We Know You Remember (96)

The sign for Lockne disappeared behind them.

“Do you have siblings?” she asked.

“I had a sister,” said August. “She committed suicide when she was nineteen.”

Eira searched for something to say. She had always thought August seemed so easygoing, so irritatingly carefree.

“It’s OK, you don’t need to say anything.” August glanced over to her. He was behind the wheel now; she had asked him to drive. “I’d had enough of psychologists before I even turned twenty.”

“So she was older than you?”

“Twin.”

Eira placed her hand on top of his, caressed it. The act felt awkward, more emotional than before.

“I have a brother too,” he said. “He’s three years younger. It’s up to us to live now.”



It was afternoon by the time Eira managed to bring herself to call H?rn?sand. She wasn’t allowed to talk to Magnus, of course, but she did leave messages with at least three people—the duty officer, the custody manager, and someone else—to say that whenever Magnus Sj?din was permitted to make a call, if he was permitted, this was the number he should dial.

He would know that he wasn’t alone, at the very least.

After that she went to see the local investigator, Anja Larionova, to give her yet another summerhouse breakin to add to the pile.

They had received the full list of missing items via email: Thirty-seven Bowie records, all individually named. Queen, Prince, Bruce Springsteen. A dinner service from R?rstrand, around fifty pieces. And so on.

Anja cast a quick glance at the list. “Did Bowie really record that many albums?”

“Some of them are bootlegs,” said Eira. “Priceless, apparently. They’ll probably sell for twenty kronor at some flea market.”

“I’m flat out with all these old boats right now,” said Anja, “but I’ll take a look later.” She was sitting with her feet on the desk, a stack of documents in her lap. Eira recognized the dusty smell.

“What boats?”

“Anything reported missing between June and the first few days of July 1996.” She sounded enthusiastic. Anja Larionova was well known for loving petty crimes—no theft too small. From a human perspective, she argued, the loss of a Barbie doll could be even worse than a stolen BMW. “The hottie from Violent Crimes asked me to look into it.”

“Have you found any?”

“Six. Three went missing over Midsummer weekend, but they all turned up within a few days—guess people just needed to get home from parties somehow.”

“And the others?”

“Two were stolen a fair way north of Sollefte?, which might be a bit too far. Apparently the witnesses were clear that this Kenneth Isaksson guy could barely row. He was better known for stealing cars.”

“If it was him Lina was hanging out with,” said Eira, “then he might have picked her up in a car.”

“Cars are a bit trickier—we’re looking at a bigger search area, a completely different volume of thefts. He could’ve stolen one anywhere along the way, but he hardly rowed right up here from northern H?lsingland.”

Anja Larionova used her pen to scratch her head.

“But a rowing boat did go missing from Nyland sometime during the night between the first and second of July.”

“Was it ever found?”

“Just over two weeks later, below Spr?ngsviken. It probably drifted ashore, it hadn’t been tied up.”

Eira closed her eyes to get a better sense of the geography. From Nyland to Marieberg—straight across the river and with the help of the current—likely took an hour or so to row, at most. Spr?ngsviken was farther down, in her own neck of the woods, around ten kilometers as the crow flies.

A boat drifting downriver.

What did that mean?

“Maybe the owner just tied it badly,” said Anja Larionova, “and it floated off itself.”

Eira went over to her own desk and checked her emails before heading home. The owner of the summerhouse had been in touch to add another two records to the list. She felt slightly out of breath when she saw an email from GG, but it was just the charges against the boys who had set fire to Olof Hagstr?m’s house. He asked whether anyone had taken any screenshots of the hate directed at Olof online. That had fallen slightly through the cracks, and much of it had already been deleted. The IT team might be able to retrieve some of the comments, but they were currently snowed under. Eira brought up a couple of the posts on her screen and was struck, yet again, by the harsh tone. It could probably wait, she thought.

She debriefed, got changed. Bumped into August outside the changing room.

“Do you have another shift tonight?” she asked.

“Nope, not tonight.”

Eira glanced around, checking none of their colleagues were within earshot.

“I’m not working tomorrow,” she said quietly. “I have to go home and check on my mum for a few hours, but I could come over after that if you like?”

“That would’ve been great,” said August. “But tonight doesn’t really work.”

He zipped up his windbreaker and smiled. “I’ve got to pick up my girlfriend from the station.”





Chapter 56