ELLEN

5.00 P.M.

‘Many of the anxious residents in the village have made their way to Stentuna Church, which has now extended its hours because of the murder. A lot of people here have a need to talk things out, meet for coffee, and to find support in each other,’ Minister Inger Skog said to Andreas and Ellen as she showed them around the church.

After the incident with Carola, Ellen had driven down to Stentuna. Jimmy had approved her taking a photographer with her and going down to depict the fear in the village. Fortunately, Andreas had had time. It felt safe to have him there. They often worked together, and Andreas was a close friend.

Some of these people are probably at church to gossip about what happened, thought Ellen, wishing at the same time that she wasn’t so cynical. After all, no one knew Liv Lind in Stentuna. Not as far as they knew, anyway. Still, it was nice to see how people were coming together around this.

She thought about Carola. Even though Ellen didn’t know her, it hurt to see her loneliness, which unfortunately was all too reminiscent of the way Ellen herself felt.

It was only a couple of hours after Ellen and Carola had been talking that she’d been discharged, and apparently she was doing better.

They had already done a short interview with one of the policemen who was at the church to answer questions from the general public. In the interview, he’d confirmed that the police had started swabbing people in Stentuna, but he didn’t want to say any more than that. Ellen assumed that they would start with the houses closest to the crime scene, anyone with previous convictions, and then work outwards.

‘Focus.’ Andreas thumped her on the side.

She nodded and tried to collect herself. ‘Stentuna Church is staying open until ten o’clock tonight for those who want to talk. Inger, was this your initiative?’ Ellen extended the red mike with the white ‘4’ logo on it to the minister.

‘Yes, it was. People here are experiencing insecurity and they need to talk about it. The church is open to everyone.’

‘For the week, or as long as the need exists?’ Ellen asked.

‘I’m going to be here all evening, and there will also be professional help available later in the week for those who need it.’

‘That’ll do fine,’ Andreas whispered. ‘But try not to talk so fast. It sounds like you’re on speed. You can hardly hear what you’re saying.’

‘Sorry.’ She was out of it. It was lucky Andreas was so experienced and had patience with her. She tried to collect herself and speak more calmly.

‘As an example,’ Inger continued, ‘I’m currently trying to help with advice on how parents should talk to their children about what has happened.’

The candles were lit in the church, but there were no photos of Liv Lind. There were two dozen people there. Some sat in the pews, and others were holding coffees and talking to each other. Ellen wished she could hear what they were saying and imagined that they were speculating wildly about what had happened. Someone had baked a jam roll, which was being sold for five kronor a slice. The money went straight to the baker, it said on a little sign. Life goes on, and in the end, everyone takes care of their own interests, she thought.

‘We’ve noticed that people are dropping in at odd times during the day. Sven, you can make some more coffee, it looks like it’s out,’ Inger said to an older man who was picking up dishes from the coffee table and cutting up more slices of jam roll.

Ellen and Andreas each took a cup of coffee. Andreas filmed some background images, and then stood in the shade out in the churchyard to do a surveying shot of the villagers.

Lots of people were streaming towards the church. Some were curious about the TV crew, and a few recognised Ellen; others were just passing by, and some seemed almost afraid of the camera.

The first person they found who would agree to be interviewed was Ulla Holm, a sixty-year-old taxi driver who had lived in the village since the eighties. They chatted while Andreas adjusted the camera.

‘Rolling,’ said Andreas.

Ellen stretched and felt the sweat running down her back. ‘How do you feel about what happened?’

‘I’m really shaky. I haven’t been able to sleep properly, and I absolutely never go out alone in the evening any more. As soon as I get in the car, I lock it, and I’m more on guard when I’m driving, but I always have been, and I drive mainly in Nyköping.’

‘You’ve lived here in Stentuna for nearly forty years?’

‘Yes. The thought never occurred to us that such a thing could happen here. It feels immensely unsettling.’

After her came a young couple from Germany who were on a cycling holiday in Södermanland. They were on their way into the church because they thought it looked sweet and were shocked when Ellen told them what had recently happened.

An elderly couple walked past, but declined to take part. Ellen enquired about people’s observations in connection with the night in question. Some told her that the police had been going door to door in the area. Two sources offered information about a vehicle travelling west at high speed towards Stentuna from the direction of Nyköping. Another person had seen a car almost collide with another car. They all indicated that this had happened just after midnight.

A lone middle-aged man agreed, after some convincing, to answer some questions.

‘Hans Mårtensson, age fifty-eight, jogs in the area every morning. When he was on his morning run at seven o’clock on Monday morning, he was met by police.’ Ellen extended the microphone.

‘I was passed by a police car and realised that something must have happened, but never thought it could be this,’ he said. ‘It is a terrible tragedy.’

In the parking lot a little further away were two fire engines that people were grouping around.

Ellen and Andreas joined them and got the chance to do a short interview with the fire chief who was there.

‘The fire department in Nyköping has reinforced its presence in Stentuna on Wednesdays and Thursdays in order to increase the sense of security for the general public. Tell us about it.’

‘Right now, we are experiencing a lot of concern in the area, so we’re focusing on what we can do to help,’ said Fire Chief Malin Persson. ‘We want to demonstrate that we are taking an active position against violence.’

‘How are you doing that?’

‘We are driving around to make ourselves visible in the community, answering questions, and trying to induce calm. We are also here to show our respect and sympathy.’

Ellen turned to the camera and had to squint so as not to be blinded by the sun. ‘The police are interested in making contact with anyone who was in the area on Sunday evening or during Sunday night.’ She rattled off the tip number and general information. ‘Liv Lind was a happy woman who lived her life just like anyone else, said her sister in an interview with TV4.’ That was all Ellen could use, and it wasn’t a lie, though perhaps a slight embellishment of the truth. But it helped to make the whole thing more personal. ‘Police have not yet arrested a suspect. The murder remains a mystery. No one knows what the murdered woman was doing in Stentuna, so the police need your help …’

Ellen took the mike away from her mouth and looked over at the wall that encircled the churchyard.

‘Jesus, what a racket,’ said Andreas.

A gang of teenagers and children were screaming and shoving each other. It sounded more threatening than playful.

‘They’re at it again, now,’ said Inger Skog, who came out into the parking lot. ‘I heard they were here. I hope they’ll come in so we can talk to them. Even during the middle of summer holidays, we started getting reports of an unruly gang active in the Stentuna area that had been frightening, screaming at, and shoving other children and adults.’

Ellen felt a shiver go through her body. ‘Why?’ She recognised the blond kid with the bowl cut and that Bea. She took out her phone, scrolled back to the photo she’d taken of the girls at Culturum, and noted that several of them were also in this group.

‘Yes, you tell me. Society’s collective undercurrents? I think they’re afraid of the future, but they’re also questioning old norms, and they seem so angry. We’ve tried to talk to the principal at the school. It’s a gang from Nyköping and some children from here who run wild. I don’t know what they do, or what they’re prepared to do. It’s the result of a failed community.’ The minister looked over at the kids. ‘I’ve heard one person say that the police ought to start questioning children in connection with the murder.’