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Gotland. Johan and Pia quickly left the city behind. Pia, who was driving, nodded toward the sign for Högklint as they passed the exit.
    “That’s a place we could do a story on, apropos the overheated real estate market. Sometimes I think all the hysteria of the eighties has come back. Have you heard about the luxury hotel they’re going to build out there?”
    “Of course. We’ve done lots of reports about it. I guess they’re just waiting for the municipal council’s decision in the fall before they get started.”
    “That’s about right. They’ll probably start building before the year’s over. It’s going to be a giant complex with hotel suites, condos, a gourmet restaurant, and a nightclub. Five star.”
    “I wonder if there’s really a demand for something like that here.”
    “Of course there is. The mainland is swarming with people who have a romantic view of Gotland. People who vacationed here when they were younger and now want to come back with their families and experience the island in a more comfortable fashion. And there are plenty of people with money in Sweden.”
    “It’ll create jobs, if nothing else. Although I can imagine there must be some opposition, too. Isn’t Högklint a nature preserve?”
    “They’re not going to build at the edge of the cliffs—they wouldn’t be allowed to do that—but it’s still unbelievable that the building plans are probably going to be approved. Naturally the biggest protests are from the people who live in the area. They have fierce discussions even when someone just wants to paint their door a different color. Otherwise it’s mostly nature lovers who are opposed—people who work to protect the flora and fauna. Lots of different kinds of birds breed on the hillside at Högklint in the springtime, and it also has one of the most beautiful views on the whole island. Plus I think a lot of people feel that this side of Visby has been exploited enough with Pippi Longstocking’s Kneippbyn amusement park and everything.”
    “Isn’t the owner a foreigner?” asked Johan.
    “I think it’s a joint venture, between the municipality and several foreign investors.”
    “Let’s look into it some more when we have time. It’s definitely worth a longer story.”
    Forty-five minutes later they reached Petesviken.
    The pasture had been cordoned off and was being guarded by several uniformed police officers standing at the gate. None of them would answer any of Johan’s questions about a decapitated horse. Instead, they referred him to Knutas.
    Pia was already at work with her camera, which didn’t surprise Johan. She never wasted any time. He had liked her from their very first meeting at the editorial office. She looked tough, with her straggly black hair cut short, the ring in her nose, and the heavy eyeliner highlighting her dark brown eyes. She had greeted him without any fuss and immediately offered some of her own ideas. That boded well for the rest of the summer. She had been born and bred in Visby, and she knew Gotland like the back of her hand. Through her large extended family she had relatives and friends scattered over many parts of the island. She had no less than six siblings, and all of them had stayed on Gotland and established their own families, so her network of contacts was enormous. In terms of quality, the shots that she took might not have been quite as top-notch as Johan was used to, but she took plenty of them, often from interesting angles. Over time she would undoubtedly be brilliant, as long as she kept her sense of commitment and strong drive. She was young, ambitious, and determined to get a permanent position with one of the big TV stations in Stockholm. She had been working less than a year, yet she’d already managed to get a long-term temporary job with Swedish TV, which was nothing to sneeze at. Right now she had disappeared around a bend in the road.
    Johan had a real urge to crawl under the police tape farther away,