Snowdrift

by Helene Tursten

  She’s lying. Why?

  Julian came rushing in and said something to his mother. Louise gave him a brief answer. The boy didn’t look happy and stomped off back to his room.

  “He wants to know when we’re having dinner. We usually eat between seven and eight, so . . .” She rubbed her forehead wearily. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore.” She got to her feet and began to clear the table. Embla stood up to help her.

  “In that case I suggest we meet at the police station tomorrow morning. And that Embla stays here with you.”

  Louise spun around. “There’s no need.”

  “It’s routine, I’m afraid. You’ve just found out that your husband has been murdered, and you have no relatives or friends here to support you. Therefore Embla will stay with you in the capacity of family liaison officer.”

  Embla was about to protest, then she realized what he was up to. As an old friend, she might be able to get Louise to reveal information that she wouldn’t give while he was there. Clever, and worth a shot. And besides, she had some questions that needed answers.

  When Göran and Irene had left, Embla stood in the hallway with Louise. Julian was clinging to his mother’s leg.

  In order to break the silence, Embla said, “I noticed a pizzeria across the street. How about pizza for dinner? My treat.”

  Louise was too tired to argue. She shouted to the other two children and asked them a question. Embla picked up calzone and Hawaiian when they answered; pizza names are pretty much global.

  Louise phoned the order through, and Embla asked for extra salad. A hoarse male voice informed them that delivery would arrive in fifteen minutes.

  Julian raced back to his room, singing: “Pizza! Piiizza! Pizzaaa!”

  Embla was reminded of Elliot warbling variations of “hunting” not so long ago. She felt a pang of guilt; she hadn’t called him. They’d met up a couple of times during the week she was on sick leave and had talked about what they’d done during spring break. They’d discussed the fox hunt as well, and just as Embla had hoped, he’d managed to convince himself and everyone he spoke to that hunting was the most exciting adventure imaginable.

  Louise and Embla returned to the kitchen to set the table.

  “We don’t need plates,” Louise decided.

  Embla was used to eating pizza straight out of the box when she was working, but she thought it was nicer to put the food on a plate when she had the chance. She didn’t say anything though. She found knives and forks while Louise set out glasses—including two generous wine glasses. Of course, it was understandable if Louise felt she needed a drink given the news she’d just received. She did seem to have recovered pretty well, though it could have been because she was trying to maintain a calm façade for the children or because she’d already suspected that Kador was dead. Or maybe she was a good actress.

  The conversation centered on the children and how they were acclimating. None of them had visited Sweden before. Louise hadn’t wanted to return to her hometown because of the risk that someone would recognize her—a former classmate or a neighbor. The children were her responsibility, so they’d stayed with her in Split when Kador went to Sweden once a year or so. And Milo had gone to Croatia every spring and fall. Luca rarely visited his brother—once every couple of years at most.

  “But now I feel able to come back. As you can see, my appearance has changed quite a lot,” she said with an ironic smile.

  No doubt she was expecting a contradiction, but Embla could have easily passed Louise on the street without reacting. She recognized her old friend now that they’d spent some time together. Some things hadn’t changed: her voice, her expressions, her body language. But her appearance was a long way from the young girl she remembered.

  The best she could come up with was: “Your eyes are just the same.”

  Louise looked pleased. “And my hair—although of course it’s shorter,” she said, patting it coquettishly.

  It was nothing like the thick, pale-blonde locks she used to have, but Embla simply nodded. “Absolutely.”

  The doorbell rang. Embla peered through the peep-hole and saw a skinny teenage boy in a New York baseball cap, his face covered in angry red spots. He was balancing a pile of pizza boxes. She opened the door and paid him.

  The bottom box was hot, so she hurried back to the kitchen. Louise called the children, who came rushing in. The pizzas were passed out. Miranda didn’t take her eyes off Embla, nor did she make any attempt to hide her curiosity.

  She’s suspicious. She can probably smell a cop—it’s in the genes, Embla thought. She realized she was shuffling uncomfortably on her chair.

  Without a word the girl took her pizza and a can of Coke and went back to her room. The door slammed shut.

  The boys stayed at the table, eating their pizzas and drinking Coke. Louise opened a bottle of red wine, but Embla made the excuse that red wine gave her a headache. The truth was that she didn’t drink much wine at all and certainly not when she was working. This wasn’t a fun reunion party.

  “White?”

  “Same problem. I’ll stick to water.”

  Louise grimaced and demonstratively filled her own glass almost to the brim. Then she took a small carafe out of the cupboard, filled it from the faucet, and slammed it down on the table next to Embla’s glass with such force that some of the contents spilled out.

  She and the children chatted noisily in Croatian, while Embla sat quietly watching them. When they’d finished their pizzas, the boys went back to their rooms.

  Louise rolled her eyes and let out a long breath. “Peace at last. Sure you won’t have a glass of wine?” she said, tilting her head.

  “Positive.”

  Louise frowned, then refilled her own glass and took a big gulp with obvious pleasure.

  It was time to start asking questions, but Embla had to proceed carefully; she didn’t want to make Louise clam up.

  “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend before you . . . went away. When did you and Kador get together?”

  Tears sprang to Louise’s eyes. “I didn’t tell anybody—although I did say I was in love with a boy I’d met during the summer, if you remember. You weren’t around much. I hung out with some of my classmates, and I met Kador in a bar. We clicked right away; we just knew we were going to be together for the rest of our lives. But we agreed that we couldn’t talk about our relationship.” She fell silent and filled her glass yet again; there wasn’t much left in the bottle now.

  “Why not?”

  Louise leaned forward and said in a confidential tone, “He was engaged. Well, not exactly engaged, but he was with a girl. Her father was some big shot in the transportation industry, and a friend of Milo’s. They’d decided that Kador and his daughter should get married, but then along came little me.” A smug smile passed across her face.

  “Did this girl live in Sweden or Croatia?”

  “In Gothenburg, but her family was from Zagreb.”

  Zagreb and Split. Those two cities kept coming up.

  “So that was why you decided to run away?”

  Those blue eyes darted around the room. “Kind of . . . It was Kador who said we had to go. I was a bit unsure; I didn’t really feel I was old enough to . . . but then he proposed and gave me a fantastic engagement ring and showed me pictures of the house we were going to live in outside Split. So I said yes. But I didn’t know what I was getting into.” She paused and looked down at the remains of her pizza.

  “Did you tell Milo you were going?”

  “Yes. He went crazy at first, but then he helped us organize everything. He sorted out passports and plane tickets; we took the morning flight to Zagreb and we were there by lunchtime. Then we drove down to Split. I felt sick the whole time; you and I had drunk a lot of wine the night before,” Louise said with a laugh.

  So Milo ha
d been the one who provided fake passports and booked plane tickets under fake names.

  It was time to find out more about the events that had haunted Embla’s nightmares ever since Louise disappeared.

  “To be honest, I can’t remember much.”

  “No, you were completely wrecked. That was a key part of our plan.”

  Louise hiccupped, then started coughing. She couldn’t speak for a long time, but Embla resisted the impulse to thump her on the back. Instead she considered her next question, the one that had been burning inside her for so long.

  “Lollo, why did you want me to go with you that evening?”

  There was no mistaking the surprise in those blue eyes.

  “Why? Because it worked out perfectly. I knew my mom was going to be away for a couple of days, and we’d told your parents we were going to the school disco. No one would miss me if I disappeared—not until after the weekend. So you had to come with me—I couldn’t tell you I was leaving. But you had to be drunk, otherwise you’d have realized what was going on.”

  “So you and Kador had already decided to go?”

  “Yes. When Mom was invited to a fortieth birthday party in Kungälv, I knew she’d stay over. Those women always drank way too much.”

  Bitterness seeped through her words.

  Embla felt a surge of rage. “How could you just take off like that? Did you never think about me? Or your mom? Or your dad, who came here . . .”

  She’d crossed a line. There was pure hostility in Louise’s eyes.

  “Think about you . . . you and your wonderful family! They all made such a fuss of you, and your uncle Nisse and his wife adored you. My mom just drank and felt sorry for herself. My dad fucked Ellen and got her pregnant and went off to live in England. Nobody cared about me! Nobody!”

  She slammed her fist down on the table, making the glasses and silverware jump in the air.

  An oppressive silence filled the kitchen. Embla had no idea what to say; her brain was empty. Her memories didn’t match what Louise had said at all. She was the one who’d been lonely; no one in her family had had any time for her, the little afterthought who was seven years younger than the youngest brother. The only person who’d been there for her was her best friend, Lollo.

  A door opened and after a few seconds Miranda appeared in the doorway and looked inquiringly at her mother. Embla noticed that the girl’s eyes registered the almost-empty bottle, the glass of wine, and Embla’s water. She asked a question; Louise answered briefly with a dismissive wave of her hand. As Miranda turned away, Embla caught the sadness on her face. She’s experienced this before, she thought with a pang of sympathy.

  She wanted Louise to tell her more about the actual journey from Gothenburg to Split rather than the reasons behind her departure; it was clearly a traumatic experience that she hadn’t worked through. She sat up a little straighter, determined not to show how upsetting she found what she was about to say.

  “I have a vague memory of following you through a door in the nightclub, then trying to run after you along a dark hall. I saw you lying on the floor, with Milo and his brothers bending over you. Milo spotted me and grabbed me by the throat. He threatened to kill me if I said anything, then you all disappeared through the back door. What happened in that hall, Lollo?”

  “What happened was you got scared shitless. And it worked, because you didn’t talk. Milo’s been keeping an eye on you, so I knew you’d become a cop. But I didn’t know you’d changed your name. Embla. You said that was your middle name.”

  “It’s actually my first name. But I’m still wondering what happened in that hallway. Did they drug you?”

  Louise threw back her head and laughed. She almost knocked over the bottle. “Drug me? You’re so funny! Drug me . . .”

  She used her hands to wipe away the tears of laughter, messing up her mascara in the process.

  “They didn’t need to drug me—I was already drunk. And I hadn’t eaten all day because of the excitement. So I fainted in the hall. I never even saw you, but Milo told me about it later. He was good at . . . showing his claws, you might say.”

  She picked up her glass and spilled wine on her white blouse. It was obviously an expensive item of clothing, but she didn’t seem to care. Red wine, white silk—that was never coming out.

  “Tell me what happened when you arrived in Split,” Embla said with an encouraging smile.

  Louise dabbed half-heartedly at the wine stain with her fingertips, then looked up. Her gaze lacked focus, but there was a glint of wariness.

  “We moved into a house outside the city center. It was already furnished, but we bought quite a lot of things to put our own stamp on it. And we had to get married—Kador’s relatives and the neighbors didn’t like the fact that we were living together without being married.”

  Even though she’d already seen the photographs, Embla asked, “Was it a big wedding?”

  For a second Louise looked blissfully happy.

  “It was huge—a hundred and fifty guests. The party went on for three days. I felt like a princess in a fairy-tale.”

  You’d just turned fifteen. You were a child. Of course you felt like a princess in your long white dress, veil, and bridal crown. You were the center of a huge celebration that marked the end of your childhood, and you had no idea, Embla thought.

  “It sounds amazing,” she said.

  Louise pulled a face that was hard to interpret and took another swig of her wine.

  “Did you get a job?”

  “Yes, I worked at our biggest hotel, the Imperial. Obviously I couldn’t work at reception in case any Swedish guests arrived, so I was in the office. I learned bookkeeping and studied Croatian at the same time. It’s not an easy language!”

  “How old were you when Miranda was born?” Embla asked, even though she knew the answer.

  “Eighteen. Just barely.”

  Louise picked up the wine bottle and peered at the label, but she seemed to be having difficulty focusing. She put it down impatiently with a bang.

  “And then your boys came along.”

  “Yes.”

  A curt response. Time to change the subject.

  “Tell me more about Kador—all I know is that he’s the middle brother.”

  Louise’s eyes filled with tears once more.

  “He was gorgeous . . . so good-looking.”

  Her voice gave way. She raised the glass to her lips with shaking hands. Before Embla could think of what to say next, Louise continued.

  “Other girls thought so, too.” She stared into her glass.

  It was heartbreaking to see her old friend in this state. Life clearly hadn’t turned out the way she’d expected; she’d paid a high price for her childish romantic dreams. Too high.

  The silence became uncomfortable, but Embla still couldn’t work out what to say. Suddenly Louise continued.

  “Milo always supported me because he realized that neither he nor Luca were going to have children of their own. He was sterile, and Luca didn’t want kids, so they started to formulate a plan in case something happened.”

  With those words she knocked back the contents of the glass. A whole bottle in less than an hour! That didn’t bode well for the rest of their conversation. Louise was already slurring her words, and her head was beginning to droop. Had she also taken something? Her eyelids were fluttering, and it was high time to ask the key question that was bothering Embla.

  “Why did you call me when you arrived in Sweden? I realized it was you, and I was so pleased,” she said, putting as much warmth as possible into her voice.

  Louise glanced up at her, a tremulous smile on her lips. “Were you?”

  “Absolutely. But I still don’t understand why you called me.”

  Fat tears rolled down Louise’s cheeks. “Because I don’t have anyone else. A
nyone else to call. I’m so lonely.”

  Embla’s heart beat faster and her throat contracted; Lollo was telling the truth now. She might have plenty of friends in Croatia, but she probably didn’t know who she could really trust. Gang wars are always violent, and people are often happy to change sides for the right incentive. An old friend can suddenly turn out to be the one who kills you. Here in Sweden, both her brothers-in-law had been murdered, and she and the children were still under threat.

  “Maybe you should go to bed. It’s been a tough day,” Embla said gently.

  “Too fucking right it has! I want you to leave—get out!”

  Louise covered her face with her hands and began to sob. Instinctively Embla recoiled at her outburst; what the hell was that about? Should she go? Göran had asked her to stay with the family.

  “Lollo, I . . .”

  “Anna! My name is Anna,” she mumbled into her hands.

  Poor Lollo. Or Anna. It was understandable that things had suddenly gotten to be too much for her. Not only had she been confronted by her childhood friend, who along with her colleagues had blown her cover, she’d also been told that Kador was dead. It was enough to break the strongest person.

  “Okay. Anna. I’ll go home, but call me if you change your mind. I’m only thirty minutes away. And if you suspect you might be in danger, call me—I’ll have the police here in no time.”

  Embla stood up, resisting the impulse to give her old friend a hug. Instead she patted her gently on the shoulder.

  “If you only knew how happy I am that you’re alive. And it’s good to hear about your life over these past fourteen years—and to meet your kids. Do you want me to check on them before I leave?”

  Louise slowly shook her head. “No. I always put them to bed myself.”

  In that moment, Embla realized how lonely her friend really was.

  “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  As she set off toward the door, Louise made a movement to get to her feet but fell back onto the chair with a thud. She looked up at Embla, her face stained with tears, and whispered almost inaudibly, “Yes. See you.”