Free Unseen by Mari Jungstedt Page B

thinking about it. And the children, well, I’m keeping a close eye on them. We have five.”
    The woman called to her children, then closed the front door and sat down on the single bench on the porch. She pulled out a can of snuff, pinched off a piece, and stuck it under her lip. She held out the can to Johan and Peter, but both of them declined the offer.
    “There’s one thing I happened to think about last night. The police were here earlier, asking about things. They talked mostly to my husband. Last night when I couldn’t sleep, it popped into my head.”
    “What was that?” asked Johan.
    “I have a hard time sleeping, so I lie awake a lot at night. Last Monday night I heard a car turn down our street outside. There are never any cars going past here at night, so I thought it was odd. I got up to see where it went, but when I looked out, I couldn’t see anything. As if it had been swallowed up by the earth. And it’s strange because the road continues down toward the sea. I just had to go out and have a look. When I opened the front door, I heard it again. Then it went past our house. The street curves just outside here, so I never managed to see what kind of car it was.”
    “Did you notice anything else?”
    “I noticed the sound. The engine sounded . . . what should I say . . . it sounded older somehow. It didn’t sound like a new car.”
    “Could it have been one of your neighbors?”
    “No, I asked all the neighbors today, just because I thought it was strange that someone was out driving past here in the middle of the night. But no one had been out, and besides, I know what all my neighbors’ cars sound like.”
    “How many of you live around here?”
    “Well, there’s us and the veterinarian who lives on the next farm. Then there’s the Jonsson family, who are farmers and own the fields you see all around here. They have a big farm on the left side of the road a little farther down, past the veterinarian. And then there’s a family with children, the Larssons, closest to the water on the right-hand side.”
    “Do you know what time it was when you heard the car?”
    “I think it must have been around three.”
    “Have you told the police about this?”
    “Yes, I called them this morning. I went over there to be interviewed earlier today.”
    “I see,” said Johan. “Could we ask you a few questions on camera?”
    After a little coaxing, the woman agreed. The rest of the people who lived in the area firmly declined.
    Yet Johan reluctantly had to admit that Grenfors had been right. It was a good idea to go out and interview the neighbors.
    Once again they sat in the newsroom and spliced together a two-minute story that was sent over to Stockholm five minutes before the main news broadcast, to their editor’s great satisfaction.
    Kristian Nordström arrived at the police station at precisely five o’clock in the afternoon, as agreed. He looks good , Knutas observed as they shook hands. He had decided to hold the interview in his office, with Detective Inspector Lars Norrby present.
    “Would you like some coffee?” asked Norrby.
    “Yes, please. With milk. I came straight from the airport, and the coffee on the plane tasted like cat piss.”
    He brushed his hair back from his forehead and leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg of his elegant trousers over the other. He smiled a bit tensely at the superintendent, who got out a tape recorder and placed it on the desk in front of them.
    “Do we really need that?”
    “Unfortunately, it’s necessary,” said Knutas. “I hope it doesn’t bother you too much.”
    “Well, it’s just a little distracting.”
    “Try to pretend it’s not there. As I said on the phone, this is a purely routine interview. We’ve talked to everyone who was at the party except you. That’s why you’re here.”
    “I see.”
    Norrby returned with the coffee, and then they could begin the interview.
    “What were you doing on June fourth, meaning