One Step Behind

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Wallander drove straight to the hospital, much too fast. Martinsson was waiting for him when he arrived. He left the car in a no-parking zone.

"What happened?"

Martinsson was carrying a notebook. "No one really knows," he said. "She must have left around dawn, but no one saw her leave."

"Did she call anyone? Did anyone come and pick her up?"

"It's hard to get a straight answer. There are so many patients in her ward, and almost no staff on night duty. But she must have left before 6 a.m. Someone came in at 4 a.m. and saw her sleeping."

"Which of course she wasn't," Wallander said. "She was waiting for the right moment to take off."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think she'll try to kill herself again?"

"Possibly. But let's think this through. We tell her what happened to her friends and the next day she makes her escape. What does that mean?"

"That she's scared."

"Exactly. But what is she scared of?"

There was only one place Wallander could think of to start looking for her, and that was the house outside Skårby. He wanted Martinsson with him, if only so he wouldn't have to be alone. When they arrived in Skårby, they stopped first at Lundberg's house. The man was out in the yard inspecting his tractor. He looked surprised when two cars pulled into his driveway. Wallander introduced Martinsson.

"You called the hospital last night and were told that Isa was OK, all things considered. Sometime early this morning, between 4 a.m. and 6 a.m., she disappeared. Escaped. What time do you get up?"

"Early. My wife and I are up by 4.30 a.m."

"And Isa hasn't turned up?"

"No."

"Did you hear any cars go by early this morning?"

The answer was very firm. "Åke Nilsson, who lives up the road, went by at about 5 a.m. He works at the slaughterhouse three days a week. But apart from him there was no one."

Lundberg's wife appeared at the door. She had heard the last part of the conversation.

"Isa hasn't been here," she said. "And there haven't been any cars, either."

"Is there anywhere else she might have gone?" Martinsson asked.

"Not that we know of."

"If she contacts you, you'll have to let us know," Wallander said. "It's very important for us to find out where she is. Is that clear?"

"She never calls," the woman said.

Wallander was already on his way back to his car. They drove to the Edengrens' house. He put his hand into the drainpipe and pulled out the spare keys. Then he showed Martinsson the gazebo in the back of the house. Everything seemed as it had when he was last there. They returned to the main house and unlocked the door. The house looked even bigger from the inside. No expense had been spared on the interior decorating but the impression was chilly, like a museum. There were few traces of the inhabitants. They walked through the rooms on the first floor, then went upstairs to the bedrooms. A large model aeroplane was suspended from the ceiling of one of the bedrooms. There was a computer on a desk, and someone had thrown a sweater over it. It was probably Jörgen's room, the brother who had committed suicide. Wallander went into the bathroom and saw a plug by the mirror. Reluctantly he pointed it out to Martinsson. It was probably here that Isa's brother had died.

"I bet that doesn't happen every day," Martinsson said. "Who kills himself with a toaster?"

Wallander was already on his way out of the bathroom. Next door was another bedroom. When he entered he knew it was Isa's.

"We have to search this room," he said.

"What are we looking for?"

"I don't know. But Isa was supposed to have been out there with them in the nature reserve. She tried to commit suicide, and now she's run away. We both think she's scared."

Wallander sat down at her desk while Martinsson started going through the dresser and the large cupboard that took up a whole side of the room. The drawers in the desk were unlocked, which surprised him. But after going through them he realised there was no need for privacy. The drawers were almost completely empty. He frowned. Had someone emptied them? He picked up a green writing pad. Underneath it was a poorly executed watercolour. "I.E. '95" was written in the corner. The watercolour depicted a coastal landscape of sea and cliffs. He put the pad back.

In a bookshelf next to the bed were several rows of books. He recognised some that Linda had read. He felt along the back of the shelves and found two that had fallen behind the others or were concealed. Both of them were in English. One had the title Journey to the Unknown by someone called Timothy Neil. The other was called How to Cast Yourself in the Play of Life by Rebecka Stanford. The book covers looked similar, with geometric signs, numbers, and letters that seemed to be suspended in a universe of some kind. Wallander took the books with him back to the desk. They were well-thumbed. He put on his glasses and read the blurb on the back cover of the first book. Timothy Neil discussed the importance of following the spiritual map as revealed by people's dreams. Wallander made a face and put the book down. Rebecka Stanford in turn discussed what she referred to as "chronological dissolution". Something caught his attention. There seemed to be a discussion of how groups of people could control time and move back and forth through the ages. She seemed to be arguing that this technique was useful for "self-actualisation in a time of increased meaninglessness and confusion".

"Have you ever heard of an author by the name of Rebecka Stanford?" Wallander asked Martinsson, who was standing on a chair looking through the contents of the highest shelf in the cupboard. He got down and came over to look at the book, then shook his head.

"It must be a young person's book. You'd better ask Linda," he said.

Wallander nodded. Martinsson was right; he should ask Linda, who read a lot. During their holiday on Gotland he had been surprised by all the books she had brought with her. He hadn't recognised the name of even a single author.

Martinsson returned to the cupboard, and Wallander turned to the shelf beside the bed. There were some photo albums there, which he brought back to the desk. Inside were pictures of Isa and her brother. The colours had started to fade. In one, the two of them were standing on either side of a snowman. They both held themselves stiffly, looking unhappy. After this photograph were several pages of Isa by herself. School photographs, images of Isa and her friends in Copenhagen. Then some more of her with Jörgen. Here he was older, perhaps 15, and sombre. Whether his attitude was affected or genuine, Wallander couldn't tell. The approaching suicide could be read in the pictures, Wallander thought, but did he know it himself? Isa was smiling in these pictures, while Jörgen looked miserable. Next were shots of a coastal landscape. Wallander was reminded of the watercolour painting. On one of the pictures he read "Bärnsö, 1989." Wallander kept leafing through the pages. There were no photographs of the parents, just Jörgen and Isa, her friends, and landscape shots of the same coastline and small islands.

"Where is Bärnsö?" Wallander asked.

"Isn't it one of the islands that gets mentioned in the marine weather report?"

Wallander wasn't sure. He looked for a long time at a picture of Isa standing on a rock just below the waves. It almost looked like she was walking on water. Who had taken it? Martinsson suddenly whistled with surprise.

"You'd better take a look at this," he said.

Wallander got up quickly. Martinsson held a wig in his hand that looked like the ones Boge, Norman and Hillström had been wearing. There was a slip of paper attached to a strand of hair. Wallander carefully removed it. Holmsted's Costume Rental, he read. Copenhagen. There was an address and phone number. He turned the slip over and saw that the wig had been rented on 19 June, to be returned on the 28th.