A very cold case

01.

The summer of 1993 in Växjö, a quaint lake city in Sweden, was a season of promise. The sun shone brightly, filling the air with a warm, inviting glow. In the bustling outskirts of town, the newly constructed outlet shopping centre had quickly become a beloved local hub. With its diverse array of shops, both locally owned and national chains, it offered a convenient one-stop destination for everything from groceries to clothing. 

 

Farmers from nearby villages would come to stock up on supplies, while families flocked there for a day of shopping and entertainment. Families flocked there for everything from groceries to clothes. It had quickly become a symbol of modern convenience and prosperity for the people of Växjö.

On this particular afternoon, the heat was stifling. The sun beat down relentlessly, and the air was thick and heavy. The smell of hot asphalt mixed with the faint scent of food stalls from inside the shopping centre. Despite the sweltering weather, the crowds were out in full force. Children darted between the shops, tugging at their parents' arms in excitement, and teenagers loitered near the entrance, smoking cigarettes and talking in hushed tones.

Among them was a family, the Berggrens. They had driven in from a nearby village for a day of shopping and perhaps a meal in one of the shopping centre cafés. Tord Berggren, their 8-year-old son, had been especially excited. His wide, innocent eyes scanned the colourful shop windows, and his laughter rang out like music, light and carefree. He had just gotten a new toy from one of the kiosks, a shopping centre action figure that he clutched in his hand, showing it off proudly to his parents.

It was around 2 p.m. when the family decided to split up briefly. Tord's mother, Elin, wanted to check out a sale at one of the clothing stores, while his father, Karl, needed to pick up a few supplies from the hardware section. They decided to meet back near the entrance of the shopping centre in twenty minutes.

Tord, still bubbling with energy, begged to wander on his own for a little while, to explore the toy store just a few doors down.

"Can I go explore the toy store by myself, Mom and Dad?" Tord asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.

"Are you sure, honey? We won't be far away," Elin replied, her voice filled with a mixture of concern and trust.

"Yes, I'm sure!" Tord insisted, his excitement evident.

His parents, trusting in the safety of the shopping centre, familiar town and recognizing a lot of people, reluctantly agreed. After all, they would only be a few minutes away, and what could happen in such a short time?

As Tord waved to his parents and skipped off toward the toy store, no one could have imagined it would be the last time they would see him.

Fifteen minutes later, Elin returned to the meeting point. She looked around, expecting to see Tord bouncing toward her, eager to lead her back to the toyshop and show her what new treasure he had found. But there was no sign of him. She waited another five minutes, telling herself he was just a little late, that maybe he had gotten distracted by something. But the knot of anxiety in her stomach tightened. Karl joined her a few moments later, wiping sweat from his forehead and holding a shopping centre bag of supplies.

"Where's Tord?" he asked, scanning the crowd around them.

Elin shrugged, her voice tight. "He should be here. He went to the toy store, but he's not back yet."

Karl frowned. "Maybe he's still inside. I'll go check."

He hurried off toward the toy store, weaving through the growing crowd. But when he got there, the cashier, a young woman with blonde hair and tired eyes, shook her head. She hadn’t seen any unattended boys. Tord had never made it inside.

Karl's heart pounded in his chest as he rushed back to Elin, his hands trembling. "He’s not there."

For a moment, they both stood frozen, the gravity of the situation sinking in. This wasn’t like Tord—he was a responsible, obedient boy who would never wander too far. Elin’s breathing became shallow, panic rising in her throat.

"We need to look for him," she said, her voice shaking. "Maybe he’s just... somewhere nearby."

They spent the next half hour combing through the shopping centre, calling out Tord’s name, asking anyone they passed if they had seen a little boy with dark brown hair, wearing a striped t-shirt and holding a shopping centre action figure. But no one had. The more people they asked, the more desperate they became. It was as if Tord had vanished into thin air.

An hour later, their search became frantic. Elin was crying now, barely able to form coherent sentences. Karl, trying to keep it together for her sake, was struggling to hide his own fear. He had gone outside to check the parking lot and surrounding area, but still no sign of their boy. The shopping centre’s security had been alerted, but they were slow to act, treating it as a simple case of a child getting lost in the crowd.

By 4 p.m., the Växjö police had been called.

02.

Polisinspektör Vera Nyberg had only recently moved to Växjö, transferring from Gothenburg after her husband, Lars, had found work in the town following two years of unemployment. It was a chance for them to rebuild their lives, start fresh, and leave behind the struggles they had faced in the bigger city.

Vera had been hesitant at first, reluctant to leave the fast-paced environment of Gothenburg’s police force, but she knew Lars needed this job, and so she had made the sacrifice. Now, instead of handling complex criminal cases, she was dealing with shopping centre-town issues, petty theft, disputes between neighbours, and the occasional drunk causing trouble.

When the call came in about a missing child at the shopping centre, Vera was immediately on alert. She had seen enough in her career to know that a missing child was always an emergency, even if others downplayed it. She was assigned to lead the case, and as she drove toward the shopping centre, her mind raced through the possibilities. The hot summer day, the crowds, the distractions—it would be easy for a child to wander off, get separated from their family. But the longer the boy was missing, the less likely it was that he had simply gotten lost.

When she arrived, the scene was chaotic. The Berggrens were beside themselves with fear, clutching each other as they begged anyone who would listen to help them find their son. Vera approached them, introducing herself calmly, her voice steady and professional despite the tension.

“I’m Polisinspektör Nyberg. I’ll be leading the investigation into your son’s disappearance. Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

Elin, tears streaming down her face, described how they had let Tord go to the toy store on his own, how they had planned to meet just a few minutes later, how he had never shown up. Karl, standing beside her, was pale and silent, his jaw clenched tightly.

Vera took detailed notes, her mind racing through the possibilities. The hot summer day, the crowds, the distractions—it was easy for a child to wander off. But the longer the boy was missing, the less likely it was that he had simply gotten lost.

"I need access to the surveillance footage from every entrance and exit, as well as the areas around the toy store," Vera instructed the shopping centre’s security staff.

She knew the first few hours were critical in any missing persons case. Time was of the essence, and Vera was determined to do everything in her power to bring Tord home safely.

As Vera and her team reviewed the security footage from the shopping centre, the bustling crowds filled every frame. People came and went, children darted in and out of stores, and life seemed to move on as usual. Yet, as they scanned the tapes, a chilling realization dawned on them: there was no sign of Tord anywhere near the toy store. He had never even made it close to the entrance.

 “How is that possible?” Vera muttered under her breath. "He should have passed by this camera."

She replayed the footage, over and over again, but each time, the result was the same. Tord was nowhere to be seen.

By nightfall, the shopping centre had been thoroughly searched. Security guards had combed through every aisle, every storeroom, every hidden corner. Police officers had questioned every shopkeeper, every bystander who had been there that afternoon. But no one had seen Tord, no one had noticed anything unusual.

News of Tord's disappearance spread like wildfire through the town. Växjö, once a peaceful community, was now gripped by fear and uncertainty. The outlet shopping centre, once a symbol of prosperity and excitement, had become the centre of a terrifying mystery.

Whispers spread among the townspeople. Parents clutched their children tighter, casting suspicious glances at strangers. How could a little boy simply vanish in broad daylight, surrounded by hundreds of people?

For Vera Nyberg, the weight of the case was already pressing heavily on her shoulders. This was her first major investigation in Växjö, and it was unlike anything she had expected. She knew the Berggrens were counting on her to find their son, and she was determined not to fail them.

But as the hours turned into days, and the search turned up nothing, a cold dread began to settle over Vera. Tord Berggren hadn’t simply wandered off. Something far darker had happened in the midst of that crowded shopping centre.

And she had a sinking feeling that whatever it was, it was just the beginning.

03.

The days following Tord Berggren’s disappearance were like a slow-building storm. In the beginning, there was shock, disbelief, and fear, but as time passed and the mystery deepened, the unease that gripped Växjö became something far more pervasive. The outlet shopping centre, once bustling with life, had transformed almost overnight. It was no longer a place where families went to enjoy the weekend or hunt for deals. Instead, it had become a symbol of dread, an echo of the terror that now hovered over the town.

Shops, once filled with customers, saw their numbers dwindle. The laughter of children was replaced with hushed conversations and nervous glances over shoulders. The once-bustling aisles grew quieter each day, as if the very air in the shopping centre had turned thick and oppressive. People still needed groceries, clothing, and supplies, but they moved through the space with a sense of urgency, eager to leave as quickly as they could.

Tord’s disappearance hadn’t just taken a child from his family—it had shattered the delicate sense of safety that the people of Växjö had taken for granted. The thought that a young boy could vanish in the middle of a crowded shopping centre, surrounded by hundreds of people, weighed heavily on everyone’s minds.

Whispers spread through the town like wildfire. Parents pulled their children closer when they walked through the streets. Everyone looked at strangers with suspicion, wondering if they might know something, or worse, if they might be involved.

In the Berggren household, the tension was suffocating. Elin and Karl had become shadows of their former selves, consumed by grief and guilt. Their once-warm home had grown cold and silent, filled only with the unbearable weight of Tord’s absence. His toys remained scattered in his bedroom, untouched since the day he vanished, a haunting reminder of the life he had once lived.

Every night, Elin lay awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying the events of that fateful day over and over in her mind, questioning every decision, every moment. If only she hadn’t let him wander off on his own, if only she had kept him by her side.

Karl, on the other hand, had thrown himself into the search with a grim determination. He spent hours every day scouring the town, putting up missing posters, and knocking on doors, asking if anyone had seen or heard anything. He barely spoke to Elin anymore, his guilt too overwhelming to bear. He felt as if he had failed his son, as if he had failed his family. The strain on their marriage was palpable, and though they didn’t talk about it, both of them knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

Meanwhile, Polisinspektör Vera Nyberg had become consumed by the case. Days had turned into weeks, and still, there were no solid leads. Every time she thought she was getting closer to an answer, she hit a wall. The surveillance footage from the shopping centre had yielded no new information, despite hours spent poring over the grainy tapes. Witnesses who had been at the shopping centre that day were either vague or contradictory in their recollections, and none of the physical evidence—if there even was any—had turned up anything useful.

But Vera was not one to give up easily. She had spent years working in the fast-paced, high-pressure environment of Gothenburg’s police force, and she knew that cases like this required patience, persistence, and an unwavering commitment to finding the truth. Still, something about this case gnawed at her, something that went beyond the usual frustration of a stalled investigation. There was an undercurrent of wrongness, a sense that there were pieces of the puzzle that she wasn’t seeing, or that someone didn’t want her to see.

Vera began to dig deeper, combing through old police records and missing persons reports from the surrounding areas. At first, it was just a vague idea, a suspicion she couldn’t quite shake. But as she reviewed case after case, a troubling pattern began to emerge. There had been other disappearances over the years, seemingly unrelated, that had never been solved. Most of them involved children or teenagers, and they had all occurred within a 50-kilometer radius of Växjö.

What was most disturbing was how easily these cases had been dismissed at the time. Many of them had been written off as runaways, accidents, or simply as lost causes, with the assumption that the missing had left of their own accord or met their fate somewhere far away from home.

The deeper Vera looked, the more she realized how common it was for people to go missing in the area, only for their cases to be quietly shelved and forgotten. The further back she went, the more disturbing the similarities between the cases became.

The strain of the case had begun to take its toll on Vera. The constant frustration and the feeling of being trapped in a dead-end investigation had seeped into her personal life. At home, her husband, Lars, could sense her growing tension.

"Vera, you need to take a break," he said, concerned. "You've been working nonstop for weeks."

Vera sighed, her voice filled with resignation. "I know, Lars, but I can't let this go. There's something wrong here, something that doesn't add up."

Lars nodded understandingly. "I know you're doing your best. But maybe it's time to step back and look at it from a different angle." But somewhere inside him worry was crimping. He was feeling guilty that he was part of her frustration and his decision for them to move. Leave her familiar Gothenburg and move to such a smaller place.

While Lars remained silent, lost in his guilt, Vera also silent felt torn between her determination to solve the case and the need to take care of herself. She knew Lars was right, but it was difficult to let go. The thought of leaving the case unfinished haunted her.

04.

One night, after a long day at the station, Vera was sifting through a pile of reports spread out across her kitchen table. Lars, was asleep in the next room, but Vera couldn’t rest. Something about the cases kept pulling at her. There was a subtle pattern, a rhythm to the disappearances that others had missed. She scribbled notes in the margins, circling dates and names, trying to map out a timeline. Each case seemed unconnected, but the proximity of the incidents and the vague details about each disappearance bothered her. She had seen this kind of thing before—a loose network of events that, on their own, seemed coincidental, but when viewed as a whole, formed a larger, more sinister picture.

Vera’s stomach churned as she reviewed a particularly haunting case from 1987—a teenage girl named Linnéa Larsson, who had gone missing on her way to a friend’s house. The report had been filed by her mother, who claimed that Linnéa had vanished without a trace. Nobody was ever found, and after several months, the case had gone cold. Like Tord, Linnéa had disappeared in a public place, with no witnesses, no clues, and no explanation.

Vera knew there had to be a connection between these cases. It was more than just coincidence. But what troubled her the most was the way these disappearances had been quietly swept under the rug, as though the town itself wanted to forget them, to move on and pretend that nothing was wrong.

In her gut, Vera felt the creeping sense that Tord’s disappearance was not an isolated incident. Something far darker lurked beneath the surface of this town, a hidden truth that no one wanted to acknowledge. And as much as she wanted to dismiss the idea as paranoia, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there were forces at play that had been operating in the shadows for years, perhaps decades.

The next day, Vera returned to the station with renewed determination. She needed to talk to more people, to dig into the lives of those who had been at the shopping centre on the day of Tord’s disappearance. She compiled a list of all the individuals she had previously interviewed and marked the ones who had been vague or uncooperative. She wanted to know if there was anyone who had stood out, anyone who had been there but hadn’t given a full account of their actions. She also started looking into the families of the other missing persons, wondering if they had noticed any strange behaviour in the weeks or months leading up to the disappearances.

As Vera worked, she became more and more convinced that there was something deeply wrong in Växjö. She spoke to older residents, many of whom remembered the missing children, though most had resigned themselves to the idea that these cases would never be solved. Some of the townspeople were reluctant to talk about it at all, and others were outright dismissive, brushing off the disappearances as tragic but ultimately unsolvable mysteries.

One elderly woman, Agneta, who had lived in Växjö for over sixty years, spoke to Vera in a hushed voice as though afraid someone might overhear.

“It’s not right, what’s been happening here,” Agneta said, wringing her hands. “People don’t just vanish like that. Not without someone knowing something. There are secrets in this town, things people don’t talk about. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember.”

“What kind of secrets?” Vera asked, leaning in, intrigued by the woman’s words.

Agneta’s eyes darted around the room, and she lowered her voice even further. “There are people who don’t want the truth to come out. They protect each other. They always have. If you start asking too many questions, you’ll see. Things will start to happen. People will stop talking to you, and then you’ll wish you never started looking in the first place.”

Vera felt a chill run down her spine at Agneta’s words. Was this just the ramblings of an old woman, or was there something more to it? She couldn’t afford to ignore any leads, no matter how far-fetched they seemed.

Soon rumours spread that she was digging too deep, uncovering things that should be left alone. Some of her colleagues at the station, who had initially been supportive, started to grow distant. They questioned why she was so fixated on connecting Tord’s disappearance to old, cold cases.

“It’s a different case, Vera,” one of her fellow officers told her. “Kids go missing for all sorts of reasons. You can’t keep dragging up old wounds. You’re going to drive yourself mad.”

But Vera knew better. Her instincts told her that there was something bigger at play, something far more insidious than a single child going missing. The more she uncovered, the more convinced she became that Tord’s disappearance was just one piece of a larger puzzle. And the deeper she dug, the more resistance she faced—from the town, from her colleagues, and even from her own fears.

She could feel the weight of the case pressing down on her, but she refused to give up. Tord was still out there somewhere, and Vera knew that the truth, however dark and terrifying it might be, was the only way to bring him home.

05.

Polisinspektör Vera Nyberg stood in front of the Växjö Police Station, cold air nipping at her cheeks. She had spent over a decade as a police officer in Gothenburg, but nothing had quite prepared her for this. Moving to a smaller town like Växjö, leaving behind the frenetic pace of the big city, was supposed to be a relief. But deep down, she wasn’t sure if it would be.

Her husband, Lars, had finally secured a job after two long years of unemployment. It had been a dark period for them, where their marriage had been tested more than once. The stress of Lars losing his engineering job had rippled through their lives, leaving them struggling to pay bills and keeping Vera tethered to long, exhausting shifts at the police station in Gothenburg. He had sunk into depression, while Vera carried the weight of their financial responsibilities alone, a burden that strained them both. The opportunity in Växjö seemed like a lifeline—an escape. Lars could start fresh, and Vera would transfer to the quieter, less chaotic police force in this smaller town.

As she walked into the station, her nerves were taut. Her new colleagues, a small but experienced group of officers. There was Patrik, an experienced Kriminalinspektör with a sharp mind but little patience for outsiders, and Malin, a younger Polisassistent with ambitions to rise through the ranks. Vera felt the scepticism in their glances—she was the newcomer, the city cop with more experience than anyone else in the room, but also the one with something to prove.

Her first case was nothing like the high-profile crimes she had handled in Gothenburg. It was a petty theft, a break-in at a local bakery. Still, she approached it with the same diligence she always had, wanting to prove to herself and her new colleagues that she could adapt to this slower pace. But as she delved into the investigation, she found herself missing the adrenaline of the city. She missed the high-stakes cases, the thrill of cracking a major crime. Here, in Växjö, the rhythm was different, and Vera wasn’t sure she fit.

At home, things weren’t much better. Lars was adjusting to his new job, but he wasn’t the same man he had been before losing his previous position. The years of unemployment had left scars. He was distant, irritable, and often brooding in silence. They had once shared everything—dreams, frustrations, hopes—but now, even simple conversations felt strained. Vera found herself tiptoeing around him, not wanting to add to his stress, but also growing frustrated with his refusal to fully engage in their new life. The fresh start they had hoped for was proving to be more difficult than either of them had anticipated.

One evening, after a particularly quiet day at work, Vera came home to find Lars sitting in the dark, staring out of the window. She tried to talk to him, but he brushed her off with a curt “I’m fine.” The tension between them was palpable, and it was getting harder to ignore.

“I thought things would be different here,” Vera said, her voice soft but tinged with frustration. “I thought we’d get a chance to rebuild.”

Lars sighed heavily but didn’t look at her. “It’s not that simple, Vera. It’s not like I can just switch off everything that’s happened.”

She knew he was right, but it didn’t make it any easier. She had hoped that moving to Växjö would be a turning point for them, but it was becoming clear that geography wasn’t the solution to their problems. They were still carrying the weight of their past, and it was threatening to pull them apart.

Lars had stopped going to work, calling in sick more days than not. Vera tried to be patient, but her own frustrations were mounting. She had thought that by moving to Växjö, they would be able to escape the shadow of his unemployment, but it was clear that the problem went deeper than that. Lars wasn’t just struggling with his career; he was struggling with himself.

One night, after another silent dinner, Vera couldn’t take it anymore.

“We can’t keep living like this, Lars,” she said, her voice breaking. “I don’t know how to help you, and it’s killing me.”

Lars looked at her, and for the first time in months, she saw something other than indifference in his eyes. “I don’t know how to help myself, Vera,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought moving here would fix things, but… I’m still broken.”

Tears welled in Vera’s eyes, but she blinked them back. She had always been the strong one, the one who held things together, but she didn’t know how to fix this. “Maybe we need to talk to someone,” she said quietly. “A counsellor. We can’t do this alone.”

Lars hesitated but then nodded. It was a small step, but it was something.

As the weeks passed, they started therapy together. It wasn’t a quick fix, but it opened a door they had kept shut for too long. Vera learned to let go of some of the resentment she had been carrying, and Lars began to confront his depression, slowly finding his way back to himself.

At the station, Vera continued to prove herself. The team began to respect her, and even Patrik came around, grudgingly acknowledging her contributions. She was starting to feel like Växjö could be home, even if it wasn’t what she had expected. But there was this case that was eating her. Tord. Tord was always there, in the back of her mind.

06.

The hum of the police station late at night was a quiet, almost eerie sound, one that Vera Nyberg had grown accustomed to since her time in Gothenburg. The faint ticking of the clock on the wall above her desk was the only indication that time was passing at all. It had been weeks since Tord Berggren had disappeared, and the investigation had stalled. Leads were drying up, and the town’s initial shock had begun to turn into resignation. But Vera wasn’t ready to give up. The boy was still out there somewhere, he had to be and every minute that passed without a breakthrough felt like a small defeat.

Vera sighed, rubbing her tired eyes. Before her lay an array of papers: witness statements, timelines, and pages of surveillance footage logs. She had been combing through the footage from the outlet shopping centre for days, reviewing it frame by frame, hoping to catch even the smallest detail that might point her in the right direction. But there was nothing. Or at least, there hadn’t been—until now.

Later that evening, Vera noticed something she hadn’t before. A small discrepancy in one of the time logs, the footage from a specific camera overlooking the north entrance of the shopping centre, where Tord had last been seen, was missing a significant portion of time. For about twenty minutes—during the critical window when Tord had vanished—the footage had been erased. It was as if someone had cut the tape, removing the most important part of the recording.

Her pulse quickened as she leaned closer to the screen, replaying the moments leading up to and after the gap in the footage. The crowds moved as usual, people coming and going, mothers with their children, couples holding hands, but there was no sign of Tord. The footage jumped abruptly, skipping the exact period when he should have been in front of the camera.

Vera’s heart pounded in her chest. Tampering with evidence was a serious crime, but more than that, it suggested that someone had gone to great lengths to cover up Tord’s disappearance. But who? And why?

She picked up the phone, dialling the shopping centre’s security office. The line rang several times before a groggy voice answered.

“Shopping centre security,” the man mumbled.

“Polisinspektör Vera Nyberg,” she said, her tone brisk. “I need to speak with the head of your surveillance team. There’s an issue with one of your cameras.”

There was a brief pause on the other end before the man responded, sounding more alert. “What kind of issue?”

“I’m reviewing footage from the day of the Berggren boy’s disappearance,” Vera explained. “There’s a gap—about twenty minutes of footage missing from one of the key cameras. I need to know if this is a technical malfunction or if someone deliberately removed the footage.”

The man was silent for a moment. “I’ll check with the tech team and get back to you.”

“Make it fast,” Vera said, her voice firm. “This is a serious matter.”

As she hung up the phone, Vera’s mind raced. If someone had tampered with the footage, it meant they knew exactly what had happened to Tord—and they were trying to hide it.

While Vera waited for a response from shopping centre security, her thoughts drifted back to the people closest to Tord—those whose lives had been shattered by his disappearance. The Berggren family was in ruins, their once-happy home now a place of grief and desolation. Elin and Karl were barely speaking to each other, each trapped in their own private hell of guilt and sorrow. But it wasn’t just the parents whose lives had been upended. Astrid Andersson and Emil Johansson, his best friends, had been central figures in the investigation from the start. Oddly they were both in the shopping centre the day of Tord’s disappearance.

Astrid and Tord had been inseparable for the past year, ever since they had met at a summer camp organized by their school. Astrid, a quiet girl with pale blonde hair and soft blue eyes, had been devastated by Tord’s disappearance. In the early days after he went missing, she had cried for hours in the arms of her mother. When Vera first tried to question her she felt awful for the little girl who was accompanied by an equally distress mother.

“I don’t understand how this happen,” Astrid had whispered, her voice barely audible. “He was right there, in the shopping centre. How could he just disappear? I saw him running towards the toy shop and I asked mom to join him...”

Emil, on the other hand, had been more stoic. He and Tord had been neighbours best friends for some time, and they had spent nearly every day together, whether it was playing soccer at the park or staying up late playing video games. Emil was taller than Tord, with shaggy brown hair and a shy, awkward demeanour. When Vera had questioned him, he had been polite but distant, answering her questions with short, clipped responses.

“Do you think Tord might have run away?” Vera had asked him.

Emil had shaken his head firmly. “No way. Tord would never do that. He was happy. We were supposed to meet later that day to play at my house.”

07.

Vera’s instincts told her to take a closer look at both Astrid and Emil. She decided to start with Astrid.

The Andersson house was a modest, two-story home on the outskirts of town, surrounded by a well-kept garden. When Vera arrived, Astrid’s mother, Annika, greeted her at the door. Annika was a kind woman in her mid-forties, with tired eyes and a warm smile that didn’t quite reach her face.

“Thank you for coming,” Annika said, ushering Vera inside. “Astrid is in her room. She’s been having a hard time, as you can imagine.”

“I understand,” Vera said softly. “I just have a few more questions for her, if that’s all right.”

Annika nodded, leading Vera up the stairs to Astrid’s bedroom. She knocked gently on the door before opening it.

“Astrid, Polisinspektör Nyberg is here to see you.”

Astrid was sitting on her bed, staring out the window. She looked pale, her face drawn and her eyes distant. When she saw Vera, she gave a small nod but didn’t say anything.

“Hi, Astrid,” Vera said, sitting down in the chair by the bed. “I know this is hard for you, but I wanted to ask you a few more questions about the day Tord disappeared.”

Astrid turned to face her, her expression blank. “I’ve told you everything.”

“I know, and I appreciate that,” Vera said gently. “But I want to make sure we haven’t missed anything. Sometimes, little details don’t seem important at the time but can make a big difference later.”

Astrid hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Vera leaned forward slightly. “You and Tord were very close. Is there anything you can think of that might have been bothering him in the days leading up to his disappearance? Did he seem different at all?”

Astrid shook her head. “No. He was... happy.”

“What about his friend, Emil? The two of them were best friends, right?”

Astrid’s gaze flickered for a moment, a shadow crossing her face. “Yes. They were best friends.”

Vera noticed the hesitation. “Is there something about Emil you’re not telling me?”

Astrid looked away, biting her lip. “No, it’s just... I don’t know. Emil was always kind of... intense when it came to Tord. He didn’t like sharing him with anyone else. Sometimes it felt like he was jealous of me.”

Vera’s interest piqued. “Jealous? How so?”

Astrid shrugged, her voice barely above a whisper. “I could tell. He would get annoyed when Tord spent more time with me than with him. I think he felt like he was losing his best friend.”

Vera nodded, making a mental note of Astrid’s words. “That’s helpful. Thank you, Astrid.”

She stood to leave, but before she reached the door, Astrid spoke again, her voice trembling. “Do you think you will ever find Tord?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and heartbreaking. Vera paused, her hand on the doorknob.

“I’m doing everything I can to find him,” she said softly.

“You know, there is something more,” Astrid suddenly whispered stopping Vera at the door. "I overheard Emil talking to his brother," she had written. "He was saying something about Tord, something about having enough of him. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Emil has always been a bit strange, but I never thought he would do anything like that. I don't know what to do. I can't tell anyone."

Vera took a deep sigh and looked carefully at the girl. Guilt? Was that what she could see in her eyes? Fear? Suspicion? She wasn’t sure. Perhaps all together.

Emil’s time had suddenly come.

08.

Emil Johansson lived with his parents in a small house near Tord’s. His mother was a quiet woman who worked as a nurse at the local hospital, and his father was a construction worker. When Vera knocked on their door, Emil answered, his face pale and drawn.

“What do you want?” He said, his voice flat

“I have a few more questions for you, Emil,” Vera said. “Can I come inside?”

Emil hesitated, then stepped aside to let her in. His house was tidy, but there was a palpable sense of tension in the air, as if the whole family was on edge. They sat down in the living room, and Vera got straight to the point.

“Emil, I know you and Tord were very close. You were the last person to see him before he disappeared. I need to know if there’s anything you’re not telling me.”

Emil’s eyes flickered with something—fear, perhaps, or guilt. He shook his head. “I’ve told you everything.”

Vera leaned forward, her gaze intense. “Astrid mentioned that you were jealous of her relationship with Tord. Is that true?”

Emil’s face flushed with anger. “That’s not true. I wasn’t jealous.”

“Are you sure?” Vera pressed. “It’s normal to feel upset when your best friend starts spending more time with someone else. But if there’s something you’re hiding, now is the time to tell me.”

Emil clenched his fists, his knuckles white. For a moment, Vera thought he was going to lash out, but then he slumped back in his chair, defeated.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

Polisinspektör Vera Nyberg’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”

Emil looked up at her, his eyes filled with regret. “It was an accident. I didn’t want him to get hurt.”

Vera’s pulse quickened. “What happened, Emil?”

Emil’s voice cracked as he spoke, the weight of his guilt finally breaking through. “We got into a fight. At the shopping centre. I was upset because he cancelled our plans to be with Astrid again, and I just... I lost it. I pushed him, and he hit his head on the concrete. I didn’t mean to—he was my best friend.”

Tears streamed down Emil’s face as he continued, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. There was blood, and he wasn’t moving. I... I dragged him outside, to the alley behind the shopping centre. I thought maybe he’d wake up, but he didn’t. I left him there. I was scared.”

Vera felt a chill run down her spine. The missing footage, the erased time—everything made sense now. Emil had been trying to cover up his involvement in Tord’s disappearance, and the guilt had been eating away at him ever since.

“Where is he, Emil?” Vera asked, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside her. “Where did you leave Tord?”

Emil sobbed, his body shaking. “He’s... he’s still there. Behind the old storage units near the shopping centre. I didn’t know what else to do.” And then like a whisper the shocking admission came, “I bring him food and water every day...”

Vera stood up, her mind racing. She had to move quickly. There was still a chance that Tord might be alive, though the odds were slim. She placed a reassuring hand on Emil’s shoulder. There was more to this story—she was certain of it. But for now, her priority was finding young ten-year old Tord. Or at least his body, she thought with a dark cloud covering her soul.

It was a rainy night in Växjö and there was a lot of tense inside the police station where Vera had brought Emil after his confess at his house. His father was with them in the interrogation room while they could hear the mother crying outside.

Calling a couple of plain-cloth policemen to follow her .Then she run for her car and sped towards the old shopping centre and the place Emil had told her.

09.

The sound of distant sirens sliced through the rain, a beacon of hope that would soon bring help. But for now, all Vera could focus on was the fragile life in front of her. She crouched beside Tord, her hands trembling as she gently checked for any signs of injury beyond the obvious, his pale face, his laboured breathing, blood hard matted in his hair.

She cursed under her breath, her mind racing. Stay calm, stay focused, she told herself. Her instincts kicked in as she carefully cradled Tord's head, assessing the best way to move him. He was barely conscious, obviously hydrated and his eyelids flickered as he let out a weak groan.

“Tord,” Vera whispered, her voice full of urgency yet soft, trying not to startle him. “Tord, can you hear me? We’re going to get you help. Stay with me.”

The boy's eyes fluttered, but he didn’t respond. His body was cold, his pulse weak, and his breaths shallow. Vera’s mind raced. She wasn’t a medic, but she knew enough to understand that if she didn’t act quickly, they could lose him.

Behind her, the sound of footsteps echoed, and she turned to see two paramedics rushing toward her, their raincoats drenched but their focus sharp.

“Vera!” one of them called. “We’re here! What’s his condition?”

Vera stood up, her voice steady despite the surge of panic building in her chest. “He’s alive. Barely. He’s unconscious, but his breathing is irregular. We need to get him to the hospital—now.”

One of the paramedics, a woman with short, dark hair, knelt beside Tord and began to assess his vitals. “We’ll stabilize him here first, but we need to move quickly. Can you help us get him into the ambulance?”

Vera nodded without hesitation. She knelt again, gently helping to lift Tord’s fragile form, and together, they carried him toward the waiting ambulance. The rain continued to pour down, the water soaking them to the bone, but Vera barely noticed. Her focus was entirely on the boy in her arms.

As they placed Tord inside the ambulance, the paramedics worked swiftly, hooking him up to monitors, checking his blood pressure, and administering fluids. Vera stood at the door, watching, her heart hammering in her chest.

“We’re taking him to the hospital now,” the male paramedic called out as he closed the door behind them. “You should come with us.”

Vera didn’t need to be asked twice. She climbed into the ambulance, her body pressed close to Tord’s, her mind still racing. As the ambulance sped through the wet streets, the only sounds were the beeping of the monitors and the occasional murmur of the paramedics. Vera couldn’t stop herself from reaching out, brushing a lock of wet hair away from Tord’s forehead.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. The way Emil had confessed—so much guilt, so many contradictions—it didn’t sit well with her. He said it was an accident, but was that really the truth? Or was there something more to Tord’s disappearance?

At the town hospital the emergency room was chaotic, filled with the usual noise of medical staff rushing between patients and equipment. Tord was wheeled away in a hurry, with Vera following close behind, her heart thundering in her chest.

A doctor, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair, appeared by her side. “Are you family?” he asked, his voice clipped, professional.

“No,” Vera replied quickly, “I’m a police officer. I need to know what’s going on with him. Is he going to make it?”

The doctor glanced at Tord’s chart, then at the boy’s still form, before looking back at Vera. “He’s in critical condition. He had a head injury, obviously quit a time ago, possible skull fracture, significant blood loss and we have no idea what all this has left him after ...a year? We’re doing everything we can, but I can’t make any promises right now.”

Vera nodded, her stomach sinking. She had seen her fair share of injuries. Her mind flashed to Emil’s confession, the image of the boy dragging his friend into the alley. The guilt in Emil’s eyes had been overwhelming. But was it enough to lead her to the truth?

The doctor’s voice broke through her thoughts. “If you’ll excuse me, we need to get him to surgery immediately. Please wait in the family room.”

10.

Vera sank deeper into the hard plastic chair in the waiting room. The sterile scent of disinfectant clung to the air, heavy and cold. Her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, an unrelenting storm she couldn’t seem to calm. Relief that they had found Tord alive—barely breathing but still alive—mingled with the heavy, suffocating weight of Emil’s confession. Emil had said the words, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something vital was missing, like a jigsaw puzzle with pieces deliberately hidden away.

The waiting room was almost empty, save for the soft murmur of the receptionist behind the desk and the distant hum of hospital equipment. She hated hospitals. The quiet here wasn’t peaceful—it was unnerving. It made the tension in her body tighten with every passing second.

The sharp click of wet shoes echoed from the doorway. Vera looked up to see Emil’s father standing there, drenched, his soaked clothes clinging to his tall, gaunt frame. The man looked wrecked, not just by the storm outside but by something much deeper. His eyes—those hollow, empty eyes—told a story of exhaustion, desperation, and the terror that had gripped him for hours.

“How is he?” His voice cracked as he spoke, trembling.

Vera felt her stomach churn. She wanted to tell him everything was fine, to give him some semblance of comfort, but the truth was too heavy for that. “He’s alive, but he’s in critical condition,” she replied softly, her words slow, deliberate. “The doctors... they’re doing everything they can.”

The man’s face twisted slightly, and he let out a long, shaky breath as if the weight of the air itself was too much to bear. For a moment, he just stood there, his gaze lost somewhere on the sterile tile floor. The sound of the rain outside was faint, muffled by the thick hospital walls, but Vera imagined it pouring down relentlessly on the soaked streets. She wondered if it mirrored what was happening in his mind—chaotic and unrelenting.

Without a word, Emil’s father sat down beside her, his hands clasped together so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His voice, when he spoke again, was little more than a whisper. “What really happened, Vera? I need to know.” His words were strained. “Emil... he’s not the type of boy who would hurt someone. He’s never been violent. But this...” His voice trailed off, and he shook his head, his eyes glazing over with disbelief. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

Vera studied his face, the deep lines of anguish etched into his features. She could see the love, the pain, the confusion all blending together. He wasn’t just a father trying to make sense of his son’s actions—he was a man drowning in the unknown, desperate for any piece of information that could help him breathe again.

“I know it’s hard to believe,” Vera said quietly, choosing her words carefully. “But Emil confessed. He admitted to being involved.” She saw his face tense, his eyes narrowing as if trying to process the impossibility of it. “But something doesn’t add up. He said it was an accident, but...” She hesitated, glancing at him before continuing, “I think there’s more to this story. Much more.”

Emil’s father let out a bitter laugh, hollow and short. “More? Vera, I don’t understand any of this. Emil would never... he’s always been a good boy. Never been in trouble before. Not even a schoolyard fight.” His voice cracked again, and he rubbed a hand across his face, smearing the rainwater further into his skin. “How could this happen?”

Vera took a breath, trying to steady her thoughts. “I’ve known Emil for a long time,” she began slowly. “He’s always been quiet, reserved. But he’s not violent. You’re right about that. I don’t believe he wanted to hurt Tord.” She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, her voice steady but soft. “I think he’s scared. There’s something he’s not telling us—something bigger than the fight.”

The man’s eyes flickered toward her. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying Emil’s confession doesn’t sit right with me. There’s something else... something he’s afraid of.” She paused, searching for the right words. “He told me it was about a girl, that he and Tord fought over her. But that can’t be all. I think there’s a reason he’s not telling us everything. Maybe he’s protecting someone, or maybe...” Her voice lowered to a near whisper. “Maybe he’s scared of what will happen if the truth comes out.”

Emil’s father clenched his fists in his lap, his face pale. “Are you saying he’s covering for someone?”

11.

Vera shook her head slowly, her brow furrowed in thought. "I don’t know for sure," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with conviction. "But his confession felt... forced. Like he was saying what he thought he had to say, not what he really believed."

The man across from her—Emil’s father—stared at her, eyes wide with confusion, fear creeping into his expression. “But why would he do that? Why would Emil lie?” His voice was trembling, uncertainty seeping into every word.

Vera sighed, her eyes scanning the room for a moment before returning to meet his. "I don’t think he’s lying exactly," she replied carefully, trying to find the right words. "But he’s hiding something. Or someone."

A thick silence hung between them, broken only by the rhythmic patter of rain against the windows. It was as though the storm outside echoed the turmoil in the room. The man’s breathing grew ragged as he struggled to process what Vera was saying, his thoughts spinning in a whirlwind of doubt and disbelief. He ran a hand through his greying hair, exhaling shakily. “I can’t believe it,” he muttered after a long pause, shaking his head. “I just can’t.”

Vera watched him closely, her heart aching for the man in front of her. She could see the weight of everything bearing down on him—his son’s turmoil, the questions he couldn’t answer, the fear that was slowly consuming him. She leaned forward slightly, her voice growing firmer. “I need to talk to Emil again,” she said, determination creeping into her tone. “I need to hear it from him directly. But I can’t do it alone. I need your help.”

The man looked up, startled by her words. “My help?” he repeated, as if the idea was foreign to him. “What can I do? He won’t listen to me, Vera. He’s barely spoken to me in weeks.”

Vera’s gaze softened, though her resolve remained strong. “He’ll listen to you in a way he won’t listen to anyone else,” she said gently. “You’re his father. He needs to know that you’re there for him, no matter what.”

The man shook his head, his eyes clouded with uncertainty. “I don’t know if he’ll even speak to me,” he confessed, his voice breaking slightly. “He’s shut down completely. After what happened...”

“What happened is exactly why he needs you now more than ever,” Vera interrupted, her voice filled with quiet intensity. She reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “He’s scared. He’s convinced that he’s alone in this, and if he thinks you’re going to turn your back on him, he’ll keep everything locked inside. But if you show him that you’re with him, that you’ll stand by him no matter what, he might open up.”

His face twisted in pain, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his guilt. “I don’t know what to do anymore, Vera,” he whispered, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “I don’t know how to help my son.”

Vera’s expression softened even further, her voice now quiet but steady. “Start by talking to him. Tell him you love him. Let him know you’re not giving up on him, no matter how hard this gets.”

His breath hitched, and he glanced away, staring down at his hands as if they held the answers he was searching for. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. “I’ll try,” he whispered, his voice fragile, like the words might shatter if spoken too loudly. “I’ll try.”

As the man sat there, still staring at the floor, Vera’s mind raced. She was certain now—something was deeply wrong. Emil’s confession didn’t add up, and she didn’t believe for a second that this was just some fight over a girl. The pieces didn’t fit. There was something darker at play, something Emil was too terrified to admit.

But one thing was clear—whatever the truth was, it had to come out. And Emil was the key to unlocking it.

The man looked up again, his eyes brimming with desperation. “What if... what if he won’t talk to me? What if he shuts me out like he has been?”

Vera shook her head. “He will. He needs to know that you’re there, that you haven’t abandoned him. Trust me, it’s not going to be easy. But you’ve got to push through that wall he’s built around himself.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, clearly overwhelmed. “I’ve tried,” he said, his voice cracking with frustration. “God knows I’ve tried, but every time I approach him, he shuts down. He looks at me like I’m the enemy, like I’m the reason for all of this.”

Vera’s eyes hardened with determination. “He’s scared, and right now, fear is clouding everything. He needs to see that you’re not the enemy, that you’re on his side. If you give up on him now, he’ll have no one left.”

The man blinked rapidly, clearly fighting back tears. “I don’t want to lose him,” he whispered. “I don’t want to lose my son.”

“And you won’t,” Vera assured him. “Not if you show him that you’re willing to fight for him. But we need to get to the bottom of this. There’s more going on than he’s letting on, and we need him to trust us if we’re going to figure out what.”

He looked up at her, a mix of fear and hope in his eyes. “What do you think he’s hiding?” he asked quietly.

Vera paused, her mind racing through the possibilities. “I don’t know yet,” she admitted, “but it’s not what he’s told us. I don’t think this is just about a fight or a misunderstanding. I think someone’s manipulating him. Or maybe he’s protecting someone.”

The man’s face paled. “Protecting someone? Who?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice grim. “But we’re going to find out.”

He nodded slowly, his jaw clenched with determination. “I’ll talk to him,” he said, his voice resolute now. “I’ll make him understand that I’m not going anywhere.”

Vera smiled softly, though the weight of the situation still hung heavy between them. “That’s all we can do,” she said. “Be there for him, and hope he’s ready to tell us the truth.”

As the rain continued to lash against the windows, both of them sat in silence, knowing that the hardest part was still to come.

Then suddenly Vera jumped from her seat and nearly shouted, “Shit, we forgot. Somebody to call Tord’s parents!” and run towards where the plain-cloth policemen were standing.

12.

Hours passed before Vera finally got a chance to speak with Emil again. The boy was now sitting in an interrogation room at the hospital. He had been sedated, but his eyes were wide with terror, his hands still trembling from the stress of the night.

Vera sat across from him, her gaze calm but penetrating. “Emil, I need you to tell me the full truth. You’ve confessed, but something’s missing. You said you didn’t mean to hurt Tord, but I need to know why you pushed him. Was there something else going on between you two?”

Emil flinched at her words, his face twisting in guilt and confusion. “I told you, I didn’t mean it. I just... I was angry. He... he kept saying things about me. About how I wasn’t good enough for Astrid. He said I was weak. And I—”

Vera leaned forward, her voice calm but insistent. “What did he say, Emil? Was it just about Astrid? Or was there something else?”

Emil’s eyes welled up with tears as he pressed his palms against his face. “I couldn’t take it anymore. Tord... he was always so good in everything. Everyone liked him. But I couldn’t be like him. I hated him for it. I didn’t want him to be better than me. He was my best friend, but it felt like... like he was always pushing me down.”

Vera stayed silent, letting Emil speak. She needed him to tell her everything, to understand the full picture. His words, while filled with pain and remorse, were starting to uncover a darker truth—jealousy, anger, and something much more complicated than a simple fight over a girl.

Emil wiped his eyes and looked up at Vera. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, Vera. But when he fell... when he hit his head... I thought... I thought he was dead.”

Vera’s heart sank. “And then you left him there?”

Emil nodded slowly, tears streaming down his face. “I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to get in trouble. I didn’t want to hurt anyone else. So I moved him in the shed behind my house. In the common area.”

Vera leaned back, her mind racing. “Emil... You need to tell me everything. Did anyone else know? Was there anyone else involved?”

Emil hesitated, then shook his head. “No. It was just me. Just me and Tord. I didn’t want anyone to know. I thought I could fix it on my own.”

Vera nodded slowly, her thoughts churning. There was still more to this story—much more. But she knew one thing for certain: Emil’s confession wasn’t the whole truth. There were other layers to uncover, and she would find them, no matter what it took.

The air in the small interrogation room grew thick with tension as Emil’s sobs faded into a painful silence. Vera sat across from him, her mind working quickly, piecing together fragments of his story, the holes in his confession, the guilt that practically radiated off him. But something still didn’t sit right.

She leaned forward again, her voice steady but firm. “Emil, you told me you pushed Tord because of Astrid and because of what he said. But something doesn’t add up. Why was Tord in such a vulnerable position? He didn’t just stumble into the alley by accident. Someone must’ve found him, or someone must have known where he was. Did anyone else know about your fight?”

Emil’s eyes flickered with fear, and he immediately turned his gaze to the table, as if trying to avoid her piercing stare. The hesitation lasted only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. He wrung his hands together nervously, his voice quieter this time, almost a whisper.

“No... no one else was there, just us. But... I didn’t want anyone to find out... I swear, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” Emil muttered, his words trailing off in shame. “I fed him you know. Hamburgers and chips. Even meatballs from my mother. And mass.”

Vera sat in silence for a moment, watching him. Her instincts told her there was more he wasn’t saying—more he was hiding. A fight at the shopping centre. Tord ended up in an alley. Alone... She leaned forward, her voice a little sharper now. “But Emil, you left him there. You left Tord alone in that alley, and you didn’t call anyone for help. You say you were scared, but what were you afraid of? What weren’t you telling me?”

Emil flinched as if physically struck, his body curling in on itself as the guilt consumed him. His eyes welled up again, and this time he couldn’t hold back the flood of tears that poured down his face.

“I... I didn’t know what to do!” His voice broke, and he sobbed uncontrollably. “I didn’t want to be like my dad! I didn’t want to be a failure... and then when he fell—when I saw him bleeding—I thought... I thought maybe if I just left him there, it would all go away. Maybe... maybe no one would find out.”

13.

Vera exhaled slowly, her gaze never leaving Emil. She could see the depth of his torment, but there was still a lingering doubt. Was that really all there was to it? Was it just about the fight, or was there something more beneath the surface?

“Emil,” she said softly but firmly, “this isn’t just about you and Tord. This is about the truth. The whole truth. If there’s something else you’re hiding, you need to tell me now. No matter how bad it is, it’s better than keeping it inside.”

For a long moment, Emil said nothing. The room seemed to close in around them. The only sound was the soft, rhythmic tapping of rain against the window. Vera could see him wrestling with himself—fighting between the urge to confess and the overwhelming fear of the consequences.

Finally, Emil looked up at her, his eyes wide and filled with something new—something darker.

“I didn’t want to say it,” he whispered, his voice shaky. “But... Astrid wasn’t the only reason we fought.”

Vera leaned forward, her heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”

Emil’s hands shook as he gripped the edge of the table. “It’s not just about Astrid... it’s what he knew. What he found out about me. Tord—he... he found out something about my dad. Something I didn’t want anyone to know.”

Vera’s brow furrowed as she processed his words. What did Tord find out about Emil’s father? The thought lingered in her mind, the connection suddenly clearer. She needed to know more.

“What did he find out, Emil?” she asked, her voice insistent but calm.

Emil swallowed hard, his eyes shifting to the door as though he was afraid someone would hear. He lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Tord knew... about the money. About the gambling.”

Vera blinked, caught off guard by the revelation. She’d heard rumours about Emil’s father, rumours about his debts, his strange behaviour when money was mentioned—but nothing concrete. It was a small town, and rumours were a dime a dozen. But now, this seemed like a clue that might unravel everything.

“Gambling?” Vera repeated. “What do you mean, Emil? What was Tord going to do with this information?”

Emil looked terrified, his hands shaking harder now, his voice barely audible. “He said he was going to tell someone. He was going to tell the police, I think. He said my dad was in too deep and that... that he couldn’t protect me anymore.”

Vera’s mind raced. Was that it? Was Tord going to expose Emil’s father? Was that the real reason for the fight?

The room seemed to close in around her. The walls, the lights, the quiet ticking of the clock—it all blurred as she pieced together the puzzle. Tord was more than just Emil’s friend. He was his conscience. And Emil... Emil was desperate to keep his father’s secrets buried.

Vera stood up, her thoughts moving quickly. “Emil, I need to speak to your father.”

Emil’s eyes widened in fear. “No! Please, don’t! You can’t—he’ll... he’ll deny everything. He’ll never tell you the truth. I’m the one who—”

“I know you are, Emil,” Vera interrupted, her voice firm. “But your father might be the key to understanding what happened that night. I’m not here to punish you. But I need the whole truth. Your father is hiding something, and I need to know how deep it goes.”

Emil recoiled at her words, as though struck. His face twisted in anguish, but he nodded, a small, defeated gesture that told Vera all she needed to know. He was finally starting to understand the gravity of the situation.

“I’ll talk to him,” Emil whispered. “But... please, don’t make things worse. He’s already in enough trouble.”

14.

The interrogation room where Emil’s father sat was stark, the fluorescent lights overhead casting harsh shadows across his face. He looked like a man who hadn’t slept in days, his once-pristine suit rumpled, his expression tense and wary.

Vera walked in without hesitation, her steps deliberate. She took a seat across from him, her gaze unwavering. She didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “I need to talk to you about your son. About Emil.”

Emil’s father, Karl, looked up sharply. His expression faltered for a moment, then became unreadable. “What about him? Is he okay? Has... has he said anything more?”

Vera studied him closely. There was something in the way he asked that question that made her pause. His eyes weren’t filled with concern for his son—they were filled with fear. Fear of what his son might have said. Fear of what the truth might reveal.

“Emil’s confessed,” Vera said, her voice low but clear. “But there’s more to the story. I need to know what he’s been hiding. What’s this about gambling? About the money?”

Karl’s face drained of colour. For a split second, his jaw clenched, and then he forced a laugh—a nervous, hollow sound. “What are you talking about, Vera? Emil... Emil is just a kid. He doesn’t know anything about that.”

Vera leaned forward, her voice cutting through the lie. “Don’t lie to me, Karl. Your son told me everything. He said Tord found out about your debts. About your gambling.”

Karl’s eyes flashed with something that looked like panic, but he quickly masked it with a hardened expression. He looked away, running a hand through his thinning hair. “That’s nonsense. Emil’s confused. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

Vera’s gaze never wavered. She wasn’t buying it. “Then tell me the truth, Karl. Was Tord a threat to you? Was he going to expose your secrets? Was that why Emil lost control?”

Karl’s hands trembled as he clenched them into fists on the table. His voice was quieter now, his words almost a whisper. “You don’t understand, Vera. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Tord... he didn’t deserve to get caught up in this.”

Vera’s pulse quickened. “What are you saying?”

Karl took a deep breath, as if preparing for something even worse than he had already said. “Tord didn’t just find out about the money... he found out about me. About what I’d done. And he was going to ruin everything. He was going to tell the police, and I couldn’t let that happen. Not with everything I’ve worked for. Not with my family. I didn’t want to lose them, Vera. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Vera’s heart raced as the pieces fell into place. The jealousy. The fight. The sudden, violent turn of events. Karl had pushed Emil to keep the secret, to cover up the truth. But it wasn’t just about Emil’s failure—it was about protecting the family’s reputation. Protecting Karl’s reputation.

“Karl,” Vera said, her voice tight, “are you telling me that you knew what happened to Tord? That you were part of it?”

Karl’s face crumbled, the mask of control he’d been holding onto for so long finally breaking. His voice was barely a whisper, full of regret. “I... I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I thought... I thought if Emil could just convince Tord not to say anything, we could move on. But everything fell apart.”

Vera felt the weight of his confession settling in the room, the enormity of what he had just revealed hanging between them like a dark cloud. The truth was out, and it was far worse than she had imagined. Emil trying to protect his father kept his best friend alive but hidden. Vera felt he heart in pain.

Vera stood outside the hospital, the rain still falling steadily, as if the heavens themselves were weeping for the tragedy that had unfolded. Inside, Tord lay fighting for his life, and Emil sat broken in his guilt.

But now, she knew. The fight wasn’t just about Astrid. It wasn’t even about jealousy. It was about the lies that had been buried for too long, the debts, the secrets, the betrayal. Tord had uncovered the truth about Emil’s father, and in the end, it had cost him everything.

As Vera stood in the rain, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. There was still so much left to unravel, so many questions that needed answers. But for now, she had done what she came to do.

She had uncovered the truth and oddly that was also helping ...Växjö to grow in her.

*****

Thirty years later, Vera, Polisintendent Vera Nyberg of Växjö Police was standing by the shore of Växjö Lake looking at a group of ducks swimming. Thirty years later and she hadn’t heard from Tord again but she heard about a teenager’s disappearance and it was like the old pain had returned.

 

THE END