Chapter 91
Slowly and methodically Anton has scanned every driveway on Nedre Svedjev?gen. By the time he reaches the turning area at the end of the road, he is just about ready to give up.
Maybe this was a stupid idea. Pontus could easily have gone in the opposite direction, toward the highway, and hidden somewhere else. There are hundreds of houses and apartments in the area. Even if he hasn’t left Sadeln, he could be anywhere.
Anton looks around again.
To the left is a patch of common land that is so full of low-growing mountain birch and undergrowth that it forms a kind of barrier.
The trees are weighed down with snow; the lowest branches are almost sweeping the ground.
Here and there the wind has formed irregular drifts, like small hillocks in the white landscape.
It looks like hard work to get through, especially if it’s dark. However, Pontus could have blundered off that way out of sheer desperation. It’s not impossible, anyway.
Then something catches Anton’s attention.
The last house on the street is set high above the turning area.
By the roadside is a large stone with the inscription Villa Synnove.
Both the name and the turfed roof suggest Norwegian owners.
This is not unusual; ?re is crawling with Norwegians who like to exploit the weak Swedish krona in order to purchase property, food, and alcohol.
Halfway up the drive is a freestanding garage—with a set of footprints leading to it.
Anton’s heart rate increases. There is no sign of prints leading away, and the house itself looks empty. The curtains are closed—often a sign that no one is there.
Unless an uninvited guest has sought refuge in the garage.
Anton approaches cautiously, stooping to avoid being seen from the rectangular window set high in the side wall. The snow muffles every sound. The light is gray, thanks to the clouds covering the valley.
Tall evergreens tower up behind the property, forming an impenetrable wall.
Anton is only yards from the garage now. Apart from the main entrance there is also a side door, which looks as if it has been opened recently. At the bottom the snow has been pushed aside and trampled on.
As if someone has opened the door, then closed it again.
And that’s where the footprints end.
Anton crouches down. There are no other traces leading to or from the garage.
There can only be one person hiding in there.