He had spent the two-hour meal carrying on about his dog who, after various stomach ailments and bowel problems, had had to be put to sleep. Although Jana couldn’t have cared less, she had feigned interest when Torsten pulled out his phone to show pictures of the puppy years of the now-dead dog. She had nodded, tilting her head to one side and trying to look sympathetic.

To make the time pass more quickly, she had inventoried the other patrons. She’d had an unobstructed view of the door from their table near the window. No one came or went without her seeing. During Torsten’s monologue, she had observed twelve people: three foreign businessmen, two middle-aged women with shrill voices, a family of four, two older men and a teenager with big, curly hair.

After dinner, she and Torsten had moved to The Bishop’s Arms next door. He’d said the classic British interior reminded him of golfing in the county of Kent and that he always insisted on the same table. For Jana, the choice of pub was a minor irritation. She had shaken her boss’s hand with relief when he’d finally decided to call an end to the evening.

Yet she had lingered a bit longer.

Stuffing the papers into her briefcase, she drank the last of her water and was just about to get up when a man came in. Maybe it was his nervous gait that made her notice him. She followed him with her gaze as he walked quickly toward the bar. He caught the bartender’s attention with a finger in the air, ordered a drink and sat down at a table with his worn duffel bag on his lap.

His face was partly concealed by a knit cap, but she guessed he was around her age, about thirty. He was dressed in a leather jacket, dark jeans and black boots. He seemed tense, looking first out the window, then toward the door and then out the window again.

Without turning her head, Jana shifted her gaze to the window and saw the contours of the Saltäng Bridge. The Christmas lights swayed in the bare treetops near Hamngatan. On the other side of the river, a neon sign wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year blinked on and off.

She shuddered at the thought that there were only a few weeks left until Christmas. She was really not looking forward to spending the holiday with her parents. Especially since her father, former Prosecutor-General Karl Berzelius, suddenly and inexplicably seemed to be keeping his distance from her, as if he wasn’t interested in being part of his daughter’s life anymore.

They hadn’t seen each other since the spring, and every time Jana mentioned his strange behavior to her mother, Margaretha, she offered no explanation.

He’s very busy, was always her response.