Elisabet is resting. Bror Klein is dozing in the visitor’s chair. His stony face is gaunt and there are shadows beneath his eyes; for the first time since they met, he looks his age.

‘The old fool hasn’t slept for days,’ Elisabet says quietly. ‘And he refuses to go home, even though he needs his medication.’

‘I can pick it up if you like,’ Anna offers. ‘I’m going up to Änglaberga to collect Milo from Mats anyway. I promised Agnes I’d try to smuggle him in later – the night staff aren’t as strict.’

She also wants to check on Mats. He saved her life, and Lisa’s, and she’d like to make sure he’s OK.

‘Excellent!’ Elisabet sounds surprisingly friendly. ‘The keys are in his coat pocket.’ She points to Klein’s oilskin, which is hanging behind the door. ‘His pills are in the bathroom cabinet.’

Anna almost says she already knows that, but manages to bite her tongue at the last minute. She’s convinced now: Elisabet and Klein are in a relationship, and have been for many years. But that’s their business; it’s nothing to do with her or anyone else.

‘If you have time, maybe you could pick up a few photo albums from the drawing room at Änglaberga too? I’d like to show Lisa some pictures of her father when she comes back. The key is on Klein’s key ring.’

‘No problem.’

*

Anna turns into the avenue leading to Änglaberga. Jens has provided her with an unmarked police car, because her hire car is being examined by forensics. Where should she go first?  The main house, Klein’s lodge, or to see Mats? She decides on the lodge.

The place is in darkness; the only light is provided by an outside lamp on the gable. There are at least ten keys on the ring, and it takes her a while to find the right one. The rooms inside somehow feel even more impersonal, even sadder in the evening, especially now no one is here.

She collects the bottle of pills and takes the opportunity to have another quick look at the bedroom. Nothing has changed – the same neatly made bed, the same book, the same photograph.

Her phone buzzes. This time it’s her solicitor.

‘Santesson just called me. The DNA match has come through,’ he says.

‘OK . . .’ Her heart beats a little faster.

‘It’s Håkan’s DNA. But you already knew that, didn’t you, Anna?’

She doesn’t answer.

‘Santesson claims that given Håkan’s condition, it would have been impossible for him to learn how the pump worked, plus he shouldn’t have been able to reach the buttons.’ He pauses, waits for her to speak. She says nothing. ‘He believes that someone must have helped him.’

Still, she doesn’t speak.