KERSTIN WAS WOKEN by the sound of a text message arriving on her phone, which was lying on the nightstand. And she found to her delight that it was Sandra, who had pulled up the address of what had to be Peter Norling’s hunting cabin. Other than his home and the summer house, it was the only property he owned—while he had been alive. Now it was probably considered Mrs. Norling’s property.
She examined a couple of different maps and satellite images on her mobile and noted that the location was in the woods over towards Slite. It was some distance away, but there were buses going there. If they took their bikes with them on the bus, it looked like they’d be able to get pretty close to their target without having to trek an inordinate distance through the forest. She couldn’t see any neighbouring properties, so it seemed in every regard the optimal place for housebreakers to work undisturbed. And they could leave their cleaning gear at home.
She called Jeanette and got her out of bed. She seemed to have scant interest, but that would sort itself out. They’d had a really nice time on the last occasion, even though Jeanette had taken it very badly in the few instances where something had reminded her too much of Peter. And although they’d had to put their backs into it at times, Jeanette had largely remained in good spirits.
Kerstin guessed that there would be less work this time. Fewer knick-knacks, fewer household items—less stuff in general, given that the cabin was for hunters. She was picturing the odd hunting trophy on the walls, stuffed animals and birds, some majestic roebuck horns. Meagre supplies in the fridge and larder—just enough for hungry hunters to cook a bite to eat in a convivial setting. She imagined that beer tankards and schnapps glasses might have their own dedicated shelf.
It was probably a retreat just for men, it now occurred to her. That wasn’t necessarily true, but she was pretty certain that efforts to achieve equality for women hadn’t yet reached the point where they were represented to the same extent as men in hunting clubs around the country. And if looked at through cynical eyes, that might mean that Mrs. Norling rarely or never set foot there. This in turn led to the conclusion that it was a suitable location for a man needing to stash away six million stolen kronor intended for use by himself and his lover.
The odds were thus pretty good, although she would have to disregard the clouds heavy with rain that hung low over Gotland and had been there for several days.
THEY GOT OFF the bus just before ten o’clock and then used their bikes and Kerstin’s mapping apps to make their way along increasingly narrow tracks in the forest. It transpired that they could have driven all the way up to the cabin—at least if they had had a car. They abandoned their bikes a little way into the woods, where the overgrown forest track leading to the cabin began. In order to be on the safe side, they left them behind the roots of a fallen tree and covered them in pine branches. In the unlikely event that anyone passed by, at least the bikes wouldn’t give them away.
The fact that it was a hunting cabin and nothing else was unmistakable. It was a proper log cabin and at the gable end above the door there were half a dozen or so roebuck horns on shields made from a very dark wood. The house was set on a wild plot where just enough brush had been cleared to ensure that trees and bushes didn’t completely take over, and to enable free access to the two smaller buildings also standing there. But it had to be years since anyone had done anything—probably more than four, at a guess.
After searching for barely a minute, they found the door key on top of a ledge and entered the house. The cabin itself was bigger than Kerstin had expected, including a small kitchen, a large common area with a dining table and chairs for eight, and a sofa suite around an open fireplace. On either side of the fire there was a door, behind each of which there was a bedroom with bunk beds for four people. Apart from the size, there wasn’t much that differed from how Kerstin had pictured a hunting cabin. The hunting trophies were there, and there were a few candleholders—the decorative approach was otherwise not especially impressive.
It was dark and drab, and there was little in the way of natural light. The house appeared to be connected to the power grid, but Kerstin was wary about turning on the electricity. Against the odds, someone might catch sight of the light and wonder what was going on, and neither of them was in a position to deal with the consequences of being discovered. However, what they were searching for was so large in volume that they could hardly miss it due to poor lighting.
Even though they were in Peter’s house, it didn’t really contain anything that could be associated with him. No photos, no clothing, no handwritten notes, no nothing. In short, the house was impersonal, and that was probably a contributing factor to Jeanette’s buoyant mood. The entire enterprise seemed exciting, and the rain pattering on the roof enhanced the thrilling sensation and created a new sense of relaxed intimacy between them.
They talked. About this and that and nothing in particular. Not like social misfits and addicts. Not like deadly enemies or people with suicidal tendencies. Just like two completely normal people. It was liberating.
Kerstin looked in the fridge, just to confirm her suspicions. No one had stayed here for several years—all that was to be found in the fridge was beer with a best before date more than three years ago. While Kerstin turned the kitchen upside down, Jeanette worked on the common space. Neither of them found what they were looking for, or anything else of interest. Not even in the chimney.
Then they tackled the bedrooms, the halls, the porch, and the veranda, and they even put a ladder up outside in the pouring rain so that they could check the loft in the roof, which had to be accessed from the outside. But nowhere did they find what they were looking for.
At around two o’clock they stopped for lunch and sat on the covered decking, shivering as the heavy rain drenched the forest around them.