that she didn’t mind stopping by the station.

*

Now, Greta Hansen is sitting at the edge of her seat, across from Karen, tense and watchful, explaining that she doesn’t want the police to come to her home again. Doesn’t want her husband worried.

‘He’s still feeling very raw about what happened,’ she says. ‘Every reminder opens those wounds back up and makes it worse for him. It would be better if you just called my mobile and I’ll come in.’