In the Heat of the Moment (Sandhamn Murders Book 5)

by Viveca Sten

  This weekend, they were all at Nora’s because an electrical problem meant there was no power at Jonas’s house. The island’s helpful electrician had promised to fix it the next day.

  The front door slammed behind Wilma, and she was gone.

  CHAPTER 3

  Wilma was smiling with satisfaction as she left, not bothering to close the gate. Her cell phone buzzed. It was a message from Malena.

  R u on the way? Am already at the harbor

  She quickly tapped out an answer.

  All good, am on the way

  She had absolutely no desire to celebrate Midsummer on Sandhamn with her father and Nora, but when she found out that her friends from the city were coming over, she suddenly started to look forward to the weekend in spite of Nora and her kids. To be fair, Simon could be quite cute; he liked Wilma to watch cartoons with him. But Adam was useless; he just sat at the computer, playing boring games, with or without his equally useless friends.

  Dad and Nora were even worse, pawing each other all the time when they thought no one was watching. Disgusting. Why did he have to meet her?

  Her phone buzzed again.

  Got anything?

  Wilma smiled as she patted her bag. There were several boxes of wine in Nora’s old potato cellar; Wilma had discovered them by chance and had helped herself to two bottles from the box in the back corner.

  All week, she had been thinking about what to wear and had repeatedly tried on every single item she owned. Eventually she had decided on a short white denim skirt with a simple tank top. She wanted to look good without going too far.

  In H&M, she had found a new mascara she couldn’t really afford; she had slipped it into her pocket when no one was looking. She knew it was wrong, but if no one caught her, then they had only themselves to blame.

  Wilma had started hanging out with the new gang during the spring semester. Everyone in her class was so immature; they were always messing around. The boys were pimply and ridiculous; one minute, they were talking in deep voices, the next in falsetto.

  The new crowd was much more exciting—especially Mattias. He was the brother of her friend Malena, who was in the same grade in school. There were two and a half years between the siblings, and Mattias attended an inner-city high school.

  He was tall and dark, and he had let his hair grow down below his collar. He would tuck it behind his ears so that it curled into his neck. Wilma longed to run her hand through those curls. He wore a silver chain, and she loved the way he dressed in ripped jeans and suede loafers. He was so much cooler than the boys in her class, with their ugly hoodies and sneakers. They reminded her of a troop of monkeys.

  It hadn’t taken long for Wilma to fall for Mattias, but so far it seemed he hadn’t noticed. He hardly spoke to her, in spite of her best attempts to attract his attention at every opportunity.

  Whenever she saw him, Wilma would sit for hours afterward, going through everything he’d said. She analyzed each sentence and the way he’d said it, the way he looked at her when he spoke.

  She knew she wasn’t the only one who liked Mattias. He always had various girls hanging around, and his cell phone buzzed constantly. Now and again, he would laugh and show the message to the other guys, sometimes with an ironic comment.

  Wilma licked her lips, checking that her lip gloss was still in place. It was called Spring Blossom and was a kind of pinky-orange. It, too, had been slipped into her pocket in H&M, and she thought it made her look older and more experienced.

  Tonight Mattias was going to notice her. Wilma could feel it in her body; tonight he would realize that she wasn’t some little kid his sister had dragged along.

  The wine bottles in her bag were her trump card. She would show him she was on the money, that she, too, could be a part of his gang.

  She was ready to do whatever it took.

  “Shall we have coffee down by the jetty?” Nora suggested.

  The sun was still high in the sky, even though it was almost eight o’clock. It had been a long time since the Midsummer weekend had brought such good weather, and it was lovely to feel the heat after a long, dark winter.

  Jonas pulled her close and murmured into her ear, “We’ve got the house to ourselves.”

  Nora rested her head against his, enjoying the feeling of intimacy.

  “The boys are with their friends, and Wilma won’t be back for hours,” Jonas went on, a smile playing at one corner of his mouth. Nora felt herself respond, warmth spreading through her belly and her body beginning to tingle. With her mouth half-open, she met Jonas’s lips.

  Then she stopped herself. “What if Adam and Simon come back? That would be awkward.”

  She twisted out of his arms, pretending not to notice the disappointment in his eyes.

  “We’ll have plenty of time later,” she said, bending down to get a tray. She set out two mugs, sugar, a bar of dark chocolate, and a jug of milk.

  “Would you like anything with your coffee?” she asked. “A celebratory Cognac, maybe?”

  Jonas didn’t seem to have taken offense; instead he gave her such an inviting smile that she almost changed her mind. She couldn’t help appreciating him as he stood there, leaning against the kitchen countertop in jeans and a green V-neck sweater, with deck shoes on his bare feet. Only the thought of the boys held her back.

  “Coffee’s fine by me,” he said. “But don’t let me stop you.”

  Nora thought for a moment. Did she want a Cognac or something else? Maybe a drop of Armagnac. They had shared a bottle of red wine over dinner, but it would be nice to have a little digestif. She poured herself a small measure, then picked up the tray and carried it through the glassed-in veranda and down the long flight of steps leading to her favorite spot by the water, which was still bathed in warm sunshine. The sound of laughter could be heard from the property next door, where several visiting sailboats had berthed by the jetty. The neighbors had laid an impressive table, and the aroma of barbecue lingered in the air. Nora could make out the harmonies of a drinking song ending with a robust “Skål!”

  She smiled as the schnapps glasses clinked together. This was exactly what a typical Midsummer on Sandhamn should be: everyone sitting in their gardens with good food and drink.

  She put down the tray on the white wooden table, and while Jonas unscrewed the lid of the thermos, Nora set out the mugs and broke the chocolate bar into pieces.

  A sudden rush of wings made her look up, and she saw a flock of swallows way up above her head. The soaring birds were a sure sign of high pressure; hopefully the warm weather would hold for at least the next few days.

  Nora sat down contentedly and picked up her coffee. This is almost too good to be true, she thought.

  CHAPTER 4

  Elin was lying on her back, her little mouth clamped around a pacifier that was moving in time with her breathing. The tiny fingers, which had been clenched in anger and waving around in the air, now rested peacefully on the thin blanket. A teddy bear was tucked in one corner of the crib, and a mobile of colorful butterflies dangled above her pillow.

  Detective Inspector Thomas Andreasson stood beside the white crib in his summer cottage on the island of Harö, contemplating his daughter. A narrow strip of light seeped in through a gap in the blackout curtains they had put up to help her sleep, enabling him to make out her delicate features. Her eyebrows were so pale, they were barely visible, and wisps of hair curled above her ears.

  He gently touched the little hand. The nails were pink and lovely, incomprehensibly small compared to his own. Her chest rose and fell with reassuring regularity, and Thomas felt himself relax.

  His daughter was sleeping, and she was fine.

  When her older sister, Emily, died at the age of three months, the grief had been so overwhelming that he had almost gone under. His marriage to Pernilla hadn’t survived the loss. They were driven apart by a despair they just couldn’t handle, and it was only last year that they had found their way back to each other.
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  Pernilla had contacted him, wanting to meet up. Thomas had hesitated; the fear of opening old wounds was deeply embedded within him. However, when they saw each other, he remembered only that light summer’s night in Stockholm when they fell in love, Pernilla’s smile during their wedding in Djurö church, and the joy when Emily was born. It was as if they had never been apart.

  They had been given a second chance.

  It was Pernilla who helped him along the road to recovery after the serious accident on the ice off Sandhamn a year or so earlier, when he had sunk into a depression where life was gray, and he didn’t even know if he would be able to continue working as a police officer. The thought of his duties with the Violent Crime Unit, where cases were piling up and the resources were always inadequate, had seemed utterly impossible.

  He also felt incredibly guilty and suffered from nagging doubts about his own capabilities.

  But if he stopped being a cop, then who was he?

  The big change came with Elin. When he found out he was going to be a father again, the depression finally loosened its persistent grip. She was born in March, and with her arrival, he woke from his long trance; it was as if a fine layer of dust had been wiped from a window so that it became clear and transparent once more.

  She would soon be the same age as Emily had been on that night when she died in her sleep and left Thomas and Pernilla helpless and grieving.

  He would always carry with him the image of his daughter’s body on that terrible morning.

  “Thomas, where are you? Your coffee’s getting cold,” Pernilla called from the veranda outside.

  Thomas noticed that his grip on the bars of the crib had tightened involuntarily. With enormous effort, he loosened his fingers and gently stroked Elin’s soft cheek. She whimpered, and the pacifier almost popped out of her mouth. Thomas quickly pushed it back in, and his daughter continued sucking happily.

  With one last lingering look, he went to join Pernilla.

  CHAPTER 5

  Adrian Karlsson adjusted his belt, which was heavy with the weight of his police radio, baton, and the holster containing his service weapon. The belt alone weighed over ten pounds; altogether the equipment and his uniform weighed well over thirty.

  When he had put it on for the first time, his knees had almost given out, but now he appreciated the feeling of having everything he needed within easy reach. Today, however, he was sweating like crazy in his dark-blue uniform. It was made to keep the heat in rather than enabling him to keep cool.

  This wasn’t the first time he had been sent over to Sandhamn for the Midsummer weekend, but he had never experienced such good weather. It felt like the height of summer, even though it was only June 21. His shirt had been soaked through for hours, and his back was wet with perspiration. Even the roots of his cropped light-brown hair were damp.

  He was standing on the promenade with his colleague Anna Miller, in front of the row of red-painted stalls and kiosks. It was past eight o’clock in the evening, and he’d been on duty since ten in the morning. The only break they’d had was a quick lunch, followed by an afternoon coffee in the police outreach contact center, which was at their disposal over the weekend.

  Anna was a constable and had completed her training at the police academy only a few years earlier. She was twenty-seven, five years younger than Adrian, and just a few inches shorter than his six feet two. Her Korean ancestry was evident in her narrow eyes and stick-straight black hair, which she wore in a ponytail.

  In spite of her youth, she had quickly found her way. Today she used a smile to allay any aggression from those who were stopped, cheerfully deflecting one barbed comment after another. The consumption of alcohol in public areas was banned on Sandhamn during the Midsummer weekend, and whenever they encountered someone carrying an open bottle, they instructed the owner to pour out the contents. Adrian and Anna were pleasant and polite, but the message was clear: You need to pour it out. Right now.

  The youngest individuals they came across were no more than thirteen or fourteen. It was depressing to see them staggering around.

  For some reason, it had become a tradition for young people from Stockholm to come over for Midsummer. They had just one goal: get as drunk as possible, either on a boat or elsewhere on the island.

  On Midsummer’s Eve, they went over to Möja, in the northern part of the archipelago. On Midsummer’s Day itself, they moved south to Sandhamn.

  Like a swarm of grasshoppers, invading the area one island at a time.

  This was the worst day of the year on Sandhamn.

  The thumping beat of pop music from the harbor just about reached Nora’s jetty. Since early afternoon, a constant stream of motor launches, mostly overfilled with youngsters, had passed through the Sound, heading into Sandhamn. Every time Nora had glanced up from her book, it seemed as if more and more boats were on their way.

  As long as there wasn’t any trouble. The previous year, a serious fight had broken out, and a young boy with a punctured lung had been airlifted to the hospital. He had arrived in the nick of time.

  The image of Wilma came to Nora’s mind. Her jacket was still hanging in the hallway. She had gone out in her thin tank top, with no outdoor clothes. She would look after herself, wouldn’t she?

  As if he had read her mind, Jonas said, “Do you think I give in to Wilma too easily?”

  Nora picked up her coffee before answering. She tried to choose her words carefully; she didn’t want to spoil the relaxed mood. “You give her a lot of leeway,” she said eventually.

  “You mean I spoil her?”

  Jonas leaned back in his chair with a faint smile, as if he was all too aware that he wasn’t strict enough with his daughter.

  Nora hesitated. “Well, yes, you could say that.”

  She fell silent, gazing out across the water. The sun was approaching Harö, where it would sink behind the trees in a couple of hours. A few gulls were circling over the jetties, looking for something to eat. Another ringing “Skål!” came from the neighboring garden.

  “Wilma knows exactly which buttons to press in order to get what she wants. She’s quite”—Nora searched for the right word—“precocious.”

  She was going to say challenging, but she didn’t want to push it. Then she reminded herself that she wasn’t talking to Henrik, her ex-husband, whose mood could change in a second. Things were simpler with Jonas. She realized she had unconsciously tensed her muscles before she opened her mouth. Old habits were hard to break.

  Jonas interrupted her train of thought. “You’re right, of course, but it’s not easy to keep her on a tight leash all the time. Especially now.”

  He leaned over, took Nora’s hand, and turned it palm upward. He ran his forefinger gently over the parallel lines, his skin soft against hers.

  “She needs time to get used to the situation. There’s a lot for her to take in, now that you’re a part of my life.”

  Nora looked at Jonas in the evening sunlight. His light-brown hair was longer at the nape of his neck, and his brown eyes held a hint of green. His expression was open; there was nothing complicated about him. The age difference had bothered her at first; she would soon turn forty-one, and he was seven years younger. However, she hardly ever thought about it now.

  The circular movement on her palm increased, giving her a tingling feeling in her belly. Why had she insisted on coffee? They’d had a perfect opportunity. Why did she always have to be so goddamn practical?

  With three kids around, you have to seize the moment.

  “This is a big change for her,” Jonas went on.

  “And for my boys, too.”

  Nora could hear that her voice was sharper than she’d intended. Softening her tone, she said, “They all need time, I understand that. This year has been a big adjustment in many ways, but I think it’s good if we have roughly the same approach to certain things when it comes to the kids.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jonas gently lowe
red Nora’s hand onto her lap and leaned back. Nora wanted to be honest without upsetting him. This business of “my kids” and “your kids” wasn’t easy, as she had realized over the course of the winter.

  “Adam’s only a year younger than Wilma,” she said after a brief pause. “Soon he’ll want to go out in the evenings, too, and when that happens, I won’t let him stay out until one o’clock in the morning. He’s far too young, and I’d lie awake, worrying about him.”

  Nora paused, but Jonas didn’t say anything, so she went on: “I just don’t want us to be giving different signals to our children . . .”

  Jonas straightened up. The carefree expression was gone, and he suddenly looked anxious. Nora wished she’d kept quiet.

  A motor launch zoomed past the jetty and entered the Sound, ignoring the speed limit of five knots. The swell almost tipped over a small sailboat; the lone sailor had his hands full trying to counter the waves. He shouted angrily at the ignorant driver.

  Jonas took out his cell phone, and Wilma’s smiling, suntanned face appeared on the display. Her fair hair framed her features in soft layers, and she was squinting slightly into the sunlight.

  “You’re right,” Jonas said unexpectedly. “I shouldn’t have said she could stay out so late.”

  He pressed the screen and the image disappeared. He put the phone back in his pocket, then gave a smile that was disarming, bordering on mischievous, like a little boy who’d been caught doing something naughty. “I’ll try to do better, I promise.”

  He winked and took Nora’s hand again. Gently he brought it to his lips and kissed it. His breath was hot against her fingertips, and his lips lingered for a moment.

  “Are you absolutely sure you want to have coffee right now?”

  CHAPTER 6

  Adrian and Anna were standing on the promenade, surveying the area. Over to the right, the large jetty in front of the Sailors Hotel was packed with people holding glasses. Just over half an hour ago, the traditional shot had been fired, signaling that the flag should be lowered; it was taken down at exactly nine o’clock in the evening.