‘Why?’
She says it so quietly the question is swallowed by the wind. But Susanne can read it in her eyes.
‘Don’t you see? She had everything that was mine. She’d stolen my entire life. I’ve explained it all in a letter, Sigrid. It’s in Anne’s house in Sweden; I’ve been staying there since she died. It’s my life now.’
Then Susanne rushes over to Karen. Bends down and bellows:
‘And I’m not going to let you take what’s mine, you fucking whore. Sigrid’s my daughter, not yours. Don’t you forget it.’
Her eyes glow with hate when she raises her hand and slaps Karen hard.
The blow knocks Karen’s head into the metal wall; Susanne turns back to Sigrid.
‘I’m always going to be your mother. No one can take that away from me!’
*
Karen barely notices the sharp beam of light suddenly sweeping across them. Barely hears the sounds of the ship’s siren and of running steps. Her field of vision narrows and all sounds become suddenly remote. As though from inside a bell jar, she sees Susanne shade her eyes with her hand as she looks up at the helicopter searchlight, watches her turn back to Sigrid and slowly shake her head. Her face looks completely blank. Drained of hope of a better life. Drained of life. This is it, Karen thinks. This is when she makes her final decision.
Then Susanne grabs the railing with both hands and heaves herself up onto it; Karen sees Sigrid rush over to stop her. Sees her own arm raised in a desperate attempt to grab hold of the girl. Feels a surge of panic that Susanne will pull Sigrid down with her.
Karen’s hand latches onto Sigrid’s jumper; pain slices through her as her body is yanked forward. With a strength she doesn’t feel like she has, but which must nevertheless exist somewhere deep inside her, hidden under layers of despair and years of grief, she forces her hand to hold on. Knowing that she’s holding onto life itself. Her fingers are clinging to hope, hope of healing and redemption. Hope for Sigrid. For John. For Mathis.
For a child that mustn’t be lost.
*
The wind tears at the woman who has now swung one leg over the railing. Her body sways; she’s still clutching the white iron bar.
‘Read the letter, Sigrid!’ she shouts. ‘You’ll understand.’
Then she opens her hands and lets go.
And somewhere, far beyond herself, Karen hears Sigrid roar out her despair as her mum falls and disappears into the darkness below.
88
It’s like someone’s playing with a switch, turning the lights on and off around her. Relentless flashes of light that force her back to reality, alternating with a gentle darkness that lets her slip away from it all.
The sharp light when the paramedics lift her onto a stretcher, then the prick of a needle that makes the wave of pain slowly retreat. The swishing roar of the rotor blades and straps being tightened before darkness envelops her again. Faint vibrations, calming voices speaking a different language than her own, unfamiliar voices telling her not to fall asleep.
‘Don’t fall asleep, sweetie.’
It sounds like Marike, Karen notes. But surely she’s not here?
*
She knows nothing of her journey to Copenhagen’s main hospital, but in the sharp glare when the lights are turned on again, she sees tubes, white coats and focused eyes. For a moment, she doesn’t understand why she’s in a hospital. Her alarm’s probably about to go off and she’ll have to get up and go to work. Her next conscious thought is that there’s a loud humming around her. Now, it feels like she’s going into a tunnel and she thinks to herself that she’s probably dying. That this must be what it feels like. That it must have been like this for John and Mathis, too.
And she thinks there’s a smile on her lips when she realises it’s not so bad, after all.
But then the lights are turned on again and she’s forced back. Apparently, she’s not dying today. The humming has stopped, replaced by voices. Murmuring voices, speaking words she can understand at first but then words she doesn’t recognise and she panics. More needle pricks and soothing hands. And now, she can see kind eyes between green skullcaps and white masks. Then it finally goes dark again.
*
She’s not sure how time passes, whether it’s fast or slow. Later on, she will be told she spent almost three full days after her surgery at the hospital in Copenhagen, before she was flown back to Doggerland. That it will be some time before she can go home. Unbearably long days she has to spend motionless in a bed at Thysted Hospital in Dunker. She escaped the blow to her head with nothing worse than lacerations, a severe concussion and a skull fracture. Fourteen stitches, antibiotics and plenty of rest will take care of those things, her doctors have assured her. Her ribcage has been stabilised and is holding her broken ribs in place. Her left leg, however, which snapped just above her ankle, and her knee, where two tendons were severed, are a different story. At least two weeks at Thysted before they can even discuss discharging her. After that, she will convalesce at home and make frequent visits to a physiotherapist.
‘But you are going to make a complete recovery.’
*
They find Susanne’s letter in a house in Limhamn that Anne Crosby had inherited from her father. The house in which Susanne lived as her sister for a few weeks. She’d made no effort to hide the envelope with Sigrid’s name on it. Since it’s technically relevant to the investigation, five people have read it: Karl Björken, Evald Johannisen, Dineke Vegen, Viggo Haugen and Jounas Smeed.
Karen is given a copy, as well, even though she’s on sick leave and no longer on the case. She’s still dazed from the analgesics when Karl asks her if she feel strong enough to read what Susanne Smeed wrote to her daughter.
‘It’s proper sick,’ he warns her.
Karen nods slowly and takes the letter. With a growing sense of unease, she looks at the crowded lines, the furious uppercase letters, the underlining, the misspelled words. Then she begins to read.
TO SIGRID,
IF YOU’RE READING THIS, IT MEANS I’M DEAD. YOU MIGHT BE AN OLD WOMAN YOURSELF, MAYBE YOU HAVE CHILDREN OF YOUR OWN. MAYBE YOU’VE SUSPECTED IT WASN’T ME WHO DIED IN THE HOUSE IN LANGEVIK. I BELIEVE A PERSON CAN SENSE WHETHER OR NOT THEIR MOTHER’S ALIVE.
BUT I HAVE KILLED AND I WANT YOU TO KNOW WHY. NOT SO YOU CAN FORGIVE ME BECAUSE I DON’T EVEN WANT TO BE FORGIVEN. BUT YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND.
YOUR FATHER’S A REAL ASSHOLE (I’M SORRY, BUT THAT’S THE TRUTH) BORN WITH A SILVER SPOON IN HIS MOUTH, GOT EVERYTHING FOR FREE WHILE I HAD TO STRUGGLE. I ALWAYS HAD TO STRUGGLE!!!
AND HE WASN’T GRATEFUL EITHER. EVEN THOUGH HE WAS A ‘REAL SMEED’ AND I WAS ‘THE WRONG SORT’ HIS WHOLE FAMILY THOUGHT SO. YOUR GRANDFATHER WAS THE WORST OF THE LOT!!! AXEL SMEED REQUIRED A PRENUP TO HELP US FIND A FLAT EVEN THOUGH YOU WERE JUST AN INFANT. HE EVEN THREATENED TO DISINHERIT YOUR FATHER IF WE DIDN’T SIGN IT.
I DIDN’T GET TO KEEP ANYTHING IN THE DIVORCE!!!
AND AXEL STOLE MY INHERITENCE FROM MY MOTHER, TOO. YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT ABOUT HIM. HE BOUGHT ALL THE LAND FROM MY FATHER, PIECE BY PIECE, FOR A PITTANCE, UNTIL THERE WAS NOTHING LEFT FOR ME TO INHERIT.
BEHIND MY BACK!!!
I DIDN’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT IT UNTIL AFTER THE DIVORCE. ALL YOUR FATHER WOULD GIVE ME WAS ‘A LITTLE SOMETHING’ EVERY MONTH SO YOU COULD HAVE A ‘TOLERABLE QUALITY OF LIFE’ WHEN YOU WERE WITH ME.
FUCKING PRICK!!!
YOUR FATHER WANTED TO KEEP EVEYRTHING WHILE I HAD TO STRUGGLE.
WHEN YOU MOVED OUT AS WELL, I WAS ALL ALONE. NO FRIENDS AND WORK WAS HELL. AFTER A FEW YEARS, I COULDN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE. I JUST WANTED TO DIE AND THOUGHT ABOUT KILLING MYSELF ALMOST EVERY DAY.
Karen lets the letter sink onto her chest and closes her eyes. Is Sigrid going to have to read this? Or has she already? As though he can tell what she’s thinking, she hears Karl’s voice from the visitor’s chair.
‘We had to. She’s over eighteen and it was addressed to her. She received it yeste
rday.’
She’s never going to be the same again, Karen concludes. Never. Then she picks the letter back up and forces herself to keep reading.
THAT WAS WHEN A WOMAN BY THE NAME OF DISA BRINCKMANN CALLED.
SHE HAD LIVED IN A COMMUNE WITH MY PARENTS AND WAS THERE WHEN I WAS BORN. SHE TOLD ME NOT EVEN MY OWN MOTHER WAS MINE. MY FATHER HAD CONCEIVED ME WITH ANOTHER WOMAN.
BUT THEN SHE SAID I HAD A TWIN SISTER.
THEY HAD SPLIT US UP BETWEEN THEMSELVES LIKE KITTENS!!! MY SISTER GOT TO GO TO SWEDEN AND I WAS LEFT BEHIND.
I MET DISA BRINCKMANN AND MY SISTER IN MALMÖ.
AT FIRST, I DIDN’T SEE IT BECAUSE SHE LOOKED MUCH BETTER THAN ME, ON THE SURFACE. BUT THEN WE SAW IT. WE LOOKED EXACTLY ALIKE!!!
NO ONE HAD REALISED WE WERE IDENTICAL TWINS WHEN WE WERE BORN. NOT EVEN DISA BRINCKMANN HAD KNOWN UNTIL THAT MOMENT. WE EVEN HAD THE SAME VOICE AND TALKED THE SAME WAY BECAUSE WE’D BOTH GROWN UP SPEAKING SWEDISH AT HOME. IT WAS LIKE WE WERE THE SAME PERSON!!!
I WENT TO MALMÖ TWO MORE TIMES TO SEE ANNE AND WE TALKED ON THE PHONE. SHE LIVED IN THE US BUT SAID SHE WAS SELLING EVERYTHING OVER THERE AND MOVING BACK HOME.
THAT WAS WHEN I REALISED HOW RICH SHE WAS.
SHE HAD EVERYTHING AND I HAD NOTHING.
BUT EVERYTHING SHE HAD COULD JUST AS EASILY HAVE BEEN MINE!!! IF I HAD BEEN THE ONE WHO WENT TO SWEDEN AND SHE WAS THE ONE WHO STAYED IN LANGEVIK. IT WAS CHANCE THAT GAVE HER EVERYTHING AND ME NOTHING!!!
THAT WAS WHEN I DECIDED TO CHANGE EVERYTHING. SHE WAS COMING TO VISIT AND WAS GOING TO STAY OVER AT MY HOUSE. SHE CAME ON A CRUISE SHIP THAT WAS STOPPING OVER FOR ONE DAY AND I PICKED HER UP FROM THE BOAT.
THAT MORNING I DID WHAT I HAD TO DO. YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW HOW I DID IT.
THEN I TOOK HER PLACE ON THE CRUISE SHIP. JUST TOOK OVER HER LIFE.
IT WAS ACTUALLY EASIER THAN I THOUGHT, BECAUSE NO ONE LOOKS TWICE AT A WOMAN MY AGE.
THE ONLY PERSON WHO KNEW WE WERE TWINS WAS DISA SO I HAD TO GET RID OF HER TOO BEFEORE I COULD FEEL SAFE. AND NOW I HAVE TO GET RID OF ONE MORE PERSON WHO’S SNOOPING AROUND, ASKING QUESTIONS. SHE WORKS WITH YOUR FATHER BUT LIVES IN THE VILLAGE. YOU KNOW WHO SHE IS. SHE’S ALWAYS BEEN A REAL WHORE WHO SLEEPS AROUND SO AT LEAST IT’S NO GREAT LOSS.
Karen shoots Karl a quick glance, but he’s staring out the window. Then she reads the final lines.
I JUST WANTED TO LIVE THE LIFE THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN MINE FROM THE BEGINNING.
ANNE GOT THE FIRST HALF AND I TOOK WHAT WAS LEFT.
I HOPE YOU CAN UNDERSTAND. I ALWAYS LOVED YOU.
MUM
The room is completely silent for several minutes.
‘She must’ve been psychotic when she wrote it,’ Karl says.
Karen makes no reply.
Then he gets up to leave. The last thing he says gives voice to the only thing she can think right now.
‘Poor Sigrid.’
89
Everyone comes to visit. Crowds around her hospital bed with worried faces until they feel assured Karen’s unlikely to suffer any lingering consequences. Marike, Aylin, Kore and Eirik. And Mum.
Eleanor Eiken – who has made it clear she will not be talked into going back to Spain until Karen has been discharged – has resolutely moved back into the house in Langevik and sent Harry home to their flat in Estepona.
Leo Friis is apparently still there, too. Like Rufus, he seems to have decided to stay. Karen has no idea if he’s moved back into the guesthouse or if he and Eleanor are sharing the main house. She doesn’t have the energy to ask, or to answer any questions herself. She’s not surprised Leo hasn’t come by the hospital, and how she’s going to get rid of him is a question that seems completely irrelevant at the moment.
All Karen can think about is Sigrid.
‘She’s not doing great,’ Eleanor says.
‘No wonder. Where is she staying now? She’s not on her own, is she?’
‘Don’t worry. We’re keeping an eye on her.’
‘It’s possible she blames me for her mother killing herself. Do you think she does? Is that why she won’t take my calls?’
‘I think she’s blaming herself, Karen. I know she does.’
‘Why? None of this is her fault.’
‘Don’t play dumb, Karen. You of all people should understand.’
‘Maybe I could talk to her . . .’
‘Sigrid’s afraid of everything right now. Seeing you like this, battered, bandaged, in a cast, it would just make her more anxious.’
Karen realises she can only imagine a fraction of what Sigrid’s going through. But that fraction alone is too much for an eighteen-year-old girl to deal with. The shock of finding out her mother was a murderer. Losing her first once and then again. The anguish of being torn between revulsion at what her mother did and grief at the bitterness that twisted into madness. Grief for a wasted life. And the role her grandfather played, the role her own father played. If Sigrid’s relationship with her father was bad before, it must be completely ruined now.
And for the first time, Karen understands how Sigrid must have been shaped by the constant need to navigate a course between her father’s frosty arrogance and her mother’s unstable psyche. And by the knowledge that she’s inevitably part of them both.
Karen realises she can only ever understand that slightly. And yet, she wishes she could speak to Sigrid: tell her nothing’s her fault, that she’s not responsible for the sins of her parents. That she’s not alone.
But all she can do is lie here and wait for her body to heal enough to be discharged.
‘We’re keeping an eye on her,’ Eleanor says again. ‘Leo and I. Oh, and by the way, he installed the cat flap.’
90
Then her colleagues stop by. One after the other, they pop in with grapes and newspapers and flowers her mother accepts with a patient smile before heading out into the hallways to find yet another vase. Cornelis Loots, Astrid Nielsen, Sören Larsen and an extremely embarrassed Viggo Haugen relieve each other with such precision, Karen gets the feeling someone in the department has in fact drawn up a schedule. Considerate, brief visits, worried glances when the pain in her head and knee makes Karen call the nurse to ask for more painkillers. Then a few mumbled words to her mother before they leave Karen with promises of being back soon.
On the third day, Evald Johannisen appears in the doorway.
‘So, Eiken,’ he says, placing the grapes he’s brought on top of the others in the bowl on her bedside table before taking a seat on one of the chairs.
‘So, Johannisen,’ Karen replies.
‘I guess you were on to something after all. Well, I suppose even a blind pig can find an acorn once in a while.’
But something’s different; Karen feels no need to point out that she was simply right. That she had wanted to keep looking into something everyone else had dismissed out of hand in their eagerness to wrap things up. That there had in fact been a connection between the murder of Susanne Smeed and what happened in a commune in Langevik over forty years ago. That they had been wrong. She had been right. She mentions none of those things. Because the truth is, she was only half right.
Instead, she says:
‘I wanted to thank you, Evald. For flying into action when you found out Disa Brinckmann had been murdered.’
Johannisen shrugs.
‘I’m just sorry I didn’t find out a few hours earlier.’
He nods vaguely in the direction of her leg, which is in a cast and secured within a metal cage to immobilise her knee.
But their new truce feels strange and the silence between them echoes in the room. They’ve interacted exclusively through sarcasm, needling and scowls for so long, neither one of them knows what to say now. No more than five minutes into his visit, Evald Johannisen gets to his feet, clears his throat and opens his mouth to speak. Karen beats him to it.
‘You’re still a prick, Evald,’ she says with a smile.
Without responding, he pinches a grape from the pile in the bo
wl, pops it in his mouth and leaves. But Karen notices his shoulders relaxing a little and just before he pulls the door shut behind him, she catches a glimpse of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
*
Karl Björken does not smile. At least not until his third visit, when the bandage around Karen’s head has been replaced with a simple compress to cover the stitches and the bruises on her face have assumed a paler, yellowish shade of green.
‘You scared the shit out of us,’ he says as he takes a seat by the window.
The blinds have been opened after the gloom of the first few days; Karen watches a flock of migrating birds flying south. At least you’ll get further than me, she muses. There will be no trip to France for her, at least not this side of Christmas and New Year.
‘Brodal’s a wreck,’ Karl says.
‘It wasn’t his fault. Not even DNA could reveal it wasn’t Susanne in that kitchen.’
‘That’s why. He’s been shaken to the core.’
‘Well, he’s unlikely to experience it again,’ Karen says, looking away from the window. ‘Though that being said, between 2 and 3 per cent of all babies born are twins,’ she parrots. ‘And of those, about a third shared an egg. In this country alone, there are around 10,000 pairs of twins, 3,000 of which are identical. But the likelihood of any of them being the victims, or perpetrators, of serious crimes is negligible. Cornelis came to visit yesterday,’ she adds, smiling at Karl’s slack-jawed expression.
‘Oh, I see, good old Loots strikes again. Did he have any other facts to entertain you with?’
‘Probably, but I’ve forgotten what they were. No, that’s right. Identical twins apparently have the same DNA.’
‘I could’ve told you that,’ Karl says. ‘That’s why the only DNA we found was Susanne’s own.’
He leans forward.
‘Seriously, Eiken, how much of this did you suspect?’
‘Not much,’ she admits. ‘I was fairly certain Kvanne wasn’t our guy, though it was hard to ignore the fact that he did lie about being in Langevik. He would hardly have been able to break into the house and steal the car without leaving the smallest trace. And I felt there had to be a personal connection of some sort, but what that connection might be, I had no idea. Or at least not enough of an idea to persuade Haugen to let me carry on. On the other hand, I did enough damage as it was.’
Fatal Isles Page 40
