KLIPPAN DOLED OUT THE generic-looking hamburgers, fries, and Cokes to Lilja and Tuvesson, who were sitting in silence, trying to interpret the various hmms from his phone call. They were alone in the seating area outside the grill on Rundgången, a stone’s throw from the police station. Klippan had insisted on sitting outdoors: after what had happened with the camera at Söderåsen, he didn’t want to take any chances that the perpetrator might be listening.
“Great. I’ll call if that happens.” Klippan stuck his phone in his shirt pocket and took a very large bite of his burger. Tuvesson and Lilja waited patiently for him to chew and swallow, only to watch as he took another bite.
“I don’t suppose you were planning on telling us what was said,” Tuvesson said.
Klippan pointed at his hard-working mouth. “Sorry, but I’m awfully hungry. Camilla’s kids are with their father.”
“Oh, thank God.”
“So far so good. The problem is, he’s not the one who picked them up from preschool,” Klippan said, devouring another bite of the hamburger.
Tuvesson and Lilja had no choice but to wait for him to finish. “Let me get this straight: the kids are with Björne Hiertz, but he’s not the one who picked them up, even though that’s what the preschool says happened?” Lilja asked.
Klippan bowed his head in agreement and started speaking, even though he wasn’t done chewing. “Since their dad doesn’t have custody of the children, I’m guessing he’s probably never been to the preschool, or at the most maybe been there once, which made it pretty simple for the perpetrator to pass himself off as their father. Remind me to send the preschool director a picture of Björne tomorrow.”
Tuvesson and Lilja exchanged glances. “How did the kids get to their father?”
“That’s the peculiar thing.” Klippan filled his mouth with fries. “Our guy dropped them off at his house.”
“What? The killer was there?”
Klippan nodded. “Apparently there was quite a bit of confusion, initially. Obviously Björne had no idea the kids were coming.”
“How did the killer explain the situation?”
“He told Björne about the accident on the E6 and identified himself as a father with kids at the same preschool, which was why he was dropping his children off.”
“I don’t understand why he would have devoted so much time to picking up and dropping off the victim’s kids,” Tuvesson said.
“Or why their mom was on her way north on the E6 instead of heading for the preschool,” Lilja added.
“She did go to the preschool, but the kids weren’t there. The staff told her what they told us — their dad had already been by to pick them up,” Klippan said. “Which means the killer probably knew she would drive to Strövelstorp to get them.”
“So he tailed her from the preschool,” Lilja said.
“It still doesn’t explain how he managed to burn her eyes,” said Tuvesson. They stopped speaking and went back to their food, which had grown cold and even more tasteless, if that was possible. Tuvesson gave up with half her burger left and pushed her paper plate away. “But I think we should put the cause of death on the back burner for the time being and focus on catching the killer. How many of the classmates have we contacted so far?”
“I’ve gotten a hold of eight,” Klippan said.
“Four for me,” said Lilja.
“So we’ve been in touch with all but one of them.”
“Yes, assuming we’re not including Risk.”
“We’re not. Who haven’t we managed to get a hold of?”
“Seth Kårheden,” said Lilja.
“Right — the pilgrimage guy,” Klippan said. “Isn’t he supposed to land at Kastrup tonight?”
Lilja nodded and drank the last of her Coke.
“And so far nobody remembers any extra members of their class?” Tuvesson asked.
Klippan shook his head.
“Stefan Munthe and Annika Nilsson said they had a vague memory of someone else,” Lilja said.
“Why are you just telling us this now? Do we have a name?”
“Unfortunately we don’t.”
Tuvesson sighed. She had lost her appetite for examining each clue from all angles, reasoning through every possibility, and trying to see connections that everyone else had missed, that might not even exist. It was all to catch a killer that no one could remember, but soon would never be able to forget.
“Astrid, we can’t just give up,” Klippan said.
“Of course we’re not going to quit. Who said anything about giving up?” She saw Lilja and Klippan exchanging glances out of the corner of her eye. “But how do we move forward?”
“If I may, I believe we are obligated to provide some form of protection for the remaining members of the class. They are clearly in danger, and it would be irresponsible not to look after them,” Klippan said.
“How many of them are abroad right now?” Tuvesson asked.
“Four of mine, but two are coming back tomorrow,” responded Klippan.
“Just the pilgrim is away from my bunch but he’ll be returning soon,” Lilja said.
“Are any of them vacationing in Sweden?”
“No, but Christine Vingåker is renting a house with her family up in Lysekil.”
“So we’re down to eleven members of the class. Have any of them moved more than four hundred kilometres away from Skåne?”
“Lotta Ting lives in Oslo,” said Lilja.
Klippan shook his head. “None from my group.”
“Ten left. We’ll need twenty men in place around the clock. If we count shifts, we’re up to at least fifty officers,” Tuvesson said. “How many people do you think we can scrape together from our office? Five officers? You can see the problem for yourselves.”
“What about Malmö?” Klippan said. “Haven’t you spoken with them yet?”
“Yes, but they can only spare ten, which is more than I’d expected. They’ll be here on Monday.”
Klippan released a long sigh. “We can’t let him continue to pick people off one by one. He will keep going, and right now... dammit, right now they’re sitting ducks.”
Tuvesson could only concur.
“What if we gather everyone up?” Lilja said. “Collect the class members and put them all in one place. Then our five guys would be enough to protect them, don’t you think?”
Klippan nodded. Tuvesson shrugged.
“What sort of place do you have in mind?”
“I’m not sure. What about getting some hotel rooms? It could be someone’s house... or anywhere really?”
“I’ve got it!” Klippan said. Both Tuvesson and Lilja turned to look at him. He looked like he’d just hit the triple word score with both Z and Q. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. The only question is whether we can convince them all to go along with it.”
“Where, Klippan?” Tuvesson asked, but it was too late. He’d already taken a very large bite of her hamburger.