‘I see.’ In the silence that follows she imagines she can hear the commissioner’s fingers drumming on his desk, the way Santesson drummed his fingers on the file in the interview room.

‘This is what I think, Anna.’ His voice has softened slightly. ‘Henry Morell has been chief of police in Nedanås for the past twenty-five years. During that time, we have had no trouble, not one single complaint against him from colleagues. You, however, have been in post for just over a week, and . . .’ He doesn’t finish the sentence. ‘Henry Morell is a good friend. He has an excellent reputation, and plenty of contacts both inside and outside the police service. My advice to you is to make your peace with him right away. When you’ve done that . . .’

Silence. More drumming.

‘When you’ve done that, I want you to send over all the documentation regarding the death you’re looking into. I have the greatest respect for your experience as an investigator, and I’d like you to explain exactly why you don’t believe that the deceased took his own life. If I don’t share your opinion, I will shut down the case with immediate effect. Do I make myself clear, Anna?’

*

As soon as the conversation is over, she tries Agnes again. Presses redial over and over again, and eventually leaves a message even though Agnes hates her doing that. ‘It’s Mum, call me when you get this. It’s important.’

She sits quietly for a while, trying to gather her thoughts. First the newspaper article, then the fact that Santesson has no intention of dropping the investigation, then a dressing-down from the commissioner. What a mess! And if she can’t get hold of Agnes in time, it will be even worse. She is interrupted by her office phone.

‘Reception – you have a visitor.’ The woman on the other end hangs up before Anna can ask who it is or what it’s about, so she has no choice but to go downstairs. On the way she passes Henry Morell’s office. He is staring at his screen and pretends not to see her.

The visitor is a woman in her mid-twenties, with short blond hair. She is wearing jeans, boots and a thick sweater.

‘Hi – my name’s Lisa Savic. I called the other day about my father.’ For a couple of seconds Anna’s brain refuses to work. ‘Joakim Rylander,’ the woman adds.

‘Yes, of course, you wanted to collect his things. I’m afraid it’s mostly rubbish.’

The woman nods. ‘Actually, there was something else.’ She casts a meaningful glance towards the other end of the desk, where the two receptionists aren’t even pretending to work. Anna steals a glance at her phone. Still nothing from Agnes. Shit!

‘I’m a bit pressed for time at the moment,’ she says. ‘Could you come back tomorrow? Are you staying in the village?’