Free The Chosen by Kristina Ohlsson Page B

wall.
    ‘Missing kids,’ she said. ‘The perfect first case for our little team, wouldn’t you say?’
    She pulled a face.
    ‘You’re thinking about the little girl who disappeared from the train?’ Alex said. ‘Lilian Sebastiansson?’
    As if we could ever forget her.
    ‘Aren’t you?’
    ‘Only because it was the first serious case we investigated; otherwise I can’t see any similarities.’
    Fredrika shrugged. ‘Maybe not, but children are children, after all.’
    Alex knew she was right. He really didn’t like this business of the two missing Jewish boys. The media had gone crazy overnight, wanting more information, more details, but Alex refused to
feed them at such an early stage.
    ‘Is it just you and me?’ Fredrika asked.
    ‘We can request any additional resources we need, but we’ll be leading the case.’
    That wasn’t strictly true. Alex was the boss, not Fredrika, but as there were only two of them that seemed like an unnecessary distinction.
    The media had been given pictures of the boys as evening turned into night and the snowstorm reached its peak. Public reaction was instant. Everyone thought they could help. Every single person
who had been in inner city Stockholm and seen a child with a rucksack and a woolly hat trudging along unaccompanied by an adult decided it was their duty to get in touch with the police.
    ‘Have we had any calls that might be useful?’ Fredrika asked.
    ‘Not yet.’
    ‘So where do we start?’
    ‘We’ll go over to the Solomon Community; you interview one set of parents and I’ll take the other. If they’re there, of course. Yesterday the fathers were out
searching.’
    As he got up and reached for his coat, there was a loud knock on the door and an assistant came in.
    ‘An elderly lady called and said she’s sure she saw one of the boys at a bus stop on Karlavägen yesterday afternoon.’
    ‘And what makes her any more reliable than all the rest of the people who’ve called and said more or less the same thing?’ Alex wanted to know as he pulled on his coat.
    ‘Because it’s the stop from which the boys always catch the bus to the tennis centre, according to their parents. And because she says the boy had the kind of bag that’s used
to carry a tennis racquet.’

H is first day at work was actually his second.
    Peder Rydh slithered along on the fresh snow that hadn’t yet been cleared from the pavements. His sons had cheered when he dropped them off at
day care and they saw the thick white blanket of virgin snow waiting for them in the playground.
    ‘We’ll be able to get the toboggans out!’ one of the boys had roared with delight.
    There were days when Peder wished he was five years old, wanting nothing more from life than good weather and time to play freely. His brother Jimmy’s life had been a bit like that; he had
remained a child after falling from a swing and injuring his head.
    On that occasion they had been playing a bit too freely.
    Peder walked faster. It was never a good idea to start the day by thinking about Jimmy. The memory still hurt; the sense of loss was still immense.
    But I avenged your death, little brother. And it was worth the cost.
    The smell of coffee greeted him as he arrived at the Solomon Community. The air felt thin, as if too many people were all trying to breathe it in at the same time. The noise level was
muted; some people had been there all night, ringing around to ask about the boys.
    No one had seen anything.
    No one had heard anything.
    The general secretary took Peder to one side and went over everything that had happened since Peder went home at just after two o’clock in the morning to grab a few hours’ sleep. The
general secretary hadn’t slept at all, which made Peder feel a little unsure of himself. Should he have stayed all night too, then worked all day as well?
    ‘Still no sign of them,’ his boss said. ‘The police have no information either. The parents have kept their phones