We Know You Remember (80)

“What day is it today?” Kerstin grabbed the newspaper. “Wednesday, aha—not much on TV then.”

“That’s a few days old,” said Eira, noticing the headline on the front page: “Charged with Kungsg?rden Murder.” An image of a woman with a jacket pulled over her head. Mejan had managed to completely obscure her face. “Today’s Friday,” she added.

“Well, that’s much better.”

Her mother studied the egg yolk for a moment before tipping it into the hash. Eira ate quickly, questions swirling around her head. About that night, where her father had been, about why Magnus had spiraled out of control, but she managed to keep them to herself, couldn’t handle never being given any answers. No need to ruin dinner.

Kerstin waved dismissively when she excused herself.

“Are you off to meet anyone nice?”

“No, sadly not. It’s just work.”

“You shouldn’t leave it too long, you know. You’ll shrivel up.”

“Thanks, Mum, that’s encouraging.”



The world was bathed in soft blue tones as she drove over the Sand? Bridge, the mountains and river blending with the colors of the sky in the pale sunset.

The area around the old sawmill was now brightly lit. Eira heard voices from the large space inside the forge. Bosse Ring saw her coming and called her over.

The room was bare, emptied of whatever machine parts had been left behind. There was a staircase leading to nowhere. Eira said hello to the forensic technician, the same man she had met that morning. He excused himself and stepped outside. The cables from the generator were snaking down towards the river; she had already noticed the bright lights beyond the trees.

“You know this case better than most,” said Bosse Ring. “Does any of this say anything to you?”

They had heaped up the bricks and mortar on the floor, spread out a plastic sheet. Eira walked slowly along the line of objects. Unidentifiable garments, a glove, a sleeping bag, and a broken shoe. Three condoms, beer cans.

She paused by one of the pieces of fabric. It was scrunched up and filthy, likely faded by the passage of time, but she could still make out the pale blue color.

“Lina was wearing a dress when she disappeared,” said Eira. “It had thin shoulder straps, according to Nydalen.”

Bosse Ring grabbed a stick and poked at the material.

Shoulder straps.

The hum of the generator was the only sound they could hear.

“So what do we do now?” asked Eira. “Do we show it to the witnesses or wait for DNA?”

“Do her parents still live in the area?”

“They moved to Finland.”

“Understandable.”

“Neither of them knew what their daughter was wearing, she’d snuck out.”

“And the others who saw her?”

“Five teenage boys,” said Eira, trying to remember their various statements. “There were different claims about the color of her dress, but several of them thought it was blue.”

The bright light made the details seem sharp, the air hot.

“Where was it found?” she asked.

“Don’t know, I’ve only been here a few hours.”

Eira took a turn through the rest of the finds. The shoe looked to be bigger than size 40. She knew very little about how long a condom took to disintegrate.

“Looks like a Pripps Bl? from the ancient past,” Bosse Ring said as he studied the beer cans. He crouched down and poked at one of them with a stick, trying to make out the best-before date.

Hearing a voice behind her, Eira jumped.

“Come with me. We’ve got something.”

The lights were blinding. Movement in the doorway, a shape against the gloom outside.

“Down by the beach,” the technician clarified.

He strode off before they had time to get outside. Another set of broken steps, a pile of spongy planks.

The footpath down to the river was now well trodden. Birches bowed towards the water, the spotlights painting their trunks unnaturally white.

They were standing at the water’s edge, hunched over and crouching, partly in the river: three people in full protective gear. Lockne was another area where high levels of dioxin had been found. The poison wasn’t too dangerous while it was trapped in the ground, but that changed once you started digging.

Eira followed her colleague as he drew closer.

A tangle of wood was visible just beneath the surface. A few sticks and planks sticking up into the air. Likely the remains of the jetty that had once stood there. Farther out in the river, the pilings that had supported it still rose up out of the water. It looked like a sparse fence.

“We found it right here,” said one of the technicians, Shirin ben Hassen, who was leading the search. She pointed to an area where the bank met the water, sloping sharply downwards. Earth and more old wood. Blue clay, so common along the riverbanks. Eira had played in it as a child, painting her face blue to scare anyone walking by.

“We wouldn’t have spotted it if the water wasn’t so low,” said Shirin.

The lack of snow over the previous winter meant that the mountain rivers were shallower than usual, revealing things that were typically hidden. They had to take half a step into the water to see. One of the technicians was already up to his knees. The spotlights were casting shadows from the birches nearby.