Page 146 of The Living and the Dead

“It’s too specific.” She looked at Vidar. In the dark, his face was allangles and shadows, two glittering eyes. “His memory. Elina’s arms. It’s too specific to be misremembered. But also, it has to be wrong.”

“It probably isn’t.” Vidar tapped thoughtfully on Filip’s words. “Filip heads out with Elina. We know that. And it happens at one o’clock. He writes as much himself, and he even explains how he knows. Or more accurately, it’s one at the earliest, because the clock fell off the wall and stopped, we know that too. Pierre hasn’t fixed it yet, he doesn’t do that until he’s alone. Which means they can’t possibly have left any earlier than one. And Sander and Killian leave much later, all the witnesses agree. How long would it have taken to walk from the party to the place where you found the car?”

“At least half an hour,” Siri said.

“And Mikael was killed at one-thirty.”

Clocks spun before Siri’s eyes.

“But,” she said, “if Filip left with Elina at one o’clock at the earliest, and if we assume the clock has just fallen down, and Sander and Killian don’t leave the party until sometime later on, then Killian can’t be the one who…”

The timeline didn’t match up. Sander and Killian wouldn’t have made it to the scene of the murder.

“Killian didn’t kill Mikael,” Vidar said. He looked up at the house again, toward the front hall and the dead body lying there, the physical remains of a human. “And that only leaves one option.”

Vidar’s gaze lingered on the house as Adrian went back inside, his stride purposeful. After a moment he came out again, with a tight grip on Felicia’s arm. No handcuffs. He probably wanted to spare her.

Vidar studied her closely, as though her guilt should be visible in the shape of her.

“The witness,” Vidar said.

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Vidar had warned Adrian to be cautious: Felicia had been carrying the truth about Mikael Söderström’s death for over twenty years and had concealed it well. She had just hidden Killian Persson in her own basement. She had lost a pregnancy in the landslide. There was no telling what other surprises she might be capableof.

Adrian opened the door to his car and tried to get her to sit inside. Vidar and Siri watched from a distance.

Then Felicia said something that made Adrian stop short. He hesitated, just for a moment.

That was all it took. Felicia punched him in the face, tore herself loose, and ran for the forest.

Adrian looked surprised, then weary.

He ran after her, with Vidar a few steps behind.

She didn’t get far. Just a short distance into the trees she was overpowered by Adrian, who pressed her into the muddy ground.

“She said she wanted to call her kids,” he grunted. “What the hell was I supposed to say to that?”

Vidar looked at Felicia, lying there in the dark.

Sometimes, the eyes say nothing; other times, they say so much. Isn’t that remarkable.

—

She had been hovering in the background of the investigation the whole time. When Vidar tried to talk to her, get her to confess, because it would make everything easier, she remained tight-lipped. Perhaps it was no wonder; she was probably trying to protect her family. And herself. Vidar had seen it happen before, more than once. And what would Felicia even have said? Still, he gave it a shot.

“Felicia,” he said, “if you could tell me in your own words, how it happened.”

“Tell you about what?”

“The night Mikael died.”

“I don’t know. I was at home.”

“I know that. But while you’re home that night, Killian calls you from the party. Doesn’t he? He tells you that the Lindells have withdrawn their savings from the bank.”

Vidar paused. This was a crucial moment. He hoped she would crack, that maybe this was going to work after all, because Vidar had seen that happen before too. Sometimes, something snapped loose inside them when the truth was laid out as fact, plainly and straightforwardly, and they capitulated.