So far, none of the search teams had been through Kärnan. The reason for that was that it was at the edge of the search area, and they had erroneously assumed it would be packed with tourists. But in hindsight, it was a simply flabbergasting way of prioritizing. It was on the direct path from the playground where the girl had disappeared, and if there were doors you could close in any of the rooms in the tower, they would in fact be perfect hiding spots.

When she reached the top of the terraced stairs, she had to stop to catch her breath before she could press on up the hill towards Kärnan, the entrance of which was, to make matters worse, several storeys up and of course, began with yet another steep flight of stairs.

The lobby itself was, as Molander had suggested, empty of tourists. But he’d been wrong about the reception desk. It was in fact manned by a young girl, who had headphones on and was transfixed by something on her phone.

‘Excuse me,’ she said on her way to the desk. ‘You don’t happen to have seen a man in his forties with a little girl, by any chance?’ The girl sat motionless as though hypnotized by the phone in her hand. ‘Hello, I’m talking to you!’ The girl only looked up when Lilja leaned across the desk and waved her hand in front of the phone.

‘One adult?’

‘No, I’m not buying a ticket. I’m from the police, I’m looking for—’

‘The first floor is free. If you want to go all the way to the top, it’s fifty kronor.’

‘For God’s sake, I don’t want a ticket!’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.’ The girl pulled out one of her earbuds.

‘We’re looking for a man of about forty who has a little girl with him. You wouldn’t happen to have let someone like that in today?’

‘Um… I don’t really know… Or wait, yes, actually. A man and a little girl. Was he wearing a green top?’

Lilja hurried up the spiral stone staircase to the first floor, which was empty. As were the second and third. On the fourth floor, the door to the tower was closed, and when she tried it, it turned out to be locked as well.

It was a heavy wooden door, likely ancient and of significant cultural interest. But it couldn’t be helped. She pulled her gun out of her shoulder holster and was aiming it at the lock when she heard the faint sound of a child crying, echoing down the stairwell behind her.

This time, she didn’t run; she crept up the stairs as silently as possible. By the time she reached the top, she’d lost count of the number of floors she’d passed.