“Fifteen minutes max. They’re at recess now.”

“I noticed. The playground is a lively place.”

He was silent for a moment.

“So...” both said at the same time.

“I’m sorry. You start,” Stefan said.

“Okay,” said Mia. “You were at Central Station yesterday?”

“Yes. I was waiting for my wife, who was coming on the commuter train from Linköping just before eleven o’clock. She’s also a teacher. At the university there.”

“But you were there early?”

“Yes, I’d met a buddy who just had a kid and left their house around ten in the evening. Because we live a ways out, in Krokek, there wasn’t any point in going home, which takes twenty to twenty-five minutes round trip, so I went downtown and waited.”

“What time was it then?”

“Well, what would it have been, around ten fifteen or ten twenty, maybe.”

Mia pulled out a small notebook, looking for a blank page to write on but didn’t find one. All the pages were full of scribbles. She began taking notes on the brown cardboard back.

“Where were you parked?”

“Right in front of the taxi stand.”

“And while you sat there waiting, what did you see?”

“Yes, that’s the thing. There was a car parked right behind me, and a man sitting in it.”

“Can you describe him?”

“I only got a quick glimpse.”

“What kind of car was it?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

Stefan thought, resting his chin on his hand.

“No, cars have never been my thing. But I would guess that it was a Volvo, an older model. Or a Fiat.”

Mia wrote again.

“Color?”

“Dark. Blue, maybe.”

“Hatchback?”

“No.”

“License plate?”

“The thing with memory is that it only gets worse with age. I used to be so good at remembering things like that, but...maybe a G in the beginning, and a U. Or maybe vice versa.”

“Any digits?”

“It started with a one, but then...no, I don’t really remember. I think there was a four and a seven.”

“Okay, so 147?”

“No, probably 174, I think.”

“Good,” said Mia. “Then we’re only missing the letters. Tell me about the driver...”

“Sure. I left my car to go into the convenience store. I wanted something sweet, I’m addicted to Daim bars, but anyway, when I walked into the shop, I ran into the driver, I mean, the man. He stood in the doorway with a lighter in his hand, as if he wasn’t sure whether he should go in...”

“So he never went in?”

“No, not that I saw. But I bumped into him accidentally and he dropped the lighter.”

Stefan glanced up at the clock on the wall.

“The children will be coming back soon.”

“Okay, can you describe the man for me now?”