Nothing would ever be fine again.

*

‘Have you got a cold?’

Alex sounded genuinely concerned when they met outside the room in which Sten Aber was waiting.

The question was a matter of politeness; Fredrika had glanced in the mirror and knew exactly what she looked like. Swollen eyelids, bloodshot eyes.

‘Sorry I’m late. I had to sort something out. And no, I haven’t got a cold. It’s an allergy.’

Alex touched her arm. ‘If I can help in any way . . .’

Fredrika bit her lip and shook her head.

Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry.

But one question echoed inside her head, the question she didn’t dare ask.

How did you cope?

Alex had travelled this same road. Watched as the love of his life was consumed by a disease, saw her die. Disappear from their shared existence, never to return.

Spencer won’t even call me. How can I bear not hearing his voice for the rest of my days?

‘Another time,’ she said. ‘There will come a time when I need your help. But not today.’

She pushed open the door of the interview room.

‘Fredrika Bergman,’ she said, holding out her hand to greet Sten Aber. Alex did the same.

Fredrika sat down on the cold, hard chair. Alex tried to catch her eye, but she concentrated on her notes, then focused on Sten.

‘Thank you for coming in at such short notice,’ she began. The standard opening comment always amused her; as if he had any choice. Whatever you chose to call this encounter, it was an interrogation. Not that Sten was suspected of any crime, but because there was reason to believe that he could provide important information. If he hadn’t turned up, he would have been brought in.

‘This has been a real shock,’ Sten said. ‘I’ll help in any way I can.’

He seemed genuinely distressed. His eyes were tired, and it was clear that the news about Malcolm Benke’s death had hit him hard. Fredrika had closely monitored what had appeared in the press so that she would know what he might have been able to find out. As usual the journalists had behaved like predators in their hunt for information, but had secured relatively few details. The headlines screamed ‘murder’, and they knew that Benke had been shot, but that was more or less all. They hadn’t printed Benke’s name. Not yet. Which was a good thing.

‘So how did you know Malcolm?’ Alex asked.

‘We were in the same class at school right from the start, and we’ve been friends ever since. We did our military service together, and even went to the same university.’

‘Both of you are – or rather were – engineers?’

‘That’s right.’

Fredrika checked her notes.

‘You also ran your own construction company, just like Malcolm. Were you competitors?’

Sten gave a little smile.