pause. Then a dejected sigh was heard and the thin voice whispered, “After two o’clock, today.”
IRENE HAD been surprised by the poor rail connections between Göteborg and Karlstad. She had already missed the first train, and the next one left too late. But as luck would have it, she managed to catch the Säffle bus. She wouldn’t be able to return by bus, since the last one left at two thirty. However, there was a train just before five o’clock that she should be able to catch.
The bus zigzagged forward between the parked taxicabs and stopped outside the central station in Karlstad. Irene took a taxi from the station, since she had no idea where Sundstavägen was. The taxi stopped outside a three-story yellow brick apartment building. The house had a few years under its belt, but the area looked prosperous. Irene pushed the button next to the name “K. Olsson.” The call box crackled. Irene leaned forward and said, “It’s Irene Huss.”
No one answered, but there was a buzz and the lock opened. The stairwell was clean, but it needed to be painted. There was no elevator, so she had to walk up to the third floor.
On the top landing, Kristina Olsson let her half-open door slide fully open. Irene stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the woman in the doorway. There was almost no resemblance between Jacob and his sister Rebecka in the photos Irene had seen, but Jacob and Kristina, his ex-wife, could very well have been siblings. The same slender build and the same dark blond coloring. Later, Irene realized that it wasn’t just Jacob and Kristina who were alike: Jacob had married a younger version of his mother.
Kristina wore her shoulder-length, straight light hair in a neat ponytail at the nape of her neck. There wasn’t the slightest trace of makeup on her face. She had beautiful skin, though it was pale. Her pallor was enhanced by the dark circles under her eyes. Or maybe it was the pale, powder-pink sweater set that made her look wan. The straight gray skirt was no more vibrant, but to Irene’s surprise she was wearing bright orange crocheted slippers on her feet.
Kristina tried to stand straight and forced a grimace—which was supposed to represent a smile—to her lips. The hand that she held out shook from nervousness. When Irene took it, it felt ice-cold, unpleasant, like the hand of a dead person.
Kristina moved aside in order to let Irene into the small vestibule. The first thing Irene noticed was the faint smell of Ajax floating toward her. A dark-blue wool coat and a forest-green down coat were hanging on the rack by the wall. A pair of sturdy brown walking boots and a pair of semi-high black boots sat beneath the shelf. A black wool beret lay on top.
A rag rug in cheerful colors covered the floor in the vestibule. Irene thought she recognized its type. When she was shown into the living room and saw the rug under the coffee table, she remembered where she had seen one like it. The person who had woven the rugs that lay on the floors in this apartment had also made the rug that adorned the hall floor of Kullahult’s rectory.
Irene took a seat on an uncomfortable yellow silk-covered couch. Kristina sat on the edge of the matching chair. These were odd pieces of furniture to find in the home of a relatively young woman, thought Irene.
“It’s lovely when the sun shines on your beautiful rug,” she began.
“Yes,” was the toneless answer.
Irene refused to give up this early, so she continued. “Did you weave it yourself?”
“No. My sister.”
“There’s a similar rug in the hall of your former parents-in-law. Did your sister weave that one as well?”
“Yes.”
Irene suppressed a sigh and got right to the point. “Our investigation is complicated by the fact that we don’t have a motive. Can you think of one?”
Kristina shook her head in reply, and Irene saw tears forming in her eyes. Why was she so nervous? Too emotional to talk about her ex-husband?
There still hadn’t been anything in the papers about the pentagrams on the computer screens, but it was only a matter of time before someone would leak this tidbit to the press. Irene decided to start with the Satanic lead.
“Were you aware that Jacob was helping his father track Satanists via the Internet?”
Kristina jerked back and opened her eyes wide. She seemed to be about to say something, but instead sadly