I wish I could say I was excited by this new information.

I tried to be: I kept telling myself it was a glimmer of real hope. This guy has motive, resources, and is unstable.

The only real problem was how to bring him to the attention of the police: the details of the will are confidential and Tove shouldn’t have read it in the first place.  She said she didn’t care about her job, that finding whoever did this to Hanna was more important, but, a) I don’t think she should risk her career if there is any way to avoid it, and b) what if the police couldn’t do anything with information illegally obtained?  If there is a chance that von Dursen is a real suspect, then there’s got to be a way – we just have to figure it out.  I tried again to get excited.

I don’t know.  Maybe I was just tired, or overwhelmed by everything else Tove had to say.  Maybe I’m just can’t get excited about anything to do with a murder case because, even if – when – the real killer is brought to justice, it’s not exactly happy ever after, is it?  Hanna is still gone. Everybody’s lives are still fucked up beyond belief.  I guess I’m not cut out to be a detective.

The threats.  Anders said Hanna had been receiving threats.  If they are from von Dursen, the police must be looking in to him already – maybe they will come across something about the will somehow… despite everything I just said, I started to get a little bit excited.

“What about an anonymous tip?”

I looked up, startled.  Tove slipped into the seat next to me.  “I’m coming back to Stockholm.  I can’t sit around and hide.”

We brainstormed as the bus pulled out on to the rain slicked highway.  Tove had already tried to get more information out of her contact in the police department, but the friend had shut her down, so we way had no way of knowing whether the threats had anything to do with von Dursen.

What if I talked to him?  I blurted the thought out before it had fully formed in my mind, but as I tried to explain, it made sense.  I could play the dumb outsider, say I remembered Hanna talking about him over the summer and just wanted to check in with him and make sure he was okay.  “People would believe an American would do that.”  Tove mused, and I grinned that finally my outsider status was useful.

He wasn’t going to tell me if he had been making threats to her obviously, but maybe he would let something slip that would tell us if the police were sniffing around him.  Information about the will was too random without the context of him and his connection to Hanna.  And if the threats aren’t from him, or they are and the police don’t know it yet… we’ll figure that out then.

“Why are you so sure Anders is innocent?”  Tove’s question broke into my thoughts.  I looked at her, not exactly sure what to say.  I am sure Anders is innocent because, he is.  Because I know him.  I know that he is not capable.

“Nobody knows what anybody is capable of,” Tove muttered, staring out at the drizzle streaking the bus windows.  “If I found out about her and Daniel that night, I could have pushed her off the jetty.”

I didn’t know how to take that, or what to say, so we sat in silence a while as the bus pulled up at a stop and some loud rain soaked teenagers got on, their cheerful yells seeming to come from another dimension.  “I wouldn’t have meant to kill her,” Tove finally continued, “but I could have pushed her and she could have hit her head and then it wouldn’t matter what I meant to do.”

But Anders didn’t, I said firmly.  Tove just looked at me.  “Anyway, you’re doing the same,” I said. “You’ve never questioned Daniel’s innocence.”

“Because I saw him with my own eyes the whole time,” she replied, and I and I felt cold, suddenly.  “I would consider it otherwise.  Nobody knows what anybody is capable of.”

“You’re only saying that because you can, because you did see him.  You would trust him if you had to.  You would know he was innocent.  Like I know Anders is.”

Tove turned away from me.