“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out his hand. “It’s just really difficult to have him looking over my shoulder all the time. What do you say to pizza for lunch?”

Anneli released her arms to her sides, shaking her head at him.

“Sure,” she said through clenched teeth.

He smiled and reached his hand out to her, expecting her to put her hand in his.

But she didn’t.

* * *

Henrik Levin and Mia Bolander could hear music as they approached the front door of the community arts center.

Henrik knocked on the door to the large recreation center that housed a concert hall, art gallery and café, but realized that it was pointless because no one could hear them.

Instead, he tried the doorknob, opened the unlocked door and walked in.

Kulturhuset in Norrköping was a creative meeting place for young people. The building was furnished with pieces from across the decades. A moss green living room set from the sixties, armchairs from the seventies, a bright yellow wall from the eighties. In the corner of the concert hall, a stage rose twelve inches from the shiny gray sealed concrete floor. A band comprised of four young women was standing there now, and Henrik thought they were playing an original song until they arrived at the refrain. Only then did he realize they were playing Soft Cell’s “Tainted Love.”

Henrik and Mia wandered farther into the building, trying to get away from the loud music.

They found a man with a bushy beard and a thin black cloth wrapped around his dreadlocks sitting at a table. He was wearing two tank tops and necklaces made from wooden beads, and his hands were wrapped around a cup of coffee.

“We’re police,” Henrik said. “We want to ask you about Robin Stenberg.”

“Who?” the man asked.

“Robin Stenberg!”

The man shook his head.

“Ask the café!”

* * *

Four people sat around a table, talking in low voices, when Henrik and Mia entered Café Manala. A young woman stood behind the counter, transferring freshly baked cookies from a tray onto a platter.

She had blond hair, a low-cut shirt and a tattooed sun on her neck.

“I’m Lisa,” she said when Henrik had introduced himself. “May I offer you a cardamom cookie? No eggs or dairy. It’s completely vegan.”

Henrik shook his head, as did Mia.

“We’re here to ask about Robin Stenberg,” Henrik said without needing to shout this time. “Do you know him?”

“I wouldn’t say I know him. He comes here a lot, almost every Sunday,” she said, continuing to stack the cookies on the platter.

“Did he practice here?” Mia asked.

“No, but he likes to hang out here,” Lisa said.

“Any particular reason?” Henrik asked.

“Every Sunday we have open jam. We call it Band Camp,” Lisa said. “Everyone who wants to can come.”

“Do you know who Robin hung out with?”

She suddenly looked at them suspiciously.