73
The realization that they weren’t dealing with a single perpetrator with many faces, but two, a man and a woman, caused the whole team to deflate. The fact that there was another person, still at large, and so cold-blooded that she could march straight into the jail pretending to be Dina Dee and point out the wrong person in the lineup, had knocked their legs out from under them. Fabian saw no option but to let Tuvesson’s promise of a night off remain in effect.
Fabian was in shock. He’d realized as much when he swung by ICA Kurir on his way home to pick up taco fixings and found himself wandering around the store with no idea what ingredients he needed.
When he got home, grocery bag in hand, he was surprised to find that the house already smelled like cooking food, and Feist’s Metals was coming from the stereo. “Bittersweet Melodies” started up just as he closed the door behind him.
“Hi.” Sonja aimed a smile at him. “Perfect timing. Dinner’s ready.” She opened the oven, pulled out a steaming lasagna, and placed it in the centre of the table.
No one could make a lasagna like Sonja. She had her own secret blend of spices, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d smelled that particular scent, which transported him back in time to another life, when they’d been a real team. Back then they ate dinner together all the time, laughing and sharing their troubles over endless bottles of wine.
“Hi,” he answered as he tried to figure out what was going on. She hadn’t been home since Saturday, but suddenly she was in full swing in the kitchen and had made her lasagna for the first time in several years. “I thought you were at that Alex White guy’s place.” Something was definitely up.
“I was, but not in the way you think. He’s been in Los Angeles, and I’ve more or less been working day and night. Look, it’s almost finished.” She showed him a picture on her phone: a rectangular wooden box, several metres long, resting on several plinths in the middle of the large gallery room. “All it needs now is to be treated and hung. Isn’t it lovely?”
Fabian nodded. He could only agree. It was truly impressive, both in size and shape, and it was different from anything she’d done before. What’s more, she’d finished it in record time, as if she had finally cracked the code of her own creativity. Maybe that was why she was in such a good mood.
“I also had time to do some thinking,” she went on, taking her phone back. “Go tell the kids it’s time to eat.”
Fabian nodded again and took out his phone to send them a text, but then he decided to walk upstairs and see them. What he really wanted to do was ask Sonja if she had been thinking about their relationship, and if so, what she had decided. Whether she still wanted him, or if it was over.
On his way up he met Matilda, who was wearing so much makeup a person might think she was on her way to Copenhagen to stand on a corner on Istedgade. He turned around to say something, but her pattering feet were already downstairs and heading for the kitchen.
Doomsday music was streaming through Theodor’s door, the same stuff he always listened to when he was at his worst. As expected, he was lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling.
“Theodor, dinner’s ready.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Fabian went to the stereo and turned down the volume. “Is something wrong?”
“No, I’m just not very hungry.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, do you have a problem with that?”
“I don’t know.” Fabian sat down on the edge of the bed. “Should I?”
Theodor rolled his eyes and made no effort to hide the fact that he was ready to do anything in exchange for a new dad.
“Listen,” Fabian went on. “I can tell something’s wrong. And fine, you don’t want to talk about it. God knows I never wanted to talk to my parents either. But just so you know, you can always come to —”
“Hello up there! Where are you?” Sonja called from downstairs.
“Hey…you can at least keep us company. Come on.”
The lasagna was as good as he remembered, and the Italian wine Sonja had sprung for made the latest development in the investigation seem ever more distant. Even Theodor choked down a small helping, although he looked paler than ever and mostly just stared at his plate.
“Theo, what’s going on?” Sonja said after a while. “Did something happen?”
“Shit, stop nagging me. I said I’m fine.”
“Watch your language, please.” Fabian held a warning finger in the air.
“He’s got girl problems,” Matilda said, mid-bite. “It’s so obvious.”
“What the hell would you know about it?” Theodor said.
“Esmaralda and I were talking to Greta yesterday, and she said you and your girlfriend were having a fight.”
Theodor stood up so suddenly that his chair fell over. “You don’t have a single goddamn clue, okay? You have no fucking idea about anything.”
“Theo!” Sonja said. “Didn’t you hear your father? We don’t speak to each other like that in this house.”
“Right, and that’s why I’m going to keep my mouth shut from now on.” Theodor disappeared up the stairs, and soon they heard the heavy thudding of his music once more.
“What’s with him?” Sonja shook her head. “I’m so confused. The other day he was so cheerful.”
“That was back when he was blissfully in love,” Matilda said, finishing her glass of milk.
“And what is he now? Out of love?”
Matilda shrugged. “I don’t know. I can ask Greta if you want.”
“Who’s that? That ghost you’re always talking about?” Fabian said.
“We don’t call them ghosts. They’re spirit beings.”
“Okay, but I don’t like you doing that stuff and I think you should stop.”
“Why? You don’t believe in it anyway.”
“No, but I’d prefer that you stop.”
“I agree with Dad,” Sonja said, pouring herself more wine.
“Oh wow, suddenly you two are just agreeing about everything. Are you back in love or something?”
“Don’t take that tone with your mother. That applies to you just as much as it does to Theodor,” he said, lowering his meaningless finger-in-the-air. “Furthermore, I would like to know why you’re wearing so much makeup.”
“What, you’re going to complain about that now, too?”
“Matilda, you are thirteen years old.”
“So? I happen to be becoming a woman, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Sure, but I for one am not ready to be a grandpa yet. So why not —”
“Don’t you worry, I know how to protect myself,” Matilda interrupted. She left the table without saying thanks for the food or clearing her plate.
He didn’t let out his breath until her door slammed full force, cutting through Theodor’s thudding music. He shook his head. “How pleasant.” He raised his glass toward Sonja for a toast. “And here I was hoping she would be easier.”
“Who wasn’t?” Sonja said, raising her own glass.
“Not much easier, just enough to keep my head above water. Is that too much to ask?” He sipped his wine and watched Sonja laugh and shake her head in commiseration. For the first time in a long time, it felt like they were in the same boat. “You were saying you’d had time to think.”
Sonja nodded. “Yes, I think it was really great for me to spend some time alone these last few days; to get some perspective.”
“That’s always a good idea.” Fabian stood up to get another bottle of wine.
“I want to apologize for acting like an asshole last Friday.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said, uncorking the bottle. “I suppose I don’t deserve any better.”
“No, you definitely deserve better. And that’s what I wanted to talk about.”
She met his gaze and he sat down again, holding the bottle, and wondered where this conversation was going. “Fabian. I think it would be best for us to separate for real.”
74
Jeanette Dawn did not like hospitals. There was something about the white coats, long hallways, and that peculiar smell that seemed like a mix of death and excessively strong cleaning agents. It made her want to turn around at the door and walk away.
Her last childbirth had been awful. Sune was in a bad position, face up, and he only came out after forty-eight hellish hours of screaming and pushing. By the end, she’d lost so much blood that it must have looked like a remake of Rosemary’s Baby. It was nothing short of a miracle that she’d even survived.
And now here she was again. Of course, this time she and the boys had their own room with a private bathroom attached. But those were the same joy-killing fluorescent lights on the ceiling and the same white coats coming in at all hours.
Jeanette couldn’t understand why they hadn’t made the rooms a little cosier, and she wanted nothing more than to check into the Grand Hotel with the boys instead. The big suite was almost always available in the middle of the week. But no, the lead physician insisted they stay under observation for at least three days.
Only after a great deal of pressure from the police had he agreed to let her out to go to the jail for the lineup. It had been hard. Much harder than she’d expected. Afterward she felt like a wrung-out dishrag. She wanted to lie down and be free of any responsibility.
They said she was still in shock. All she could feel was a great, consuming exhaustion, like you might feel after a long journey full of delays, missed flights, and sharply lit waiting rooms full of uncomfortable chairs. She was done for, and she didn’t even know if she could manage the strength to get out of the bathtub and go to bed.
Strangely enough, the fact that her husband had been murdered didn’t make her feel much. Not that she didn’t love Chris; she truly did. They might have had their issues, just like anyone else, but he was the most important person in her life.
But he no longer existed, and Jeanette felt almost nothing.
It was a dry statement, like saying there wouldn’t be any snow for Christmas. Sort of disappointing, but nothing to get excited about. If this was the shock, how would she feel when it passed? Did she even want it to?
Or was it because the medicine she was taking every five minutes was too strong? The doctor said it would dull the pain. Instead it seemed to make everything go away. Except for the boys. It was different with them. She could still feel a sting of anxiety about what might happen.
So far they were clueless, but Jeanette worried how long she could put off telling them. How do you tell a child that he will never see his father again? That someone took his life in such a terrible, cold-blooded way? Was it even possible?
The boys were in their beds, each watching a movie on a tablet with headphones. She could hear Viktor bursting into laughter every now and then. He always did when he was watching Rat Race, even though he’d seen it countless times.
But it was only a temporary calm, she knew. No matter how much she was enjoying the hot bath and the drugs, it was only a matter of time before the great anguish would come rolling in on top of them.
In the room outside, the door opened and a nurse came in with her cart. Both Viktor and Sune looked up from their tablets.
“Hi, what’s your name?” Viktor asked, taking off his headphones.
“Hi there. My name’s Jenny and I’ll be here on the ward all night. I just wanted to check in and make sure everything’s okay.”
“Have you seen Rat Race?”
“No, I don’t think so. Is it good?”
Viktor nodded. “You know what? One of them falls asleep all the time. He can be running and he’ll just stop and start snoring. And another guy, he…he hangs from a rope from an air balloon and it’s floating over a field full of all these cows, and he bangs into cow after cow.” Viktor burst into laughter.
“Whoa, that does sound really exciting,” the nurse said as she filled two plastic cups with water.
“What’s your name?” Now Sune had taken off his headphones.
“Jenny,” the nurse responded, approaching their beds with the cups. “Time to take your medicine.”
“Do you have a dog?”
“No.” She gave them each a little cup with fluid in it.
“Why not?”
“I’m allergic to animals. Otherwise I’d probably have a bunch of pets.”
“My dad is allergic too,” Viktor said. “If he eats nuts his face gets all red and he throws up.”
“Maybe if you don’t eat the dog it will be okay?” Sune said.
“Sure, maybe,” the nurse laughed.
“You know what? One time I threw up when I ate peas,” Viktor said. “Super gross.”
“That doesn’t sound fun at all. Listen, it’s almost time to go to sleep. So if you want to watch any more of your movies, you should do it right now.” She helped them put their headphones back on, raised the volume a few notches, and went to the bathroom.
“Hi there…how’s it going?”
Jeanette had been about to fall asleep when the nurse peeked into the bathroom. She was too tired to respond, and hoped a slight nod would be enough to be left in peace again.
If only it had been that simple.
“My name is Jenny,” the smiling nurse went on, and instead of leaving she walked over to the sink and filled a cup with water. “I’ll be here on the ward for the night shift. If anything comes up, just ring one of the alarm buttons. Okay?”
Jeanette nodded again.
“Good. So that just leaves your night-time medicine.” Jenny approached the bathtub. “I think it will be easiest if you just open your mouth and I’ll stick it in.”
Jeanette didn’t really understand why she needed more tranquilizers. Hadn’t they pumped her full of chemicals already? On the other hand, she had nothing against the responsibility-free haze she was floating around in. If it were up to her, it would last forever. She did as she was told, and she could tell almost immediately that this medicine was stronger. Much stronger. But of course, it was supposed to last all night, that was probably why.
The nurse smiled at her again, then turned her back and left without so much as a word. Jeanette couldn’t bring herself to care. People were so strange nowadays. It was like all the rules had been erased and no one cared anymore. Like cyclists. She had never liked cyclists. Did they think they owned the streets…?
Why had she come back in? Had she forgotten something? And that fake smile again. She would bet this nurse was a cyclist. She just screamed cyclist from miles off. But why was she sitting on the edge of the bathtub? Couldn’t she just leave her alone? Was she going to take her blood pressure? Was that why she was lifting her arm out of the water?
But the nurse wasn’t after Jeanette’s blood pressure. Instead she was after the largest vein on the inside of her wrist. As soon as she found it, she let the scalpel pierce the thin skin and made a cut long enough for the blood to start flowing out into the steaming water.
Jeanette’s body jerked with the pain and she mumbled something incoherent about cyclists, but she didn’t have the strength to put up a fight when the nurse lifted her other arm and made a similar cut. The water quickly turned pink, and Jeanette closed her eyes and leaned back, as if somewhere under all those tranquilizers, she realized there was no point in struggling.
In the other room, the two boys were already fast asleep, and the nurse could take her time as she removed their headphones, turned off their tablets, tucked the boys in, and walked away.
75
As Fabian stepped into the conference room, his mind was still at home in the row house on Pålsjögatan, trying to process the news that Sonja wanted a divorce. It wasn’t really that surprising. In h
indsight, the last four or five years had been one long straightaway headed for this very crossroads.
Yet he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it. Somehow it still felt like this was about other people, not them. After all, they had vowed before friends and family that whatever happened, the two of them would be a team. That they could get through anything, no matter how difficult or painful it might be. Of course, he had considered asking for a divorce, too, and on more than one occasion. But it had never seemed like a viable alternative.
Cliff and Lilja were reorganizing all the notes and pictures on the whiteboards. New pictures had been put up, from the hidden sex dungeon in Halén’s basement and the unmarked grave in his backyard. An image of the female perpetrator as she’d looked masquerading as Dina Dee had been placed under the collection of pictures of the male perpetrator’s various disguises.
Their new tactic was to place everything on one big timeline, with every important event marked. From Jeanette Dawn’s death the previous night to Chris Dawn’s; from Peter Brise’s faked drowning last week to Brise’s death two months earlier; and so on, all the way back to Halén’s death eighteen months ago.
Fabian tried taking in all the information, all the victims placed in a line. The female perpetrator who had just killed their only witness and seemed to be equally, terrifyingly good at playing a role as the man she was colluding with. He couldn’t do it.
What about the kids? he’d asked, fumbling to formulate sentences. We were supposed to…for Theo’s sake.
Fabian, Sonja had replied, her expression unchanged. In a few weeks it will have been two years, and I have trouble believing he feels any better just because we’re still living this lie. He recalled each word as if it were carved in stone. So that’s what was left of their vow. A lie. A thin curtain separating their failed attempt to keep things cosy and loving from the pitch-black abyss on the other side.
“Hello! Are you awake?”
Fabian realized that Cliff was standing in front of him and waving. “Sorry, I…what did you say?”
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