One Step Behind

"I would have done the same thing that you did," Lundström said. "This was where she ran to. This was where you could start to get her talking. You couldn't have known what was going to happen."

Wallander shook his head. "I should have realised how much danger she was in."

They walked up to the house, and Lundström said he would do his best to ensure cooperation between the Norrköping and Ystad police.

"I'm sure there'll be the odd complaint about our not being informed that you were up here, but I'll see that they keep quiet."

Wallander got his bag and they returned to the landing. The coast guard would drop him back on the mainland. Lundström remained on the landing and saw them off. Wallander lifted his hand in a gesture of gratitude.

He threw his bag in the car and went to pay his parking ticket. As he was walking back he saw Westin on his way into the harbour. Wallander walked out to meet him, noting Westin's sombre expression as he stepped ashore.

"I take it you've heard the news," Wallander said.

"Isa is dead."

"It happened last night. I woke up when she screamed, but I was too late."

Westin looked at him grimly. "So it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't come out here last night?"

There it is, Wallander thought. The accusation. The one I can't defend myself against.

He took out his wallet. "How much do I owe you for yesterday's trip?"

"Nothing," Westin said.

Westin began to walk away. Wallander remembered that he had one more question to ask him.

"There's one more thing," he said.

Westin turned.

"Sometime between 19 and 22 July, you took someone to Bärnsö."

"In July I had a lot of passengers every day."

"This was another detective," Wallander said. "His name was Karl Evert Svedberg. He spoke with an even stronger Skåne accent than I do. Do you remember him?"

"Was he wearing his uniform?"

"I doubt it."

"Can you describe him?"

"He was almost completely bald, about as tall as me, solid but not overweight."

Westin thought it over.

"Between 19 and 22 July?"

"He would probably have crossed in the afternoon or early evening on the 19th. I don't know when he came back, but it would have been the 22nd at the latest."

"I'll check my records," Westin said. "But I don't remember off hand."

Wallander followed him out to the boat. Westin got out a notebook that lay under his chart, and came out of the wheelhouse.

"There's nothing here," he said. "But I do have a vague recollection of him. There were a lot of people on board, though. I might be confusing him with someone else."

"Do you have access to a fax machine?" Wallander asked. "We can send you a picture of him."

"I can get faxes at the post office."

Another possibility occurred to Wallander.

"You might already have seen a picture of him," he said. "Maybe on TV. He's the police officer who was murdered in Ystad a couple of days ago."

Westin frowned. "I heard about that," he said. "But I can't remember seeing a picture."

"You'll get one over the fax," Wallander said. "Give me the number."

Westin wrote it down for him in his notebook and tore out the page.

"Do you know if Isa was out here between 19 and 22 July?"

"No, but she was here a lot this summer."

"So it's a possibility?"

"Yes."

Wallander left Fyrudden. He stopped at a petrol station in Valdermarsvik, then took the coast road. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. He rolled down the window. When he reached Västervik he realised that he didn't have the energy to continue. He had to eat something, and sleep. He found a roadside café and ordered an omelette, some mineral water and a cup of coffee. The woman who took his order smiled at him.

"At your age you shouldn't stay up all night," she said.

Wallander looked at her with surprise. "Is it so obvious?"

She bent down and got her bag from behind the counter, then fished out a make-up mirror and handed it over to him. She was right. He was pale and had dark circles under his eyes. His hair was a mess.

"You're right," he said. "I'll have my omelette, then I'll catch up on a bit of sleep in my car."

He went outside and sat down in the shade. She brought the food out on a tray.

"There's a small room off the kitchen with a bed in it," she said. "You could use it for a while if you'd like."

She walked away without waiting for an answer. Wallander watched her departing figure with surprise. After he'd finished eating he walked over to the door of the kitchen. It was open.

"Is the offer still open?" he asked.

"I don't go back on my word."

She showed him the room and the bed, which was a simple folding cot with a blanket.

"It's better than the back seat of your car," she said. "Of course, policemen are used to sleeping anywhere."

"How do you know I'm a policeman?"

"I saw your police ID in your wallet when you paid. I was married to a policeman, so I recognised it."

"My name is Kurt. Kurt Wallander."

"I'm Erika. Sleep well."

Wallander lay down on the bed. His whole body ached and his head felt completely empty. He knew he should call the station and let them know that he was on his way, but he couldn't be bothered. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

When he woke he had no idea where he was. He looked down at his watch. It was 7 p.m. He sat up with a jerk. He had slept for more than five hours. Cursing, he got the phone and called the station. Martinsson didn't answer, and so he tried Hansson.

"Where the hell have you been? We've been trying to reach you all day. Why wasn't your phone on?"

"There must have been something wrong with it. Has anything happened?"

"Nothing more than us wondering where you were."

"I'll be there as soon as I can. By 11 p.m. at the latest."

Wallander hung up. Erika appeared in the doorway.

"I think you needed that," she said.

"An hour would have been plenty. I should have asked you to wake me."

"There's coffee, but no hot food. I've closed for the day."

"You've been waiting for me?"

"There are always things that need doing around here."

They went out into the empty restaurant, and she brought him a cup of coffee and some sandwiches, and sat down across from him.

"I just heard on the radio about the girl who was killed in the archipelago, and the police officer who found her," she said. "I take it that was you."

"Yes, but I'd rather not talk about it. So, you were married to a policeman once?"

"When I lived in Kalmar. I moved here after the divorce, when I had the money to buy this place."

She told him about the first few years, when the restaurant didn't make enough money. But it was doing better now. Wallander listened, but all the while he was looking at her. He wanted to reach out and touch her, to hold on to something normal and real. He sat with her for half an hour, then paid and walked to his car. She followed him out.

"I don't really know how to thank you," he said.

"Why do people always need to thank each other?" she said. "Drive carefully."

Wallander reached the station at 11 p.m. and met with everyone in the large conference room. Nyberg and Holgersson were there. During the drive back, he had thought through everything that had happened, begi

His rage stemmed not only from her senseless murder, but also from his feeling of failure at their inability to see which way to turn. And now Isa Edengren had been shot out on Bärnsö Island, practically before his eyes.