'I thought you promised Erica to take the whole weekend off,' Martin ventured.
Patrik grimaced. 'Yeah, I know, but I hadn't counted on being saddled with a homicide investigation.'
'I'll be working this weekend, so tell me if there's anything I can do.'
'That's great, but I think I need to go over everything by myself in peace and quiet.'
'Well, you're the only one who knows what you need to do,' said Martin, getting into the car. Patrik got in on the passenger's side - but he wasn't so sure that Martin was right.
Finally she was going to get her mother-in-law out of the house. Erica could hardly believe it. All the admonitions, all the know- it-all comments and underhanded complaints had completely demolished her reserves of patience. She was counting the minutes until Kristina would get into her little Ford Escort and drive back home. If Erica had been suffering from a lack of confidence as a mother before her mother-in-law arrived, it was even worse now. Apparently nothing she did was right. She didn't know how to dress Maja the right way, or how to feed her correctly; she was too blunt, she was too clumsy, she was too lazy, she ought to rest more. There was no end to her shortcomings, and as Erica sat there with her daughter on her lap she felt as though she might as well give up. She would never manage all of this. At night she dreamt that she left Maja with Patrik and took a long trip. Far, far away. Somewhere that was calm and peaceful, with no screaming babies or responsibilities or demands. Somewhere she could curl up and be a little girl again, and someone else would take care of her.
At the same time she had a competing feeling inside that was steering her in the opposite direction. A protective instinct, and a certainty that she would never be able to leave the child she held in her arms. It was just as unthinkable as chopping off a leg or an arm. They were one now, and they would have to get through all this together. And yet she'd begun to think about what Charlotte had been urging her to do, before the terrible nightmare of Sara's death. Charlotte had said she should talk to someone, someone who understood how she was feeling. Maybe feeling like this wasn't normal. Maybe it wasn't supposed to be this way.
Sara's death was what made her begin to rethink things. It had put her own depression into perspective, made her see that she, unlike Charlotte, was going through a dark spell that could be dissipated. Charlotte would have to live with her grief for the rest of her life. But Erica might be able to do something about her situation. Before she went to talk to anyone, she ought to try Anna Wahlgren's baby care recommendations. If she could get Maja to sleep somewhere other than right on top of her, that would be progress. She just needed to muster some courage before she started that project. And get her mother-in-law out of the house.
Kristina came into the living room and gave Erica and Maja a worried look. 'Are you nursing her again? It can't have been more than two hours since last time.' She didn't wait for an answer but continued, 'In any case I've tried to put a little order in things here. Ail the laundry is washed, and it was quite a load, let me tell you. There are no dishes left to do, and I've given everything a good dusting. And by the way, I cooked some hamburgers and put them in the freezer, so you'll have something to eat besides those horrible frozen dinners. You have to eat properly, you know, and that goes for Patrik too. He works hard all day long, and then he has to take care of Maja large parts of the evening, so he needs all the nourishment he can get. I must say I was quite shocked when I saw him. He looked dreadfully pale and worn out.'
The litany went on and on, and Erica had to clench her teeth to resist the impulse to put her hands over her ears and sing, like a little girl. Of course she'd had a few hours free when her mother- in-law was here, she couldn't deny that, but the drawbacks clearly outweighed the benefits. With tears threatening to spill, she stubbornly stared straight ahead at Ricki Lake on the TV. Why couldn't her mother-in-law just leave?
It seemed as though her prayer had been heard, for Kristina set a packed suitcase in the hall and began putting on her coat and shoes.
'Are you sure you'll be able to get along?'
Erica wearily shifted her gaze from the TV and even managed to squeeze out a little smile.
'Sure, we'll be fine.' After an almost Herculean effort she added, 'And thanks so terribly much for all the help.'
She hoped Kristina couldn't hear how false it sounded. Apparently not, for her mother-in-law nodded graciously and said, 'Well, it's just nice to be of some use. I'll come back soon.'
Get your arse out of here, woman, Erica thought feverishly, trying by sheer force of will to shove her mother-in-law out the front door. Miraculously it seemed to work, and when the door closed behind her Erica heaved a deep sigh of relief. But it didn't last long. In the silence after Krishna's departure, with Maja's rhythmic snuffling the only sound, thoughts of Anna popped up. She still hadn't got hold of her sister, and Anna hadn't tried to call either. In frustration she punched the number of Anna's mobile, but as so many times before in recent weeks she got only the voicemail. She left a brief message for the umpteenth time and then broke the connection. Why wasn't Anna answering? Erica started devising one plan after another to find out what had happened to her sister, but eventually she gave up as she was overcome by fatigue. It would have to wait until another day.
Lucas said he was going out to look for a job, but she didn't believe him for an instant. Not dressed as he was, slovenly and unshaven with his hair unkempt. She had no idea what he was doing instead. But Anna knew better than to ask. Questions were bad. Questions led to hard blows that left visible marks. Last week she hadn't been able to take the children to day-care. The marks on her face had been so obvious that even Lucas realized it would be folly to let her go out.
Her thoughts kept circling around how this was all going to end. Everything had gone downhill so fast that it made her head spin. The time in the elegant flat in Östermalm, with Lucas going off to his job as a stockbroker each day, well-dressed and calm, felt like a distant dream. She could remember that even back then she had wanted to escape, but it was hard to understand why. Compared with her life now it could hardly have been so bad. Of course she had received the occasional beating, but there were good times as well, and everything had been so nice, so orderly. Now she looked around the cramped two-room flat and felt hopelessness settling over her. The children slept on mattresses on the floor of the living room, and their toys were strewn about everywhere. She couldn't even face picking them up. If Lucas came home before she found the energy to clean up, the consequences would certainly be harsh. But she simply couldn't be bothered anymore.
What scared her the most was when she looked into Lucas's eyes and saw that something vital had disappeared. Something human that had slipped away, to be replaced by something much darker and more dangerous. He had lost almost everything, and nothing was as dangerous as a person who had nothing more to lose.
For a moment she thought about making an attempt to get out of the flat and call for help. Collect the children at day-care, ring Erica and ask her to come get them. Or ring the police. But she wouldn't get beyond the thinking stage. She never knew when
Lucas might come home, and if he arrived at the moment she was trying to escape her prison, she would never again get a chance to flee, or a chance to survive.
Instead she sat down in the easy chair by the window and looked out over the courtyard. She let the dusk slowly descend over her life.
* * *
FJÅLLBACKA 1925
The sound of the sledgehammer striking the chisel was accompanied by his whistling. After the boys were born, he regained the joy he used to feel in his work, and each day he went to the quarry with the certainty that he now had something to work for. The twins were everything he had ever dreamt of. They were only six months old, but already they controlled his whole world and comprised his whole universe. The image of their bald little heads and toothless smiles kept coming back to him as he worked. It brought a song to his heart and he longed for evening so he could
go home to them.
The thought of his wife made his otherwise even-handed blows on the granite lose their rhythm for a moment. She still hadn't seemed to bond with the children, although now it was a long time since she had almost died giving birth. The doctor had said that for some women it could take a long time to recover from such an experience, and that in those cases months could go by before they bonded with the child, or in this case the children. But by now half a year had passed. And Anders had tried his best to make things easier for Agnes. Despite his long workdays, he always tended to the boys when they woke up at night, and since she refused to nurse them, he also helped with feeding them. And he was happy to change their nappies and play with them. At the same time he had to spend long hours at the quarry, so Agnes was forced to take care of them while he was away. This worried him. When he came home he often found that they hadn't been changed all day and they were crying desperately from hunger. He had tried to talk to his wife about it, but she just turned her head away and refused to listen.
Finally he had gone over to the Janssons and asked Karin, Jansson's wife, if she'd consider coming over occasionally to see how his family was doing at his place. She'd given him a searching look and then promised to do so. Anders was eternally grateful to her for this. Not that she didn't have enough to do with her own children. The eight kids took up almost all her time, and yet she promised without hesitation to look in on his two as often as she could. A stone had been lifted from his heart with that promise. Sometimes he thought he saw a strange gleam in Agnes's eyes, but it vanished so quickly that he convinced himself it was just his imagination. But sometimes he would picture that look as he stood and worked, and then he had to stop himself from throwing down his sledgehammer and running home, just to make sure that the boys were sitting there on the floor and playing, rosy- cheeked and healthy.
Lately he had taken on even more work than usual. Somehow he had to find a way to make Agnes more satisfied with her life, otherwise she would make all of them unhappy. Ever since they moved to the company compound she had nagged him to rent a place somewhere in town instead, and Anders had decided to do all he could to grant that wish. If it would make her even a bit more kindly disposed to him and the boys, his long hours of work would be more than worth it. He put aside every extra öre he could spare. Now that he had control of the household funds it was possible to save, even though it meant that their meals became rather monotonous. His mother hadn't taught him how to cook many dishes, and he always bought the cheapest ingredients he could find. Agnes reluctantly began to take on some of a wife's duties, and after some practice, what she cooked began to be actually edible, so Anders had some hope that he could give up responsibility for making dinner in the near future.
If they could only move into the town of Fjällbacka, where things were a little more lively, the situation might get brighter.
Maybe they could even have a real married life again, something she had denied him for over a year.
Before him the stone parted in a perfect cleavage right down the middle. He took it as a good omen - his plan was leading him in the right direction.
* * *
At precisely ten past ten, the train rolled in. Mellberg had already been waiting for half an hour. Several times he had been on the verge of turning the car around and driving back home. But that wouldn't have served any purpose. His whereabouts would have been asked about and soon the gossip would have started. It was just as well to confront this entire disagreeable situation head on. At the same time he couldn't ignore the fact that something resembling eagerness was stirring in his breast. At first he hadn't even been able to identify the feeling. It was so foreign to him to feel anticipation for something, anything, that it took him a long moment to work out what the bubbling sensation was. It came as a big surprise when he finally identified it.
Sheer nervousness made it impossible for him to stand still on the platform awaiting the train's arrival. He constantly shifted position, and for the first time in his life wished he smoked, so that he could have calmed his nerves with a cigarette. Before he left the house he had cast a wistful glance at the bottle of Absolut vodka, but managed to restrain himself. He didn't want to smell of liquor the first time they met. First impressions were important.
Then the thought popped into his head again and took root. What if what she had said wasn't really true? It was confusing not to know what he was even hoping for, whether he wanted it to be true or not. He had already vacillated back and forth many times, but right now he was leaning towards hoping that the letter was right. No matter how strange that felt.
A toot of the horn in the distance signalled that the train from Göteborg was approaching the station. Mellberg gave a start, which made the hair he had combed over the top of his scalp slide down over one ear. With a swift and practised motion he flipped the strands of hair back into place and made sure that they were properly positioned. He didn't want to disgrace himself right from the start.
The train came rolling in at such speed that at first Mellberg didn't think it was even going to stop. Maybe it would keep on going into the unknown and leave him standing there, with his feelings of eagerness and uncertainty. But at last the train slowed and with much screeching and general racket it came to a halt. He swept his eyes over all the doors. All at once it struck him that he didn't even know if he would recognize him. Shouldn't she have put a carnation in his buttonhole or something? Then he realized that he was the only one waiting on the platform, so at least the arriving passenger would be able to find Mellberg.
The door furthest back opened, and Mellberg felt his heart stop beating for a second. A lady of retirement age carefully climbed down the steps. The disappointment at seeing her got his heart started again. But then he emerged. And as soon as Mellberg saw him, all doubt was erased. He was filled with a quiet, strange, aching joy.
The weekends went by so fast, but Erica enjoyed having Patrik at home. Saturday and Sunday were the days she focused on. Then Patrik could take care of Maja in the mornings, and one of the nights she usually used the breast pump so that he could give Maja the milk. That meant that she got a whole night of blessed sleep, even though she paid a price by waking up with two aching, leaking breasts that felt like cannonballs. But it was worth it. She never would have imagined that nirvana was being allowed to sleep a whole night undisturbed.
But this weekend had felt different. Patrik had gone in to work a few hours on Saturday, and he was silent and tense. Even though she understood why, it annoyed her that he was unable to devote himself completely to her and Maja. Her disappointment in turn gave her a guilty conscience and made her feel like a bad person.
If Patrik's brooding might lead to Charlotte and Niclas finding out who had murdered their daughter, then Erica ought to be generous enough to excuse his lack of attention. But logic and rationality didn't seem to be her strong suit these days.
On Sunday afternoon the overcast weather that had lasted all week finally broke, and they went for a long walk in town. Erica couldn't help being amazed at how the appearance of the sun could suddenly transform their surroundings so completely. In the storm and rain Fjällbacka looked so barren, so implacable and grey, but now the town sparkled once again, wedged in at the base of the monolithic hill. No trace remained of the breakers that had crashed against the docks and caused temporary flooding of Ingrid Bergman Square. Now the air was clear and fresh, and the water lay placid and gleaming as if it had never looked any other way.
Patrik pushed the pram, and Maja for once had acquiesced to fall asleep in it.
'How are you doing, actually?' Erica asked, and Patrik jumped, as if he were far, far away.
'I'm the one who should be asking you that question,' Patrik said, sounding guilty. 'You have a hard enough time without worrying about me too.'
Erica stuck her arm in under his and leaned her head on his shoulder. 'We both worry about each other, okay? And to answer your question first, things have been b
etter, I have to admit. But they've been worse too. So now answer my question.'
She recognized Patrik's state of mind. It had been the same during the last murder investigation he'd handled, and this time it was a child who was the victim. And on top of everything, she was the daughter of one of her own friends.
'I just don't know how to proceed anymore. I've felt that way ever since we began this investigation. I went over everything again and again when I drove in to the station yesterday, but I've run out of ideas.'
'Is it true that nobody saw anything?'
He sighed. 'Yes, all they saw was Sara leaving the house. After that there was no trace of her. It's as if she vanished in a puff of smoke and then suddenly turned up in the sea.'
'I tried to ring Charlotte a while ago and Lilian answered,' Erica said cautiously. 'She sounded unusually curt, even for her. Is there something I should know about?'
Patrik hesitated, but finally decided to tell her. 'We did a crime- scene search at their house on Friday. Lilian was a bit upset about it…'
Erica raised her eyebrows. 'I can imagine. But why did you do that? I mean, someone outside the family must have done it, don't you think?'
Patrik shrugged. 'Yes, more than likely. But we can't just assume that's true. We have to investigate everything.' He was starting to get irritated that everyone was questioning the way he did his job. He couldn't rule out investigating the family simply because the idea was unpleasant. It was just as important to scrutinize the family members closely as it was to examine everything that pointed to an outside perpetrator. With no clues leading in a specific direction, all directions were equally important.
Erica could hear his irritation, and she patted him on the arm to show that she meant no offence. She felt him relax.
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