Free Dark Secrets by Michael Hjorth

it.”
    “Good.”
    “Besides, he’s going to some trade fair in Malmö.”
    They had reached the hill. Ursula looked back at the pond. The perpetrator should have made his way down somewhere around here. The three of them began to examine the incline. After a minute or two Ursula stopped. Took a step back. Looked at either side for comparison purposes, sat down to get the view from the side. But she was certain. The vegetation was slightly flattened. A lot of it had sprung back up, but there were signs that something had been dragged along. She crouched down. A couple of branches had been snapped off a spindly shrub, and on the whitish yellow broken surface there was a discoloration that could be blood. Ursula took a small evidence bag out of her case, carefully snipped off the branch, and put it in the bag.
    “I think I’ve found the spot where he came down. Could you two continue on up?”
    Torkel waved to Haraldsson, and they moved to the top of the hill. When they reached the narrow dirt path, Torkel looked around. Their own cars were parked a short distance away.
    “Where does this go?”
    “Down into town—this is the way we came.”
    “And in the other direction?”
    “It twists and turns a bit, but after a while you come out on the main road.”
    Torkel looked down the slope, where Ursula was crawling around on all fours, eagerly turning over every single leaf. If that was where the body had been dragged down, it was possible it had been hauled out of the trunk or back door of a car just above. There was no reason for the murderer not to take the shortest route, so to speak. The dirt path was compacted and hard, with no chance of tire marks. Torkel looked over at the cars they had arrived in. They had been parked to one side so that they wouldn’t take up as much room on the narrow path. Was it possible…?
    He went and stood exactly above the narrow area in which Ursula was working.
If the trunk was here
… Torkel pictured the car parked in front of him. That would mean that any tire tracks would be a yard or so farther on. He moved carefully into the ditch. He was pleased to find that it was considerably softer underfoot than the track itself, but it wasn’t as muddy as down in the valley. He began gently moving undergrowth and branches to one side and got a result almost immediately.
    Deep tire tracks.
    Torkel smiled.
    This was getting off to a good start.

    “You haven’t changed your mind?”
    The woman asking the question placed a cup of steaming hot tea on the table and pulled out the chair opposite Vanja, who shook her head.
    “No, thanks, it’s fine.” The woman sat down and started stirring her drink. Breakfast was laid out on the table. Milk and plain yogurt stood beside boxes of muesli and oats. A basket made of woven birch bark contained slices of soft whole-wheat bread and two kinds of crispbread. Butter, cheese, ham, sliced pickles, and a packet of spreadable liver pâté completed the array. The table contrasted sharply with the rest of thekitchen, which looked as if it had come out of a catalog. Not exactly the latest trends, but the cleanliness was exceptional. No dishes by the sink, no crumbs on the counters, empty and clean. The black stovetop was spotless, as were the doors of the cabinets. Vanja could swear that if she got up and ran her finger over the herb and spice rack above, she wouldn’t find the slightest film of grease. Judging by what little Vanja had seen, the zero tolerance approach to mess applied to the rest of the house as well.
    There was, however, one item that stood out. Vanja tried but couldn’t tear her eyes away from the object adorning the wall behind the woman drinking tea. It was a large-framed picture made of beads that depicted Jesus with his arms outstretched, his white robe hanging down. A golden yellow halo blazed around his head, and the black-bearded face with its intense bright blue eyes was looking upward at an angle. Above his head the words