The darkness had returned and another summer had passed him by. Autumn terms felt like a death sentence these days, forcing him to give up the search and sit in the classroom. The new students knew who he was. He saw the looks they gave him, a mixture of fascination and sympathy. It made his stomach turn. But they never asked questions. When he introduced himself to the new class he didn’t mention Lina. They knew anyway. Everyone in Glimmersträsk knew. People were afraid, and the youngsters at their desks had to live with that fear. They’d had to learn never to walk alone and always be on their guard. He doubted any of them had stood alone at a bus stop, waiting for a bus that didn’t arrive on time. Their parents had learned from his tragedy and certainly weren’t going to make the same mistake. Hanna Larsson’s disappearance had added fuel to the fire, yet another reminder of everything that could go wrong and how vital it was to keep your children close, even in a small community like Glimmersträsk.

The kids were easier to deal with than their parents. When lessons finished and they slouched past him and through the door, he sat for a long time in the silence they had left behind. It was the staffroom he worried about, the colleagues with their strained expressions and empty, well-meaning remarks.

He flinched at their bursts of laughter, and walked straight to the coffee machine, busied himself there, stirring his mug even though he didn’t take milk or sugar. He hid behind the clink of metal against china. Through the slats of the blinds he saw the birch trees that had begun to turn yellow and drop their leaves. A fragile layer of ice covered the puddles outside.

Claes Forsfjäll, one of the sociology teachers, came and stood next to him and started talking about the moose hunt.

Lelle listened dutifully, but didn’t shift his gaze from the frozen puddles outside. Forsfjäll’s breath smelled disgustingly of banana and liquorice throat sweets when he leaned closer and put a hand on Lelle’s shoulder.

‘You know, we always think of that daughter of yours when we’re out in the forest.’

Lelle turned to look at Forsfjäll’s pasty face and felt a shiver run down his spine. ‘And what makes you think she’s out there in the forest?’

Forsfjäll shut his mouth and his face turned red above the knot of his tie. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant we think about her. That we keep our eyes open.’

Lelle bowed his head, suddenly conscious of the hard floor under the soles of his shoes and the weight on his feet from the effort of keeping himself upright.

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘That means a lot.’