Part 28 (1/2)

She has made some coffee. Hjalmar has put his mug on the little table in front of the sofa. Vera is lying at his feet; Tintin has fallen asleep in front of the fire. Martinsson is finding it difficult to stop looking at the photograph of the Krekula family. She would like to go and fetch Pantzare's photograph of the girl and Viebke in order to compare them. But she is sure it is her. It is Kerttu.

”Where to begin?” Hjalmar says. ”We drove there. To the lake.”

”Who did?”

”Me . . .”

He hesitates. Then he takes a deep breath and says, ”Me and Tore and Mother.”

It is October 9. Hjalmar Krekula is sitting in the back seat of Tore Krekula's car. Tore is driving. Kerttu Krekula is in the pa.s.senger seat. She has been to see Anni Autio. Asked about Wilma. As one does. In pa.s.sing. Anni said that Simon Kyro had been by to collect Wilma that morning, and they had gone off on some adventure or other. They would be out all day. Anni did not know where they were going. But Kerttu knew. She went to the garage. Spoke to her boys.

”They'll be at Vittangijarvi, that's for sure. That's where Svarvare thought they should start looking. We need to go there.”

That was all Kerttu said. Tore Krekula loaded the four-wheeler onto the trailer. Now they are driving along the Luonatti road. Gravel clatters against the underside of the cha.s.sis. Tore drives skilfully between the potholes.

Hjalmar thinks, What the h.e.l.l are we doing?

n.o.body speaks.

Hjalmar looks at Martinsson. He is searching for words.

”You know,” he says, ”it didn't happen like you might think it did. n.o.body said, 'We'll kill them.' It just happened.”

”Try to explain,” she says. ”And drink your coffee. Before it gets cold.”

A tune plays in her pocket. She takes out her mobile. It is displaying Wenngren's number.

Oh h.e.l.l! she thinks.

”Answer it,” Hjalmar says. ”I'm not bothered.”

”No,” Martinsson says. ”Sorry, I should have switched it off.”

She lets the phone ring until Wenngren gives up, then turns it off.

”Sorry,” she says again. ”Let's hear it.”

”There's not much to say. We got there. Mother cut the safety line. I fetched the door.”

”And you laid it over the hole in the ice?”

”Yes.”

They are driving through the forest in the four-wheeler. It is almost unbearably beautiful down by the lake. When they switch off the engine, it is totally silent. The sun is s.h.i.+ning on the bare ice. It is glittering like a silver brooch in the middle of the forest.

And there is the hole in the ice. With a wooden cross over it.

They pause for a while and watch the bubbles of air plopping up through the hole.

”Give me the knife,” Kerttu says to Tore. He pulls it out of the sheath on his belt and hands it to her.

She says to Hjalmar: ”Go and fetch a door from up there.”

She nods towards the farmhouse, which appears to be deserted. Hjalmar looks over at it. Kerttu becomes impatient.

”There's bound to be a door to the outdoor toilet or something. Get a move on.”

He walks to the farmhouse, lifts the shed door off its hinges and carries it back to the frozen lake. When he gets to the hole in the ice, he sees that his mother has cut the line and removed the wooden cross.

”Put the door there,” she says, pointing at the hole.

He does as he is told. And when she tells him to stand on the door, that is what he does.

The light is dazzling. It is almost impossible to see. Hjalmar screws up his eyes and looks at the sky. Tore whistles a tune. A few minutes pa.s.s. Then someone appears beneath the ice. Scratches at the door. It is just someone. It could be anybody. Hjalmar does not think about Wilma and Simon.

Kerttu says nothing. Looks the other way. Hjalmar also looks away. Only Tore stares at the door with interest. It is as if he has suddenly come alive.

”What did Tore do?” Martinsson says.

”Nothing,” Hjalmar says. ”It was me. I was the one who . . .”

The person beneath the ice swims away from the door. Tore, staring like a raptor at its prey, stops whistling.

”It's her,” he says quietly. ”She's so little. It's her.”

Hjalmar does not want to hear. It is not her. It is someone.

Now someone starts cutting a hole through the ice, stabbing and jabbing with a diving knife.

Tore seems amused.

”b.l.o.o.d.y she-cat!” he says, seeming rather impressed. ”She's got s.p.u.n.k, you've got to give her that.”

He stands a couple of metres off and watches as the hole grows bigger and bigger. Eventually a hand sticks up through the ice.

Tore immediately runs over and grabs hold of it.

”Hi there, pleased to meet you!” he says, laughing as he pulls the hand back and forth.

He looks provocatively at Hjalmar. The same sort of look he used to give his brother when they were growing up. Stop me if you can, it says. Say something if you dare.

Hjalmar says nothing. He switches off his face, just as he always did. Lets Tore carry on.

Suddenly Tore is standing there with nothing but a diving glove in his hand. Someone has managed to shake off his grip.

”Oh, f.u.c.k!” he says in annoyance.

Then he sees someone swimming away beneath the ice. He runs behind, waving the diving glove.

”Wait!” he shouts, and starts laughing. ”You've forgotten something! h.e.l.lo!”