She remained at the stove, holding the jar as if she were never going to let it go.

“Can you tell us a little bit about Robin?”

She talked about his childhood and adolescence in great detail—his personality, his mediocre performance in school. When she came to his moving out, she grew quiet.

“He moved out at a young age?” Henrik asked.

“Yes, four years ago,” Sussie answered. “He was only sixteen, but he needed a change of scenery, a new beginning.”

“A change of scenery from what?”

“From me, maybe. From life? I don’t know.”

She sighed heavily.

“Before that, he would sometimes be gone for several days in a row. He always did what he wanted.”

“Where would he go?”

“Anywhere,” she said.

“Any siblings?” Henrik asked.

“No,” Sussie said with a sad expression, setting the jar down. “He was an only child. He liked being alone—completely alone, I mean, with his thoughts. He didn’t like talking.”

She shrugged her shoulders, took a deep breath.

“I didn’t know what I should do. I called a psychologist once, but Robin didn’t want to go. He wasn’t of age yet, but even so, I couldn’t do anything. Typical teenage rebellion, people said. I felt so helpless, you know? In the beginning, I’d go out and look for him, and I often found him where local bands practiced, but he would never come home with me. He said he was better off without me, so I stopped looking. I let him be. In the end, he moved out.”

“He played guitar?” Henrik asked.

“Yes. How did you know that?” Sussie replied.

“I saw a guitar case in his apartment.”

“He loved playing. He’d been playing for a long time. He was good.”

Sussie dried a tear. Her mascara was running and was now smeared onto her cheek.

“Did he play in a band?” Mia asked.

“No, but he liked to hang out at the rehearsal space, where the others played.”

“Where is that?”

Sussie thought for a moment. Her hands were trembling as she fished out another cigarette.

“There have been a few over the years. In the industrial district, for one, and at different clubs and such, but lately he’d been spending a lot of time at the community arts center.”

Henrik nodded to Mia as if to say they would start at the arts center after leaving Sussie’s apartment.

“What were his friends like? Was he particularly close to anyone, did he have any enemies?”

Sussie had put the cigarette between her lips, but the lighter wouldn’t spark. She tossed it onto the counter and took a new one from the cupboard.

“He didn’t have friends or enemies, from what I know. He just had his guitar. And his computer, of course,” Sussie said, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. “He was always sitting there staring at it.”

New tears trickled down her cheeks.