Gunnar Öhrn stood at the window and looked out over the street. He thought about how he had worked as a policeman his entire adult life. When he was asked twenty years ago if he wanted to become the head of the division, he couldn’t refuse. He had moved to a larger office, a more comfortable chair, bigger bookshelves. And when he finally sat there in his new space, he realized that without knowing it, the whole time he had dreamed of becoming the boss. But what was he going to do now? When the new organization was standing there, knocking on the door? Was there anything else to reach for, or would he just dream of being done?

He sighed without being conscious of it and lifted his gaze. He looked at the offices and apartments in the neighboring building, his gaze lingering on windows of bedrooms and living rooms, and he sighed again. Maybe he expected something that wasn’t going to happen, maybe he’d been naive when he had hoped that he would be chosen to oversee the Eastern region instead of County Police Commissioner Carin Radler.

He turned toward his desk, sitting down and looking into his water glass. He heard footsteps echoing down the hallway, then voices before Anneli came in through the door.

“It’s time for lunch,” she said.

“Yes,” Gunnar said, barely audible.

“Are we going to eat?” she asked. “I’m hungry.”

He didn’t answer at first, and Anneli shut the door behind her, taking a couple steps toward him.

“You’re brooding over something. What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Yes it is. I know you.”

“No.”

“But I can tell that there’s something, and I don’t want to have to drag it out of you every time. Now just tell me!”

Gunnar picked up his glass, closed one eye and looked at the water with the other.

“I don’t like that he’s here,” he said.

“He’s the head of the National Crime Squad. He’s supposed to be here.”

“That’s not why.”

Anneli sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. She sighed again.

“Remember that I said it didn’t mean anything.”

She lowered her voice so she wouldn’t risk her colleagues hearing them through the walls.

“It was a long time ago, you know that.”

“But I think about it anyway,” he said, putting the glass down.

“You and I weren’t even together then.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does.”

“No it doesn’t. I don’t like that type of guy.”

“Oh, now you can just go...”

“I just don’t like the thought that he...”

“That he what?”

“Nothing.”

“Just say it!”

He met her eyes and understood that she was mad. He was scared, consumed by a feeling of inadequacy, that what he was wasn’t enough for her.