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Far off in the haze two deer scamper off the rails and away across the white fields. They move through the snow with magical ease, and disappear into the night.

As the train approaches the long Igelsta Bridge, Erik thinks back to when Sissela sometimes used to accompany him on journeys. They would kiss in each tunnel and on every bridge. These days she refuses to miss a single yoga lesson.

He brakes gently, passes Hall and heads out across the high bridge. It feels like flying. The snow is swirling and twisting in the headlights, removing any sense of up and down.

The train is already in the middle of the bridge, high above the ice of Hallsfjärden, when Erik Johnsson sees a flickering shadow through the haze. There’s someone on the track. Erik sounds the horn and sees the figure take a long step to the right, onto the other track.

The train is approaching very fast. For half a second the man is caught in the light of the headlamps. He blinks. A young man with a dead face. His clothes are trembling on his skinny frame, and then he’s gone.