“Did he do something?”

“Probably not,” Henrik said. “But we’re trying to find out who he hung out with.”

“I have no idea. There are usually so many people here. Everyone hangs out with each other, really. Sorry.”

She shrugged her shoulders and smiled apologetically.

“So can you give us some names?”

“I can’t, but you can probably get some from Josefin, who organizes Band Camp. You can call her.”

* * *

Her arms were cramping up.

Pim felt her skin being torn, warm blood dripping from her little finger to the floor. It hurt—so much. She had rubbed large sores on her hands, wounds that had grown over the hours she had spent grinding the ropes up and down on the small, sharp edge she had found on the wall behind her.

The pain had caused her to say a short prayer that the ropes would break, that she would be able to get away. But no one heard her prayer.

Her movements became weaker and weaker. Up and down. Up and down. In the end, she simply couldn’t do it any longer.

She closed her eyes and felt the pain as she pulled her hands up one last time.

And felt the ropes suddenly release.

Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

IT WAS FOUR O’CLOCK in the afternoon, and the dark gray clouds hung like a heavy blanket over the wealthy Lindö neighborhood. The windshield wipers fought to keep the windshield free from slush. Jana Berzelius watched the black, slushy road in front of her.

She parked her car on the wide driveway and walked up the path to the front door. Ringing the doorbell, she took a step back and waited.

She heard slow steps coming from inside the house, and after a moment the door opened.

“Hello, Mother,” she said. Margaretha was wearing an apron and gripping a checked kitchen towel so hard that the veins and ligaments were visible under her pale skin. Her eyes were blue and sparkled merrily; she appeared calm.

“Jana,” she said, her laugh lines drawing together behind the thin bows of her eyeglasses. “I’m so glad you could come.”

She spoke slowly but smiled happily. She reached out her hands and gave her a hug.

“Come in,” she said. “I just have to check on the glogg.”

Margaretha disappeared into the kitchen.

Jana hung up her coat and put her shoes neatly on the shoe rack. The scent of saffron greeted her.

She walked down the hall and poked her head into her parents’ bedroom. She didn’t go in, just looked around at the white walls, large bed, comforter and pillows.

The closet was open, displaying hangers hung with suits, shirts and pants, carefully grouped according to season and color. Every item of clothing was clean, pressed and precisely placed on a hanger. The hangers were all exactly two inches apart.

It felt strange to be home again.