The Quarry by Johan Theorin Page A

reappeared in the doorway and shook his head at the other two. He raised his hand.
    They went back down the steps.
    Per realized there was no hope for anyone inside the house.
    ‘Go, Pelle?’ said Jerry behind him.
    It was a tempting thought, simply to start the car and set off for Öland – but of course it was impossible.
    ‘No,’ Per said. ‘We have to wait here.’
    Several more sirens could be heard in the distance. An ambulance swung in and parked between the fire engines and the Saab. The siren was switched off and two paramedics climbed out. They stood looking at the burning house with their arms folded; there wasn’t much else they could do.
    ‘Come with me,’ said Per, helping his father out of the car. They went over to the ambulance, and Per pointed at Jerry. ‘My father’s got an injury to his stomach, and he’s had some kind of blow to the head … Could you take a look at him?’
    The paramedics nodded, without asking any questions. They simply opened the back doors of the ambulance and helped Jerry inside.
    Per himself was starting to feel a little better; he just needed lots and lots of fresh air. He left Jerry and walked over to the fence running along one side of the house. He stood there for a minute, deep in thought, looking over at the forest. Then he climbed over the fence.
    He had stared so much at the burning house that he hadn’t noticed that the sun had gone down. It was almost dark now, and as he crossed the field he glanced at his watch: it was ten to seven.
    He thought about Jerry, who always wore two watches when he was working: one stainless steel, one gold.
    The forest rose up ahead of him. Per searched for the opening among the fir trees, and found it after a few minutes. It was a forest track, deserted but not overgrown. There was a strip of grass down the middle, with a broad rut along each side. He bent down. The ground was hard and stony, but with patches of wet mud here and there, and in the fading light Per thought he could see fresh tyre marks.
    He straightened up and looked along the track, which wound through the trees and disappeared round a bend. Where did it end? Perhaps it led to a road north of Ryd.
    A good escape route.
* * *
    Ten minutes later he was back at the house. He stayed away from the fire-fighters, but stopped by the ambulance.
    The paramedics had cleaned up Jerry’s wound. Now the blood had gone, a long, red slash was visible across his pale, fat belly.
    ‘It looks like a knife wound,’ said one of the paramedics as he applied a dressing. ‘Pretty superficial – I think the knife must have slipped.’
    ‘Slipped?’ said Per.
    ‘Slipped across the skin … He’s been lucky, it should heal in a week or so. Then you can go to a clinic and ask them to remove the dressing, or do it yourself.’
    Per helped Jerry back to the car. They sat beside each other in the front seats, gazing over at the house.
    Eventually Per broke the silence. ‘There was a body in a bed upstairs,’ he said. ‘At least I think it was a body, but I could hardly see anything with all the smoke … and I thought I heard cries.’
    He sighed, leaned back in his seat and thought about the open window. Who had opened it?
    His father was mumbling something beside him. His brain seemed to have shut down again.
    Per made a fresh attempt. ‘What did you and Bremer talk about?’ he asked. ‘What did he say when he called and wanted you to meet him here?’
    ‘Can’t remember,’ said Jerry.
    ‘But why did you have a fight?’
    Jerry just coughed and leaned back. Per sighed, placed his hands on the steering wheel and gazed at the dark-grey sky. ‘I have to go home soon,’ he said. ‘Nilla, my daughter, she’s in …’
    He stopped speaking as a white Volvo turned into the drive. It was moving slowly as it swung around the fire engines then pulled up facing Per’s car. When it had stopped directly in front of him, a man and a woman got out. They were dressed in civilian