ELLEN

3.00 P.M.

Ellen was completely rattled after the day’s conversation with Dr Hiralgo. He had been right about so much — but that was only a feeling, because she couldn’t really remember what he’d actually said, now, when she was trying to remember the meeting.

Just as she had after the last conversation, she drove up to Östra Villastaden. But this time, it wasn’t only to linger in the corridor of anxiety that she so often experienced around her father. This time, it was to try to solve some of the many question marks around Bea. It was here, after all, that Ellen had seen her for the first time, and it was partly from here that the complaints against Ellen had come. The mere thought that someone had reported her made her furious.

Ellen parked the car a little further down the street and sat there awhile to try to collect herself. As usual, she took out her phone and went online. There weren’t any news sites reporting on the child line of inquiry. After yesterday’s incident on Örelo, she no longer felt as convinced that the children didn’t have anything to do with the murder, but she still questioned it. The thing was, she still didn’t understand why they’d attacked her the night before. It couldn’t just be down to evil. No one was one hundred per cent good or bad. But she’d been truly terrified by the hateful atmosphere that had prevailed over the group. The power. Again and again, she found herself back in the middle of the circle, surrounded by the screaming children and teens, and it gave her goosebumps. How far had they been prepared to go?

Ellen hadn’t mentioned the attack to Carola, whom she’d spoken to on the way to Dr Hiralgo. She would find out herself what it was about. If she reported the incident, she would be cut off and wouldn’t be allowed to work any more.

According to Carola, who seemed to be back in the game again, the police were working in part according to the theory that one or more children could be involved, or that they might have seen something that was of interest, but she made it clear that they were also working on other leads, which she couldn’t talk about.

‘Are there any suspects?’ Ellen had asked.

‘Not at the present time.’

‘What was it that actually put you onto the child angle?’

‘Between us, they’ve found traces at the crime scene that indicate that young people have been there. I can’t say more than that.’

‘Can you confirm a main theory?’

Carola hadn’t replied.

So, they were fumbling blindly. But it was hard to draw any connections to Bea and her gang.

When it got so hot in the car that Ellen could hardly breathe, she got out and decided to walk up the street, even though she was limping, and her knee ached.

At each house she passed she tried to look into the garden, despite the high hedges that stood like walls around the villas. She walked past a woman who was watering her flowerbeds in a bikini.

At one of the gates she walked up to, she caught sight of something that looked familiar. She stopped and looked into the perfect garden. Parked on the gravel path in front of the house was a moped, with several bikes overturned beside it.

Before opening the gate, she considered briefly whether it was really that smart an idea to go in, but before she could think any more about it, she pushed at the gate. It creaked, and she stopped, but no one seemed to have heard her, because no one came out.

She went all the way up to the house and rang the doorbell. She had no idea what she ought to say, but she would try to pound a little sense into them. They were just kids, after all. Innocent kids. Or were they?

No one answered.

They must be home, she thought, going around to the back of the house.

Still not anyone. In her hand, she had her phone, ready to call the police if anything were to happen to her. Here, they’d come quickly. She was in the middle of town. It wasn’t like at Örelo.

The patio door was open. She stuck her head in. ‘Hello. Is anyone home?’

Still no answer.

It must have been Bea or someone in this family who’d reported her, and now Ellen was really snooping around. But she had tried ringing the doorbell, and what Bea and the other kids were up to was a lot more than harassment.

She looked into the living room. It looked like an American dollhouse. Everything was in some shade of pink, and the decorative objects were in straight lines on the shelves and tables. Porcelain dogs and vases filled with flowers. It smelt strongly of cleaning spray.

‘Hello!’ she shouted, a little more hesitant now.

She heard something fall. Turned quickly around. The reptile brain screamed at her to run, but her knee hurt too much. Instead, she walked very slowly towards the door, as if she was trying to overcome her fear.

‘Can I help you with something?’

She was startled by the dark male voice and turned around. ‘Sorry for bothering you, I rang the doorbell, but no one answered.’

‘You’re intruding in our home.’

Ellen stared at him. ‘Haven’t we met before? In Stentuna? Aren’t you married, or, sorry, living with Hanna Andersson?’

‘No, you must be confusing me with someone. If you don’t leave, I’m calling the police.’

It had to be him. Ellen recognised the grey streak in his hair at the temples, but now he was wearing a tie and jacket. She was certain. She extended her hand in greeting.

‘What are you doing? I want you to get out of our house immediately.’

He sounded threatening, and Ellen backed up.

‘I’ll go, but I just want to say that if your daughter, or whoever it is, if Bea doesn’t stop harassing me, I’m going to report her to the police. Tell her that.’ As firmly as she could, she walked out the gate, taking the opportunity on the way to snap a picture of the licence plate on the black SUV parked on the driveway. Not until she’d got out onto the street did she look back to see whether he’d followed her, but she couldn’t see anyone.

As soon as she’d gone a short way down the street, she entered the registration number into an app.

Patrik Bosängen.

She searched for his address and found that he lived there with Alexandra Bosängen. She emailed Agatha and asked her to check out everything about the family.

Was he unfaithful? She was certain that she’d seen him in Solbyn, at home with Hanna, last Tuesday. Ellen googled ‘Stoffe Andersson’. No relevant hits. What would his real name be? Christoffer? She tried it with a few different spellings, but didn’t come up with anyone who lived in the area. Instead, she did a search on the address in Solbyn. Hanna Andersson was the only name registered there. But Hanna had introduced him as her partner, and the little girl had called him Dad …

‘Ellen!’ someone called behind her.