They were on a forest track. Somewhere just north of Sundsvall, if he remembered correctly. Or had they come as far north as Skellefteå? The sun was a burning ball at the top of a pine tree and the day was already warm. He took a few steps before bending over and vomiting. He had had a vision of the holes the bolt gun had made in the smooth, white surface of the coffee table. In a dream sequence, he had filled those holes with putty and evened it out with sandpaper, and an unidentified person had run their hand over the table top and said it turned out really good, no trace of the holes, and he had agreed. But the dream had restarted, with new holes and the same procedure, and his repairs had turned out worse and worse. He had been stuck in that scene all night. Well, not exactly all night. He couldn’t have slept more than a few hours.

He glanced in through the rear window and then walked up to it. The wolf wasn’t in there. He opened the boot. But the rifle still was. He felt his face twist into a grimace. His abdomen tensed up and then he cried silently with a hand over his mouth.

*

They came toward him down the little road, shaded by the trees. First the wolf and about thirty feet behind it Stava, with her hands in her pockets like a dog owner out for a walk.

Anders squatted down and held his head in his hands.

‘What have we done,’ he said, ‘what have we fucking done.’

She opened the boot and waited for the wolf to get in. But the wolf was busy. It had found Anders’ vomit and was gently lapping it up.

‘This is the first day of your new life as a muuurderer,’ she said with a hoarse laugh. ‘We’re like Juha and whatshername. The one with the French lops. What was her name?’

He sobbed.

‘Anders! Listen to me! We haven’t murdered anybody. He did it. That kid. Lukas. We just happened to be there.’

He nodded.

‘We just happened to be there.’

‘We should get going. And as soon as we get to my dad, everything will be all right. Everything will be all right when we’re with my dad.’

‘How far is it?’

‘Get in the car.’

*

Stava drove and he watched the monotonous landscape glide past outside the window. Tightly packed spruce trees in never-ending rows. He did actually feel a bit better. At least physically. His headache had subsided. It still hurt, but it no longer felt like his head was about to explode. It might be because the wolf was asleep. Or at least keeping quiet in the boot. He badly needed to pee, but was afraid to ask her to stop in case that would disturb the balance.