We Know You Remember (69)

Like everyone else, he thought it must have been the son.

When suspicions turned to him, it was what it was. He knew he would end up in the spotlight as soon as people found out who he was.

“That was why I kept quiet back then, too,” he said. “You lot would’ve hauled me in otherwise.”

“What do you mean?”

“When that girl went missing,” he said. “They would’ve trawled through my past, and that would’ve been it. Mejan agreed. She said, ‘They’ll run you through their databases and all that business will come up, they’ll pin the blame on you. They’ll arrest you, Tryggve, and what’ll happen to me then? To the kids?’”

Eira felt a chill as he spoke, creeping up her spine, as though the summer was suddenly over.

“Which girl are you talking about?”

But Tryggve didn’t seem to hear her, barely seemed to notice that she was leaning in to him.

“So it was a relief,” he continued, “when they narrowed in on the Hagstr?m lad. He was a bit sneaky, after all. We always suspected he was the one who let the kids’ rabbits out. But it wasn’t him.”

“Who let the rabbits out?” said GG.

“Who killed her. And now he’s as good as dead himself . . .” Tryggve Nydalen wiped the sweat from his forehead with his hand, leaving a dark streak of dirt on his skin. He had probably been digging or doing some other work, fixing the woodwork on the house or pottering around in the yard, the kind of thing people did in the summer.

“What exactly did you keep quiet about back then?” Eira asked softly.

“I saw her.”

His eyes wandered slowly over the yard, lingering on every building as though he was taking in the scene for the last time, like he was saying goodbye. GG kept quiet. Eira could hear his breathing. He was paying attention, but he likely also knew that this was her home turf.

“Are you talking about Lina Stavred?”

“Mmm. We were out on the river.”

“On July 3, 1996?”

He nodded.

“You told the police you were out fishing . . .” Eira kept her voice calm, though her heart was galloping in her chest. “With Patrik. He must’ve been six at the time?”

“And his cousin, who’s a year younger. It was late for them to be up, I remember that because Mejan’s sister started complaining when we got home, she’s so overprotective. Questions everything you do.”

Tryggve turned to look at the house again, as though he were seeking his wife’s permission to talk.

“But that just made it more exciting for the boys, they were hanging over the gunwale, waiting for something to tug on the float. They probably didn’t even notice the other boat passing.”

“The other boat?”

A rowing boat, that was why it approached so quietly. Tryggve hadn’t spotted it until they were right alongside them. He was preoccupied, of course, with the two unruly young boys in his boat, noses practically touching the water though they didn’t know how to swim.

“They?” asked Eira.

“Yeah, Patrik’s cousin was with us too.”

“I mean in the other boat. You said ‘they’ rowed by.”

“Ah, yes, two girls,” said Tryggve. “One of them was her, the blond. I didn’t have a clue who she was at the time, but when I saw her in the paper later . . . It was definitely her. Leaning back in the stern, sprawled out with her legs up and her skirt all . . . The kind of girl that catches your eye. Even if she was young. I mean, it was a long time ago . . .”

He ran a hand through his hair and looked down at the ground, mumbled something inaudible, apologetic.

“And the other one?” asked Eira.

“Ah, well, she was darker. Long hair sort of hanging over her face as she rowed, like this.” Tryggve moved his hands around his own face to show what he meant. “And she wasn’t much of a rower either—the oars kept splashing on the surface. She wasn’t dressed as . . . well, she wasn’t as undressed, I suppose. But my eyes were on the other one, and I never saw anything about the dark-haired girl in the paper, so I don’t know who she was.”

“Could you be more precise about the time?”

“Quarter past ten.”

“And you know that exactly?” GG interjected. “Even though it was over twenty years ago?”

“After they rowed off, I remember thinking that we should probably head home before the old crones got upset and picked a fight, so I checked the time on my watch.”

“Do you remember anything else about what she was wearing, the blond?” Eira couldn’t bring herself to say Lina’s name. It would be like taking his words as the truth. And yet . . . The story seemed so reluctant to come out, he both wanted and didn’t want to say any more. That suggested it might be true to him, though it still seemed unlikely.

“Just a vest and a skirt,” he said. “Or maybe it was a dress. Either way, her shoulders were bare, with those thin shoulder straps.”

“No cardigan? It must’ve been quite chilly by that time.”

“Nope.”

“No, it wasn’t chilly, or no, she wasn’t wearing a cardigan?”

“She wasn’t wearing a cardigan, I just told you.”