by Viveca Sten
“OK. I’ll go.”
CHAPTER 12
Nora switched off the bedside lamp and adjusted her pillow. It had gotten way too late by the time she went to bed, in spite of the fact that she’d promised herself an early night. There was always so much to do—piles of washing in the laundry room, and a vegetable compartment in the refrigerator that would be crawling out the door on its own any day now.
Only she and Julia were home. Simon was with his father, Henrik, this week, and Adam was staying over at his girlfriend’s. He’d graduated from high school the previous year; Nora couldn’t tell him what to do anymore. As long as he did his job as a waiter at a restaurant in the Söder district, she didn’t complain.
Jonas was away all week. He was on a long-haul flight to LA, and wouldn’t be back until Saturday.
It was eleven o’clock, and she really needed to let go of all the thoughts spinning around in her head: Mina’s bruised and battered face, and the nagging feeling that Kovač wasn’t going to go down for either tax evasion or assault. It was impossible to relax. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, even though she was trying to breathe deeply, as her yoga instructor had taught her.
Not that she made it to yoga very often.
If only Kovač had still been in custody, Nora would have felt much better. At least he wouldn’t have been able to attack his wife again. But Ulrika Grönstedt had argued persuasively and skillfully, and had gotten him out after only a few weeks, despite Nora’s efforts to convince the court that releasing him was a mistake.
The loss still hurt.
Kovač should have remained locked up until the trial, but Nora had never gone head-to-head with a defense attorney of Grönstedt’s caliber. She usually dealt with less serious cases, small-time players who were happy with a public defender appointed by the court. Not a purebred professional like Ulrika Grönstedt.
Jonathan hadn’t said anything directly, but she knew how he felt about the situation. She should have done better. Instead she had let Grönstedt walk all over her.
Nora stared up at the ceiling. She had been overwhelmed by guilt as soon as she saw Mina lying there in the hospital. If she had died on Monday night, it would have been Nora’s fault.
On an intellectual level she knew that wasn’t true, but she couldn’t help herself.
Henrik had once lost control and struck her during a quarrel down by the jetty on Sandhamn. Nora’s lower lip had started to bleed; she’d been so shocked that she was unable to move a muscle. Henrik had been almost as shaken as her. He’d apologized a thousand times, but it had been the death knell for their relationship. There was no saving their marriage after that.
Nora glanced at the clock on the nightstand. She was due to question Kovač tomorrow. The time had been arranged a while ago, but the location had been changed to Flemingsberg, as he was in custody due to the assault. She had to be on top of her game.
But still sleep refused to come.
Thursday
CHAPTER 13
When Nora and Leila entered the interview room, Andreis Kovač was already seated at the table with Ulrika Grönstedt. He was dressed entirely in black, and filled the space with a kind of raw virility. His legs were stretched out in front of him. He was tall and powerfully built. The physical difference alone between him and Mina would be intimidating.
He didn’t seem bothered at all by the situation in which he found himself. If he was worried because his wife was in the hospital, it didn’t show.
Ulrika Grönstedt was wearing a classic navy-blue suit and pumps, with her Chanel purse looped over the back of the chair.
“Is it really necessary to question my client yet again?” she said before Nora had even sat down. “He’s already cooperated fully. How often do we have to plow through all this nonsense before you realize he hasn’t committed a crime?”
Nora had no intention of allowing herself to be provoked. She poured herself and Leila a glass of water, taking her time. “We will conduct as many interviews as I deem necessary,” she said, keeping her tone neutral. “Is your client worried about something?”
“If he doesn’t like being in custody, he has only himself to blame,” Leila snapped. “He should have thought of that before he beat up his wife.”
Kovač exchanged a glance with Grönstedt.
“As I said before, my client denies all the charges relating to tax evasion. With regard to the alleged assault on Mina Kovač, I don’t understand what that has to do with this interview.” Grönstedt opened an elegant case and put on a pair of glasses. “Andreis has not withheld any tax payments, nor has his income ever approached the sums you are talking about.”
Leila smiled sweetly. “I assume he paid for his fancy house with a win on the lottery, and that his wife just happened to walk into a door the other night?”
“Mina has nothing to do with any of this,” Kovač muttered, shifting uncomfortably on his chair.
Nora leaned forward. “I was intending to speak to you about Mina. She’s in the hospital, in pretty bad shape. How did that happen?”
Reading a report about what Kovač had done to his wife was one thing; sitting opposite him was quite another. Nora couldn’t help glancing at his hands; they must have had Mina’s blood on them, but the long fingers bore no trace of the beating he’d inflicted. The nails were beautifully manicured, the knuckles undamaged.
It was only Mina’s skin that had broken.
“Mina tripped over a vacuum cleaner,” Kovač said. “It had already happened when I arrived home. It’s not my fault she’s in the hospital, but of course I’m very sorry she hurt herself. I love my wife.”
He managed to give the statement a false air of normality, as if he were genuinely concerned about his wife, even though everyone in the room knew the truth.
Leila reacted with a scornful laugh. “Do you actually believe that?”
Her tone was so confrontational that Nora became worried. Leila had to be able to remain objective.
“You beat her up, and now you’re scared she’s going to testify against you.”
“My wife will never testify against me.”
“We’ll see about that. It can’t be good for your son to grow up with a father who beats his wife.”
“Don’t bring my son into this, or I’ll fucking—”
Ulrika Grönstedt interrupted him. “My client didn’t mean to get angry.” She placed a hand on his arm; her nails were an elegant shade of red, the polish gleaming. “Andreis would never threaten a police officer or a prosecutor. Just so we don’t misunderstand one another.”
Leila shook her head. “It must be nice to have a female attorney to babysit you,” she said. “It’s a pity she wasn’t there when you attacked Mina. You’re clearly incapable of controlling yourself.”
Nora cleared her throat. Enough was enough; they had to get on with questioning Kovač. “I’m intending to file charges within a week or so,” she informed Grönstedt. “However, I do have some additional queries. The sooner your client responds, the sooner we’ll be finished.” She selected a document relating to one of the most recently sold companies. “There seems to be an issue with the bookkeeping in—” she began.
Grönstedt stepped in immediately. “It’s not my client’s fault that all the files were accidentally deleted when they changed to a different IT provider. That’s not a crime.”
Nora decided to put her foot down. “I suggest you let me finish what I’m saying; otherwise we’ll be here all day.”
CHAPTER 14
Mina was lying on her back in the bed in her new room, staring up at the white-painted ceiling that was cracked in several places. She’d slept for a few hours; it was almost nine o’clock in the evening.
Andreis would never find her here at Freya’s Haven—the policewoman, Leila, had promised her that when she drove Mina and Lukas to Stavsnäs to catch the ferry across to Runmarö. She would be safe on the island. There were no street names or house numbers; it would be
impossible for someone who didn’t know the place to track her down.
The crossing had taken only five minutes, and they’d been picked up from the jetty.
Freya’s Haven was a strange name. Freya was the goddess of love in Norse mythology, according to Anna-Maria, who ran the shelter. Did this mean that the old gods were watching over her? It seemed unlikely. It was a long time since Mina had felt that someone was keeping a protective eye over her.
The split above her eyebrow was aching.
If only she hadn’t gone to the club that night. If only she’d stayed home and watched TV. If only she hadn’t laughed when Andreis paid her a compliment, if only she hadn’t let him buy her a drink.
Those thoughts had come into her mind so many times. What would her life have been like if she’d never met Andreis?
She turned onto her side, even though she felt a stab of pain from her ribs as soon as she moved. Lukas was sleeping in his crib beside her, with his pink cheeks and rosebud mouth.
The answer was simple. She wouldn’t have had Lukas.
The room was in darkness. It was decorated in pastel colors, with two armchairs by the window. Two pink pelargoniums stood on the windowsill, and someone had placed an embroidered cloth on the coffee table. There was an old tiled stove in the corner, with a handwritten note stuck to it: Do not use.
It was a bit like a nice youth hostel—cozy, but a little shabby here and there.
She moved her head so that she could see the water shimmering over by the shore. When they arrived at lunchtime, she had immediately thought of her maternal grandparents’ summer cottage in Roslagen—the wooden house with white eaves and window frames, the lawn surrounded by lilac hedges. She’d been so happy during those long summer days; now she could hardly remember what it felt like not to be afraid all the time.
Her cell phone vibrated. The display came to life, showing Andreis’s number.
Hi darling—are you allowed to come home tomorrow?
Mina inhaled sharply. He didn’t know she’d already left the hospital. He’d sent her several messages promising that he would change. Everything was going to be all right from now on. The last one had arrived just as she was about to set off for Freya’s Haven. She’d almost changed her mind, thought that maybe it would be better to go home. Better for Lukas, so that he would grow up with his mom and dad. Andreis sounded as if he really meant it; he would never hit her again. Never.
At that moment Leila had knocked on the door. She’d assured Mina that choosing Freya’s Haven was the right decision, and had reminded her of how worried her parents had been. Mina hadn’t had the strength to argue as Leila gathered up her things and headed for the door. She’d sent a quick reply telling Andreis that she would be in for at least another day, having more tests.
She stared at her phone.
Andreis thought everything was fine between them. He would never imagine that she could say she forgave him, then choose not to come home.
When he found out the truth, he would see it as a betrayal. She was his wife, and family meant everything to him. He often talked about the importance of staying together, whatever happened. He cared deeply for his mother, and called her almost every day. No one was allowed to bad-mouth Selma and Zlatko, not even his younger brother, Emir, who got away with most things.
And now she’d let him down in the worst possible way.
She felt as if her heart was being squeezed in an iron fist. When he realized the truth, he would come after her and Lukas. Somehow he would find out where they’d gone. Andreis always got his own way.
It had sounded so simple when Leila said they were safe here, but she didn’t know Andreis. She hadn’t seen his face darken when his temper took over and the man Mina loved disappeared, when the veins in his forehead bulged and he grabbed her by the throat, as if he had to obliterate her life in order to save his own.
How could she ever feel safe again?
Lukas let out a little whimper.
Her phone vibrated and the same message appeared again.
Hi darling—are you allowed to come home tomorrow?
Mina replied with trembling fingers.
I hope so.
The answer came immediately.
In that case I’ll pick you up after lunch.
Mina hesitated, then she wrote:
Thanks, darling. Good night.
Friday
CHAPTER 15
Ulrika Grönstedt opened the door of the conference room into which her secretary had just shown Andreis Kovač. He had been released yesterday, just as she’d predicted. She smiled contentedly; she liked being right. And impressing her clients.
She had set aside an hour for the meeting, and hoped that would be enough. She was due in court on another case this afternoon and still had some reading to do. Reporters were likely to be there, which always provided an extra incentive.
“What the fuck did the prosecutor say about charging me with tax evasion?” Kovač said as soon as he saw her. The tray of coffee provided by her secretary was untouched, but he’d helped himself to the dish of sweets. There were a number of crumpled wrappers on the table.
Ulrika had no intention of letting her client see that she was also concerned about Nora’s comment. She hadn’t been particularly worried when Kovač was first interviewed. His complex company structure ought to be watertight. She herself hadn’t been involved, but his advisers were no amateurs. They were experts and well paid for their skills. The prosecutor had nothing, she was sure of it.
Then Kovač had been arrested. That had been a miscalculation. Nora Linde had had him arrested because she claimed there was a risk that he would destroy evidence and impede the investigation. Admittedly the court had ruled that he should be kept in custody for only a few weeks, but that had been bad enough. Kovač had been furious by the time he came out.
Ulrika couldn’t understand where Nora had gotten so much information. The questions she had asked yesterday were worrying; they showed that she knew a great deal. She was well aware that the income didn’t match the figures in the company books, and she could prove it.
The equation meant that huge sums due in income and sales tax were missing—enough to constitute major tax evasion, and presumably serious money laundering. Which would mean years in jail for Kovač.
“You promised me it would never get to court,” he said, drumming his fingers on the oval oak table.
“Someone on your team must have leaked the information to the authorities,” Ulrika said, sitting down opposite him. She had no intention of being left holding the bag for this crap; her job was to do her best to get him off once he’d been charged. “There’s no chance they could have found all that material without help,” she went on. “An insider must have talked to the police.”
Kovač frowned. “My guys keep their mouths shut.”
“Nora Linde has too many facts,” Ulrika insisted. “She has to have a contact who’s familiar with your business affairs; otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to ask such detailed questions.”
She reached for the thermos and poured them both a coffee. The harsh light from the window showed her that it was time for a manicure; her nails were less than perfect. She would ask her secretary to book an appointment for tomorrow.
“I won’t have access to everything they have on you until Linde files the charges,” she explained. “I don’t know which documents she’s had access to, but from what I heard during your interviews, and given the way in which the questions were asked, I think she has copies of your accounts.”
“That’s impossible.”
So far, Ulrika had allowed him to keep repeating the same mantra—that the accounts had been deleted by mistake, and everything else that had been brought up by the prosecutor was pure speculation. It was the oldest trick in the book, and it almost made her smile.
But the situation was serious.
If the court bought her explanation, Kovač would walk away, or incur a fine at the wor
st. There could be no negotiation on the obligation to keep accurate accounts, but failure to do so was a minor offense with little danger of a prison sentence. However, if Linde had gotten hold of the real documentation, Kovač could be looking at a significant jail term.
“You can’t think of anyone who’s been behaving suspiciously?” she asked. “Someone who’s trying to take over your . . . business?”
She hesitated over the last word. She wanted to know as little as possible about what Kovač’s “business” involved; her role was to protect his interests in court, nothing else. Everyone had the right to a defense. She had stuck to that principle ever since she started practicing twenty-five years ago. That was what the law prescribed, and she was proud of her role and her reputation as one of the country’s most sought-after defense attorneys.
She had nothing to be ashamed of.
Kovač shook his head. “No. I know my guys. Drop it.”
Ulrika glanced at her nails again. Why couldn’t he be more cooperative? He seemed to have forgotten that she was on his side. Sometimes it was necessary to remind clients of such matters, especially when they were so damaged that they thought everyone was after them.
“You know what I’ve said all along,” she began. “No surprises. You don’t need to tell me any more than I ask, but you can’t lie to me if you want me to defend you in court.”
Kovač took out a cigarette packet that looked like Marlboro, but had the words Super Drina on it. Ulrika raised her eyebrows, and he put it back in his pocket.
“Could Mina have anything to do with this?” she asked.
Andreis Kovač burst out laughing. When he smiled, the charm switched on. There was a magnetism about him, which Ulrika assumed he exploited on a regular basis to get what he wanted.
She had no intention of walking into the trap, but she couldn’t help responding with a smile. “Mina?” she repeated in a gentler tone.
