her.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s no use trying to pretend it never happened,” said Wägner. He took a few steps onto the lawn that had stopped growing in the heat wave. “It’s best if Lisen confronts her grief. Otherwise it’ll be worse. And worse still next time.” He looked at Winter. “So, it’s happened again.”
“A girl called Angelika Hansson.”
“In the same place . . .”
“Yes.”
“Exactly the same place?”
“It seems so.”
“And another girl has been attacked, too, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Also raped?”
Winter nodded again.
“No doubt there’s more than one rapist running loose in town?”
“Depending on how you count them, there are several,” Winter said.
“But there’s one who’s special,” said Wägner.
“It’s a hypothesis.”
“Does it make sense to work on that basis?”
“I think so.”
“What good does it do us?” Wägner gave a snort, almost like a dry little laugh. “What do we get out of it?”
Winter lit a Corps, exhaled, and watched the smoke mix with the air that was growing clearer now that the last of the dampness from the sky was sinking into the grass at their feet.
“If we can find a link it could help us. It could be of enormous help to us.”
“How? What link could there be?”
Winter took another drag on his cigarillo. He’d offered one to Wägner, who’d accepted it, and who now lit up.
“Angelika Hansson’s murderer could be the same one who murdered Beatrice. Neither you nor I can stop thinking about the fact that he’s still on the loose. It’s devastating for you, I know, but I can’t forget it either.”
“But what kind of a link do you expect to find by going through all that shit all over again?” said Wägner, puffing at the cigarillo and studying the smoke as it rapidly became invisible.
“If there’s something in common, we’ll find it,” said Winter. “That’s what’s going to help us.”
“But what could it be? That really means something?”
“It could be anything at all.”
“You’ve read all the documents and reports and all the rest of it several times, Erik. Over and over again. Surely there can’t be anything you’ve missed?”
“I haven’t had anything to compare it with.”
“No, I can see that. But there must be lots of things that can be . . . well, in common, without meaning anything at all. Obviously there are three girls about the same age. Maybe with the same interests, for all I know. The same hobbies, perhaps. The same favorite parts of town. Maybe . . . maybe they used to go to the same places. You said all three had just graduated. Good God, there’s tons of things they have in common. There must be. How will you know what’s important and what’s not when you read it and compare?”
“I can only hope that I see it.”
“Hope? Is that the best we can wish for?”
Winter gave a little smile and took another puff.
“Pretty strong, these things,” said Wägner, looking at the long, thin cigarillo in his hand. “I was going to buy a pack a few months ago, but they didn’t have any.”
“I’m the only one smoking them,” said Winter. “And when they don’t make them any more, I’ll give up.”
“But you won’t give up on . . . Beatrice.”
“Never.”
“Will you . . . we . . . will we find that bastard?”
“Yes.”
“Now you’re hoping again.”
“No. By the end of this summer we’ll have gotten him.”
“It could be a long summer,” said Wägner, looking up at the sky.
Winter called from Wägner’s lawn. Halders answered after four rings. Winter drove back eastward and found the house in Lunden, following the instructions Halders had given him. Halders’s car was parked outside. Winter pulled up behind it.
“I could have come down to the station,” said Halders, who was waiting at the gate.
“I was out anyway.”
“It’s a great job, lots of freedom, eh?”
“Do you have anything to
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s no use trying to pretend it never happened,” said Wägner. He took a few steps onto the lawn that had stopped growing in the heat wave. “It’s best if Lisen confronts her grief. Otherwise it’ll be worse. And worse still next time.” He looked at Winter. “So, it’s happened again.”
“A girl called Angelika Hansson.”
“In the same place . . .”
“Yes.”
“Exactly the same place?”
“It seems so.”
“And another girl has been attacked, too, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Also raped?”
Winter nodded again.
“No doubt there’s more than one rapist running loose in town?”
“Depending on how you count them, there are several,” Winter said.
“But there’s one who’s special,” said Wägner.
“It’s a hypothesis.”
“Does it make sense to work on that basis?”
“I think so.”
“What good does it do us?” Wägner gave a snort, almost like a dry little laugh. “What do we get out of it?”
Winter lit a Corps, exhaled, and watched the smoke mix with the air that was growing clearer now that the last of the dampness from the sky was sinking into the grass at their feet.
“If we can find a link it could help us. It could be of enormous help to us.”
“How? What link could there be?”
Winter took another drag on his cigarillo. He’d offered one to Wägner, who’d accepted it, and who now lit up.
“Angelika Hansson’s murderer could be the same one who murdered Beatrice. Neither you nor I can stop thinking about the fact that he’s still on the loose. It’s devastating for you, I know, but I can’t forget it either.”
“But what kind of a link do you expect to find by going through all that shit all over again?” said Wägner, puffing at the cigarillo and studying the smoke as it rapidly became invisible.
“If there’s something in common, we’ll find it,” said Winter. “That’s what’s going to help us.”
“But what could it be? That really means something?”
“It could be anything at all.”
“You’ve read all the documents and reports and all the rest of it several times, Erik. Over and over again. Surely there can’t be anything you’ve missed?”
“I haven’t had anything to compare it with.”
“No, I can see that. But there must be lots of things that can be . . . well, in common, without meaning anything at all. Obviously there are three girls about the same age. Maybe with the same interests, for all I know. The same hobbies, perhaps. The same favorite parts of town. Maybe . . . maybe they used to go to the same places. You said all three had just graduated. Good God, there’s tons of things they have in common. There must be. How will you know what’s important and what’s not when you read it and compare?”
“I can only hope that I see it.”
“Hope? Is that the best we can wish for?”
Winter gave a little smile and took another puff.
“Pretty strong, these things,” said Wägner, looking at the long, thin cigarillo in his hand. “I was going to buy a pack a few months ago, but they didn’t have any.”
“I’m the only one smoking them,” said Winter. “And when they don’t make them any more, I’ll give up.”
“But you won’t give up on . . . Beatrice.”
“Never.”
“Will you . . . we . . . will we find that bastard?”
“Yes.”
“Now you’re hoping again.”
“No. By the end of this summer we’ll have gotten him.”
“It could be a long summer,” said Wägner, looking up at the sky.
Winter called from Wägner’s lawn. Halders answered after four rings. Winter drove back eastward and found the house in Lunden, following the instructions Halders had given him. Halders’s car was parked outside. Winter pulled up behind it.
“I could have come down to the station,” said Halders, who was waiting at the gate.
“I was out anyway.”
“It’s a great job, lots of freedom, eh?”
“Do you have anything to
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