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gaze settled on Valö, and as usual the anger began smouldering inside him. Fortunately his thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing sound in his trouser pocket. He swiftly took out his mobile, casting a glance at the display before answering. The call was from the prime minister.
     
    ‘Tell me, what do you think about those cards?’ asked Patrik as he held the door open for Martin. It was so heavy that he had to give it a shove with his shoulder. Tanum police station was built in the 1960s, and the first time that Patrik set foot in the bunker-like building, he’d been overwhelmed by the dreary appearance. He’d since become so accustomed to the dirty yellow and beige of the furnishings that he’d ceased to notice the complete lack of comfort or appeal.
    ‘It all sounds very odd. Who would go on sending anonymous birthday cards every year?’
    ‘Not totally anonymous. They were signed “G”.’
    ‘Well, that makes it even more peculiar,’ replied Martin, and Patrik laughed.
    ‘What’s so funny?’ asked Annika, peering at them through the glass panes of the reception area.
    ‘Nothing in particular,’ said Martin.
    Annika swivelled about in her desk chair and scooted over to the doorway of her small office. ‘How’d it go out there?’
    ‘We need to wait and see what Torbjörn can find out, but it does appear that someone was trying to burn down the house.’
    ‘I’ll make some coffee and we can talk.’ Annika headed down the hall, shooing Patrik and Martin ahead of her.
    ‘Have you told Mellberg?’ Martin asked as they went into the kitchen.
    ‘No, I didn’t think it necessary to say anything to Bertil. He’s got the weekend off, after all. No point bothering the boss yet awhile.’
    ‘You have a point,’ said Patrik, sitting down on a chair next to the window.
    ‘So here you all are, having a nice chat over coffee, and you didn’t think to invite me.’ Gösta was standing in the doorway, looking sullen.
    ‘You’re here? But it’s your day off. Why aren’t you out on the golf course?’ Patrik pulled out the chair next to him so Gösta could sit down.
    ‘Too hot. Thought I might as well come in and write up a few reports, then I can spend a couple of hours out on the course another day when it’s not so hot that you could fry an egg on the pavement. Where have you guys been? Annika mentioned something about arson.’
    ‘That’s right. It seems somebody poured petrol or some other accelerant under the front door and then ignited it.’
    ‘Good Lord!’ Gösta took a Ballerina biscuit and carefully separated the two halves. ‘Where did this happen?’
    ‘On Valö. The old summer camp,’ said Martin.
    Gösta gave a start. ‘The summer camp?’
    ‘Yes. It’s a bit odd. I don’t know whether you heard, but the youngest daughter – the one who was left behind when the whole family disappeared – has come back and taken over the place.’
    ‘Right. There have been a lot of rumours about that,’ said Gösta without lifting his gaze from the table.
    Patrik gave him a puzzled look. ‘You were here then, you must have worked on the case, right?’
    ‘Yes, I did. That’s how old I am,’ Gösta told him. ‘I wonder why she’d want to move back there.’
    ‘She mentioned something about losing a son,’ said Martin.
    ‘Ebba lost a child? When? What happened?’
    ‘They didn’t say anything else about it.’ Martin got up to fetch some milk from the refrigerator.
    Patrik frowned; it wasn’t like Gösta to show concern. But he’d seen this happen before. Every veteran police officer had an unsolved case that he couldn’t get out of his mind. An old investigation that he kept brooding over, constantly mulling it over, trying to solve the mystery before it was too late.
    ‘So that case stood out for you?’
    ‘Too right. I’d give anything to know what happened on that night before Easter.’
    ‘I’m sure you’re not alone in that,’ interjected Annika.
    ‘And now Ebba is