Mari Jungstedt - The Dead Of Summer

‘When were they here?’

‘Anette came here with her husband, Anders Eriksson, in June, three years ago. And Stig and Katarina have made two visits to the island. The first time was in August 1991, and the second last year, in May.’

‘Do you have a list of the other people who were here at the same time as Morgan Larsson, on his last visit?’

‘Of course.’

Jacobsson scanned the list of names. She didn’t see anything. She compared the names with the list from Morgan’s previous visits. No name seemed to appear more than once.

‘Can I have a copy?’

‘Just a sec.’

He got up and went into an adjacent room. Jacobsson heard a good deal of rattling and clattering before he came back with a grimy photocopy.

‘Thanks,’ she said as he handed her the paper. ‘Can you tell me your impression of Morgan Larsson? And what did he do while he was here?’

The head ranger leaned back and clasped his hands.

‘He was always alone whenever I ran into him. I didn’t notice anything in particular about him, except that he seemed quite reserved.’

‘Did he behave strangely?’

‘No, not exactly. Although he seemed to be quite a person of habit. On the day after he arrived, he left the campsite very early in the morning with a rucksack, so I assume that he did what so many others do here – hike around the island.’

‘How long does it take?’

‘Hmm… the perimeter is about 30 kilometres, so not everybody makes it all the way round. You can choose different options. Some people start by going straight across the island through the woods and then follow the path along the shore back home. Others start at the lighthouse and take the shoreline path, or else they turn off by Tärnudden on the other side and take the forest path back.’

‘If you choose the coastal path all the way round the island, how long does it take?’

‘Nine or ten hours, if you’re used to hiking. Parts of the shoreline are rocky and difficult, and in a number of places you have to turn inland; for instance, out by Säludden, which is a protected area.’

‘Are there any seals out there?’

‘Yes, we almost always see seals out there. The biggest chance is in the morning or the evening, when they lie on the rocks out in the water.’

‘Do you know which route Morgan Larsson chose?’

‘I actually ran into him early on Saturday morning, on the path that goes straight through the woods and down to the Las Palmas beach on the east side of the island. And I know that others saw him coming back in the evening from the south, on the west side. Since he seemed to be such a man of habit, I would guess that he took one of the more common routes, which take seven or eight hours.’

‘Could you show me on a map?’

‘Sure.’

Again he got up and went into the next room, returning with a map labelled: ‘County Administrative Board’. He pointed out the route.

‘If I take the same route tomorrow, what do I need to keep in mind?’

‘Get up early and eat a good breakfast. Pack light, but remember that you need to take along enough water and food to last you all day. Wear sturdy shoes, shorts and a sunhat. Take a swimming costume. It can be quite a strenuous hike if the sun is as hot as it is today. Down on the southern side, here’ – he used a ballpoint pen to circle a spot on the map – ‘you’ll find a pump with fresh water that’s OK to drink. That’s about the halfway point, and you can fill up your water bottles.’

‘Thanks for your help. Is there anything else you can tell me about Morgan Larsson?’

‘Yes, there’s one other thing he always did. He visited the chapel.’

‘There’s a chapel on the island?’ asked Jacobsson in surprise, at the same time embarrassed by her ignorance.

‘Yes, it’s close to the campsite. You’ll pass right by it if you take this path. It’s always open. And if you’d like to go there tonight, there’s going to be a service at nine o’clock.’

‘Thanks.’

‘If you need any more information about the island, the museum and library are upstairs. Feel free to go up there and browse,’ the ranger suggested helpfully.

Jacobsson thanked him again and left the office.

She was looking forward to following in Morgan Larsson’s footsteps.

THE SEARCH FOR Tanya went on all night. At the campsite, every single person turned out to help find the missing young woman. The core group of the Folklore Society on the island had gathered a number of people together and gone out in their own vehicle. In all, a hundred people took part, organized into different search parties that left from the campsite. The police would arrive as soon as it was light .

Vera was in the group searching on the western side. She felt numb, moving mechanically, staring at the ground, shining her torch into crevices and groves of trees. She wanted to find her sister, and yet she didn’t. The dread got worse with every step. Oleg and Sabine walked hand in hand about ten yards ahead of her, seeking support and solace from each other. She was locked out. The injustice of it all burned inside her. As if it was her fault. Her parents were punishing her by closing themselves off in their own bubble, and she was not allowed to enter. They were so focused on the search for their younger daughter that they hardly even noticed Vera. She continued doggedly on, shouting until she was hoarse, walking without a pause across the forest floor, the beaches and the rocky cliffs .

Suddenly she tripped over an invisible tree root on the ground. Then she lay on the ground in the dark, sobbing. She didn’t have the energy to get up. She had a horrible feeling she was never going to see her little sister again. Maybe it didn’t matter whether she got up. What she really wanted to do was to walk right out into the sea and let herself drown. Just disappear .

‘What’s the matter?’

The man appeared out of nowhere and leaned over her. At first she was scared, but she calmed down as soon as she saw the look in his eyes .

‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’

‘OK.’

He switched to English. He wanted to know if she was OK and offered to help. He didn’t know who she was, probably assumed she was just an ordinary summer visitor who was taking part in the search for the missing young woman. He helped Vera to her feet. They were standing in the middle of the woods, utterly alone. The others had already moved on. The moon was spreading a pale light that trickled through the trees and cast ghostlike shadows .

‘Are you hurt?’ he asked .

‘No, I’m OK.’ She brushed off the dirt that was clinging to her clothes .

‘Are you cold?’

She shook her head .

‘Where are you from? Germany?’

‘Yes, Hamburg. We got here a few days ago. It’s my sister who’s missing.’

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just put his arm around her shoulders .

‘Are you able to keep searching?’

‘Sure. Of course.’

Silently, they walked side by side. He didn’t ask any questions, and she was grateful for that. It just felt comforting to walk next to somebody .

The hours passed, and every once in a while they would sit down to rest. He’d brought along a rucksack containing water and biscuits. The sun started coming up, and then it was time to head back to camp .

When they arrived, people had begun to gather, coming from every direction. More police had arrived, with dogs on leads, and they were in the process of organizing another search. Oleg and Sabine were nowhere in sight .