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The search for the children was fruitless. There had been countless helicopter searches, divers had been called in, and the water had been dragged for bodies. The surroundings had been searched by chain gangs of both volunteers and specialist dog units.

But no one had seen or heard anything.

Reidar Frost looked like a captured animal.

He just wanted to keep on searching.

Joona had sat opposite the two parents, asking routine questions about whether they had received any threats, if anyone had behaved oddly or differently, if they had felt they were being followed.

‘Everyone thinks they fell in the water,’ the wife had said, her head starting to shake again.

‘You mentioned that they sometimes climb out of the window after their bedtime prayers,’ Joona went on calmly.

‘Obviously, they’re not supposed to,’ Reidar said.

‘But you know that they sometimes creep out and cycle off to see a friend?’

‘Rikard.’

‘Rikard van Horn, number 7 Björnbärsvägen,’ Joona said.

‘We’ve tried talking to Micke and Felicia about it, but … well, they’re children, and I suppose we didn’t think it was that harmful,’ Reidar replied, gently laying his hand over his wife’s.