Last One Alive

by Karin Nordin

Tove leaned forward and wrapped both her arms around him as best she could with the cast. Kjeld held on to the hug for as long as possible, wishing he could have spent the rest of the night with her instead of going back home to his bleak apartment and his guilt-ridden conscience.

  ‘I love you, Daddy.’

  ‘I love you too.’ He placed a kiss on the top of her head. ‘And I always will.’

  Chapter 37

  Esme opened the front door of her apartment and was immediately embraced in a semi-wet hug by Miriam.

  ‘Miriam, what are you—’ But Esme cut herself off. She’d forgotten that she’d invited Miriam over at the end of their girls’ night out, which sadly hadn’t been much of a night out. In fact, they’d all made excuses to go home early after dinner, leaving Esme with another evening alone on her couch in front of the television to binge-watch another mindless show on one of her five different streaming services. ‘Can I take your coat?’

  But Miriam was already hanging the dripping coat on the rack by the door. ‘You completely forgot that I was coming over, didn’t you?’

  It was then that Esme realised her entire kitchen table was a spread of files and images from the recent crimes she and Kjeld were investigating. She rushed over to organise them.

  Miriam turned and watched sympathetically as Esme quickly tried to cover up the mess of crime-scene photographs and paperwork that had taken over her kitchen table. Esme knew Miriam wasn’t judging her forgetfulness, but she was still embarrassed for not having written it down in her agenda.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Miri. I’m a little scatter-brained lately. This case has really been getting to me.’ Esme scurried over to the kitchen which, unlike the table, was immaculately clean. Most of her apartment was organised to the nth degree. Every piece of furniture in its proper place. Every surface spotless. Even the air in the flat was refreshing, a peaceful scent of citrus pumped out by an electric air freshener in the corner of the living room. Esme had always believed that keeping an obsessively clean and almost systematically arranged environment helped give the mind structure and order. But in actuality it had become a crutch to hide the fact that she felt like a total mess on the inside. ‘Would you like a drink? Wine? Juice? I might have a beer leftover if you’d prefer that.’

  ‘I’ll just have a glass of water.’ Miriam caught a glimpse of one of the photographs on the table and cringed. ‘Holy shit, Esme. Is this how you spend your evenings?’

  Esme ran a glass under the tap and brought it over to the table. When she saw the images of Louisa Karlsson’s crime scene she quickly turned them upside down. Then she grabbed a tablecloth from a drawer and covered the table and the files. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for you to see that.’

  Miriam gave her a look of concern that reminded Esme of her cousin. The kind of look that suggested she thought something was terribly wrong, but didn’t know how to bring it up.

  ‘Was that the girl from the serial killer case years back? I saw something about it on the news. They were asking for anyone with information to call the police line.’

  Esme nodded. ‘Yeah, she’s one of the cases the chief has my team working on. It’s been a bit of a shit show to tell you the truth.’

  ‘I don’t know how you do it. Surround yourself with all of this death and violence.’

  ‘It’s my job.’

  ‘Sure, but this is your home. Aren’t you afraid that you’re – I don’t know – inviting bad karma or something?’

  ‘Someone is killing innocent people. And it’s not like I have kids at home to take care of or anything. So, no. I’m not worried about bad karma. I’m only worried about not catching the person responsible for all of this before they strike again.’ Esme hadn’t intended to sound short-tempered, but her words came out more harshly than she’d expected. ‘I’m sorry, Miri. I’m just really overwhelmed. It was a rough day. We found another victim and there was a thing with my partner’s daughter and …’

  Miriam sat down at the table and sipped at her water. ‘I heard about that. Britta sent me a link to a YouTube video. That poor child.’

  ‘It’s not what you think. It was an accident. This stupid journalist keeps twisting everything around and making our jobs even more difficult than they already are.’

  Esme sighed and slumped down in one of the kitchen chairs. She could still see the outline of the files underneath the tablecloth and she smoothed over the edges in a feeble attempt to make it less noticeable.

  ‘Is this really what you want to be doing?’ Miriam asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’re witty, smart, attractive. But when you’re not at work you hide yourself away in your apartment obsessing over these horrifying cases. Tilde and I hardly ever hear from you anymore. You haven’t even been to my new house yet. How long are you going to keep going like this?’

  Esme frowned. ‘This is my career, Miri. This is what I do.’

  ‘I know, I know. And I get it. I guess. Well, kind of. But what about you? What about your life outside of your career? Don’t you want to date someone? Settle down? Have kids?’

  Esme shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘I date.’

  ‘Late-night hook-ups on Tinder is not dating.’

  ‘Well, maybe I’m not interested in anything more than that.’

  ‘Bullshit.’

  ‘It’s not bullshit.’ Esme chewed on her lower lip. ‘I don’t know that I want those things. Sometimes I think I do and sometimes I think I’m too selfish for a relationship or for kids. It’s not like getting a bad haircut and saying, “Don’t worry it’ll grow out.” My career is important to me. And I enjoy the freedoms I have right now.’

  Miriam laughed. ‘Are you saying that being a parent means you’re not free?’

  ‘I’m saying that relationships change a person. Parenthood changes a person. You’re never the same again. And what if I don’t like the person that makes me? What if it doesn’t fulfil me? What if it bores me or makes me boring?’

  It had already taken Esme a long time to learn who she was as a person and accept that she didn’t fit into the traditional moulds that society crafted for people. Women, in particular. If she welcomed new challenges in her life – a relationship, children, change in career – then she’d have to rediscover who she was in those new roles. And she didn’t know if that was something she was willing to explore. Even if she did sometimes feel like an anomaly among her friends and colleagues.

  When Esme looked up at Miriam she was surprised to find herself met with a hard stare.

  ‘The change is worth it. I wouldn’t be anything without my family. They make life worth living. I wouldn’t change that for the world.’

  ‘I’m not saying it isn’t worth it for some people,’ Esme said, struggling to find the words that both explained her own confusion about parenthood and relationships without minimalising the joy it gave Miriam. But she sensed anything she said would only make it worse. ‘I’m just saying I don’t know if it’s for me. I don’t know that I can identify with that. Being biologically bonded to another person for the rest of my life. Being responsible for them. Sometimes I try to imagine myself as a mother and I wonder how it can be worth it.’

  ‘Wow, Esme. Way to make me feel like crap.’

  Esme blinked. ‘What? No, you don’t understand. I’m not speaking for all women. Just myself. I just don’t know that I’m meant for that.’

  Miriam pushed out her chair and stood up. ‘Well, you should probably figure that out. It’s not like you’re getting any younger, after all.’

  Esme frowned. ‘Why are you so upset?’

  ‘Because you make it sound like being a parent means you have to give up your entire life and identity. That it makes you boring and dissatisfied and ugly. And that’s not true. Being a mother gave me meaning. Is it a struggle sometimes? Yeah, Esme. It can be fucking hard. Harder than sitting around looking at nasty photographs of dead people. But at least I’m not coming home to an empty house
. At least I don’t have to pick up a stranger to give me an hour’s worth of pleasure.’

  ‘Don’t be a bitch, Miriam. That’s not what I meant.’

  ‘Well, that’s what it sounds like. And you know what? Some change would probably do you good. You’re not a teenager anymore. Do you want to be that same moody goth girl with the black lipstick and the fuck-the-world attitude for the rest of your life?’ Miriam grabbed her coat from the rack on the wall and headed for the door. ‘It’s like I don’t even know you. And, honestly, a real friend wouldn’t have forgotten the plans we made together.’

  Esme stood up and followed her to the door. ‘I told you it’s been a rough week.’

  ‘With you it’s been a rough decade. Do you know how many times you’ve cancelled on me in the last year?’

  ‘I told you—’

  ‘I know. Work is crazy. Well, that’s the trade-off, Esme. If you give all of yourself to your job then there’s nothing left over for anyone else. And as much as I enjoyed our friendship when we were younger I think we’re just not on the same page anymore. I want friends who make time for me.’

  ‘Like Britta, I suppose.’ Esme fought against the urge to roll her eyes.

  ‘Yes, like Britta.’

  ‘She’s not even that nice.’

  ‘But we have a lot in common. She doesn’t forget about me when we make plans. And she doesn’t make me feel like shit for … how did you word it? Giving in to society’s pressures on women? Give me a break.’

  Esme’s cheeks flushed with anger, but she didn’t say anything. Instead her face and neck grew warm despite the cold that rushed in from outside when Miriam opened the door. There were a lot of things she wanted to say – maybe even yell – but the words never made it to her lips. She was too afraid of making things worse. And when she did finally find something to say, she was embarrassed by how pathetic her voice sounded.

  ‘I’m sorry, Miri. Really. Please. Can we talk about it?’

  ‘Maybe some other time, Esme. But right now I’d rather spend time with my family.’ Miriam turned up the hood on her coat and continued to her car.

  Esme watched her drive away, her hands shaking. Then she closed the door and made her way back to the table. The anxious sensation of misplaced guilt caught in her throat as she removed the tablecloth, folding it up neatly and setting it back in the drawer. But she quickly realised it wasn’t guilt so much as anger that she felt. It was bad enough that Miriam didn’t understand her, but to attack her in her own home for her way of life? Esme was seething. She had the sudden impulse to do something with her hands. Something to keep her busy. She considered vacuuming, but she’d just cleaned her apartment the other day. Instead she flipped over the photographs, one by one. Louisa. Andrea. Jonny.

  She’d call Miriam tomorrow and properly apologise. Perhaps with a clear head she could explain her feelings better. But for now she had to focus. That would soothe her nerves. Find the killer. Solve the case. Then she could give herself time to breathe and to figure out how she could fix the friendships that kept falling apart around her.

  Chapter 38

  Måndag | Monday

  ‘I’m taking you off the Karlsson case.’

  ‘What?’ Kjeld stared at Rhodin in disbelief, certain he’d misheard him. But Rhodin looked back at him with a weary exasperation that told him otherwise. ‘Why?’

  ‘You know why, Kjeld.’

  ‘I want to hear you say it.’

  Rhodin sighed. ‘Well, Henny Engström for starters.’

  ‘What did she do this time?’

  ‘Her job.’ Rhodin turned his computer monitor around. Zoomed in at full screen was Henny’s newest piece of gossip trash presented as truth. A photograph of Kjeld holding his crying daughter on the opposite side of the blue and white cordon tape, a blurry image of the crime-scene tent in the background. But as devastating as the picture was, the headline was even worse. “Top Cop Takes Baby to a Bloodbath” was printed above the photo in bold black lettering. What followed was a half-arsed article based on hearsay and half-truths. As always, Henny used dramatic imagery and slanderous buzz words to get readers onto her website. Not that Kjeld imagined many people actually read her articles. It didn’t take half a brain to realise there was nothing in her writing that was either factual or based on concrete evidence. She was just in it for the publicity. Other people’s lives and reputations be damned.

  ‘It’s not true,’ Kjeld insisted.

  ‘It doesn’t matter if it’s true. The picture itself is damning. Not to mention all of the other nonsense she’s managed to string together. Some of which isn’t exactly untrue, by the way.’ Rhodin shook his head, defeated. ‘The truth doesn’t make a difference at this point. Nobody does their due diligence when it comes to things they read online. And this is just the article! You should see the video she posted to go along with it. People will see it and they’ll believe it. And regardless of the facts it makes us look like chumps.’

  ‘I didn’t take my daughter to a crime scene. She was being watched by another officer and—’

  Rhodin held up his arms. His eyes were practically begging Kjeld, but Kjeld couldn’t help but feel personally attacked. And not just by the media and Henny’s inflated articles, but also by his own colleagues.

  ‘I know, Kjeld. I know. But I’ve got the bureaucrats breathing down my neck. You know how tense things have been since the situation with Nils. And with the proceedings on his trial delayed it’s only putting more stress on the police administration. The longer that arsehole sits in prison without being convicted, the more we look like incompetent fools. And the press, as infuriating as they can be, aren’t wrong.’ Rhodin dropped a pen into a cup on his desk. ‘We fucked up. We missed a serial killer in our ranks. And I’m not saying that’s just on you. That’s on all of us. We deserve to be nit-picked by the media. They should go through us with a fine-toothed comb. And everything we do is under their scrutiny. Everything. So, I know how angry you are. I’m fucking livid myself. But we can’t afford headlines like these. Not now.’

  Kjeld took a deep breath and resisted the urge to raise his voice. He knew it wasn’t the chief’s fault. He knew how the system worked. But there were circumstances, such as Henny’s blatant slandering of his name, where he thought the system was also an impediment to his ability to do his job. ‘Henny Engström is a liar. She’s a half-rate gossipmonger who gets away with libel on a daily basis. But I get it. For better or for worse, we have freedom of speech in this country. How am I supposed to stop her from publishing a shitty article that has no shred of truth in it whatsoever?’

  ‘By not doing anything that she can use against you and, in turn, against this department. We can’t handle any more bad press. And you know that.’

  Kjeld pursed his lips in frustration. ‘This is completely insane. What about how this affects my life? What about my privacy? What about my family? Do you think I want to see my daughter’s face plastered all over the internet? Where’s the protection for her? You should be berating these journalists instead of reprimanding me. I was just doing my job. It was an accident that she saw the crime scene.’

  But Kjeld knew the argument was futile. He knew Rhodin only had so much sway with the people above him. This was coming from higher up the chain. It was a matter of protecting one detective over the rest of the department, and Kjeld knew that no amount of friendship or trust between them would be enough for Rhodin to sacrifice his own career. Let alone the careers of everyone else in the department.

  ‘I just need you to stay out of the limelight for a while,’ Rhodin said. ‘And I’m not taking you off the Nicolescu case.’

  ‘I owe it to Louisa’s family to find her killer.’

  ‘And if it were just Louisa then I would agree with that. But the death of Jonny Lindh changes things.’

  ‘Changes things how?’

  ‘Both Louisa and Jonny have direct connections to you. Is it a thin thread? Yes. But I can’t take the risk of
keeping you on a case where the killer might be purposefully seeking out your old cases as starting points for their murders.’ Rhodin smoothed down his bristly moustache. ‘Besides, if there’s any chance that the life of one of my officers could be in danger …’

  Kjeld snorted. ‘Danger? Oh, come on. This is Esme talking, isn’t it?’

  ‘She has a right to be concerned, Kjeld.’

  ‘My life is not in danger. If the killer wanted to come after me then why would they be wasting their time going after anyone else?’

  Rhodin pursed his lips and Kjeld could see he was trying to restrain his temper. ‘Like I said, it’s a risk I’m not willing to take.’

  ‘You know that’s a bad choice.’

  ‘But it’s my only choice. The only choice you or Engström or anyone has given me.’

  ‘There are no solid leads on the Nicolescu case,’ Kjeld insisted. ‘What do you expect me to do?’

  ‘Your job. I expect you to put in the work like you used to. Like you did before you let Nils get to your head. Axel has hundreds of hours of video footage yet to go through and we’ve received almost a thousand calls from the public claiming to have information on all three of these murders. I don’t have the manpower to go through all of them as it is. And you know that at least eighty per cent of cases are solved behind a desk. So that’s where I need you. Doing your best work behind a computer screen.’

  ‘Screening crank calls?’

  ‘Investigating. Going through the evidence. Catching the bad guys. You know, being a fucking detective.’

  Kjeld placed his hands on his hips and turned sideways to the chief’s desk, staring out the window into the main work space of the department. He had an intense desire to hit something. Not because Rhodin was wrong about anything he’d said. He was absolutely right. Whether deservedly or not, Kjeld was a liability to the department right now. No, he wanted to lash out because Kjeld felt like he was being purposefully backed into a corner. Like with Bengt or Liam or his father, he felt as though someone was threatening to take away the few things that made him whole. But it could have been worse. Rhodin could have put him on a full suspension again. And his career, tenuous as it was, would have struggled to survive two of those in less than a year.