‘Internal Affairs want to interview you again. Apparently, a different prosecutor has taken over, and the new incumbent isn’t willing to drop the case just yet.’

‘You said everything would go away if we waited. Kept a low profile.’

‘I also said there were no guarantees.’

She sighs. ‘When?’

‘As soon as possible. When can you come up to Stockholm?’

‘We’re in the middle of a major investigation . . .’ She pauses to give herself some thinking time. ‘Can’t they do it over the phone?’

‘I’m afraid not. You have to attend in person. They were very clear on that point.’

‘Oh . . .’ Her heart is pounding.

‘Text me a couple of dates to put forward – preferably today, so they don’t get the idea you’re trying to wriggle out of it, OK?’

She tries to sound calm.

‘Is it that serious?’

‘Hard to say. I’m going to call the new prosecutor, try and suss things out. The important thing is that we are as co-operative as possible, OK?’

‘OK.’ She puts down the phone, closes her eyes and leans back. For a second the tears burn behind her eyelids.

You thought we were safe, Håkan murmurs. If you could just get away, if no one saw you in the corridors of the police station, then they would forget about you. Find someone else, easier prey. That was what you thought, wasn’t it?

She waves him away, presses her fingers against her eyelids until the feeling of despair passes. She has to pull herself together, keep her head up, concentrate on the job. Both for her own sake and for Agnes’.

*

Jens Friberg appears at ten to eight. He puts his head around the door and asks if she’d like a coffee. She still hasn’t got used to his new, friendlier persona, but accompanies him to the kitchen. Morell’s door is closed, his office in darkness, which makes her feel slightly better.

Small talk isn’t exactly Jens’s strong point. They sit in silence at the table for a while until she decides to sound him out.

‘I know it was long before your time, but I assume you’ve heard about Simon Vidje’s death in the pool at the old quarry?’

He nods and sips his coffee without taking the bait.

‘Was it an accident?’

He looks at her over the rim of his cup, then puts it down.

‘As you say, it was long before my time. I’ve never had any reason to doubt Henry’s account.’

‘And what did he say?’

He pulls a face. ‘Anna, I’m not comfortable passing on second-hand information like this. Talk to Henry, or go through the case notes.’

‘I’ve already done that.’

He nods slowly, as if he’d already worked that out.

‘Did you find anything to give you cause for concern?’

She notices that he’s turned the tables – he’s the one questioning her.