‘Right, the Reinholtz Group,’ Karl says. ‘Some kind of administrator, if I’ve understood things right. How do you link that to Sandrine? She’s studying to become a nursery worker, for God’s sake. Or studied, I should say; I believe she graduated. Or to Greta Hansen’s job as a nurse at Thysted?’

‘That, I don’t know. And I did say it was a long shot, but the Reinholtz Group owns New Builds Ltd, and they—’

‘—own the buildings up in Moerbeck,’ Karl finishes her sentence. ‘Long shot seems like an understatement. More like hitting the woodwork, I reckon.’

He looks at her sceptically, then picks up the empty coffee cup sitting on his desk and stands up.

‘I was going to make myself a cuppa. Want one?’

She shakes her head and pushes on, ignoring Karl’s need for caffeine.

‘The fourth victim worked for the first two victims’ landlord. I checked; Anita Kollbar is listed as the tenant liaison on the New Builds’ website.’

‘And Greta Hansen? How do you fit her into this equation? New Builds doesn’t own any of the houses in Odinswalla, as far as I know.’

‘No idea. But I’d like to look into this. Unless you have a better idea?’

Karl Björken stifles a yawn and starts walking towards the kitchenette.

‘Do whatever you think best,’ he calls back over his shoulder. ‘I wouldn’t know how to stop you even if I wanted to.’

Chapter 20

20

‘All right, admit it. This was a great idea, wasn’t it?’

Marike has rolled down the passenger-side window and closed her eyes against the sun and the wind whipping her hair.

Karen glances over at her tangled red tresses and thinks about all the brushing that’ll be required later. Especially if Marike actually goes swimming, too, as she has declared she intends to.

‘You do realise the sea is probably just a few degrees above freezing, right? Just because the air is warm . . .’

Hearing the echo of her mother’s voice, she lets the sentence trail off. At least Marike is right about one thing: there can’t be many better ways of spending the afternoon. Forget about tomorrow’s visit with Anita Kollbar, forget about the mammography, and give up on going for a run. There are two bulging bags of unknown contents in the back, one of which clanked suspiciously when they boarded the ferry.

‘Pah, just a few bits and bobs I had lying around,’ Marike had said. ‘Nothing special.’

Now, after just a few minutes on the ferry across the sound, there’s more clanking from the back seat as Karen’s Ford Ranger disembarks on Frisel.