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Melin had acted. First he let the train leave Flemingsberg without Sara Sebastiansson, and then he failed to answer Henry’s call.
    Peder quickly sought out Arvid, who was sitting by himself on one of the seats on the platform. He seemed very twitchy. As Peder approached, he raised his eyes and said:
    ‘Can we go soon? I’ve got to be somewhere.’
    Peder sat down beside Arvid deliberately slowly, fixed him with a look and replied:
    ‘A child’s gone missing. What have you got to do that’s more important than helping to find her?’
    After that, Arvid uttered hardly a word that was not a direct answer to a direct question.
    ‘What did you say to passengers who asked you how long the train would be stationary at Flemingsberg?’ Peder asked sternly, finding he was addressing Arvid like some kind of schoolboy.
    ‘Don’t remember exactly,’ answered Arvid evasively.
    Peder noted that Arvid, who must have been nearing thirty, responded in the way he expected his own kids would answer questions when they reached their teens.
    ‘Where are you going?’ ‘Out!’ ‘When will you be home?’ ‘Later!’
    ‘Do you remember a conversation with Sara Sebastiansson?’ Peder enquired.
    Arvid shook his head.
    ‘No, not really,’ he said.
    Peder was just wondering whether he could give Arvid a good shake, when he went on:
    ‘There were lots of people asking the same thing, see. I think I remember her, the girl’s mother, being one of them. People have to take a bit of responsibility for themselves,’ he said in a choked voice, and only then did Peder realize how shaken he really was. ‘It’s not a bloody promise that the train’s going to be stopped for ten minutes, just because we say so. All the passengers, all of them, want to get there as fast as possible. There’s never any problem about setting off earlier than we first said. Why did she leave the platform? If she’d been standing there, she’d have heard me make the announcement on the train.’
    Arvid kicked an empty cola bottle that was lying at his feet. It bounced angrily against the train and went spinning across the platform.
    Peder suspected both Arvid Melin and Henry Lindgren would be having some disturbed nights for a good time to come if the girl failed to turn up.
    ‘You didn’t see Sara Sebastiansson being left behind?’ Peder asked gently.
    ‘No, definitely not,’ said Arvid emphatically. ‘I mean, I looked along the platform, the way we usually do. It was empty, so we left. And then Henry says he called me on the two-way radio, but I didn’t hear . . . because I’d forgotten to switch it on.’
    Peder looked up at the dark grey sky and shut his notebook.
    He would just have a brief talk to the rest of the train crew and the others on the platform. If Fredrika had finished getting the mother’s statement, perhaps she would help him.
    Peder saw Fredrika and Sara Sebastiansson out of the corner of his eye, exchanging a few words and then going their separate ways. Sara looked the picture of dejection. Peder swallowed. An image of his own family rose to the surface of his consciousness. What would he do if anyone tried to harm either of his children?
    His grip on his notebook tightened. He would have to get a move on. There were more people to talk to and Alex did not like to be kept waiting.

T hey drove back to the HQ in Peder’s car. As the car swished along the rain-soaked tarmac, Fredrika and Peder were both lost in their own thoughts. They parked in the basement garage and took the lift in silence up to the floor where the team had its offices. Close to the county police and National Crime Squad’s base, close to the Stockholm Police Department. Nobody was ever willing to say it out loud, but Alex Recht’s investigative team most definitely served two masters. Well three, really. A special resources group, comprising a small number of hand-picked people of different background and experience, who on paper were part of the