He promised to do that. They said goodbye, and to the pastor, at the church door.
Salander was already in the car, waiting.
She had to go back with him to Hedestad to get her motorcycle and the equipment
she had borrowed from Milton Security. Not until they had passed Uppsala did she
break her silence and ask how the trip to Australia had gone. Blomkvist had landed
at Arlanda late the night before and had slept only a few hours. During the drive he
told her Harriet Vanger’s story. Salander sat in silence for half an hour before she
opened her mouth.
“Bitch,” she said.
“Who?”
“Harriet Fucking Vanger. If she had done something in 1966, Martin Vanger
couldn’t have kept killing and raping for thirty-seven years.”
“Harriet knew about her father murdering women, but she had no idea that Martin
had anything to do with it. She fled from a brother who raped her and then
threatened to reveal that she had drowned her father if she didn’t do what he said.”
“Bullshit.”
After that they sat in silence all the way to Hedestad. Blomkvist was late for his
appointment and dropped her at the turnoff to Hedeby Island; he asked if she
would please be there when he came back.
“Are you thinking of staying overnight?” she said.
“I think so.”
“Do you want me to be here?”
He climbed out of the car and went around and put his arms around her. She
pushed him away, almost violently. Blomkvist took a step back.
“Lisbeth, you’re my friend.”
“Do you want me to stay here so you’ll have somebody to fuck tonight?”