“Calm down, we’ll help you get home. But first you have to tell us the truth, all of it. We want to know what you were going to do here in Sweden and who held you captive...”

“I don’t want to go back there,” Pim said. “I just wanted to get out of there, and I tried to help her, but I couldn’t. I had to run.”

“You wanted to help Noi?”

“I didn’t want to leave her, but I had to. I had to leave her.”

“Listen to me,” Henrik said in a calm voice. “Who were you forced to leave? Do you mean Noi, on the train?”

“No, the girl sitting in the room.”

“What do you mean by ‘the girl’? You say ‘the girl’—what do you mean?”

“She was with me.”

“In the room where you were held captive?”

“Yes.”

“There was another girl there?”

“Yes.”

Chapter Eighteen

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

GUNNAR ÖHRN PULLED the gold-colored chain hanging from the desk lamp. The green shade gave off a dim light.

He sat down at the desk and looked at the advent candelabra that stood there. It was red with seven candles, with small plastic wreaths at the base of every candle.

It was Second Advent. The countdown to Christmas was in full swing.

He moved his gaze to the computer in front of him, meeting his own reflection in the black screen. He hardly recognized himself. Gray and pale. Bags under his eyes.

Unkempt hair.

When was his last haircut?

He had forgotten, maybe because he was tired. Maybe because he was old. He didn’t know which.

He heard a knock at the door and watched it swing open. Suddenly he was standing there, that idiot. But he didn’t come in, just lingered in the doorway with one hand on the doorknob and a sneer on his face.

“What smells?”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s something...”

Anders Wester lifted his nose in the air, sniffing like a damn hunting dog.

“Oh, I know. It smells like gingerbread.”

“And?”

“Are you sitting here in your office pigging out?”

“No. Anneli bought new soap.”

“So now you’re walking around smelling like gingerbread. That’s one way to spread Christmas cheer.”

“Just stop.”

Anders sneered again. He remained in the doorway, rubbing his hand over his bald head.

“So we’ve had a breakthrough?” he asked.

“Clearly.”

“But you weren’t the ones who found her?”

Gunnar clenched his teeth, inhaling through his nose.

“She was found by the slowplow driver on Highway 209.”

“Where is she now?”

“At the hospital.”

“And where has she been since she ran from the train?”

“It’s very unclear. She isn’t really at home in these parts, if I can say that. But we hope it will become clearer over the course of the day. We’re questioning her now.”

“And the perpetrator? What are you planning to do about him?”