by Kepler, Lars
‘You’re not allowed to be in here,’ she gasps.
‘It’s fun,’ the girl says, looking at her with those dark eyes.
Karen’s legs are shaking as she leads the child back through the flat and out into the stairwell.
‘No one’s allowed in,’ she says to the man from the maintenance company.
‘I turned away for a minute to open the window,’ he replies.
Karen really doesn’t want to go back into the flat, she knows she’s going to end up having dreams about this, waking in the middle of the night with the man’s spread legs etched on her retina.
When she enters the kitchen, Mats is turning off the tap in the sink. He turns to look at her with wet eyes.
‘Are we done here?’ she asks.
‘Yes, I just want to look in the freezer,’ he says, pointing to the bloody fingerprints around the handle.
He wipes his mouth, opens the lid and leans forward.
Karen looks on as his head jerks back and his mouth opens without a sound.
He staggers backwards and the lid slams shut with such force it makes a coffee-cup on the table jump.
‘What is it?’ she asks, walking closer to the freezer.
Mats is clutching the edge of the sink. He knocks over a plastic plant-spray and turns to look at her. His pupils have shrunk to the size of two drops of ink and his face is unnaturally white.
‘Don’t look,’ he whispers.
‘I need to know what’s in the freezer,’ she says, and can hear the fear in her own voice.
‘For the love of God, don’t look …’
2
Valeria’s plant nursery in Nacka, outside Stockholm
Dusk is slowly falling, and the darkness only becomes apparent when the three greenhouses start to glow like rice-paper lanterns.
That’s when you realise that evening has come.
Valeria de Castro has her curly hair pulled into a ponytail. Her boots are caked with mud and her padded red jacket is dirty, and tight across her shoulders.
Her breath is cloudy and the air has a crisp smell of frost.
She’s done for the day, and pulls her gloves off as she heads up towards the house.
She goes upstairs and runs a bath, tossing her dirty clothes in the laundry basket.
When she turns towards the mirror she discovers a large smudge of dirt on her forehead, and a scratch on her cheek from the bramble patch.
Thinking that she needs to do something about her hair, she smiles wryly at herself because she looks so happy.
She pulls the shower curtain as far back as it will go, leans one hand on the tiled wall, and steps into the bathtub. The water is so hot that she waits a while before lowering herself in.
She leans her head against the edge of the bath, closes her eyes and listens to the drops falling from the tap.
Joona is coming this evening.
They had a row, it was so stupid, she felt hurt, but it was all a misunderstanding, and they sorted it out like adults.
She opens her eyes and sees the reflections of the water on the ceiling, as the rings from the drips spread out across the surface.
The shower curtain has slipped along the rail again, so she can no longer see the bathroom door and lock.
The water laps softly as she puts one foot up on the edge of the bath.
She shuts her eyes again and goes on thinking about Joona, then realises she’s falling asleep and sits up.
Valeria is so hot now that she has to get out of the bath. She stands up and lets the water run off her body, then tries to look at the door in the mirror, but the glass is misted up.
She steps out of the bath onto the slippery floor, grabs a towel and starts to dry herself.
She nudges the bathroom door open, waits a moment, then looks out onto the landing.
The shadows on the wallpaper are still.
Everything’s completely silent.
She isn’t easily scared, but her time in prison has left her wary in certain situations.
She leaves the bathroom and walks across the cool landing and into the bedroom with her body steaming. It isn’t completely dark yet, there are lines of translucent cloud visible against the sky.
She gets a clean pair of jeans from the chest of drawers and pulls them on, opens the wardrobe, takes out her yellow dress and lays it on the bed.
There’s a noise downstairs.
Valeria stops moving instantly.
She holds her breath and stands there listening.
What could it have been?
Joona isn’t due to arrive for another hour or so, but she’s already made a spicy lamb stew with fresh coriander.
Valeria takes a step towards the window and starts to lower the blind when she catches sight of someone standing next to one of the greenhouses.
She jerks back and loses her grip on the cord, and the roll-blind flies up with a bang.
There’s a rattling sound as the cord gets tangled up.
She quickly turns the bedside lamp out and goes back to the window.
There’s no one there.
She’s almost certain she saw a man standing motionless at the edge of the forest.
He was as thin as a skeleton, and was looking up at her.
The glass in the greenhouses is glinting with condensation. There’s no one there. She can’t let herself be afraid of the dark, that would make things impossible.
Valeria tells herself that it must have been a customer or supplier who disappeared when he saw her naked in the window.
She often gets visitors after the nursery has closed for the day.
She reaches for her mobile, but the battery has run out.
She quickly pulls on her long, red dressing-gown and starts to go downstairs. After a few steps she feels a cold breeze around her ankles. She carries on, and sees the front door standing wide open.
‘Hello?’ she calls quietly.
There are fallen leaves on the doormat, they’ve blown in across the wooden floor. Valeria slips her wet feet into her wellington boots, grabs the large torch from the coat rack and goes outside.
She follows the path down the greenhouses, checks the doors and shines the torch between the rows of plants.
The dark leaves light up in its beam as shadows and reflections play across the glass walls.
Valeria walks round the furthest greenhouse. The edge of the forest is black. The cold grass crunches beneath her feet as she walks.
‘Can I help you with something?’ she says loudly, shining the torch towards the trees.
The tree trunks look pale and grey in the light, but further in there’s nothing but darkness. Valeria walks past her old wheelbarrow, and can smell the rust on it. Slowly she moves the beam of the torch from tree to tree.
The long grass looks untouched. She goes on aiming the torch at the trees. In amongst the trunks she catches sight of something on the ground. It looks like a grey blanket covering a log.
The light from the torch is getting weaker, and she shakes it. It grows stronger again, and she moves closer.
As she holds a branch out of the way she feels her heart start to beat faster, and the torch trembles in her hand.
It looks almost as if there could be a body under the blanket, someone hunched up, maybe missing one or both arms.
She has to pull the blanket off and look.
The forest is completely silent.
A dry branch snaps beneath her boot and suddenly the whole edge of the forest is bathed in white light. It’s coming from behind her, and as it moves long, thin shadows merge with hers as they slip across the ground.
3
Joona Linna lets his car roll slowly towards the furthest greenhouse. The narrow, cracked tarmac track is edged with tall grass and tangled forest.
He has one hand resting on the steering wheel.
There’s a thoughtful look on his face, a lonely look in his eyes, grey as sea-ice.
Joona keeps his hair cut short, because it s
tarts sticking out in all directions if he lets it grow too long.
He’s tall and muscular, the way you can only be from decades of hard exercise, when all your muscles, sinews and ligaments work together.
He’s wearing a dark grey jacket, with an open-necked white shirt.
A wrapped bouquet of red roses is lying on the passenger seat beside him.
Before Joona Linna joined Police Academy he was in the military, part of the Special Operations Unit, where he qualified for a cutting-edge course in the Netherlands in unconventional close combat and urban guerrilla warfare.
Since Joona became a superintendent with the National Crime Division, he has solved more complex murder cases than anyone else in Scandinavia.
When he was sentenced to four years in prison, there were plenty of people who thought the entire trial in Stockholm Courthouse was unfair.
Joona didn’t appeal against the judgement. He had known the risk he was taking when he tried to save a friend.
Last autumn Joona’s sentence was reduced to community service as a neighbourhood officer in Norrmalm in Stockholm. He’s been staying in a police service apartment on Rörstrandsgatan, opposite the Philadelphia Church. In a few weeks’ time he’s due to return to duty as a superintendent, and get back his office in Police Headquarters.
Joona turns the car round and stops, gets out and stands there in the cool air.
The lights are on in Valeria’s little house, and the front door is wide open.
The light from the kitchen window is spreading out through the bare branches of the weeping birch and across the frost-covered grass.
He hears a snapping sound from the forest and turns. A weak light is moving amongst the trees, and leaves rustle as footsteps approach him.
Joona quickly unfastens his holster with one hand.
He steps aside when he sees Valeria emerge from the forest with a torch in her hand. She’s wearing a red dressing-gown and wellington boots. Her cheeks are pale and her hair wet.
‘What are you doing in the forest?’ he asks.
She’s looking at him oddly, as if her thoughts were a long way away.
‘I was just checking the greenhouses,’ she says.
‘In your dressing-gown?’
‘You’re early,’ she points out.
‘I know, it’s very impolite, I tried to drive slower,’ he says, fetching the bunch of roses.
She thanks him, looks at him with her big brown eyes, and invites him up to the house.
The kitchen smells of cumin and bay, and Joona starts to say something about how hungry he is, then changes his mind and tries to explain that he knows he’s early and that he’s not in any rush to eat.
‘It’ll be ready in half an hour,’ she smiles.
‘Perfect.’
Valeria puts the flowers down on the table and goes over to the stove. She lifts the lid of the pan and stirs it, then puts her reading glasses on and checks the cookbook before adding the chopped parsley and coriander from the chopping board.
‘You’re staying the night, aren’t you?’ she asks.
‘If that’s OK.’
‘I mean, so you can have some wine,’ she explains with a blush.
‘I guessed as much.’
‘You guessed as much,’ she says, imitating his Finnish accent with a wry smile.
‘Yes.’
She takes two glasses from one of the top cupboards, opens a bottle of wine and pours it.
‘I’ve made the bed in the spare room and left a towel and toothbrush.’
‘Thanks,’ Joona says, taking the glass.
They drink a silent toast, tasting the wine and looking at each other.
‘I didn’t get to do this in Kumla,’ he says.
Valeria looks at the cut ends of the roses, puts them in a vase on the table, then turns serious.
‘I’m going to say it straight out,’ she begins, pulling at the belt of her old dressing-gown. ‘I’m sorry I reacted the way I did.’
‘You’ve already apologised,’ Joona replies.
‘I wanted to say it face to face … I behaved stupidly and immaturely when I found out you were still a police officer.’
‘I know you thought I lied, but I—’
‘It wasn’t just that,’ she interrupts, and blushes again.
‘Everyone likes a police officer, don’t they?’
‘Yes,’ she replies, trying so hard not to smile that the tip of her chin wrinkles.
She stirs the pot again, puts the lid back on and lowers the heat slightly.
‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do.’
‘No, it’s only … I was planning to sort out my hair and make-up before you came, so I’ll nip off and do that now,’ she says.
‘OK.’
‘Do you want to wait here or keep me company?’
‘I’ll keep you company,’ Joona smiles.
They take their wine-glasses upstairs with them and go into the bedroom. The yellow dress is still lying on the neatly made bed.
‘You can sit in the armchair,’ Valeria mumbles.
‘Thanks,’ he says and sits down.
‘You don’t have to watch.’
He looks away as she takes the dressing-gown off, pulls on the yellow dress and starts to fasten the small buttons that run up from the waist.
‘I don’t often wear a dress, just the occasional day in the summer when I go into the city,’ she says, looking at her reflection in the mirror.
‘Really beautiful.’
‘Stop looking,’ she smiles as she fastens the last of the buttons over her breasts.
‘I can’t,’ he replies.
She moves closer to the mirror and starts to put up her damp hair with hairclips.
Joona looks at her slender neck as she leans forwards to put lipstick on.
She sits down on the bed and picks up one of her earrings from the bedside table when she stops and meets his gaze.
‘I think my reaction was because of that time in Mörby Centrum … I’m still ashamed of that,’ she says quietly. ‘I don’t even want to think about what you must have thought of me.’
‘That was one of my first operations with the Stockholm Rapid Response Unit,’ he replies, looking down at the floor.
‘I was an addict, a junkie.’
‘People take different paths, that’s just how it is,’ he replies, looking her in the eye.
‘But it upset you,’ she says. ‘I could tell … and I remember trying to counter that with a kind of hatred.’
‘Do you know, I could only ever picture the way you were in high school … you never answered any of my letters, then I did my military service and ended up abroad.’
‘And I ended up in Hinseberg Prison.’
‘Valeria—’
‘No, it was all so pointless, so fucking immature – I took every bad decision I possibly could … And then I came close to ruining things for us again.’
‘You weren’t expecting me to carry on in the police,’ he says softly.
‘Do you even know why I was in prison?’
‘I’ve read the file, and it’s no worse than what I’ve done.’
‘OK, as long as you’re aware that I’m no angel.’
‘Of course you are,’ he retorts.
Valeria goes on looking at him, as if there’s more to see, as if there’s something hidden that might soon become apparent.
‘Joona,’ she says seriously. ‘I know you’re convinced that it’s dangerous to be together with you, that you expose the people you care about to danger.’
‘No,’ he whispers.
‘You’ve been through some terrible things, for a very long time, but it isn’t written in the stars that it always has to be like that.’
4
Joona is eating one last helping even though he’s already full, as Valeria wipes the bottom of her plate with a piece of bread. They’re sitting at the kitchen table, with the vase of roses moved to the worktop so they can see each
other.
‘Do you remember when we went on that canoeing course together?’ Valeria asks, emptying the last of the bottle of wine in Joona’s glass.
‘I think about that summer a lot.’
It was high summer, and the two of them decided to spend the night on a small island they had spotted. It lay in an inlet, and was barely bigger than a double bed, with soft grass, a few bare rock outcrops, and five trees.
Valeria wipes the lipstick from the rim of her glass.
‘Who knows how differently our lives might have turned out is that storm hadn’t blown in,’ she says without looking at him.
‘I was so in love with you in high school,’ he says, thinking that the same feelings are washing over him again.
‘I don’t think that ever really passed for me,’ she says.
He puts his hand on hers and she looks at him with shimmering eyes before picking up another piece of bread.
Joona wipes his mouth on his napkin and leans back, making his chair creak.
‘How’s Lumi?’ Valeria asks. ‘Is she getting on OK in Paris?’
‘I spoke to her on Saturday, she sounded happy, she was going to a party at Perottin, which apparently is a gallery I ought to know about … and I started asking if she was going to be out late and how she was going to get home.’
‘The worried dad,’ Valeria says with amusement.
‘She said she’d probably get a taxi, and then I might have got a bit annoying, telling her to make sure she sits behind the driver and puts the seatbelt on.’
‘OK,’ Valeria smiles.
‘I realised she wanted to end the call but I couldn’t help telling her to take a photograph of the taxi-driver’s licence and send it to me, and so on.’
‘She didn’t send the picture, did she?’
‘No,’ he laughs.
‘Young people want us to care, but not too much … they want us to have faith in them.’
‘I know, but it just comes out, I have trouble not thinking like a police officer.’
They remain seated at the table, drink the last of the wine, talk about the nursery and Valeria’s two sons.
The darkness outside is thick now, as Joona thanks her for the meal and starts to clear the table.
