Camilla Lackberg - Patrick Hedstrom and Erica Falck — THE STRANGER lyrics

1 What he remembered most was her perfume. The one she kept in the bathroom. That shiny lavender bottle with the sweet, heavy fragrance. As an adult he had searched in a perfume shop until he found the exact same one. He had chuckled when he saw the name: ‘Poison'. She used to spray it on her wrists and then rub it on her throat and, if she was wearing a skirt, on her ankles too. He thought that was so beautiful. Her fragile, delicate wrists gracefully rubbing against each other. The scent spread through the space around her, and he always longed for the moment when it came really close, when she leaned over and kissed him. Always on the mouth. Always so lightly that sometimes he wondered if the kiss was real or if he was just dreaming. ‘Take care of your sister,' she always said before she left, seeming to float rather than walk out the door. Afterwards he could never remember if he had answered out loud or only nodded. The springtime sun shone in through the windows at the Tanumshede police station, mercilessly exposing the dirt on the windowpanes. The winter grime lay like a film over the gla**, and Patrik felt as though the same film were covering him. It had been a hard winter. Life with a child in the house was infinitely more fun but also infinitely more work than he ever could have imagined. And even though things were going much more smoothly with Maja than they had in the beginning, Erica was still not used to the life of a stay-at-home mum. This knowledge tormented Patrik every second and every minute he spent at work. And everything that had happened with Anna had placed an extra burden on their shoulders. A knock on the door-jamb interrupted his gloomy thoughts. ‘Patrik? We just got a call about a traffic accident. A single car on the road to Sannäs.' ‘Okay,' said Patrik, getting up. ‘By the way, isn't this the day that Ernst's replacement is arriving?' ‘Yes,' said Annika. ‘But it's not quite eight yet.' ‘Then I'll take Martin with me. Otherwise I thought I'd have her ride with me for a while until she gets the hang of things.' ‘Well, I do feel a bit sorry for the poor woman,' said Annika. ‘Because she has to ride with me?' said Patrik, pretending to take offence. ‘Naturally. I know the way you drive … But seriously, it's not going to be easy for her with Mellberg.' ‘After reading her CV I'd say that if anyone can handle him, it would be Hanna Kruse. Seems to be a tough cookie, judging by her service record and the great references.' ‘The only thing that seems fishy to me is why she would want to apply to Tanumshede.' ‘Yes, you may have a point there,' said Patrik, pulling on his jacket. ‘I'll have to ask her why she wants to sink so low as to work in this career blind alley with us law-enforcement amateurs.' He winked at Annika, who slapped him lightly on the shoulder. ‘You know that wasn't what I meant.' ‘Sure, I was just giving you a hard time. By the way, have you got any more information about the accident site? Any injuries? Fatalities?' ‘According to the person who called it in, there seems to be only one person in the car. Dead.' ‘Damn. I'll get Martin and we'll ride out there to have a look. We'll be back soon. You can show Hanna around in the meantime, can't you?' At that moment they heard a woman's voice from the reception area. ‘Hello?' ‘That must be her now,' said Annika, hurrying off towards the door. Curious about the new female addition to the force, Patrik followed her. He was surprised when he saw the woman standing in reception waiting for them. He wasn't sure just what he'd expected, but someone … larger, perhaps. And not quite so good-looking … and blonde. She held out her hand first to Patrik and then to Annika and said, ‘Hello, I'm Hanna Kruse. I'm starting here today.' Her voice more than lived up to his expectations. Rather deep, with a resolute tone to it. Her handshake testified to many hours in the gym, and Patrik again revised his first impression. ‘Patrik Hedström. And this is Annika Jansson, the backbone of the station.' Hanna smiled. ‘The sole female outpost in the land of males here, I understand. Till now, at least.' Annika laughed. ‘Yes, I have to admit it feels good to have a counterbalance to all the testosterone inside these walls.' Patrik interrupted their banter. ‘You girls can get acquainted with each other later. Hanna, we have a call about a single-car accident with a fatality. I thought you should come along with me right now, if that's okay with you. Get a jump start on your first day here.' ‘Works for me,' said Hanna. ‘Can I just leave my bag some where?' ‘I'll put it in your office,' said Annika. ‘We can do the tour later.' ‘Thanks,' said Hanna, hurrying after Patrik, who was already heading out the main door. ‘So, how does it feel?' Patrik asked after they'd got in the police car and headed off in the direction of Sannäs. ‘Fine, thanks. It's always a little nerve-wracking to start a new job.' ‘You've already managed to move around quite a bit, judging by your CV.' ‘Yes, I wanted to pick up as much experience as possible,' Hanna said as she gazed out of the window with curiosity. ‘Different parts of Sweden, different-sized service areas, you name it. Anything that can broaden my experience as a police officer.' ‘But why? What's your ultimate goal, so to speak?' Hanna smiled. Her smile was friendly but at the same time staunchly determined. ‘A position as chief, of course. In one of the larger police districts. So I've been taking all sorts of courses, learning as much as possible and working as hard as I can.' ‘Sounds like a recipe for success,' said Patrik with a smile, but the enormous sense of ambition radiating towards him also made him feel uncomfortable. It wasn't something he was used to. ‘I hope so,' said Hanna, still watching the countryside pa**ing by. ‘And what about you? How long have you worked in Tanumshede?' To his chagrin Patrik heard himself sounding a bit ashamed when he replied. ‘Oh … ever since police academy, actually.' ‘Ooh, I never could have managed that. I mean, you must really enjoy it. That's a good omen for my time here.' She laughed and turned to look at him. ‘Well, I suppose you could think of it that way. But a lot of it has to do with habit and my comfort zone too. I grew up here, and I know the area like the back of my hand. Although I actually don't live in Tanumshede anymore. Now I live in Fjällbacka.' ‘That's right, I heard you were married to Erica Falck! I love her books! Well, the ones about murders, that is; I haven't read the biographies, I have to admit.' ‘You don't have to be ashamed about that. Half of Sweden has read the latest crime novel, judging by the sales figures, but most people don't even know that she published five biographies of Swedish women writers. The one that sold best was about Karin Boye, and I think it got up to around two thousand copies. Anyway, we aren't married yet – but we will be soon. We're getting married on Whitsun Eve!' ‘Oh, congratulations! How lovely to have a Whitsuntide wedding.' ‘Well, we hope so. Although to be honest, at this point I'd rather fly off to Las Vegas and get away from all the hullabaloo. I had no idea it was such an undertaking to plan a wedding.' Hanna gave a hearty laugh. ‘Yes, I can imagine.' ‘But you're married too, I saw in your file. Didn't you have a big church wedding?' A dark shadow pa**ed over Hanna's face. She turned away and mumbled so faintly he could barely hear her: ‘We had a civil wedding. But that's a story for some other time. It looks like we're here.' Up ahead they saw a wrecked car in the ditch. Two firemen were busy cutting through the roof, but they were in no hurry. After a look in the front seat Patrik understood why. It was not by chance that the town council were meeting in his own home rather than the community centre. After months of intense remodelling, at a cost of two million kronor, the house was ready to be inspected and admired. It was one of the oldest and largest houses in Grebbestad, and it had taken a good deal of persuasion to get the previous owners to sell. Their protests about how it ‘belonged in the family' had soon subsided when he raised the offer. It never even occurred to them that he had offered considerably less than he would have been willing to pay. ‘As you can see, we took great pains to respect the integrity of the place. In fact the photographer sent by Residence said he'd never seen such a tasteful renovation. If anyone missed last month's issue, we have a few extra copies – do help yourself on the way out, then you can leaf through it at your leisure.' Ushering his guests into the dining room, Erling W. Larson pointed to the large dining-room table that was set for coffee. ‘Let's get down to business, shall we.' His wife had made all the arrangements while he was showing the house, and now she stood silently by the table waiting for them to sit down. Erling gave her an appreciative nod. She was worth her weight in gold, that Viveca; a bit quiet perhaps, but better a woman who knew when to keep her mouth shut than a chatterbox. ‘Well, you know where I stand,' said Uno Brorsson, dropping four sugar cubes into his cup. Erling regarded him with distaste. He didn't understand men who neglected their health. For his part he jogged ten kilometres every morning and had also had some discreet work done. But only Viveca knew about that. ‘We certainly do,' said Erling, a hint more sharply than he'd intended. ‘But there's no point debating the matter now that an agreement has been reached. The TV team will be arriving shortly, so let's be reasonable and make the best of things, eh? Just look at the boost Åmål got from the seasons they filmed there, and that was nothing compared with the publicity generated by Sodding Töreboda. Over the coming weeks, the whole country will be sitting down to watch Sodding Tanum. What a unique opportunity for us to show off our little corner of Sweden from its best side!' ‘Best side?' Uno snorted. ‘Boozing and s** and dumb reality show bimbos – is that how we want to depict Tanumshede?' ‘Well, I for one think it's bound to be terribly exciting!' said Gunilla Kjellin in her strident voice, her eyes sparkling at Erling. Though she would never admit it, she had a ma**ive crush on him. Which suited Erling, so long as it guaranteed him her vote. ‘Yes, listen to Gunilla. This is the spirit in which we should be welcoming the upcoming project. It's an exciting adventure we're embarking on, and an opportunity we should embrace whole-heartedly!' Erling was using the persuasive tone he'd employed with such success over the years as director of a huge insurance firm. Every once in a while he grew nostalgic for those halcyon days. It hadn't been easy, taking early retirement after his heart attack, but it had proved to be the best decision he'd ever made. And he'd got out in the nick of time. Right before the press, scenting blood, began ripping his former colleagues to pieces. ‘What are we doing about the risk of damage? I heard that Töreboda had a lot of that while they were filming there. Will the TV company cover it?' Erling snorted impatiently. Erik Bohlin, the town's young financial officer, was forever fussing about trivialities instead of looking at ‘the big picture'. What the hell did he know about finance anyway? He was barely thirty, and in his whole life he'd probably never dealt with as much money as Erling used to spend in a single day. Fixing Bohlin with a withering stare, he said dismissively: ‘Compared to the increased tourist influx we're expecting, a few broken windows are nothing to worry about. Besides, I'm sure the police will do their utmost to earn their salaries and keep on top of the situation.' He let his gaze rest for a few seconds on each of the council members. One by one their eyes fell as they abandoned any notion of protest. ‘It'll be fine,' said Jörn Schuster. For the life of him, Erling couldn't understand why Jörn had chosen to remain on the council. Ignominiously voted out after fifteen years as town commissioner, he ought to have crept off with his tail between his legs. But if Jörn wanted to wallow in his humiliation, fine. There were certain benefits in having the old fox present, even though he was now both exhausted and toothless, figuratively speaking. He had his faithful supporters, and they would keep quiet as long as they saw that Jörn was still actively involved. ‘So, now it's a matter of showing our enthusiasm. I'm going to welcome the team in person at one o'clock, and of course you're all welcome to attend. Otherwise we'll see one another at the regular meeting on Thursday.' He stood up to indicate that the meeting was adjourned. Uno was still muttering when he left, but Erling reckoned he'd done a pretty good job in mustering the troops. This venture reeked of success, he was sure of it. Pleased, he went out onto the veranda and lit a victory cigar. In the dining room Viveca silently cleared the table. ‘Da da da da.' Maja sat in her high chair prattling as she evaded with great sk** the spoon that her mother was trying to stick in her mouth. After taking aim for a moment Erica finally managed to get a spoonful of porridge in, but her joy was short-lived when Maja chose that instant to demonstrate that she could make a noise like a car. ‘Brrrrr,' she said with such feeling that the porridge sprayed all over her mother's face. ‘Damn brat,' said Erica, exhausted, but she regretted her choice of words at once. ‘Brrrrr,' Maja said happily, managing to eject the remains of the porridge onto the table. ‘Amn brat,' said Adrian, and his big sister Emma chided him at once. ‘You mustn't swear, Adrian!' ‘But Ica just did.' ‘You still shouldn't swear, isn't that so, Aunt Erica?' Emma planted her hands firmly on her hips and gave Erica an insistent look. ‘You're absolutely right. It was very naughty of me to swear, Adrian.' Pleased with this answer, Emma went back to eating her kefir. Erica gave her a loving but worried glance. The girl had been forced to grow up so fast. Sometimes she behaved more like a mamma than a big sister to Adrian. Anna didn't seem to notice, but Erica saw it all too well. She knew all too well what it was like to shoulder that role at such a young age. And now she was doing it again. Mamma to her sister. At the same time she was mamma to Maja and a sort of substitute mamma to Emma and Adrian, while she waited for Anna to snap out of her lethargy. Erica cast a glance at the ceiling as she began clearing the mess off the table. But there was no sound from upstairs. Anna seldom woke up before eleven, and Erica let her sleep. She didn't know what else to do. ‘I don't want to go to kindergarten today,' Adrian announced, putting on an expression that clearly said ‘and try to make me if you can.' ‘Of course you're going to kindergarten, Adrian,' said Emma, again propping her hands on her hips. Erica intervened before the bickering erupted, at the same time as she tried to clean up her eight-month-old daughter as best she could. ‘Emma, go and put on your coat and boots. Adrian, I don't have time for this discussion today. You're going to kindergarten with Emma, and that's non-negotiable.' Adrian opened his mouth to protest, but something in his aunt's face told him that on this particular morning he should probably obey her. Displaying uncharacteristic obedience he went out to the hall. ‘Okay, now try putting on your shoes.' Erica set out Adrian's trainers, but he just shook his head. ‘I can't, you have to help me.' ‘You can so. You put your shoes on at kindergarten.' ‘No, I can't. I'm little,' he added for emphasis. Erica sighed and put Maja down. The baby began crawling off even before her hands and knees touched the floor. She had started to crawl very early and was now a master in that event. ‘Maja, stay here, sweetie,' said Erica as she tried to put Adrian's shoes on him. But Maja chose to ignore the urgent plea and set off happily on a voyage of discovery. Erica could feel the sweat beginning to run down her back and under her arms. ‘I'll fetch Maja,' said Emma helpfully, taking Erica's lack of an answer as a sign of a**ent. Puffing a bit, Emma came back carrying Maja, who was squirming in her arms like an intractable kitten. Erica saw that her daughter's face had begun to a**ume the red colour that usually warned a wail was on its way, and she hurried to take the child. Then she hustled the older kids out the front door towards the car. Damn, how she hated mornings like these. ‘Get in the car, we're in a hurry. We're late again and you know what Miss Ewa thinks about that.' ‘She doesn't like it,' said Emma, shaking her head in concern. ‘No, she certainly doesn't,' said Erica, strapping Maja into the car seat. ‘I want to sit up front,' Adrian announced, crossing his arms and preparing for battle. But now Erica's patience was at an end. ‘Get in your chair,' she yelled, feeling a certain satisfaction when she saw him practically fly into his car seat. Emma sat on her forward-facing cushion in the middle of the back seat and put on her seat belt herself. With great haste and still feeling annoyed Erica began belting Adrian in, but stopped when she felt a small hand on her cheek. ‘I lo-o-ove you, Ica,' said Adrian, trying to look as sweet as he could. Undoubtedly an attempt to win her favour, but it worked every time. Erica felt her heart swell, and she leaned over and gave him a big kiss. The last thing she did before she backed out of the driveway was to cast an uneasy glance at the window of Anna's bedroom. But the shade was still pulled down. Jonna pressed her forehead against the cool bus window and looked out at the countryside pa**ing by. A tremendous apathy filled her. As always. She tugged at the sleeves of her jumper so they covered her hands. Over the years it had become a habit of hers. She wondered what she was doing here. How had she ended up in all this? Why was there such a fascination with following her everyday life? Jonna simply didn't understand it. A broken and odd loner girl who f**ing cut herself. But maybe that was precisely why she had been voted to stay on, week after week in the House. Because there were so many other girls like her all around the country. Girls who hungrily recognized themselves in her, when she constantly ended up in confrontation with the other participants, when she sat crying in the lavatory, slashing her forearms to shreds with razor blades, when she radiated so much helplessness and desperation that the others in the House avoided her as though she were infected with rabies. Maybe that was why. ‘Gawd, how exciting! Imagine if we were, like, given one more chance.' Jonna heard the endless anticipation in Barbie's voice but refused to respond. The girl's name alone made her want to puke. But the tabloids loved it. BB-Barbie was doing great on the news placards. Her real name was Lillemor Persson. One of the evening newspapers had dug up that fact. They had also found old photos of her from the time when she was a skinny little brown-haired girl with oversized gla**es. Nothing like the silicone-b**bed blonde bombshell she was today. Jonna had a good laugh when she saw those pictures. They had got a copy of the paper for the House. But Barbie had cried. Then she'd burnt the newspaper. ‘Look what a crowd there is!' Barbie pointed excitedly to a group of people at the square, where the bus seemed to be heading. ‘Don't you understand, Jonna? They're all here for us, don't you get it?' She could hardly sit still, and Jonna gave her a contemptuous look. Then she stuck in the earbuds of her MP3 player and closed her eyes. Patrik walked slowly around the car. It had driven off a steep slope and finally stopped when it hit a tree. The front was bashed in, but the rest of the car was intact. It hadn't been able to take the curve at such speed. ‘The driver seems to have slammed into the steering wheel. I'd guess that's the cause of d**h,' said Hanna, squatting down by the driver's side. ‘We'll leave that to the medical examiner, I think,' said Patrik, hearing himself sound more critical than he intended. ‘I just mean –' ‘That's okay,' said Hanna with a dismissive wave. ‘It was a stupid remark. I'll stick to observing from now on, not drawing conclusions – yet,' she added. Patrik finished his circuit round the car and was now squatting next to Hanna. The door on the driver's side stood wide open, and the accident victim was still strapped into the seat, leaning forward against the steering wheel. Blood had run down from a head wound and collected on the floor. They heard one of the techs snapping photos behind them to document the accident scene. ‘Are we in your way?' Patrik asked, turning round. ‘No, we've already taken most of the shots we need. Thought we'd just straighten up the victim now and take some pictures. Is that all right? Have you seen what you need to for the time being?' ‘Have we, Hanna?' Patrik was scrupulous about including his colleague. It couldn't be easy to be the new person, and he intended to do his best to make her feel welcome. ‘Yes, I think so.' They both stood up and moved away to give the tech more room. Carefully he grasped the victim's shoulder and pressed the body back against the seat. Only now could they see that the victim was a woman. Short hair and unis** clothing had made them think at first that it was a man, but one look at the face told them that the victim was a woman in her forties. ‘It's Marit,' said Patrik. ‘Marit?' Hanna queried. ‘She has a shop on Affärsvägen. Sells tea, coffee, chocolate and things like that.' ‘Does she have a family?' Hanna's voice sounded a bit strange when she asked the question, and Patrik glanced at her. But she looked the same as usual, so maybe he was imagining things. ‘I don't really know. We'll have to check that out.' The technician was now done taking photos and stepped back. Patrik and Hanna moved in closer again. ‘Be careful not to touch anything,' Patrik said out of reflex. Before Hanna could reply he went on, ‘Sorry, I keep forgetting that you may be new in our department, but you're an experienced cop. You'll have to cut me some slack,' he said apologetically. ‘Don't be so sensitive,' his new colleague said with a laugh. ‘I don't take offence that easily.' Patrik laughed too, with relief. He hadn't realized how accustomed he'd become to working with people he knew well, people whose work habits were familiar. It would probably be a good thing to have some new blood on the force. Besides, compared to Ernst, anything was an improvement. The fact that he finally got the boot after taking the law into his own hands, so to speak, last autumn was – well, nothing short of a miracle. ‘So, what do you see?' asked Patrik, leaning in close to look at Marit's face. ‘It's not so much what I see but what I smell.' Hanna took a couple of deep sniffs. ‘She stinks of booze. She must have been dead drunk when she drove off the road.' ‘It certainly seems so,' said Patrik. He sounded a bit distracted. With a concerned frown he peered inside the car. There was nothing out of the ordinary. A wrapper from a chocolate bar on the floor, an empty plastic Coke bottle, a page that seemed to have been torn out of a book, and in the far corner, on the floor by the pa**enger seat, an empty vodka bottle. ‘This doesn't seem too complicated. A single-car accident with a drunk driver.' Hanna took a couple of steps back and seemed to be preparing to leave. The ambulance was ready to take the body, and there wasn't much more they could do. Patrik scrutinized the wounds on Marit's face. Something didn't add up. ‘Can I wipe off the blood?' he asked one of the crime scene techs packing up his equipment. ‘That should be okay, we have plenty of documentation. Here, I've got a rag.' The tech handed Patrik a piece of white cloth and Patrik nodded his thanks. Cautiously, almost tenderly, he wiped off the blood that had come primarily from a wound on her forehead. The victim's eyes were open, and before he continued Patrik carefully closed them with his index fingers. Beneath the blood Marit's face was a study of wounds and bruises. She had struck the steering wheel with great force; the car was an older model without an airbag. ‘Could you take some more pictures?' he asked the man who had given him the rag. The tech nodded and grabbed his camera. He quickly took some more shots and then gave Patrik a quizzical look. ‘That'll be fine,' said Patrik, stepping over to Hanna, who looked puzzled. ‘What was it you saw?' she asked. ‘I'm not sure. There's just something that … I don't know.' He waved his hand dismissively. ‘It's probably nothing. Let's go back to the station. The others can finish up the work here.' They got in the police car and headed towards Tanumshede. They drove the whole way back in silence. And in that silence something was tugging at Patrik's mind. He simply didn't know what it was. Bertil Mellberg felt strangely light-hearted. The way he usually felt only when he was spending time with Simon, the son whose existence he hadn't known of for fifteen years. Unfortunately Simon didn't come to see him very often, but at least he came, and they'd been able to form some sort of relationship. It wasn't an exuberant sort of bond, nor was it visible from the outside; it lived a rather hidden existence. But it was there. The feeling, difficult to describe, came from something odd that had happened to him last Saturday. After months of nagging and pressure from Sten, his good friend – or rather his only friend, and even he might be characterized as an acquaintance – Mellberg had agreed to go along to a barn dance in Munkedal. Even though he considered himself a good dancer, it had been many years since he'd frequented a dancing establishment. And a barn dance conjured up images of hicks cavorting to fiddle music. But Sten was a regular participant and had finally managed to persuade him that barn dances were excellent hunting grounds. ‘They just sit there in a row, waiting to be picked,' as Sten had said. Mellberg couldn't deny it sounded good; he hadn't met many women in recent years, so he was certainly feeling a need to air out that little guy. But his scepticism was based on his expectation of what sort of women went to barn dances. Desperate old crows who were more interested in sinking their talons into an old guy with a good pension than having a roll in the hay. But if there was one thing he knew, it was how to protect himself from birds with marriage on their minds; so he finally decided to accompany Sten and try his luck. Just in case, he had put on his best suit and splashed a little ‘smell-good' here and there. And Sten had come over and they had fortified themselves with a few shots before they headed off. Sten had thought to call a cab, so they didn't have to worry about how much they drank. Not that Mellberg often worried much about that, but it wouldn't look good if he was caught driving under the influence. After the incident with Ernst, the higher-ups had their eye on him, so he had to be careful. Or at least make it look like he was being careful. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them. Despite all the preparations it was not with great anticipation that Mellberg stepped into the big hall, where the dancing was already in full swing. And his prejudices were confirmed. Only old women his own age everywhere he looked. On that subject he and Uffe Lundell were in complete agreement – who the hell wanted a wrinkled, flabby, middle-aged body next to him in bed when there was so much fine, solid, young flesh out there? Though Mellberg had to admit that Uffe had a bit more success on that front than he did. It was that whole rock-star thing that did it. Bloody unfair. He was just about to go to the bar and fortify his courage when he heard someone speaking to him. ‘What a place. And here we stand feeling old.' ‘Well, I'm here under protest,' Mellberg replied with a glance at the woman who had come up beside him. ‘Same here. It was Bodil that dragged me along,' said the woman, pointing at one of the ladies already out on the dance floor working up a sweat. ‘Sten, in my case,' said Mellberg, pointing him out on the dance floor. ‘My name is Rose-Marie,' she said, holding out her hand. ‘Bertil,' replied Mellberg. The instant his palm met hers, his life was changed. During his sixty-three years he had experienced desire, randiness, and a compulsion to possess certain women he had met. But never before had he fallen in love. And so it struck him with even greater force. He regarded her in wonderment. Mellberg's objective self registered a woman around sixty, about 5'3”, a bit plump, with her short hair dyed a spirited red colour, and a happy smile. But his subjective self saw only her eyes. They were blue and looked at him with curiosity and intensity; he felt himself drowning in those eyes, as it might be described in trashy paperback novels. After that the evening pa**ed much too rapidly. They danced and talked. He fetched drinks for her and pulled out her chair for her. Behaviour that was definitely not part of his normal repertoire. But nothing had been normal on that evening. When they parted he felt at once awkward and empty. He simply had to see her again. So now he sat here at the office on a Monday morning, feeling like a schoolboy. Before him on the desk lay a piece of paper with her name and phone number. He looked at the piece of paper, took a deep breath, and punched in the number. They had quarrelled again. For the umpteenth time in a row. Far too many times the quarrels had turned into verbal boxing matches between them. And as usual, each of them had defended her own position. Kerstin wanted them to come out of the closet. Marit still wanted to keep it all secret. ‘Are you ashamed of me – of us?' Kerstin had yelled. And Marit, like so many times before, had turned away and refused to look her in the eye. Because that was precisely where the problem lay. They loved each other, and Marit was ashamed of it. At first Kerstin had persuaded herself that it didn't matter. The important thing was that they had found each other. That the two of them, after being thoroughly knocked about by life and by people who inflicted injuries on their souls, had actually found each other. What did a lover's gender matter? Who cared what other people said or thought? But Marit hadn't viewed it that way. She wasn't ready to subject herself to the opinions and prejudices of people around her, and she wanted everything to remain as it had been for the past four years. They would continue to live together as lovers but outwardly pretend that they were just two friends who for financial reasons and the sake of convenience shared the same apartment. ‘Why do you care so much what people say?' Kerstin had said when they quarrelled the previous evening. Marit had cried as she always did whenever they had a falling out. And as usual, that made Kerstin madder than ever. The tears were like fuel for the anger that had accumulated behind the wall created by their secret. She hated making Marit cry. Hated that circumstances and other people made her hurt the one she loved most of all. ‘Imagine how it would be for Sofie if it came out.' ‘Sofie is much tougher than you think. Don't use her as an excuse for your own cowardice.' ‘How tough do you think someone can be when she's fifteen and kids are taunting her because her mother is a dyke? Do you have any idea how much sh** she would get at school? I can't do that to her!' Marit's tears had distorted her face into an ugly mask. ‘Do you honestly think that Sofie hasn't figured it all out, that we're fooling her when you move into the guest room during the weeks she visits us and we go about acting out some sort of charade at home? Look, Sofie worked it out long ago. And if I were her I'd be more ashamed of a mum who's prepared to live a lie just so “people” won't talk. That's what I'd be ashamed of!' By this point Kerstin was yelling so loudly that she could hear her voice cracking. Marit had given her that wounded look that over the years Kerstin had learned to hate, and she also knew from experience what would come next. Sure enough, Marit had leapt up from the table and started putting on her jacket, sobbing. ‘Go ahead and run away. That's what you always do. Go on! And this time don't bother coming back!' When the door slammed behind Marit, Kerstin sat down at the kitchen table. She was breathing hard, and she felt as if she'd been running. And in a way she had been. Running after the life she wanted for the two of them, but which Marit's fear prevented them from having. And for the first time she had meant what she had said. Something inside her told her that soon she wouldn't be able to take it any longer. But now, the morning after, that feeling had been replaced by a deep, consuming worry. She had sat up all night. Waiting for the door to open, waiting to hear the familiar footsteps across the parquet floor, waiting to hug Marit and console her and beg her forgiveness. But she hadn't come home. And the car keys were gone; Kerstin had checked on that during the night. Where the hell was she? Had something happened? Had she driven to the house of her ex-husband, Sofie's pappa? Or could she have fled all the way to her mother's place in Oslo? With trembling fingers Kerstin picked up the phone to start calling around. ‘What do you think this is going to mean for the tourist trade in Tanum?' The reporter from Bohusläningen stood ready with notepad and pen, waiting to jot down his reply. ‘Plenty. It'll be huge. There will be a half-hour show broadcast from Tanumshede on television every day. This area has never seen such a gigantic marketing opportunity.' Erling beamed. A big crowd had gathered outside the old community centre, waiting for the bus with the participants. It was mostly teenagers who had gathered and could hardly stand still in their eagerness to finally see their idols live. ‘But couldn't it have the opposite effect? I mean, in previous seasons the show ended up dealing with quarrels, s**, and drunkenness, and that's hardly what we'd want to present as a message to tourists, is it?' Erling gave the reporter an annoyed look. Why were people always so damned negative? He'd had enough of that from his own town council, and now the local press was starting to harp on the same thing. ‘Surely you've heard the saying, “There's no such thing as bad publicity”? And let's face it Tanumshede does have a rather invisible image – nationally, that is. Now that's all going to change with Sodding Tanum.' ‘Obviously,' the reporter began, but was cut off by Erling who had lost all patience. ‘Unfortunately I don't have time to comment further at the moment, I'm here as the welcoming committee.' He turned on his heel and strode off towards the bus, which had just pulled up. The young people crowded round the door of the bus in anticipation, waiting with excited expressions for the door to open. The sight of the youthful crowd was enough to confirm Erling's view that this was just what the town needed. Now Tanumshede was going to be put on the map. When the bus doors swung open with a whooshing sound, it was a man in his forties who got out first. Disappointed murmurs from the teenagers indicated that he was not one of the cast. Erling hadn't watched any of the many reality shows that had been broadcast, so he had no clue who or what to expect. ‘Erling W. Larson,' he said, holding out his hand as he switched on his most winning smile. The cameras clicked. ‘Fredrik Rehn,' said the man, shaking the proffered hand. ‘We spoke on the phone. I'm the producer of this circus.' Now they both smiled. ‘Well, let me welcome you to Tanumshede. On behalf of the community I'd like to say that we're extremely happy and proud to have you here, and we look forward to a very exciting season.' ‘Thank you, thank you. Yes, we have high hopes for it. With two hit seasons behind us we're feeling very optimistic; we know that this is a successful format, and we look forward to working with you. But let's not keep the fans waiting any longer,' said Fredrik with a broad smile, flashing his improbably white teeth at the anxious crowd. ‘Here they come. The cast of Sodding Tanum: Barbie from Big Brother, Jonna from Big Brother, Calle from Survivor, Tina from The Bar, Uffe from Survivor and, last but not least, Mehmet from The Farm.' One by one the participants trooped off the bus, and widespread hysteria ensued. People were shouting and pointing and pushing forward to touch the participants or to ask for autographs. The cameramen had already set up and the filming was in full swing. Pleased but a bit bewildered, Erling watched the frenzied reaction triggered by the arrival of the cast. He couldn't help wondering why today's youth were so excited about all this. How could this bunch of snot-nosed kids arouse such hysteria? Well, he didn't need to understand it – the main thing was to exploit as best he could the attention the programme would bring to Tanumshede. ‘Look, we're going to have to break this up. You'll have plenty of opportunities to meet the cast; after all, they'll be living here for five weeks.' Fredrik shooed off the fans still crowding around the bus. ‘Right now the cast needs a chance to get settled and rest a bit. But you'll all turn on the TV next week, right? Monday at seven, that's when it kicks off!' He gave a thumbs-up with both hands and fired off one more phoney smile. The young people drew back reluctantly, most of them heading for the school, but a small group seemed to regard this as an excellent opportunity to blow off the day's cla**es and instead headed in the direction of Hedemyr's. ‘Undeniably an auspicious start,' said Fredrik, putting his arms around the shoulders of Barbie and Jonna. ‘What do you say, kids, are you ready to go?' ‘Absolutely,' said Barbie, her eyes sparkling. As usual, all the commotion had given her an adrenaline kick, and she was bouncing up and down in place. ‘What about you, Jonna? How are you feeling?' ‘Fine,' she muttered. ‘But it would be nice to have a chance to unpack and settle in.' ‘We'll take care of that, babe,' said Fredrik, giving her shoulders an extra squeeze. ‘The main thing is that you're feeling good, you know that.' He turned towards Erling. ‘Is everything ready with the accommodation?' ‘Sure thing.' Erling pointed to a red house in the old style which stood only about fifty metres away. ‘They'll be living in the community centre. We've put in beds and other furniture, and I think you'll be quite comfortable there.' ‘Whatever – as long as there's booze, I can sleep any-f**ing-where.' It was Mehmet from The Farm who spoke, and the comment was followed by giggles and nods of agreement from the others. Free booze was a prerequisite for their participation. That and all the opportunities for s** that came from their celebrity status. ‘Calm down, Mehmet,' said Fredrik with a smile. ‘There's a regular bar with anything you might want. Several cases of beer too, and there'll be more when it's all over. We're going to take good care of you.' He made a move to put his arms around the shoulders of Mehmet and Uffe, but they lithely slipped away. Early on they had pegged him as a flaming queen, and they had no desire to cuddle with a pillow-biter – they'd made that f**ing clear. Though they were walking a thin line; they needed to get on well with the producer, as the cast of the previous season had advised them. The producer decided who got the most air-time and who got the least, and time on-screen was the only thing that mattered. Later, if you barfed or pissed on the floor or just in general acted like an arsehole, it wouldn't mean a thing. Erling didn't have a clue about all this. He'd never heard about celebrity bartenders, or the hard work required, in the service of filth, to stay in the limelight as a reality show star. No, he was only interested in the boost that Tanum would get from the show. And his place in the spotlight as the man who made it all happen. Erica had already eaten lunch by the time Anna came downstairs from the bedroom. But even though it was after one o'clock, she looked as though she hadn't slept a wink. Anna had always been thin, but now she was so emaciated that Erica sometimes had to fight an impulse to flinch in alarm at the sight of her. ‘What time is it?' Anna asked in a quavering voice. She sat down at the table and took the coffee cup that Erica held out to her. ‘Quarter past one.' ‘Da da,' said Maja, waving delightedly at Anna in an attempt to get her attention. Anna didn't even notice. ‘sh**, I slept till past one o'clock. Why didn't you wake me?' asked Anna, sipping the hot coffee. ‘Well, I didn't know what you wanted me to do. You seem to need your sleep,' Erica said cautiously, sitting down at the kitchen table. Her relationship with Anna was such that for a long time now she'd had to watch her tongue, and it hadn't improved after all that had happened with Lucas. The mere fact that she and Anna were living under the same roof again made them slip into the same old patterns that they had both fought to escape. Erica automatically fell into her usual maternal role towards her sister, while Anna seemed to vacillate between a desire to be taken care of and a need to rebel. The past few months the house had been filled with an oppressive atmosphere, with a lot of unspoken issues hovering in the air, waiting for the right time to be vented. But Anna was still in a state of shock and she didn't seem to be able to pull herself out of it. So Erica tiptoed around her, d**hly afraid to do or say the wrong thing. ‘What about the kids? Did they get off to kindergarten okay?' ‘Yes, it went fine,' said Erica, choosing not to mention Adrian's minor tantrum. Anna had so little patience with the children these days. Most of the practical matters fell to Erica, and whenever the kids began to fight, Anna would disappear and let Erica handle it. She was like a wrung-out rag; she shuffled listlessly about, as if trying to work out what had once kept her on her feet. Erica was deeply worried. ‘Anna, don't get upset, but shouldn't you go and talk to somebody? We got the name of a psychologist who's supposed to be excellent, and I think it would –' Anna cut her off abruptly. ‘I said no. I've got to work this out on my own. It's my fault; I k**ed a human being. I can't sit and complain to some total stranger. I have to work through this myself.' Her hand holding the coffee cup squeezed the handle so hard that her knuckles turned white. ‘Anna, I know we've talked about this a thousand times, but I'll say it again. You didn't murder Lucas, you k**ed him in self-defence. And you weren't only defending yourself, but the children too. No one has any doubt about that, and you were completely exonerated. He would have k**ed you, Anna. It was you or Lucas.' Anna's face twitched slightly as Erica talked, and Maja, sensing the tension in the air, began to whimper in her high chair. ‘I – just – can't – talk – about – it,' said Anna between clenched teeth. ‘I'm going back to bed. Will you pick up the kids?' She got up and left Erica alone in the kitchen. ‘Yes, I'll collect them,' said Erica, feeling tears filling her eyes. Soon she wouldn't be able to stand it anymore. Somebody had to do something. Then she had an idea. She picked up the phone and dialled a number from memory. It was worth a try. Hanna went straight to her new office and started getting settled. Patrik continued on to Martin Molin's cubby-hole and knocked cautiously on the door. ‘Come in.' Patrik stepped into the room and sat down on the chair in front of Martin's desk. They often worked together and spent many hours occupying each other's guest chairs. ‘I heard you drove out to investigate a car crash. Fatalities?' ‘Yes, the driver. Single-car accident. And I recognized her. It was Marit, the woman with the shop on Affärsvägen.' ‘Oh sh**,' said Martin with a sigh. ‘So f**ing unnecessary. Did she swerve to avoid a deer or something?' Patrik hesitated. ‘The techs were there, so their report and the post-mortem will probably give us the definitive answer. But it stank of booze in the car.' ‘Oh sh**,' said Martin for the second time. ‘Drunk driving, in other words. Although I don't think she's ever been stopped for that before. Could be the first time she drove drunk, or at least she's never been in jail for it.' ‘Ye-e-es,' Patrik drawled. ‘That could be.' ‘But?' Martin prodded him, clasping his hands behind his head. His red hair shone against his white palms. ‘I can hear there's something bothering you. I know you well enough by now that I can tell when something's wrong.' ‘Jeez, I don't know,' said Patrik. ‘It's nothing specific. There was just something that felt … wrong, something I can't quite put my finger on.' ‘Your gut feelings are usually spot on,' said Martin with concern, rocking back and forth in the chair. ‘But let's wait and hear what the experts have to say. As soon as the crime scene techs and the pathologist have looked at everything, we'll know more. Maybe they'll come up with an explanation for why something feels strange.' ‘Yeah, you're right,' said Patrik, scratching his head. ‘But … no, you're right, there's no sense in speculating before we know more. In the meantime we have to focus on what we can do. And unfortunately that means informing Marit's next of kin. Do you know if she has any family here?' Martin frowned. ‘She has a teenage daughter, I know, and she shares a flat with a female friend. There's been some whispering about that arrangement, but I don't know …' Patrik sighed. ‘We'll just have to drive over to her place and then work out what's best.' A few minutes later they were knocking on the door of Marit's flat. They'd checked the telephone book and found that she lived in a high-rise a few hundred metres from the police station. Both Patrik and Martin were breathing hard. This was the most dreaded task in the police force. Only when they heard footsteps inside did they realize that they hadn't been sure that someone would even be at home at this hour of the afternoon. The woman who opened the door knew at once why they had come. Martin and Patrik could see it in the way her face blanched and her shoulders drooped in resignation. ‘It's about Marit, isn't it? Has something happened?' Her voice quavered, but she stepped aside to let them into the hallway. ‘Yes, unfortunately we have bad news. Marit Kaspersen was involved in a single-car accident. She … died,' said Patrik in a low voice. The woman before them stood completely still. As if she were frozen in position and couldn't manage to send signals from her brain to her muscles. Instead, her brain was busy processing the information she had just heard. ‘Would you like some coffee?' she said at last, heading robotically towards the kitchen without waiting for their reply. ‘Is there someone we should call?' Martin asked. The woman looked to be in shock. Her brown hair was cut in a practical pageboy, and she kept tucking it behind her ears. She was very thin, dressed in jeans and a jumper knitted in typical Norwegian style with a lovely, intricate pattern and big elegant silver clasps. Kerstin shook her head. ‘No, I don't have anybody. Nobody except … Marit. And Sofie of course. But she's with her pappa.' ‘Sofie – is that Marit's daughter?' asked Patrik, shaking his head when Kerstin held up a carton of milk after pouring coffee into three cups. ‘Yes, she's fifteen. It's Ola's turn this week. Every other week she stays with Marit and me, and the other times with Ola in Fjällbacka.' ‘You were close friends, you and Marit?' Patrik felt a bit uneasy at the way he asked the question, but he didn't know how else to broach the subject. He took a sip of coffee as he waited for her answer. It was delicious. Strong, just the way he liked it. A wry smile from Kerstin showed that she knew what he was asking. Her eyes filled with tears when she said, ‘We were friends the weeks when Sofie stayed here, but lovers when she was with Ola. That was what we …' Her voice broke and tears started running down her cheeks. She cried for a while. Then she made an effort to get her voice under control again and went on: ‘That was what we were arguing about last night. For the hundredth time. Marit wanted to stay in the closet, and I was suffocating and wanted to come out. She blamed Sofie, but that was just an excuse. Marit was the one who wasn't ready to subject herself to gossip and stares. I tried to explain to her that she couldn't escape it anyway. There was already plenty of gossip and staring. And even if initially people would talk if we made our relationship public, I was convinced it would die down after a while. But Marit refused to listen. She had lived a typical middle-cla** life for so many years, with a husband and child and a house and camping holidays in a trailer and all that. The idea that she might have feelings for a woman was something she hid deep inside. But when we met it was as if all the pieces suddenly fell into place. At least that's how she described it to me. She accepted the consequences and left Ola and moved in with me. But she still didn't dare admit it publicly. And that's what we argued about last night.' Kerstin reached for a paper napkin and blew her nose. ‘What time did she leave?' Patrik asked. ‘Around eight. Quarter past, I think. I realized that something must have happened. She never would have stayed out all night on purpose. But I hesitated to call the police. I thought she might have driven over to a friend's house, or else she was out walking all night, or … I'm not sure what I thought. When you arrived I was just thinking about ringing round to the hospitals, and if I didn't find her there I was going to call you.' The tears had started falling again, and she had to blow her nose once more. Patrik could see how sorrow, pain, and self-reproach were whirling round inside her, and he wished there were something he could say that would at least take away the blame. But instead he was forced to make the matter worse. ‘We …' he hesitated, cleared his throat, and then went on: ‘we suspect that she was highly intoxicated when the accident occurred. Is that something she … had a problem with?' He took another sip of his coffee and wished for a second that he was somewhere else, far away. Not here, not in this kitchen, with these questions and this grief. Kerstin gave him a surprised look. ‘Marit never drank. Not as long as I've known her, at least, and that's more than four years. She didn't like the taste. She didn't even drink cider.' Patrik gave Martin a significant look. Yet another odd detail to add to the elusive feeling he'd had ever since he saw the accident site a couple of hours earlier. ‘And you're quite sure of this?' It seemed a stupid question; she'd already answered it, but there was no room for ambiguities. ‘Yes, absolutely! I've never seen her drink wine or beer or anything like that. To think that she had got drunk and then got behind the wheel … no, that just can't be. I don't understand.' Kerstin looked at Patrik and then at Martin with bewilderment. There was no rhyme or reason to what they had said. Marit didn't drink, it was as simple as that. ‘Where can we get hold of her daughter? Do you have an address for Marit's ex-husband?' Martin asked, taking out a notebook and pen. ‘He lives in the Kullen area of Fjällbacka. I have the address here.' She took down a note from the bulletin board and handed it to Martin. She still looked confused, but the inexplicable news had made her stop crying for a while. ‘So you don't want us to ring anyone for you?' asked Patrik as he got up from the table. ‘No. I … I think I'd like to be alone for now.' ‘Okay. But do call if there's anything we can do.' Patrik left her his card. He turned round just before pulling the front door closed behind him and Martin. Kerstin was still sitting at the kitchen table. She sat totally still. ‘Annika! Has the new girl showed up yet?' Mellberg yelled the question out into the corridor. ‘Yes!' Annika shouted back without bothering to leave the reception. ‘So where is she?' Mellberg continued, still shouting. ‘Right here,' said a female voice, and a second later Hanna popped into the corridor. ‘Ah yes, well, yes, if you're not too busy perhaps you'd like to come in and introduce yourself,' he said acidly. ‘It's customary for a person to say hello to her new boss; usually that's the first thing one does at a new job.' ‘I beg your pardon,' said Hanna solemnly, approaching Mellberg with her hand extended. ‘As soon as I arrived Patrik Hedström took me out on a call, and we just got back. I was on my way to see you, naturally. First of all, allow me to say how much I've heard about the great work everyone is doing here. It's certainly to your credit how you've handled the homicide investigations in recent years. And there's a lot of talk about what superb leadership you must have here, to enable such a small station to resolve those cases in such an exemplary way.' She took his hand in a firm grip, as Mellberg gave her a suspicious glance to see whether he would find any sort of irony in what she'd just said. But her gaze held no sign of mockery, and he quickly decided to swallow the flattery whole. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have a woman in uniform after all. She was easy on the eyes too. A bit too thin for his taste, but not half bad, not half bad at all. Although after the conversation he'd had that morning, with such a fortunate result, he had to admit that he didn't feel the same tingle in the pit of his stomach at the sight of this attractive woman. To his great surprise his thoughts turned instead to Rose-Marie's warm voice and the joy with which she had accepted his invitation to dinner. ‘Well, let's not stand out here in the corridor,' he said after reluctantly dismissing his recollection of the pleasant telephone call. ‘Let's take a seat in my office and have a chat.' Hanna followed him into his office and sat down in the chair facing his desk. ‘So, I see that you've already managed to get your feet wet.' ‘Yes, Inspector Hedström took me along to investigate a vehicular accident. A single-car crash. With one fatality, unfortunately.' ‘Yes, that does happen from time to time.' ‘Our first a**essment indicates that alcohol was involved as well. The driver reeked of it.' ‘Damn. Did Patrik say it was someone we'd brought in for driving under the influence before?' ‘No, apparently not. He even recognized the victim. Some woman who had a shop on Affärsvägen. Marit, I think he said.' ‘I'll be damned,' said Mellberg, contemplatively scratching his hair, which was coiled on top of his scalp. ‘Marit? I never would have believed it.' He cleared his throat. ‘I hope you didn't have to inform the next of kin on your first day here.' ‘No,' said Hanna, looking down at her shoes. ‘Patrik and a short, younger officer with red hair went off to do that.' ‘That's Martin Molin,' said Mellberg. ‘Didn't Patrik introduce you two?' ‘No, he probably forgot. I suspect he must have been thinking about the task at hand.' ‘Hmm,' said Mellberg. There was a long silence. Then he cleared his throat. ‘Well then. Welcome to Tanumshede police station. I hope you'll enjoy it here. What sort of living arrangements have you made, by the way?' ‘We're renting a house, that is, my husband and I are, in the area across from the church. We actually moved in a week ago and have been spending the time getting settled. We're renting the house furnished, but we want to make it as cosy as possible.' ‘And your husband? What does he do? Did he find a job here too?' ‘Not yet,' said Hanna, lowering her eyes again. Her hands moved restlessly in her lap. Mellberg was silently sneering to himself. So, she was married to that sort of man. An out-of-work sh** who let himself be supported by his wife. Well, some people could get away with it. ‘Lars is a psychologist,' said Hanna, as if she could hear what Mellberg was thinking. ‘He's been looking, but there aren't many job opportunities around here. So until he finds something, he's working on a book. A non-fiction book. And he'll also be working several hours a week as a psychologist for the participants in Sodding Tanum.' ‘I see,' said Mellberg in a tone that showed he'd already lost interest in what her husband did. ‘Well, once again, welcome to the station.' He got up to indicate that she could leave now that the formalities had been concluded. ‘Thank you,' said Hanna. ‘Please close the door after you,' said Mellberg. For a brief moment he thought he saw an amused smile on her lips. But he was probably mistaken. She seemed to have great respect for him and his work. She had said as much, more or less, and given his deep insight into human behaviour, he could always tell when someone was being honest or not. And Hanna was definitely honest. ‘How'd it go?' said Annika in a whisper when she entered Hanna's office a few seconds later. ‘Well now,' said Hanna, giving her the amused smile that Mellberg imagined he hadn't seen. ‘A real character, that one,' she said, shaking her head. ‘Character. Yes, I suppose you could call him that,' said Annika with a laugh. ‘In any case it looks like you can handle him. Don't take any sh**, that's my advice. If he thinks he can mess with you, you're done for.' ‘I've encountered a few other Mellbergs in my day, so I know how to handle him,' said Hanna. And Annika had no doubt that she meant what she said. ‘Flatter him a bit, pretend you're doing exactly what he says, but then do whatever you think is best. As long as it turns out okay in the end, he'll pretend it was all his idea from the start – am I right?' ‘Exactly. That's precisely how to succeed when Bertil Mellberg is your boss,' said Annika, laughing as she returned to her desk in the reception area. She didn't have to worry about the new girl. A mind of her own, smart and tough as nails. It was going to be a pleasure to watch her take on Mellberg. Dejected, Dan began picking up the things scattered around the girls' room. As usual they had left it looking as though a small bomb had gone off. He knew that he should be stricter about making them pick up after themselves, but his time with them was so precious. Every other weekend he had the girls stay over, and he wanted to extract all he could from their time together, not waste it on nagging and quarrels. He knew it was wrong; he ought to a**ume his parental responsibility and not dump it all on Pernilla, but the weekend went so fast, and the years also seemed to be pa**ing with frightening speed. Belinda had already turned sixteen and was practically an adult. Malin at ten and Lisen at seven were growing so fast that sometimes it felt as though he couldn't keep up. Three years after the divorce the guilt still sat like a block of stone on his chest. If he hadn't made that fateful mistake he might not be standing here picking up the girls' clothes and toys in a house that echoed with emptiness. Maybe it had also been a mistake to keep living in the Falkeliden house. Pernilla had moved to Munkedal to be close to her family. But he hadn't wanted the girls to lose the home they remembered. So he worked, saved, and scrimped so that the girls could feel at home every other weekend when they came to visit. But soon it would no longer be possible. The cost of paying for the house was crushing him. Before six months were over he'd be forced to make a decision. He sat down heavily on Malin's bed and rested his head in his hands. The ringing of the telephone roused him from his brooding. He reached for the phone by Malin's bed. ‘Dan here. ‘Oh, hello, Erica. ‘I'm feeling a bit down. The girls left last night. ‘Yes, I know, and they'll be back soon. It just feels like a long time in between. So, what's on your mind?' He listened intently. The worried furrow that marred his brow even before he answered the phone grew deeper. ‘Are things that bad? If there's anything I can do, just say the word.' He listened again as Erica spoke. ‘Well, I could certainly do that. Absolutely. If you think it'll help.' Another pause. ‘Okay, I'll be right over.' Dan hung up and sat there a moment, deep in thought. He didn't know if he could really be of any help, but since it was Erica who had asked him, he wouldn't hesitate to try. Once long ago they had been a couple, but in the years since then they had become close friends. She had helped him when he was getting divorced from Pernilla, and he would do anything for her. Patrik had also become a close friend, and Dan was a frequent guest at their home. He put on his coat and backed the car out of the driveway. It took him only a few minutes to reach Erica's house. She opened the door at the first knock. ‘Hi, come on in,' she said, giving him a hug. ‘Hi, where's Maja?' He looked about eagerly for the little girl who was swiftly becoming his favourite baby. He wanted to think that Maja was fond of him as well. ‘She's asleep. Sorry.' Erica laughed. She knew that her charming daughter had far outpaced her when it came to winning Dan's affection. ‘Well, I suppose I'll have to try and get along without her, but I'll miss snuffling her sweet little neck.' ‘Don't worry, she'll wake up in a minute. Why don't you come in? Anna is upstairs sleeping.' Erica pointed to the ceiling. ‘Do you think this is a good idea?' said Dan with concern. ‘Maybe she doesn't feel like it. Maybe she'll even get mad.' ‘Don't tell me that a big strong guy like you gets weak at the knees at the mere threat of a woman's anger,' Erica teased him, looking up at Dan, who made an imposing sight. ‘And just because I said it once, I don't want to hear any more about how Maria thought you looked like Dolph Lundgren. Considering how inaccurate she is about most things, I wouldn't quote her voluntarily if I were you.' ‘But I do look a lot like him, don't I?' Dan struck a pose but then laughed. ‘No, you're probably right. And my hunk days are definitely over. I just had to get it out of my system.' ‘Yeah, both Patrik and I look forward to the day when you find a girlfriend we can actually have a conversation with.' ‘You mean, in view of the high intellectual tone in this house? How's it going with Paradise Hotel, by the way? Are your favourites still on the show? Who's going to be in the finals? You're such a loyal viewer. I'm sure you could bring me up to date on what's happening on that highly cultural programme that challenges your brain, so hungry for knowledge. And Patrik – he can tell me all about the rankings in the All-Swedish tournaments, can't he? That's mathematics on a high level.' ‘Ha ha ha. Point taken.' Erica punched him in the arm. ‘Now go on upstairs and make yourself useful.' ‘Are you sure that Patrik knows what he's getting himself into? I think I'll have a few words with him about how smart it is for him to walk down the aisle with you.' Dan was already halfway up the stairs. ‘Fantastic idea. Now get on up there!' Dan's laugh stuck in his throat as he ascended the last couple of steps. He had scarcely seen Anna during the time she and the kids had been staying with Erica and Patrik. Like everyone else in Sweden he had followed the story of the tragedy in the newspapers, but every time he visited Erica, Anna had stayed out of sight. From what Erica told him, she spent most of her time in the bedroom. He knocked cautiously on the door. No answer. He knocked again. ‘Anna? Hello? It's Dan. May I come in?' Still no answer. He stood there bewildered. He didn't feel entirely comfortable with the situation, but he'd promised Erica to try and help, so now he had to make the best of it. He took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Anna lay on the bed; he saw that she was awake. She was staring blankly at the ceiling with her hands clasped over her stomach. She didn't even glance in his direction when he came in. He sat down on the edge of the bed. Still no reaction. ‘How are things? How are you feeling?' ‘How does it look like I'm feeling?' said Anna without taking her eyes from the ceiling. ‘Erica's worried about you.' ‘Erica is always worried about me.' Dan smiled. ‘You have a point there. She's a bit of a mother hen, isn't she?' ‘That's for sure,' said Anna, turning her gaze to Dan. ‘But she means well. And she's probably more worried than usual just now.' ‘Yeah, I get it.' Anna sighed. A long, deep sigh that seemed to release much more than air from her body. ‘I just don't know how to snap out of this. It's as if all my energy is gone. And I don't feel a thing. Absolutely nothing. I'm not remorseful, and I'm not happy. I feel nothing at all.' ‘Have you talked to anyone about it?' ‘A psychologist or somebody like that, you mean? Erica keeps nagging me about that. But I can't get myself together to do it. I can't picture myself sitting there and talking to a complete stranger. About Lucas. About myself. I just can't face it.' ‘Would you …' Dan hesitated, squirming as he sat there on the bed. ‘Could you picture yourself talking to me? We don't know each other that well, but at least I'm not a total stranger.' He paused and waited tensely for her reply. He hoped that she would say yes. Suddenly he felt a great protective instinct when he saw her body that was much too thin and the haunted expression in her eyes. She was so much like Erica, yet not the same. A more frightened and fragile version of Erica. ‘I … I don't know,' she said. ‘I don't know what to say. Where to begin.' ‘We could start by going for a walk. And if you want to talk, then we'll talk. If you don't want to, then … we'll just walk for a while. How does that sound?' He could hear how anxious he sounded. Anna sat up carefully. She sat with her back to him for a moment, then got up from the bed. ‘Okay, let's go for a walk. But just a walk.' ‘Okay,' said Dan and nodded. He led the way down the stairs and cast a look into the kitchen where he heard Erica clattering about. ‘We're going out for a walk,' he called to her, and from the corner of his eye he could see Erica trying to pretend it was no big deal. ‘It's cold out, so you'd better put on a jacket,' he said to Anna, who took his advice and slipped on a beige duffel coat, wrapping a big white scarf round her neck. ‘Are you ready?' he asked, aware of the multiple meanings in that question. ‘Yes, I think so,' said Anna quietly, and she followed him out into the spring sunshine. ‘So, do you think anyone ever gets used to it?' asked Martin in the car on the way to Fjällbacka. ‘No,' Patrik said. ‘At least I hope not. Otherwise it'd be time to switch professions.' He took the curve at Långsjö much too fast, and Martin clutched the handle above the window as usual. He made a mental note to warn the new officer against riding with Patrik. Although it was probably too late. She had ridden in the car with him to that accident scene this morning, so she'd probably already had her first near-d**h experience. ‘How does she seem?' Martin asked. ‘Who?' Patrik seemed more distracted than normal. ‘The new officer. Hanna Kruse.' ‘She seems all right,' said Patrik. ‘But?' ‘What do you mean, “but”?' Patrik turned to look at his colleague, which made Martin grip the handle even harder. ‘Jesus, would you please watch the road? I meant, it seemed like you wanted to say more.' ‘Oh, I don't know.' To Martin's relief he was now keeping his eyes on the road. ‘I'm just not used to people who are so … ambitious.' ‘And what do you mean by that?' Martin said with a laugh, unable to hide the fact that he felt a bit insulted. ‘Hey, don't take it the wrong way. I didn't mean that you lacked ambition, but Hanna, she's, how shall I put it – super-ambitious.' ‘Super-ambitious,' Martin said sceptically. ‘You have reservations about her because she's super-ambitious? Could you be a bit more specific? And what's wrong with super-ambitious women, anyway? You're not somebody who thinks women have no place on the force, are you?' Now Patrik looked away from the road again and gave Martin an incredulous look. ‘How well do you know me, anyway? Do you think I'm some sort of male chauvinist pig? A chauvinist pig whose fiancée makes twice as much as he does, by the way. I just mean … oh, never mind, you'll just have to see for yourself.' Martin was silent for a moment, then he said, ‘Are you serious? Does Erica make twice as much as you do?' Patrik laughed. ‘I knew that would shut you up. Although to be entirely honest, that's before taxes. Most of it goes to the government. Lucky thing, too. It would have been too depressing to be rich.' Martin joined in the laughter. ‘Yeah, what a fate. That's not something you'd want to deal with.' ‘You can say that again.' Patrik smiled but soon turned serious. They turned into the Kullen neighbourhood, where the blocks of flats stood close together, and parked the car. Then they sat there for a moment before getting out. ‘Well, here we go again.' ‘Yep,' said Martin. The knot in his stomach was growing by the minute. But there was no turning back. Might as well get it done. ‘Lars?' Hanna put down her bag inside the front door, hung up her jacket, and placed her shoes on the shoe rack. No one answered. ‘Hello? Lars? Are you here?' She could hear the anxiety begin creeping into her voice. ‘Lars?' She went through the house. Everything was quiet. Dust motes scattered in her path, clearly visible in the springtime sun shining through the windows. The landlord hadn't done much of a cleaning job before he rented the place. But she couldn't face doing it now. Her unease was pushing everything else away. ‘LARS?' Now she was shouting, but she heard only her own voice echoing off the walls. Hanna continued looking through the house. There was nobody downstairs, so she ran upstairs to the top floor. The door to the bedroom was closed. She opened it cautiously. ‘Lars?' she said softly. He was lying on the bed on his side, his back to her. He was on top of the covers, fully dressed, and she could see from his even breathing that he was asleep. She crept over to the bed and lay down beside him, their bodies like two spoons. She listened to his breathing and could feel the regular rhythm begin to rock her softly to sleep. And sleep took away her worry. ‘What a f**ing dump,' said Uffe, flopping down on one of the beds that stood ready in the big room. ‘I think it's going to be fun,' said Barbie, bouncing on the bed. ‘Did I say it wouldn't be fun?' said Uffe with a laugh. ‘I just said it's a dump. But we're going to get things moving, aren't we? Just look at the supplies.' He sat up, pointing at the well-stocked bar. ‘What do you say? Shall we start to party?' ‘Yeah!' Everyone except Jonna cheered. Nobody looked at the cameras whirring all around them. They were much too used to them to make such a beginner's mistake. ‘So skål then, for f**'s sake,' said Uffe, grabbing the first beer. ‘Skål,' said all the others, raising their bottles high. All except Jonna. She was still sitting on her bed, looking at the five others and not moving. ‘What's your problem?' Uffe snapped in her direction. ‘Aren't you going to have a beer with us? Aren't we good enough to drink with you, or what?' They all looked expectantly at Jonna. They were all acutely aware that conflicts made for great TV, and if there was anything they all wanted, it was for Sodding Tanum to be great TV. ‘I just don't feel like it,' said Jonna. She avoided Uffe's gaze. ‘“I just don't feel like it,”' Uffe mocked her, his voice a shrill falsetto. He looked around to make sure that he had the others' support, and when he saw anticipation in their eyes he went on. ‘What the f**, are you some kind of f**ing teetotaller? I thought we were here to PAR-TAY!' He raised his bottle and took a big swig. ‘She's not a teetotaller,' Barbie ventured to say. A sharp look from Uffe shut her up. ‘Just leave me alone,' said Jonna, swinging her legs down from the bed in annoyance. ‘I'm going out for a while,' she said, pulling on her big shapeless military jacket that was hanging on a nearby chair. ‘Go ahead,' Uffe yelled after her. ‘f** off, loser!' He gave a big laugh and opened another beer. Then he looked round again. ‘What are you sitting around for, it's a PARTY! Skål!' After a few seconds of awkward silence a nervous laughter began to spread. Then the others raised their bottles and plunged into the fray. The cameras kept whirring, inciting their intoxication. It was great to be on TV again. ‘Pappa, the doorbell is ringing!' Sofie yelled and then returned to her phone call. She sighed. ‘Pappa is so slow. I can't stand just sitting here. I'm counting the days until I can go back home to Mamma and Kerstin. Typical – I have to stay in the flat when they start shooting Sodding Tanum today. Everyone else is going down to watch, and I'm missing it all. So bloody typical,' she groused. ‘Pappa, you have to get it, there's someone at the door!' she yelled. ‘I'm too old to be shuttling back and forth between those two like some kid from a broken home. But they still can't get along, so neither of them will listen to me. They act like such babies.' The doorbell sounded loudly through the flat again, and Sofie jumped up. ‘I suppose, I'll have to open it MYSELF then!' she screamed, adding more softly into the phone, ‘Look, I'll have to call you back, the old man is probably listening to his disgusting dance band music with the headphones on. Kiss kiss, sweetie.' Sofie sighed and headed for the front door. ‘All right, all right, I'm coming!' She tore open the door but was a bit shocked to see two strangers in police uniform standing there. ‘Hello?' ‘Are you Sofie?' ‘Yes, what is it?' Sofie feverishly searched her memory for what she might have done to bring the police to her door. She couldn't imagine what it could have been. Okay, she might have smuggled a couple of alcopops into the last school dance, and she had probably ridden on the back of Olle's souped-up moped a few times, but she found it hard to believe that the police would care about such trivial offences. ‘Is your father at home?' asked the older officer. ‘Yeah,' said Sofie, and now her thoughts were really running wild. What could Pappa have done? ‘We'd like to talk with both of you, together,' said the red-haired, slightly younger officer. Sofie couldn't help reflecting that he wasn't bad-looking. Neither was the other one, for that matter. But he was so old. He must be thirty-five at least. ‘Come in.' She stepped aside and let them into the hall. As they were taking off their shoes she went through to the living room. Sure enough, Pappa was sitting there with the enormous headphones clamped to his ears. No doubt he was listening to something horrible by Wizex or the Vikings or Thorleifs. She gesticulated to him to take off the earphones. He just lifted them and gave her a quizzical look. ‘Pappa, there are some cops here who want to talk to us.' ‘Police? What? Who?' Sofie could see his mind whirling as he tried to work out what she could have got herself into to make the police want to pay a visit. She anticipated him. ‘I didn't do anything. Honest. I promise.' He gave her a suspicious glance but took off the headphones, got up, and went out to find out what was going on. Sofie followed at his heels. ‘What's this about?' asked Ola Kaspersen, looking a bit afraid of hearing an unwanted reply to that question. His intonation revealed his Norwegian origins, but it was so slight that Patrik guessed it had been many years since he'd left the land of his birth. ‘Could we go in and sit down? My name is Patrik Hedström, by the way, and this is my colleague Martin Molin.' ‘Of course. By all means,' said Ola, shaking their hands. He still sounded puzzled. ‘Yes, come with me.' He showed Martin and Patrik into the kitchen, as nine people out of ten would have done. For some reason the kitchen always seemed to be the safest place when the police came to call. ‘So, how can we help you?' Ola was sitting next to Sofie, while the two police officers took seats facing them. Ola at once began straightening the fringe of the tablecloth. Sofie gave him an annoyed glance. Couldn't he stop his damn fidgeting even now? ‘We …' The one who'd introduced himself as Patrik Hedström sounded hesitant, and Sofie began to get a strange feeling in her stomach. She had an urge to cover her ears and hum, the way she did when she was little and Mamma and Pappa were arguing, but she knew that she couldn't do that. She wasn't little anymore. ‘I'm afraid we have bad news. Marit Kaspersen was k**ed in a traffic accident last night. We're very sorry.' Hedström cleared his throat again but didn't look away. The sinking feeling in Sofie's stomach got worse, and she fought to avoid taking in what she'd just heard. It couldn't be true! There must be some mistake. Mamma couldn't be dead. It just wasn't possible. They were supposed to go shopping in Uddevalla next weekend. They'd made a date. Just the two of them. One of those mother-daughter things that Mamma had been nagging her about for ages, and which Sofie always pretended to dislike but actually enjoyed. Imagine that Mamma had never known that. That she looked forward to their shopping trips together. Sofie's head was spinning, and next to her she heard her father gasping for air. ‘This must be a mistake.' Ola's words were like an echo of Sofie's thoughts. ‘Marit can't be dead!' He was panting as though he'd been running. ‘Unfortunately there's no doubt about it.' Patrik paused, then said, ‘I … I identified her myself. I recognized her from the shop.' ‘But, but …' Ola searched for words, but they seemed to escape him. Sofie regarded him with surprise. For as long as she could remember, her parents had been at each other's throats. She never would have imagined that there was some part of her father that still cared. ‘What … what happened?' Ola stammered. ‘A single-car accident, just north of Sannäs.' ‘Single-car accident? What do you mean?' said Sofie. Her hands were clutching the edge of the table as though that was the only thing anchoring her to reality. ‘Did she swerve to miss a deer, or something? Mamma only drove a car about twice a year. Why was she out driving last night?' She looked at the officers sitting across from her and felt her heart pounding. It was clear from the way they looked down at the table that there was something they weren't telling. What could it be? She waited quietly for an answer. ‘We think that there was alcohol involved. She could have been driving under the influence. But we don't know for sure; the results of the investigation will tell us more.' Hedström looked straight at Sofie. She couldn't believe her ears. She looked at her father and then back at Patrik. ‘Are you kidding me? There has to be some mistake. Mamma never drank. Not a drop. I've never even seen her have a gla** of wine. She was totally against alcohol. Tell them!' Sofie felt a wild hope surge inside her. It couldn't be Mamma! She gave her father a hopeful look. He cleared his throat. ‘Yes, that's true. Marit never drank. Not in all the time we were married, and as far as I know, not afterwards either.' Sofie sought out his eyes to ascertain that he now felt the same hope that she did, but he avoided looking at her. He said what she knew he had to say, what in her eyes confirmed that the whole thing must be a mistake, and yet something felt … wrong. Then she shook off that feeling and turned to Patrik and Martin. ‘You hear that? You must have made a mistake. It couldn't be Mamma! Did you check with Kerstin? Is she at home?' The officers exchanged glances. It was the red-haired one who now spoke. ‘We've been to see Kerstin. She and Marit apparently had some sort of argument last night. Your mother stormed out and took the keys to the car. No one has seen Marit since then. And …' Martin looked at his colleague. ‘And I'm quite sure that it's Marit,' Patrik said. ‘I've seen her at the shop, and I recognized her straight away. However, we don't know for certain whether she had drunk anything. We got that impression only because we smelled alcohol on the driver's seat. But we're not sure. So it's possible that there's some other explanation. But there's no doubt that it was your mother. I'm very sorry.' The unpleasant feeling in Sofie's stomach came back. It grew and grew until it made gall rise up in her throat. Now the tears came too. She felt her father's hand on her shoulder but shook it off. All those years of quarrelling lay between them. All the arguments, both before and after her parents' divorce, all the bullsh**, all the backbiting, all the hate. All that now solidified into a single hard knot in the midst of the grief. She couldn't bring herself to listen anymore. With three pair of eyes watching, she ran out the door. Outside the kitchen window Erica heard two happy voices. Scattered laughter was muffled by the front door until it was opened and the sound spread through the house. Erica couldn't believe her eyes. Anna was smiling, not in a forced or dutiful way as she did in front of the children in an attempt to calm them, but with a genuine smile that went from ear to ear. She and Dan were talking to each other in high spirits, and their cheeks were rosy from a brisk walk in the lovely springtime weather. ‘Hi, did you have a good time?' Erica asked cautiously, putting the pot in the coffeemaker. ‘Yes, it was beautiful outside,' said Anna with a smile at Dan. ‘It felt so good to stretch my legs for a change. We went all the way up to Bräcke and back. The weather was so clear and sunny that some of the trees are already putting out buds, and …' She had to stop to catch her breath after the walk. ‘And we simply had a terrifically good time,' Dan put in, taking off his jacket. ‘So, is there going to be coffee, or are you saving it for some other guests?' ‘Don't be silly, I thought all three of us could have a cup. If you feel up to it,' said Erica with a glance at Anna. She still felt as though she were walking on very thin ice when she spoke to her sister, afraid she would prick the bubble of joy that had suddenly enveloped Anna. ‘Sure. I haven't felt this invigorated in a long time,' Anna said, sitting down at the kitchen table. She took the cup Erica handed her, poured in some milk, and then warmed her hands around the cup. ‘This is just what the doctor ordered.' The red roses on her cheeks made her face light up. Erica's heart skipped a beat at the sight of Anna smiling. It had been so long since she'd seen her like this. So long since Anna'd had anything but that mournful, downcast look in her eyes. She glanced at Dan in gratitude. She hadn't been quite sure she was doing the right thing when she asked Dan to come over and talk to Anna, but she'd had a sneaking feeling that he'd be able to reach her if anyone could. Erica had been trying for months, but finally realized that she wasn't the right person to snap her sister out of her dismal mood. ‘Dan asked how the wedding plans were coming along, but I had to admit I had no idea. You probably told me, but I haven't been too receptive lately. So how much have you got done? Is everything booked and ready?' Anna took a sip of coffee and gave Erica a questioning glance. All of a sudden she looked so young, so carefree. The way she was before she met Lucas. Erica forced her thoughts away from the subject. She had no desire to ruin this moment by thinking of that arsehole. ‘Well, when it comes to all the things that have to be booked and ordered, we're up to speed. The church is reserved, we put a deposit down at Stora Hotellet, and, well, that's about all that's done.' ‘But, Erica, the wedding is only six weeks away! What sort of gown do you have? What are the kids going to wear? What sort of bridal bouquet will you have? Did you talk to Stora Hotellet about the menu? Did you book rooms for the guests? And is the seating chart done?' With a laugh Erica held up her hand. Maja was watching them happily from her high chair, unaware of where all this merriment was coming from. ‘Calm down. If you keep up that way, I'm going to regret that Dan managed to get you out of your bed.' She smiled and winked to show that she was joking. ‘Okay, okay,' said Anna. ‘I won't say another word. No, there's one more thing – did you arrange for the music yet?' ‘No, no, and no again is probably the answer to all your questions, unfortunately,' Erica sighed. ‘I haven't … got around to it.' Anna turned serious at once. ‘You haven't got around to it because you've been taking care of three kids. Forgive me, Erica, it can't have been that easy for you these past months. I wish I –' she broke off and Erica saw tears welling up in her sister's eyes. ‘Hush now, it's okay. Adrian and Emma have been angels, and they're at kindergarten all day, so it hasn't been all that much of a burden. But they've missed their mamma.' Anna gave her a sad smile. Dan was playing with Maja and trying to stay out of the conversation. This was between Erica and Anna. ‘Oh my God, kindergarten!' Erica jumped out of her chair and looked at the big clock on the wall. ‘I'm super late. I've got to collect them. Ewa will be beside herself if I don't hurry.' ‘I'll go fetch them today,' said Anna, getting up. ‘Give me the car keys.' ‘Are you sure? ‘Yes, I'm sure. You've been collecting them every single day, so today it's my turn.' ‘They'll be overjoyed,' said Erica, sitting back down at the table. ‘Yes, they will,' said Anna with a smile, taking the car keys from the worktop. In the hall she turned round. ‘Dan … thank you. I needed this. It was great to have a chance to talk it out.' ‘Hey, no problem. I enjoyed it. We could take a walk tomorrow too if the weather holds. I'm working till quarter to three, so what do you say to an hour's walk before you have to fetch the kids?' ‘Sounds great. But now I have to hurry, or Ewa will be furious, or whatever it was you said.' One last smile and she vanished out of the front door. Erica turned to Dan. ‘What the hell did you do on that walk, anyway? Smoke hash together?' Dan laughed. ‘No, nothing like that. Anna just needed someone to talk to, and it was as if a cork popped out of her somehow. When she finally started to talk, she was impossible to stop.' ‘I've been trying to talk to her for months,' Erica said. She couldn't help feeling a bit hurt. ‘You know how it is with you two, Erica,' said Dan calmly. ‘You have a lot of old baggage between you. Maybe it's not so easy for Anna to talk to you. You're too close to each other, in both good and bad ways. But when we were out walking she told me she's incredibly grateful that you and Patrik were so willing to help, and above all that you've been so fantastic with the kids.' ‘She said that?' Erica could hear how starved for appreciation she sounded. She was so used to taking care of Anna, and she did it gladly, but no matter how selfish it might sound, she wanted Anna to acknowledge the help received. ‘That's what she said,' Dan said, putting his hand on hers. It felt familiar and nice. ‘But all that about the wedding sounded a bit worrisome,' Dan went on. ‘Do you think you can manage to take care of everything in six weeks? Just say the word if you want my help.' He made funny faces at Maja, who whooped with laughter. ‘What would you do to help?' Erica snorted, pouring more coffee. ‘Pick out a bridal gown for me, or what?' Dan laughed. ‘Oh yeah, that would be a big success. No, but I could provide some beds at my house for your guests, for instance. If you need it. I have plenty of room.' He turned serious, and Erica knew exactly what was preying on his mind. ‘You know, it'll all work out. It'll get better.' ‘You think so?' he said morosely, taking a sip of coffee. ‘God only knows. I miss them so damn much. Sometimes it feels like I'm going to fall to pieces.' ‘Is it the kids, or Pernilla and the kids, that you miss?' ‘I don't know. Both, I suppose, although I've accepted that Pernilla has moved on. But I feel like I'm dying inside because I can't see the girls every day. Not being there when they wake up, when they go to school, not being able to eat dinner with them and hear how their day was. All of that. Instead I sit all week in that house. It's so empty that it echoes. I wanted to keep the place so that they wouldn't lose their childhood home too, but now I don't know if I can afford it much longer. I may have to sell it within the next six months.' ‘Believe me, I've been there, done that,' said Erica, referring to how close they had come to having Lucas put their house up for sale; the house where they were now sitting, the home where she and Anna had grown up. ‘I just don't know what to do with my life,' said Dan, running his hands through his short blond hair. ‘Who are these cheerful people in the kitchen?' Patrik's voice from the hallway interrupted them. ‘We're just talking about what Dan should do with his house,' Erica said, getting up to kiss her future spouse. Maja had also noticed that the man in her life had come in the door, and now she was waving her arms frantically to be picked up. Dan looked at her and histrionically threw his arms wide. ‘What's up with that? I thought we had something going here, you and I. And then you throw me over for the first guy who comes in the door. Kids today, I swear. They don't know real quality when they see it.' ‘Hey, Dan,' said Patrik, patting him on the shoulder with a laugh. Then he picked up Maja. ‘Yeah, Pappa is at the top of the list with this little girl,' he said, giving Maja a kiss and rubbing his stubbly beard against her neck, which made her squeal with delight. ‘By the way, Erica, don't you have to collect the kids?' Erica paused for effect. Then she said with a big smile, ‘Anna's picking them up.' ‘What did you say? Anna's picking them up?' Patrik looked amazed, but also pleased. ‘Yes, this hero here took Anna for a walk, and then they smoked a little hash, and –' ‘We did not, stop it!' laughed Dan, turning to Patrik. ‘This is how it was. Erica rang and asked whether I could try to coax Anna out for a walk so she could get some exercise. And Anna agreed to come along, and we took a lovely long walk. It seemed to do her a lot of good to get out of the house.' ‘That's a real understatement,' said Erica, ruffling Dan's hair. ‘What do you say to basking in the glow of our gratitude for a while longer, and stay for dinner?' ‘Depends. What are you having?' ‘You're certainly spoiled,' Erica said with a laugh. ‘Anyway, it's chicken stew with avocado and jasmine rice.' ‘Okay, it's a deal.' ‘Nice to hear that we come up to your high standards, Mr Gourmet.' ‘We'll see about that after I've tasted it.' ‘Oh, come off it,' said Erica, and got up to start making dinner. She felt warm inside. This had been a good day. A very good day. She turned to ask Patrik how his had been.