Everything had been fine. The apprehension inside him had long since died away. Had it come back? Was it his fault? Was it to do with him or Martina? Those words that neither of them wanted to understand. Where did they come from? It was like a headache.

His townhouse looked cozy when he got out of the car. Cozy. There were more lights on than necessary.

Martina was in the kitchen with a cup of tea. She’d been crying and he felt guilty He had to say something.

“Is Ada asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“What is?”

“That she’s asleep. Ada.”

“What are you talking about? You just march out of the house and drive off, then come back home as if nothing had happened.”

“What did happen?”

‘And you need to ask?“

“Was it me who started it?”

She didn’t answer. Her head was bowed but he knew she was crying again. He could do one of two things. Either say something sensible or go out to the car and drive over the bridge again.

“Martina…”

She raised her head and looked at him.

“We’re both tired,” he said.

“Tired? Is that it? We should be merry and bright and be thinking about Christmas that’s just around the corner. Ada has started talk…” She let her head sink down toward the table again.

He was searching for words. The wall clock was ticking louder than before.

“Is it going to be like this until I go back on duty?” he said.

She muttered something.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Not everything is about you going back on duty again,” she said. “Does everything have to be calm and quiet so that you have enough strength to work as a detective?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I won’t know anything at all soon.”

He stood up and went to Ada ’s room and watched the girl sleeping with her thumb in her mouth. She didn’t make a sound. He bent down over her face and listened for her breathing, and heard a faint peep as she breathed in through her nose.