“Not at all. I’m proud of you, and I never miss a chance to brag about the fact that
you went to prison for what you believe in.”
“Believe in?”
“I saw Erika Berger on TV.”
“Pernilla, I’m not innocent. I’m sorry that I haven’t talked to you about what
happened, but I wasn’t unfairly sentenced. The court made their decision based on
what they were told during the trial.”
“But you never told your side of the story.”
“No, because it turned out that I didn’t have proof.”
“OK. Then answer me one question: is Wennerström a scoundrel or isn’t he?”
“He’s one of the blackest scoundrels I’ve ever dealt with.”
“That’s good enough for me. I’ve got a present for you.”
She took a package out of her bag. He opened it and found a CD, The Best of
Eurythmics. She knew it was one of his favourite old bands. He put it in his iBook,
and they listened to “Sweet Dreams” together.
“Why are you going to Skellefteå?”
“Bible school at a summer camp with a congregation called the Light of Life,”
Pernilla said, as if it were the most obvious choice in the world.
Blomkvist felt a cold fire run down the back of his neck. He realised how alike his
daughter and Harriet Vanger were. Pernilla was sixteen, exactly the age Harriet was
when she disappeared. Both had absent fathers. Both were attracted to the
religious fanaticism of strange sects—Harriet to the Pentecostals and Pernilla to an
offshoot of something that was just about as crackpot as the Word of Life.
He did not know how he should handle his daughter’s new interest in religion. He
was afraid of encroaching on her right to decide for herself. At the same time, the
Light of Life was most definitely a sect of the type that he would not hesitate to
lambast in Millennium. He would take the first opportunity to discuss this matter
with her mother.