The yellow scarf lay on the bedside table. He turned on his side, propped his head on his hand, and studied his wife in the faint light coming from the streetlights outside the window. He reached out his hand and gently caressed the downy fuzz on her head. She stirred uneasily, and he hastily withdrew his hand, afraid of waking her from the sleep that she needed so badly, though she seldom slept for more than a few hours at a time.
He couldn’t sleep close to her any more – not like they’d done in the past. It was something that they both had loved, and at first they had tried, moving close under the covers. He had put his arm around her the way he always had done, ever since their first night together. But the illness had robbed them of that joy too. It hurt her to be touched, and she had jerked away every time he nestled close. So he had set up a bed next to hers. The thought of not sleeping in the same room with her was unbearable. The thought of sleeping alone upstairs, in their bed, never even occurred to him.
He slept badly on the camp-bed. His back ached every morning, and his joints were always stiff. He’d considered buying a real bed to put next to hers, but he knew it would be pointless. Even though he didn’t like to think about it, he knew that soon there would be no more need for an extra bed. Soon he would be sleeping alone upstairs.
Kenneth blinked away his tears as he watched Lisbet’s breathing, shallow and strained. Her eyes moved under her lids, as if she were dreaming. He wondered what she saw in her dreams. Was she healthy? Was she running with the yellow scarf tied around her long hair?
He turned away. He had to try to get some sleep; he had a job to tend to, after all. For too many nights he had lain here, tossing and turning on the camp-bed and watching her, afraid to miss out on a single minute. Fatigue had settled over him, and it never seemed to let up.
He realized that he had to pee, so he might as well get up. He wouldn’t be able to sleep until he’d relieved himself. With an effort, he turned over so he could sit up. His back creaked, and the camp-bed did too. He sat on the edge for a moment to stretch out his muscles, which were clenched up tight. The floor felt cold under his feet as he stood up and padded out to the hall. The bathroom was right next door, on the left, and he blinked in the glare when he switched on the light. He raised the toilet lid, pulled down his pyjama trousers, and shut his eyes as he felt the pressure ease.
Suddenly he noticed a draught on his legs. He opened his eyes and looked up. The bathroom door stood open, and it felt like an icy wind had blown in. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder, but he wasn’t done pissing, and he didn’t want to miss the toilet. When he was finished, he shook off the last drops, pulled up his pyjama trousers and turned towards the doorway. It was probably just his imagination, because he didn’t feel the cold any more. Yet something told him to be wary.
The hall was dimly lit. The glow from the bathroom light reached only a short distance ahead of him, and the rest of the house was in darkness. Lisbet always used to hang Advent stars in the windows in November, and they stayed there until March because she loved the way they shone. But this year she hadn’t had the energy, and he had never got around to it either.
Kenneth tiptoed out into the entry. It wasn’t his imagination. The temperature was definitely lower here, as if the front door had stood open. He went over and tried the handle. Not locked. That wasn’t unusual, since he sometimes forgot to lock the door, even at night.
For safety’s sake, he now made sure the door was properly closed and then turned the lock. He was about to go back to bed, but he suddenly had goose bumps. Something didn’t feel right. He looked at the doorway leading to the kitchen, which was lit only by the faint light from the streetlamp outside. Kenneth squinted and took a step closer. There was something shiny white lying on the kitchen table, something that hadn’t been there when he cleared away the dishes before going to bed. He took a few more steps. Fear surged in waves through his body.
In the middle of the table he saw a letter. Another letter. And next to the envelope someone had carefully placed a kitchen knife. The blade gleamed in the glow of the streetlamp. Kenneth looked around, but he realized that whoever the intruder had been, he or she had now gone. Leaving behind a letter and a knife.
Kenneth wished that he understood what the message was intended to be.
11
She smiled at him. A big smile, no teeth, just gums. But he wasn’t fooled. He knew what she wanted. She wanted to take and take until he no longer had anything left.
Suddenly he noticed the smell in his nostrils. That sweet, repulsive smell. It had been there back then, and it was here now. It must be coming from her. He looked down at the soft, shiny little body. Everything about her disgusted him. The plump belly, the notch between her legs, the hair that was dark and unevenly sprinkled over her head.
He put his hand on her head. He felt a pulsing under the skin. Close and fragile. His hand pressed harder, and she slid farther down. Still she laughed at him. The water closed around her legs, splashing as her heels struck the bottom of the tub.
He could hear Father’s voice, far far away, at the front door. It rose and fell and didn’t sound as if it would return for a few minutes yet. He could still feel the pulsing under his palm, and she had started to whimper. Her smile came and went, as if she wasn’t sure whether she was happy or sad. Maybe she could feel through his hand how much he hated her, how much he detested every second he had to spend in her presence.
It would be so much better without her, and without all that crying. He wouldn’t have to see the joy on Mother’s face when she looked at the baby, or the absence of joy when Mother turned to look at him. It was so obvious. Whenever Mother shifted her gaze from Alice to him, it was as if a light went out. The light died.
Again he listened for Father. Alice seemed to have decided not to burst into tears yet, and he smiled back at her. Then he carefully placed his arm under her head, for support, just as he’d seen Mother do. With his other hand he pulled away the seat that was holding her in a reclining position. It wasn’t easy. She was slippery and kept squirming about.
At last he got the bath seat out and cautiously pushed it aside. Now all of her weight was resting on his left arm. The sweet, suffocating smell was getting stronger. Feeling sick, he turned his head away. He felt her eyes burning his cheek and her skin was wet and slippery against his arm. He loathed her because she brought that smell back to him, because she forced him to remember.
Slowly he pulled his arm away and looked at her. Her head fell back towards the tub, and just before it struck the water, she took a breath to scream. But by then it was too late, and her little face disappeared under the surface. Her eyes stared up at him through the rippling water. She flailed her arms and legs, but she couldn’t pull herself up. She was too little, too weak. He didn’t even have to hold her head down. It came to rest on the bottom, and the only thing she could do was move it from side to side.
He squatted down, leaned his chin on the edge of the bathtub, and watched her struggle. She shouldn’t have tried to take his beautiful mother away from him. She deserved to die. It wasn’t his fault.
After a while her arms and legs stopped moving and slowly sank. He felt a great calm spread through him. The smell was gone and he could breathe again. Everything would be the way it used to be. With his head tilted, resting against the cold enamel, he looked at Alice, who now lay very still.
‘Come in, come in,’ said Ulf Rosander, looking groggy with sleep, although he was fully dressed. He motioned for Patrik and Paula to enter.
‘Thanks for agreeing to see us on such short notice,’ said Paula.
‘No problem. I just had to phone my workplace to say that I’d be a little late. Considering the circumstances, they understood completely. We’ve all lost a colleague.’ He headed for the living room, and they followed.
It looked as if a bomb had gone off in the room. Toys and all sorts of other items were scattered everywhere. Ulf shoved aside a pile of children’s clothing s
o that they could sit down on the sofa.
‘It’s always chaotic in the morning before the kids have to go off to the day-care centre,’ he apologized.
‘How old are they?’ asked Paula as Patrik leaned back, letting her take the lead. As a police officer, he never underestimated the value of small talk.
‘Three and five,’ said Rosander, his face lighting up. ‘Two girls. They’re my second brood. I also have two sons from a previous marriage who are fourteen and sixteen. But they’re living with their mother at the moment, or the house would look even worse.’
‘How are the kids getting along, since there’s such a big age difference?’ wondered Patrik.
‘Much better than expected, actually. The boys are real teenagers, so things don’t always go smoothly. But the girls worship them, and the boys like their little sisters too. In fact, the girls call them the Elk Brothers.’
Patrik laughed, but Paula looked mystified. ‘It’s from a children’s book,’ he told her. ‘Just wait a few years, and you’ll understand.’
Then he turned serious as he said to Rosander, ‘Well, as you probably heard, we’ve found Magnus.’
The smile on Rosander’s face instantly disappeared. He ran his hand through his hair, which was dishevelled enough already.
‘Do you know how he died? Did he go down in the sea?’
That was an old-fashioned way of referring to a shipwreck, but a common expression for people who lived in a community so close to the water.
Patrik shook his head. ‘We don’t know yet. But right now it’s more important to find out what happened on the morning he disappeared.’
‘I understand. But I don’t really know how I can help.’ Rosander threw out his hands. ‘The only thing I know is that he phoned to tell me he was running late.’
‘Was that unusual?’ asked Paula.
‘For Magnus to be late?’ Rosander frowned. ‘Now that you mention it, I don’t think it had ever happened before.’
‘How long had you been driving to work together?’ Patrik discreetly removed a little plastic ladybird that he’d been sitting on.
‘Ever since I started working at Tanum Windows five years ago. Before that, Magnus always took the bus, but we got to talking at work, and I said that he could ride with me. In return he could pay his share of the petrol.’
‘And during these five years, had he ever phoned before to say that he’d be late?’ Paula repeated her question.
‘No, not once. I should have thought of that earlier.’
‘How did he sound when he rang?’ asked Patrik. ‘Calm? Upset? Did he say why he was delayed?’
‘No, he didn’t. I can’t be sure about this, because it’s been a while now, but I don’t think he sounded quite himself.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Patrik leaned forward.
‘Upset is probably too strong a word, but I got the impression that something was wrong. I thought maybe he’d had a row with Cia or the kids.’
‘Was there something he said to give you that idea?’ asked Paula, exchanging a glance with Patrik.
‘No, not really. The conversation lasted about five seconds. Magnus phoned and said that he was running late and that I should just go on ahead if he took too long. He’d make it to work on his own. Then he hung up. I waited for a while, and then I left. That was all. I assume it was his tone of voice that made me think that there’d been some sort of trouble at home.’
‘Do you know whether they had any problems in their marriage?’
‘I never heard Magnus say a single bad thing about Cia. On the contrary. They seemed to get on really well. Of course it’s impossible to tell what goes on in other families, but I’ve always thought of Magnus as a happily married man. Mind you, we didn’t talk much about those sorts of things. It was more about the weather and football.’
‘Would you say that the two of you were friends?’ asked Patrik.
Rosander hesitated before answering. ‘No, I wouldn’t really say that. We drove to work together and we chatted now and then at lunch, but we never socialized or anything like that. I don’t really know why not, because we enjoyed each other’s company. But everyone has their own circle of friends, and it’s hard to change things like that.’
‘So if something was bothering him, or if someone had upset him, he wouldn’t have confided in you?’ Paula asked.
‘No, I don’t think he would have. But I did see him five days a week, so I should have been able to tell if he was worried about something. He was just the same as always. Cheerful, calm, and confident. A really great guy, to put it simply.’ Rosander looked down at his hands. ‘I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.’
‘You’ve been extremely cooperative.’ Patrik got up and Paula followed suit. They shook hands with Rosander and thanked him for his time.
Back in the car, they went over what they’d heard as they drove.
‘So what do you think?’ said Paula, glancing at Patrik’s profile as he sat next to her in the passenger seat.
‘Hey, keep your eyes on the road!’ Patrik grabbed the door handle as Paula barely managed to avoid colliding with a lorry in the narrow curve just before Mörhult.
‘Whoops,’ said Paula, all of her attention now fixed on the windscreen and the road ahead.
‘Women drivers,’ muttered Patrik.
Paula knew that he was just teasing her and chose to ignore his remark. Besides, she’d been a passenger in the car when Patrik was driving, and she thought it was a miracle he even had a licence.
‘I don’t think Ulf Rosander has anything at all to do with the murder,’ said Patrik, in answer to her question.
Paula nodded. ‘I agree. In this instance Mellberg is really barking up the wrong tree.’
‘So we’ll just have to convince him of that.’
‘But it was still good that we went out there. Gösta must have missed that bit of information. There has to be a reason why Magnus was late for the first time in five years. It was Rosander’s impression that he sounded upset, or at least not like himself when he phoned. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he disappeared that very morning.’
‘You’re right. I just don’t know how we should go about finding out what had upset him. I asked Cia the same question earlier, whether anything in particular happened that morning, and she said no. She did leave for work before Magnus did, but what could have happened in the short period of time when he was home alone?’
‘Has anyone checked the phone records?’ asked Paula, careful to keep her eyes focused on the road.
‘Several times. No one rang their house that morning. No one rang his mobile. The only phone call was when Magnus rang Rosander. After that, nothing.’
‘Do you think someone came over to see him in person?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Patrik shook his head. ‘The neighbours had a good view of the house. They were eating breakfast when Magnus left. Of course it’s possible that they might have missed seeing someone who rang the doorbell, but they were quite confident they hadn’t.’
‘What about his email?’
Again Patrik shook his head. ‘Cia gave us permission to look through his computer, but there were no emails that aroused any interest.’
They drove in silence for a while, both of them lost in thought. What could have happened to make Magnus Kjellner disappear one day without a trace, only to turn up three months later, his body frozen in the ice? What actually happened on that morning?
Foolishly, Erica had decided to walk. In her mind, the distance between her house in Sälvik and her destination had seemed no more than a stone’s throw away. But it seemed it would have to have been a world-record-breaking stone’s throw.
Erica pressed a hand to the small of her back as she paused to catch her breath. She looked in the direction of the Ocean View Development office, which was still a long way off. But she’d have just as far to go if she turned around and went back home, so she could either sit down here in the sno
wdrift or just push on.
Ten minutes later, feeling exhausted, she stepped inside the office. She hadn’t phoned in advance, thinking that she might win an advantage by making a surprise visit. She had made sure that Erik’s car wasn’t parked outside. Kenneth was the one she wanted to talk to. Preferably without being interrupted.
‘Hello?’ No one seemed to have heard the door close behind her, so she made her way further inside. It appeared to be an ordinary house that had been converted into office space. A large section of the ground floor now had an open-floor plan, and the walls were lined with shelves holding three-ring binders. There were also large posters of the structures the company had built, and a desk stood at either end of the room. Kenneth was sitting at one of them. He seemed unaware of Erica’s presence, because he carried on staring straight ahead, without moving.
‘Hello?’ she tried again.
Kenneth gave a start. ‘Oh, hello! I’m sorry, but I didn’t hear you come in.’ He got up and came towards her. ‘Erica Falck, if I’m not mistaken.’
‘That’s right.’ She shook hands with him and smiled. Kenneth noticed that she was eagerly eyeing one of the visitor’s chairs, and he motioned for her to have a seat.
‘Please sit down. It must be difficult carrying around the extra weight. Looks like your due date must be pretty soon.’
Erica gratefully leaned back in the chair, feeling the pressure ease in her back.
‘I’ve still got a little while to go. But I’m having twins,’ she said, looking a bit surprised by her own words.
‘In that case, you’re certainly going to be busy,’ said Kenneth kindly, sitting down next to her. ‘Are you in the market for a new house?’
Erica was startled by the way his face looked when she saw him up close, in the light from the nearby lamp. He looked tired and haggard. ‘Hunted’ was actually the word she was looking for. Suddenly she remembered hearing that his wife was seriously ill. She resisted the impulse to put her hand over his, suspecting that he might not appreciate such a gesture of sympathy. But she couldn’t help saying something. His sorrow and fatigue were so obvious, so deeply etched into the lines of his face.
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