Dark Secrets Read Free Page B

all along. He answered the phone.
    The conversation lasted only eighteen seconds and consisted of six words on Hanser’s part.
    “Where are you?” were the first three.
    “In the car,” Haraldsson replied truthfully. “I’ve just spoken to some of the teachers and the girlfriend at the boy’s school.”
    To his immense chagrin, Haraldsson realized he was adopting a defensive position. His voice had become slightly submissive. A little higher than usual. For God’s sake, he’d done absolutely everything he was supposed to do.
    “Get here now.”
    Haraldsson was about to explain where he was going and to ask what was so important, but he didn’t have time to say anything before Hanser ended the call. Fucking Hanser. He started the car, turned it around, and headed back to the station.

    Hanser met him there. Those chilly eyes. That slightly too-perfect fall of blond hair. That beautifully fitting, doubtless expensive suit. She had just had a call from an agitated Lena Eriksson, wanting to know what was going on, and now she was asking the same question:
What, exactly, was going on?
    Haraldsson quickly ran through the afternoon’s activities and managedto mention no less than four times that he had been given the case only after lunch that day. If she wanted to have a go at someone, she ought to start on the weekend duty team.
    “I will,” Hanser said calmly. “Why didn’t you inform me if you knew that this hadn’t been dealt with? This is exactly the kind of thing I need to know.”
    Haraldsson was aware that things weren’t working out the way he wanted. He stood there defending himself.
    “This kind of thing happens. For God’s sake, I can’t come running to you every time there’s a bit of a hitch. I mean, you’ve got more important things to think about.”
    “More important than making sure we start searching for a missing child straightaway?” She looked at him with an inquiring expression. Haraldsson stood there in silence. This wasn’t going according to plan. Not even a little bit.

    That had been on Monday. Now he was standing in Listakärr in soaking wet socks. Hanser had gone in with all guns blazing, with door-to-door inquiries and search teams that were being expanded every day. So far without success. Yesterday Haraldsson had bumped into the local chief superintendent at the station and casually pointed out that this wasn’t going to be cheap. A significant number of officers working long hours, searching for a kid who was having fun in the big city. Haraldsson couldn’t quite interpret the reaction of his superior officer, but when Roger came back from his little excursion, the chief would remember what Haraldsson had said. He would see how much money Hanser had wasted. Haraldsson smiled when he thought about that. Procedure was one thing; a detective’s intuition was something else entirely. That was something that couldn’t be taught.
    Haraldsson stopped. Halfway to the hill. One foot had sunk again. Right down this time. He pulled it out. No shoe. He just had time to seethe mud hungrily closing around his size 9 as the sock on his left foot sucked up a good deal more cold water.
    Enough.
    That was it.
    The final straw.
    Down on his knees, hand into the mud, out with his shoe. And then he was going home. The rest of them could carry on running around in their bloody search teams. He had a wife to impregnate.

    A cab ride and 380 kronor later, Sebastian was standing outside his apartment on Grev Magnigatan in Östermalm. He had been intending to get rid of it for a long time—the place was expensive and luxurious, perfectly suited to a successful author and lecturer with an academic background and a wide social network. All the things he no longer was and no longer had. But the very thought of clearing out the place, packing and sorting through all the stuff he’d collected over the years, was just too much for him, so instead he had chosen to shut off large areas of the