Not Until the Giver is Dead

Determined Frida Norrby folds her wool skirt and gathers the remains of the child in the fabric. She strikes the head. 'You little one ... what did they do to you? Quiet! Is there anyone there?' She stops with the shovel in her hand and listens. 'Helge, is that you?' No, the steps she just heard were shorter and lighter. A living person's steps. Some people think she has become paranoid after the ...