She steps back and stares at the Saab, tries to put together what she has just learned with the information from Grönwall and what she already knows about the dead man. After ten seconds she is convinced that something isn’t right. Another twenty and she knows what it is.

The bearded man is, or was, five feet five inches tall, only slightly taller than she is. He was also thin, bordering on emaciated. But the driver’s seat is pushed back as far as it will go.

She leans in, looks at the rear-view mirror and attempts to work out the angles. It is important to keep an open mind, but she can’t find anything to contradict her original conclusion. If the victim had sat in the driver’s seat as it is now, it would have been extremely difficult for him to operate the pedals effectively, or to use the mirror. There are two possible explanations for the position of the seat: firstly, the car does not belong to the bearded man. This doesn’t fit in with their hypothesis, which is not a reason to ignore it. The other option seems far more likely. The car does belong to the bearded man, but someone else drove it to the viewpoint – someone much taller, someone who has also taken the victim’s phone in order to hide his own involvement.

In spite of her best efforts, an image of Alex Morell immediately pops into her mind and refuses to go away.

Chapter 33

33

Autumn 2017

Before Anna leaves the station to go home and rest, she feels the need to sort out the awkward situation with Henry Morell. The door of his office is ajar, and she taps gently on the frame.

‘Come in!’

He is sitting at his desk with his reading glasses on. ‘Anna, I’m so glad you’re here. This damned cursor won’t go where I want it. I’ve tried everything.’ He waves helplessly at the screen.

‘Let’s see,’ she says, hiding her surprise.

She leans over his shoulder to fix the problem. As usual he smells of aftershave with a hint of musty house.

‘There you go.’ She straightens up.

‘Thank you so much – you’re a lifesaver, Anna.’

She stays where she is, looking down on him. His glasses are perched on the end of his nose, which makes him look kind and slightly absent-minded. She wishes she hadn’t been so short with him down at the quarry, and decides to tell him.

‘Henry, I really didn’t mean to—’ she begins, but he holds up his hand to stop her.

‘You don’t have to say anything, Anna. To be honest, I’m the one who owes you an apology.’

He slowly removes his glasses, shuffles in his seat.