Call-me responds with his trademark smile. ‘Excellent. In that case you probably already know that Tabor was Karl-Jo’s studio, until he became too ill to work. You can still see his fingerprints on the bannister,’ he adds, gesturing towards the stairs. ‘This painting was the last piece he finished. He developed a serious eye condition that eventually left him almost blind, but he refused to leave here until the mural was completed, even though it took him almost ten years.’

Agnes clicks away again.

Anna moves closer – slowly, almost reverently. The painting is enormous, at least six metres wide and three high. It covers most of the wall. The motif is a pool surrounded by a forest. Flat rocks and steep, jagged cliffs encircled by autumn-coloured trees against a turbulent sky. The tones are muted, the surface of the water almost black. White splashes of rain can be seen here and there, disturbing the reflections of the leaves and rocks and making them change shape. As she gets closer the perspective shifts; the water almost seems alive. Anna doesn’t know a great deal about art, but she realises it must take great skill to achieve this effect. She is fascinated. The nearer she gets, the stronger the illusion of movement becomes, while at the same time her own anxiety is increasing. She tries her hardest to resist; she doesn’t want to hear what it has to say.

A faint noise makes her look back over her shoulder. Klein has taken a couple of steps into the chapel. He is facing the mural with his hands clasped in front of him, almost as if he is praying. His jaw is clenched, his eyes dark. The skin on his forehead and cheeks is thin, making the bones beneath protrude sharply, just like Håkan in the last weeks of his life.

Please help me, Anna!

Help me!

The anxiety breaks through her defences, passes through her mind like a gust of wind and whispers in her own voice that all of this – the move, the new job, the new life for her and Agnes – is one huge mistake.

Chapter 2

2

28 August 1990

Bruno and Alex were the first to arrive, as always. Alex parked his black Ford Escort by the barrier that closed off the dirt track, and they sat there for a few minutes with the sunroof and the side windows open, the car stereo going full blast.

Even though the nights were getting colder and beginning to turn the leaves yellow here and there, summer was having one last celebration, grabbing a few more days before it gave in to the inevitable. Which in turn meant it was time for their annual tradition – summer’s last dip in their secret place, Mörkaby quarry.

They had arranged to meet Simon at two thirty by the barrier, but they knew he’d be late.

‘Why is Simon always fucking late when he lives the closest?’ Bruno said.