“Who’s Gandalf?” asked the young officer.
“Lord of the Rings? A wizard?”
The officer looked bewildered. A colleague stuck his head in to ask if they had any time to spare.
“There’s someone out here who wants to turn in a spent shell,” he said. “I’m sure it’s just from hunting, but I can’t deal with it, I’m full up.”
Siri got to her feet. “We’re on it.”
The young officer trailed her like an anxious puppy.
“I found this,” the inspector said hurriedly. He’d had to wait for a long time for anyone to help him. “You can toss the rest, it’s just trash. Bye.”
Siri opened the bag and froze. “Hey. Listen—Hey, wait.”
The inspector looked back. Siri cautiously lifted a threadbare burgundy cap from the bag. The Colorado Avalanche logo, the faded burgundyA,and the swoop of snow crashing over it to make aC.
“Where did you say you found this?”
—
The inspector had nodded at his feet and recommended rubber boots, but Siri didn’t have any. Soon she was out in the forest, her feet wet, shivering in the cold. She was shown the exact spot and examined the area closely.
They were on a small trail that wound its way through the forest.
“How far would this path lead you?”
“No idea,” said the inspector. “Far.”
“To Rydöbruk?”
“Sure, eventually. In Halland the paths lead anywhere, if you walk far enough.” The inspector took a map from the large pocket of his coat and consulted it along with a compass. “Yes, that’s basically straight north of here. But it would take a day or so, on foot.”
It was Hampus Olsson’s cap, there was no doubt about that, but Rydöbruk was a long way for a teenager. Maybe he really had hitchhiked, as witness statements suggested.
Another kilometer or so down the path, Siri found a bottle of Zaranoff brand vodka. When she gingerly picked it up, there was a vibration in her chest as though she were in the presence of a ghost.
She felt called upon to continue; the trail would fade if she stopped, she was convinced of it. But it would take more feet on the ground—ones with rubber boots and thick socks, for instance. She could no longer feel her toes.
When Siri returned to Halmstad and reported what she had found, she asked to put together a search party. The human chain they formed turned out to be large and sprawling, but together they worked doggedly for over a week. Even the inspector from the Environmental Protection Agency, who knew the land well and turned out to be a helpful guy, took part.
After a few days they reached the area around Mjäla, where the forest opened into vast fields and farmland that was about to go dormant for the winter. In the distance she could make out a farm. Siri stopped the human chain, let them rest and deliberate about how to proceed, while she went to talk to the farmer. She was gone for almost an hour and when she returned, those in the chain said later, she wasn’t the same. Suddenly withdrawn and distracted, she held a piece of paper in her hands and seemed hesitant to get the chain moving again.
At last someone pointed out that it was getting late and they had only about an hour of daylight left; perhaps it would be better to pick back up tomorrow.
“Yes,” Siri said stiffly. “Yes, let’s do that.”
“Did he have anything to say?” asked the inspector from the Environmental Protection Agency, nodding at Siri’s hands.
She folded the paper and stuffed it in her pocket. “Who?”
“You know, the farmer. Did he see anything?”
“Oh.” Siri shook her head. “No, nothing. Hampus was never here, according to him, but I suppose we’ll have to see for ourselves. We’ve got permission to go wherever we like on his land, he said, as long as we’re careful. We’ll meet up again tomorrow.”
—
The search was never resumed.
