girls who murder taxi drivers.
He found some tissues in a desk drawer and dabbed himself down as well as he could. He had a temperature and was sweating profusely. He called Hökberg's lawyer.
"This is unexpected," Lötberg said when Wallander had finished.
"What this is is a problem," Wallander said. "Do you have any information that might help us?"
"I don't think so. It was hard to make a connection with her. She seemed very calm on the surface, but as to what was going on underneath I have no idea."
"Did she mention a boyfriend? Anyone she wanted to see?"
"No."
"No-one?"
"She asked about Persson."
Wallander paused. "She didn't ask about her parents?"
"As a matter of fact, no."
This struck Wallander as odd, like the impression her room had given him. The feeling was growing that something didn't add up about Sonja Hökberg.
"I'll be in touch, of course, if she contacts me," Lötberg said.
Wallander was left with the image of her room in his head. It was a child's room, he thought. Not a 19-year-old's room. It was still the room of a 10-year-old, as if the room had stopped ageing even though the girl herself was still growing.
He couldn't develop this insight any further, but he knew it was important.
It took Martinsson less than half an hour to arrange the meeting with Eva Persson. Wallander was shocked when he saw her. She was short and looked no older than 12. He studied her hands and tried, without success, to picture her holding a knife and plunging it into the chest of her victim. But he soon recognised that there was something in her that reminded him of Hökberg. The look in her eyes, the same indifference.
Martinsson left them alone. Wallander would have liked Höglund there, but she was organising the search for Hökberg.
Persson's mother looked as if she had been crying. Wallander felt sorry for her. He shuddered to think what she was going through.
He came to the point at once. "Sonja has run away. I want you to tell me where you think she could have gone. Think carefully before you say anything, and make sure you tell me the whole truth. Do you understand?"
Persson nodded.
"Where do you think she's gone?"
"Home, probably. Where else would she have gone?"
His headache was making him impatient. "If she had gone home, we would already have found her," he said, raising his voice a little. The mother seemed to retreat into herself.
"I don't know where she is."
Wallander opened his notebook. "Who are her friends? Who does she normally go around with? Does she know anyone who has a car?"
"It's normally just her and me."
"What about her other friends?"
"There's Kalle, I suppose."
"What's his last name?"
"Ryss."
"His name is Kalle Ryss?"
"Yes."
"I don't want a single lie out of you, do you get that?"
"What the fuck are you screaming at me for, you old bastard?"
Wallander almost exploded, perhaps objecting most to being called "old".
"Just tell me who he is."
"He's a surfer. He goes to Australia a lot, but he's at home at the moment, working for his dad."
"What does his dad do?"
"He has a hardware store."
"And he's friends with Sonja?"
"They used to go out."
Persson was unable to think of anyone else that Hökberg might have contacted. She didn't know where she would be likely to go. In a last attempt to get some more information, Wallander turned to the mother, but she said she knew very little about Sonja.
"You must have known something about her; she was your daughter's best friend."
"I never liked her."
Persson swung round and hit her mother in the face. It happened so fast that Wallander had no time to catch her arm. The mother started screaming and the girl went on hitting her and yelling obscenities. She bit Wallander's hand, but he managed to drag them apart.
"Get rid of the old hag!" Persson yelled. "I don't want to see her any more!"
Wallander lost control. He slapped Persson. Hard. The girl was knocked to the ground. Wallander quickly left the room with his palm stinging. Holgersson came hurrying down the
He found some tissues in a desk drawer and dabbed himself down as well as he could. He had a temperature and was sweating profusely. He called Hökberg's lawyer.
"This is unexpected," Lötberg said when Wallander had finished.
"What this is is a problem," Wallander said. "Do you have any information that might help us?"
"I don't think so. It was hard to make a connection with her. She seemed very calm on the surface, but as to what was going on underneath I have no idea."
"Did she mention a boyfriend? Anyone she wanted to see?"
"No."
"No-one?"
"She asked about Persson."
Wallander paused. "She didn't ask about her parents?"
"As a matter of fact, no."
This struck Wallander as odd, like the impression her room had given him. The feeling was growing that something didn't add up about Sonja Hökberg.
"I'll be in touch, of course, if she contacts me," Lötberg said.
Wallander was left with the image of her room in his head. It was a child's room, he thought. Not a 19-year-old's room. It was still the room of a 10-year-old, as if the room had stopped ageing even though the girl herself was still growing.
He couldn't develop this insight any further, but he knew it was important.
It took Martinsson less than half an hour to arrange the meeting with Eva Persson. Wallander was shocked when he saw her. She was short and looked no older than 12. He studied her hands and tried, without success, to picture her holding a knife and plunging it into the chest of her victim. But he soon recognised that there was something in her that reminded him of Hökberg. The look in her eyes, the same indifference.
Martinsson left them alone. Wallander would have liked Höglund there, but she was organising the search for Hökberg.
Persson's mother looked as if she had been crying. Wallander felt sorry for her. He shuddered to think what she was going through.
He came to the point at once. "Sonja has run away. I want you to tell me where you think she could have gone. Think carefully before you say anything, and make sure you tell me the whole truth. Do you understand?"
Persson nodded.
"Where do you think she's gone?"
"Home, probably. Where else would she have gone?"
His headache was making him impatient. "If she had gone home, we would already have found her," he said, raising his voice a little. The mother seemed to retreat into herself.
"I don't know where she is."
Wallander opened his notebook. "Who are her friends? Who does she normally go around with? Does she know anyone who has a car?"
"It's normally just her and me."
"What about her other friends?"
"There's Kalle, I suppose."
"What's his last name?"
"Ryss."
"His name is Kalle Ryss?"
"Yes."
"I don't want a single lie out of you, do you get that?"
"What the fuck are you screaming at me for, you old bastard?"
Wallander almost exploded, perhaps objecting most to being called "old".
"Just tell me who he is."
"He's a surfer. He goes to Australia a lot, but he's at home at the moment, working for his dad."
"What does his dad do?"
"He has a hardware store."
"And he's friends with Sonja?"
"They used to go out."
Persson was unable to think of anyone else that Hökberg might have contacted. She didn't know where she would be likely to go. In a last attempt to get some more information, Wallander turned to the mother, but she said she knew very little about Sonja.
"You must have known something about her; she was your daughter's best friend."
"I never liked her."
Persson swung round and hit her mother in the face. It happened so fast that Wallander had no time to catch her arm. The mother started screaming and the girl went on hitting her and yelling obscenities. She bit Wallander's hand, but he managed to drag them apart.
"Get rid of the old hag!" Persson yelled. "I don't want to see her any more!"
Wallander lost control. He slapped Persson. Hard. The girl was knocked to the ground. Wallander quickly left the room with his palm stinging. Holgersson came hurrying down the
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