Page 86 of The Living and the Dead

“Wonder what he used to clean it.”

“We haven’t found anything yet,” Adrian said. “But the garage door was unlocked when we got here. According to the people we spoke to, Filip only locked it when the car was parked inside. Otherwise he left it open.” Adrian looked like this was the craziest thing he’d ever heard. “Apparently that’s common out here.”

“Was it open,” Vidar said, “or unlocked?”

Adrian consulted his notes. “Unlocked. That’s how I interpreted it. Closed, but unlocked. So he must have come here afterwards to leave the spade here.”

“Leave it,” Vidar said, “or put it back.”

Adrian opened his mouth but didn’t say anything.

“There.” The tech stood up. She handed four test tubes to Adrian. “Take these in right away. Tell them to start processing them immediately.”

“Did you see his planner, by the way?” Adrian asked. “I had a minute to take a quick look on my break.”

“You’re supposed to rest during breaks.”

Adrian ignored this.

“There’s nothing remarkable in it, as far as I can tell. Work, parties, birthdays, stuff like that. But I did notice a day in June was labeled with a number one. People with drinking problems do that sometimes, mark their first day of sobriety. I mean, that’s not necessarily what it was for, but considering his history. I didn’t see any signs of hard drinking here in the house—kind of the opposite, in fact. Maybe he just had a short relapse, and whether that’s of any significance, I have no idea.”

“The samples,” the tech barked. “Now. Get going.”

Adrian gave a curt nod and left the garage. Outside, morning rose with a yawn.

—

“We’ll be getting the new machines this fall,” the tech said, making sure her vinyl gloves were still intact. “Then we’ll be able to do rapid testing in the van and get an answer right away. This is how we have to do it until then, but we’re pretty fast. You should have an answer by the time you get to work tomorrow. The fingerprints will take a day or two, though.”

Vidar examined the workbench again, the walls covered in tools and equipment. The perpetrator had been here. After the fact. He looked around, breathing slowly. There was a noise. It took a moment for him to realize it was his phone. Who the hell was calling at this hour?

“Hi there, little old me again,” came the duty detective’s happy-go-lucky greeting. “Sorry to be calling so late—or maybe it’s early. Anyway, I figured you were still at it. Two things. The boxes are outside your office as we speak. I went down to get them myself; it was faster that way. You’ve got quite the stack waiting for you.”

“Nice.” Vidar sent up a grateful thought to the worker bees on call. “What was the second thing?”

“Someone’s here asking for you.”

“Right now? Who is it?”

“A…” the man said, reading from a piece of paper, “Sander Eriksson. Seems pretty urgent. And he’s a bit agitated, if you ask me, he hasn’t gotten a lot of sleep. So it must be important.”

66

Bizarre,Vidar thought later, as he stood on the street and watched the slim man vanish slowly into what was left of the Halland summer night. Light had long since begun to return, and the birds were up and bursting with song.

Vidar went up to his office and found four boxes outside the door. Inside them, it was December of 1999. He ran his hand over them, too exhausted to work but far too curious to leave the boxesbe.

Bizarre. Was that ever the right word.

—

It had still been stuffy, the air stale, in the lobby where Sander Eriksson was waiting for him.

“Can we sit outside?” Sander wondered. “It’s cooled off now. Somewhere nearby?”

They left the building in silence and settled on a bench in Norre Katts Park. The rotunda up on the hill was closed, but faintly illuminated. Colorful garlands hung from the trees. A group of young people were still hanging around on the small stage, holding cans and bottles. Some sort of banner had fallen to the ground.

“I’m not quite sure what was going on up there,” Vidar remarked, mostly just to have something to say.