by C S Duffy
No, it wasn’t like that. He had been worried, but not about Ellie’s reaction. Not the way Mia was suggesting. He was sure of that. He shook his head, started to tell them that, to make sure the police understood that Ellie might have been hurt or worried — but not angry, not crazy.
But then an image of Liv’s staring eyes assaulted him and a sob crashed over him and he couldn’t say anything at all.
46
Once I managed to get the engine on, it turned out to be much like driving a car. If I didn’t think too much about the fact that I was driving along on top of icy, inky-black water that was just waiting to welcome me to its depths. There is a very deep channel that runs between two islands, Johan had said. I must be crossing it about now.
I hadn’t been able to figure out how to get the headlights on, assuming there even were headlights. At least the clouds had cleared following the storm and the moon was bright, bathing the islands all around me in an silver glow. Except for the tiny ripples the boat was making, the water was as still as glass.
The rumble of the engine sounded unnaturally loud amongst the silence, and I wished I could somehow muffle it as I made my way to trespass on Krister’s property. Of course, I’d already nicked his boat, what was a spot of trespassing between friends?
A whisper of winter danced in the air as a chilly breeze lifted my hair. I shivered and turned the wheel as gently as I could towards the little cove where Krister had parked. I thought of Sanna out here alone, trapped under the ice for months on end.
My legs still felt wobbly, my hands slick with sweat on the worn, wooden steering wheel, but an eerie calm had stolen over me. It was as though my mind had narrowed, like the viewfinder in a par of binoculars, to a tiny pin prick focussed on only the task ahead of me. I knew what I had to do. I could worry about everything else later.
I cut the engine and let the gentle waves wash the boat towards the shore. Krister had stopped the boat a little away from the beach, I remembered, before it got too shallow, but I had no idea exactly where. The water was so dark I was too frightened to jump in in case it swallowed me hole. Shit. Why hadn’t I thought of this? I nearly laughed. To have made it all this way from Stockholm by water only to get trapped a few metres from the shore.
I had taken a couple of swimming lessons, when I was little, I reminded myself. I crouched by the side of the boat where I’d jumped off before. Johan had already been standing in the water, a little over knee depth for him, and I’d clutched his hand, terrified even though I could see the rocky bottom twinkling in the sun. Now the darkness was impenetrable, and I had no way of knowing if I would land on rocks and scrape my bum or plunge into depths over my head.
Liquid fear nipped at my toes like nitrate. My heart wasn’t racing any more, or maybe it was and I was too numb to feel it. A little wave hit a nearby rock and ricochetted back, causing the boat to rock and a sob of sheer terror rose up in me.
If the water was over my head I would die.
It was freezing cold and pitch black. My three lessons kicking along a foam board at the Tooting Bec Lido while my mum leapt about taking photos and cheering like a loon would be little match for that. I’d wash up next summer, I thought.
Johan’s next fucking girlfriend would find me.
With a strangled scream, I tipped forward into the blackness.
47
‘Do you remember the time she made us go swing dancing?’ Krister asked, his voice hoarse. Krister and Mia were sitting on Johan’s sofa, Johan belatedly realised he was sitting on Ellie’s suitcase.
Johan felt his lips twitch into a smile at the memory. Liv had decided that it was important for a couple to have a hobby together. She’d then persuaded Mia of this, so Johan and Krister had found themselves at a club somewhere beneath Zinkensdam, swiftly discovering that they appeared to have at least five left feet between them.
‘I lost many toes that night,’ Krister grinned, and raised his empty glass. His voice broke. ‘To Liv.’
A wave of grief hit Johan like a train and took his breath away. For a moment, he couldn’t speak, but raised his glass silently towards Krister. Mia didn’t move.
‘I know you’re angry with me about what I said to the police,’ she blurted.
Johan stared at the floor. ‘No, not angry. It’s just —’ He sighed. He didn’t know what it was just. He didn’t know anything. He wanted to sleep but he was afraid to.
Mia got up abruptly and stood by the window. She stood in the semi darkness, silhouetted by the fading sunlight, her spine almost unnaturally straight. She crossed her arms tightly around her, clutching onto the glass of snaps Krister had insisted on pouring them all to toast Liv.
‘I was only trying to help,’ Mia muttered.
‘I know,’ Johan said.
Krister was slumped back on the couch, drained, like a puppet cut loose from its strings. His eyes were alert, though, Johan noticed in surprise. He was watching Mia carefully, even though he wasn’t looking directly at her.
Years ago, Johan and Liv were on holiday in Greece and they tried to adopt a stray cat. Or rather, Liv had tried to adopt a stray cat and Johan had followed along uncertainly, a bit worried about rabies but not wanting to disappoint her. Liv had tried to tempt it towards her with some tuna, and Johan remembered how it had crept forward, infinitesimally slowly, its eyes flicking between Liv and him, even as it focussed on the tuna. That’s how Krister looked now, Johan realised, his mind foggy as he tried to understand what that meant.
That was how Krister always looked.
Even when they were all laughing and kidding around, when Krister was telling funny stories about his colleagues, he always had one eye on Mia. Watching for her reaction.
That night at the swing dancing, Johan had accidentally twirled Liv into the couple behind them, starting a domino effect of dancers crashing into one another. Krister and Mia were several couples behind them, and yet when Krister stumbled, Johan just glimpsed the look of cold fury Mia gave him.
Later, on the walk home, they had all swapped stories of how useless they’d been. Mia joined in the laughter, doing impressions of them all falling over one by one as Johan looked on in horror. Johan realised he must have imagined the look.
And in fact, Krister never talked about his colleagues any more, or about his work at all. Mia always stopped him, cut him off with a breezy eye roll about how no one wanted to hear stories about boring science stuff. Which was odd, because at university, Mia had studied the same science stuff as Krister. She had once been passionate about it.
Mia’s phone buzzed and they all jumped. ‘It might be the police,’ Mia muttered, fumbling in her bag for it. She frowned at the number, then answered. ‘Corinna?’
Johan watched as Mia paled. She stepped backwards, and for an instant Johan thought she would fall. He saw Krister tense as a shadow crossed Mia’s expression.
‘What is it? Is it about Ellie?’ Johan demanded, but Mia ignored him. He and Krister both jumped when the door slammed behind her.
48
The water was about waist deep, but the cold was so shocking I stumbled and fell to my knees, taking in a huge mouthful of icy sea. I spluttered, coughing frantically as I scrabbled to my feet. My head was above water, I could feel air, but I couldn’t breathe it in —
I was gasping into emptiness, terror slamming me over and over as I flailed, screaming inside my head, until finally I coughed again and breathed in a lungful of sweet air.
I managed to stagger from the water and collapsed on the beach, barely feeling the pain of the rocks and pebbles against my knees as I took rasping, painful, breaths with freezing water lapping against my toes. When my breathing was almost normal again, punctuated by only the odd strangled cough, I sat down properly and saw that the boat had floated away. Well that was me committed, then, I thought grimly as I made my shaky way up the path towards the cottage. I’d worry about Krister’s boat later. Sorry Krister.
When the path evened out towards
the top, I felt in my bag for the papers I’d copied from Corinna. Everything was soaked, but I’d tucked the print outs into the plastic wallet in my notebook, so they were almost unscathed by their dip into the Baltic Sea. The base on Krister’s family’s island had never been used. The Russians had known about it all along, according to a Soviet military log Corinna’s team had uncovered. It probably hadn’t intended to be a decoy, but the Americans got wind they had been rumbled and moved their radio base elsewhere, leaving a beautifully built and entirely hidden bunker unused for decades.
Until Mia intercepted the papers from Corinna. What Corinna had thought would be a matter of interest for Krister’s family, had turned into Mia’s lab. I hoped.
Mia had advised Corinna to block me, telling her that I was paranoid and obsessed with Johan’s past. The fact I had lied to her about why I was in Stockholm hadn’t helped, but when I approached her outside her office, she had already started to find Mia’s insistence about me odd. She had discussed it all with her friend Linda Andersson, who added that it was Mia who had confided in her that Sanna was afraid of Johan. That had been one of the things niggling at me: Linda had posted a message of condolence to Johan, then changed her tune after Mia got to her.
I pulled out my phone. The water didn’t seem to have affected it, but there was no service. I remembered that from Midsummer. Krister had had to go to a particular spot to get enough service to call the police. I had no idea where the spot was, but I’d worry about that once I had something to send.
A small animal’s screech broke the silence and I jumped. I was suddenly acutely aware of how alone I was. Stillness reigned in every direction, the tranquil sea was bathed in moonlight, the woods shrouded in darkness. At least I’d easily hear someone coming, I told myself, affecting a cheer I didn’t feel.
The cottage was unlocked, and the fridge was running so there must be electricity. The fridge was an antique, the rounded kind that’s trendy again now, though this one was from the first time around. Sixties or so, I judged, wondering if the Americans had paid for it too.
I found a thick, crocheted blanket folded on the couch and wrapped it gratefully around myself. It took the worst off the chill of my wet clothes, though my teeth were still chattering. I was afraid to put a light on. Perched on a hill, the cottage would be a beacon in such a dark night, announcing my presence to anyone for miles around. After a few minute’s hesitation, I lit a couple of candles, deciding that surely their paltry flame wouldn’t pierce through the darkness.
I spread the maps and charts on the floor in the flickering light of the candles, wishing to hell I’d paid a lot more attention in geography at school. Even with the maps it was going to be next to impossible to find, I thought, hopelessness seeping through me. But I had to. If I could find it and direct the police to it, surely there would be fingerprints or DNA or something that would prove she had developed the drug that could stop a heart in seconds. Just because it hadn't been detected didn’t mean it was magic, as Lena had pointed out. It didn’t show up on standard tests simply because it didn’t officially exist. Only a chemist of Mia’s genius could develop something so potent without support from a state of the art facility.
‘It breaks my heart she did not pursue her passion after university,’ Josefin Beckmann said sadly as she showed me to the door. ‘I do not understand it.’
I did. It would have been too risky for her to be associated with developing drugs, just in case any questions were ever raised over her victims. She couldn’t have been entirely certain that none of the ingredients would show up in post mortem testing. Better to be one step removed just in case. Through Krister, she could keep up with his team’s breakthroughs, have access to the substances he was working with, all the while making a name for herself in events and PR so that everyone forgot she had ever had an interest in chemistry.
One of Sigge Åstrand’s friends mentioned seeing him dancing closely with a woman shortly before he collapsed.
Access and opportunity.
That’s what it came back to, every time.
But, it was all circumstantial. She could easily wriggle out of the poison she had been spreading about Johan. The nature of gossip was that no one could be certain exactly what they heard when and from whom. There was no way to prove that Mia was the woman who danced with Sigge, or the woman Tove Svensson insisted had befriended Björne before his death. Johan and the others knew she had spent most of Sanna’s final weekend locked in conversation with her, but none of them would question it.
Somehow, once I had handed it all over to the police, I would have to talk to Johan properly. Break it to him it was me that turned Mia in. The bonds between them all ran so deep, I had no idea if he would ever forgive me.
My phone beeped to life. It must be sitting in a tiny pocket of service. I swiped to open it as gingerly as I could, afraid that so much as a milimetre would cut me off from the world again. Dozens of texts and missed calls flashed up, from Johan, Maddie, Mia. I dismissed all the notifications. I’d text Maddie in a moment —
Then I saw it.
Horror washed over me as the news notification pinged up. Woman found dead.
Liv.
No. No —
My heart hammered, hot tears sprang into my eyes as I shook my head desperately, praying I had got it wrong. It was my fault. I had told Mia I was going to the police. I had meant to rattle her, hoped that she might panic like she did with Gustav, misstep somehow — but I never thought —
Liv. Oh, god, Liv. I’m so sorry. Why her?
‘How could you Ellie?’ Johan asked.
I looked up in shock. Johan stood in the doorway, staring at me with cold eyes.
‘I loved you. There was nothing between me and Liv any more. But you killed her anyway.’
It was then I noticed the knife in his hand.
49
‘Johan?’
‘You killed Liv, Ellie. Why did you kill Liv?’
He was standing completely still, his voice robotic. I could barely see him in the flickering candlelight, but there was something odd about his posture. He was standing straighter than usual, but there was something chillingly childlike about it, as though he were proving he was a big boy who wasn’t scared.
He didn’t look like himself.
Spiders of horror scuttled down my back.
Was he drugged? Hypnotised?
Johan wouldn’t hurt me, I told myself frantically. He wouldn’t. Even if he believed I killed Liv.
But this wasn’t Johan. I didn’t know what the stranger towering over me was capable of.
He had the best part of a foot on me. He could snap me in two. I thought of the guys from the T-bana fight. Three of them. Beaten, bloody. Johan’s grazed knuckles. We’d mock wrestled a few times and even in jest he could pin me in seconds, with one arm.
And now he had a knife.
‘Johan, I didn’t kill Liv. I’ve been here. I didn’t even know until —’
‘Why, Ellie? She wanted to be your friend.’
That weird motonous voice sent a wave of sheer horror crashing over me. This wasn’t Johan. What had she done to him?
‘I’m so sorry she’s dead. I honestly am. I would have liked to get to know her properly. Please Johan — just put the knife down and we can talk.’
He glanced at the knife in his hands as though surprised it was there.
Mia was standing behind him. A breeze fluttered through the cottage, casting the candlelight long and I saw glee sizzling in her eyes. Leaden terror settled in my stomach.
‘Sending Johan in to do your dirty work now?’ I asked.
‘You’re not one of my special ones,’ she shrugged, her eyes never leaving Johan. ‘It has to be like this.’
‘It really, bloody doesn’t, Mia.’
‘I can’t kill you. You are not weak.’ She scrunched up her nose, as though this were a minor inconvenience.
‘You don’t know the half of it, I’m as weak as they come. Come
on Mia, you and me. It would be a fair fight between us. Leave him out of it.’
Johan’s fingers tightened around the knife and terror slithered down my spine.
‘What have you done to him?’ I whispered.
Mia turned to me then, finally, a grin of pure joy on her face. ‘I told him not to be sad.’
‘Why did you lie about how you met Johan and Krister?’ I asked.
‘What?’
‘You’ve stolen their story. You didn’t make friends with them on the first day of school. It was Krister who tied Johan’s shoelaces.’
As I talked, I cast my eyes around for something, anything, I could use as a weapon, but I could barely see a bloody thing in the candlelight. The candle holders were no good, they were ceramic. Throwing one might result in a decent clunk, but I was far from confident I could hit her even at this distance. I was always last picked for netball.
Mia laughed. ‘Oh did you notice that? I’m so used to telling people that I forgot Johan might have told you his version.’ She shrugged. ‘People’s memories get mixed up, it’s no big deal.’
There was one of those little stove fires in the corner behind me. Surely there would be a poker or something, but I couldn’t look around to check. I couldn’t take my eyes off them.
‘But why? You all became friends in high school, there’s nothing wrong with that.’
Could I hit Johan with a poker? My heart was pounding, stinging pins and needles of terror zipping through me. If it came to it. If it was a question of him or me?
I couldn’t. I couldn’t hurt him.
I’d just have to hit her, then.
‘No, that’s not true.’ Mia shook her head. ‘We were always friends. When we were small. The man in the tunnel told me Johan was my friend.’
The tunnel? Where Johan’s father died? Horror clutched at my throat. She was seven years old.
I saw it then. Johan flinched. He blinked, a flash of pain crossed his face.
