Anna and Jens cross the footbridge over the ditch and knock on the front door. They hear the sound of barking, then a shouted command followed by silence. Marie Sordi opens the door.

‘Come in,’ she says tersely. ‘No need to take off your shoes.’

She shows them into the kitchen, where Bruno is sitting at the table. He nods, but doesn’t bother getting up to shake hands. Instead, he seems embarrassed, and looks away. There are piles of papers and drawings in front of him; Anna can see the council’s letterhead on several of them, while others are from various companies and look like invoices.

‘So, what’s this about?’ Marie says, without asking them to sit down or offering a drink. The question is entirely unnecessary. Her tone and expression reveal that she knows exactly why they’re there.

Anna places the official police photograph of Rylander in the middle of the table, on top of an invoice from a firm of architects. She catches sight of the word ‘REMINDER’ before Bruno quickly removes the sheet of paper.

‘This is Kent Joakim Rylander. He was found dead in Glarea quarry a week ago.’

She pauses, gives them time to look at the picture. She would have preferred to use a post-mortem photo of Rylander just as she did with his stepfather, but she realises that she has to proceed with caution at this stage. She can’t afford to leave herself open to unnecessary criticism.

‘And what does this have to do with us?’ Marie says after only a couple of seconds.

‘Have you seen him before?’ Jens takes over, just as they’d agreed in the car.

Marie shakes her head. ‘No, never.’

‘Bruno?’

A shrug. ‘Hard to say.’

Anna watches them both carefully, sees Marie twitch briefly, then glare angrily at Bruno. Clearly that wasn’t the answer she was expecting.

‘I mean . . .’ Bruno rubs his lips, ‘I meet so many people at the restaurant. I can’t remember everyone.’ He gives an embarrassed smile.

‘You’ve both met him,’ Jens says. ‘Twenty-seven years ago at Mörkaby quarry. Back then he was calling himself Joe, and he was with a girl called Tanya.’

Neither of them says anything, and judging by their neutral expressions and body language, this information comes as no surprise. Marie and Bruno have been forewarned, not only about this visit, but also the purpose behind it.

Husband and wife exchange glances, then Bruno clears his throat.

‘We had an email, both of us, only a day or so beforehand,’ he begins, without taking his eyes off Marie. ‘From a sender calling himself Simon Vidje. The message went to Alex as well. We discussed it and decided it must have come from some sick bastard. When the DJ played that song . . .’ He spreads his hands apologetically. ‘We’d all had too much to drink, and things got out of hand. We really didn’t intend to hurt anyone.’