25 Winter 1987

The following morning a grey, foul-smelling fog hung over the lake, just as it had done on her first morning here. Smoke, Laura was sure of it.

It was after ten when she knocked on Jack’s door. He opened it right away, looking considerably more relaxed than the previous evening.

‘Morning, Princess – tea?’

‘Please.’

Laura took the opportunity to glance around while he clattered about in the kitchenette. Everything looked the same as it always did. The bed was neatly made, the floor clean. Jack liked to keep the place neat and tidy. She was pleased to see that the car magazine she’d given him at the airport was on his bedside table.

‘That business in Alkärret yesterday was terrible,’ she said.

He didn’t answer, pretended to be preoccupied with the tea. She waited until he sat down opposite her. She had two questions for him. She opted to go for the easiest one first.

‘So what’s actually going on here? The fires, the dead sheep?’

Jack took a sip of his tea.

‘It started in the autumn,’ he said quietly. ‘A couple of small fires that nobody really took much notice of. Litter bins, that kind of thing. But then the fires became bigger and more frequent. Hunting towers, outhouses, empty cottages. People are nervous. And Jensen’s sheep . . . Three in a month.’

Laura thought back to what she’d heard of the conversation in the yard the previous day.

‘Ulf Jensen suspects someone, doesn’t he?’

It took a few seconds before she managed to interpret Jack’s expression. She gasped.

‘You? He thinks you killed his sheep?’

Jack stared into his cup.

‘But why? Why would he think that?’

Milla’s words came into her mind – that killing the sheep was about hatred. Or love.

‘Iben,’ she said in a small voice.

‘Ulf doesn’t like us hanging out together,’ Jack said. ‘He’s had a go at Hedda about it several times, and the other day her brothers made it very clear to me.’

He pulled up his T-shirt to reveal a huge bruise. Laura’s stomach contracted into a hard knot.

‘So Ulf thinks you’re killing his sheep to show you’re not scared of him?’ she managed to say.

‘Something like that.’ Jack shrugged. ‘I guess he blames me for the other fires too. He’s crazy . . .’

He placed a hand on her arm, exactly as Iben had done the other day.

‘We didn’t mean to hurt you. It just happened. After you left in the summer . . .’

He fell silent. The knot in Laura’s stomach tightened. She wiped away a tear, then another.

‘Are you in love with her?’

Jack looked tortured. He slowly removed his hand.

‘You don’t understand . . .’

‘So explain it to me! Explain what’s changed from last summer!’

Jack shook his head.

‘I can’t. I’m sorry, but I just can’t, Princess.’

‘Don’t call me that – I’m not a child!’

The apartment felt cramped, the air suffocating. Laura leaped up and headed for the door, fighting back the tears.

She ran down the stairs and into Hedda’s house. Threw herself on the bed and buried her face in the pillows. Sobbed and sobbed, her whole body shaking.

After a while Hedda came in, sat down on the bed and gently stroked her hair.

‘Oh, sweetheart,’ she whispered. ‘Sometimes living really hurts.’

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