The Drowning

12

He thought she looked rather sweet as she lay there so still, no longer crying or demanding or taking. He reached out his hand to touch her forehead. His movement stirred up the water again, and her features were blurred by the ripples on the surface.

It sounded like Father was saying goodbye to whoever it was at the front door. He could hear footsteps approaching. Father would understand. He too had been shut out. She had taken from him too.

He drew his fingers through the water, making patterns and waves. Her hands and feet were resting on the bottom. Only her knees and a small part of her forehead stuck out of the water.

Now he heard Father just outside the bathroom door. He didn’t look up. Suddenly it felt like he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He liked her this way. For the first time he liked her. He pressed his cheek even harder against the edge of the tub. Listening and waiting for Father to realize that they were free of her now. They had Mother back, both he and Father. Father would be happy; he was sure of that.

Then he felt someone yanking him away from the bathtub. Surprised, he looked up. Father’s face was contorted with so many feelings that he didn’t know how to interpret them. But he didn’t look happy.

‘What have you done?’ Father’s voice roared and he grabbed Alice out of the tub. Helplessly he held her slack body in his arms, and then he gently set her down on the rug. ‘What have you done?’ Father said again, without looking at him.

‘She took Mother away.’ He felt the words stick in his throat, unable to come out. He didn’t understand a thing. He thought Father would be pleased.

Father didn’t say a word. Just gave him a quick glance, a look of disbelief on his face. Then he leaned down and pressed his fingers lightly on the baby’s chest. He held her nose, blew gently into her mouth, and then pressed on her chest again.

‘Why are you doing that, Father?’ He could hear how whiny his voice sounded. Mother didn’t like it when he whined. He pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as he leaned his back against the tub. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Why was Father giving him such strange looks? He wasn’t just angry at him; Father also looked scared of him.

Father kept on blowing into Alice’s mouth. Her hands and feet lay motionless on the rug, just as still as when they were resting on the bottom of the tub. Every once in a while they jerked a bit when Father pressed his fingers on her chest, but that was Father moving them. She wasn’t moving them on her own.

But the fourth time that Father stopped blowing, one of her hands quivered. Then came the coughing, and after that the scream. That oh-so-familiar, shrill, demanding scream. He didn’t like her any more.

Mother’s footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. Father picked up Alice, holding her so close that the front of his shirt was soaked. She was shrieking so loudly that the bathroom seemed to vibrate, and he wished that she would stop, that she would be as quiet and sweet as she was before Father did what he had done to her.

As Mother approached, Father squatted down in front of him. His eyes were big and frightened as he leaned forward and whispered: ‘We will never talk about what happened here. And if you ever do it again, I’m going to send you away so fast that you won’t even hear the door close after you. Do you understand? You are never to touch her again!’

‘What’s going on here?’ Mother’s voice in the doorway. ‘The minute I go upstairs to take a nap for a moment’s respite, pure hysteria breaks out down here. What’s wrong with her? Did he do something?’ She turned to look at him sitting on the floor.

For several seconds the only answer was Alice screaming. Then Father stood up, still holding her in his arms, and said, ‘No, I just didn’t get the towel wrapped around her fast enough when I took her out of the bath. She’s just angry.’

‘Are you sure he didn’t do anything?’ She stared at him, but he just bowed his head and pretended to be busy tugging at the fringe of the rug.

‘No, he was just helping me out. He’s been very nice with her.’ Out of the corner of his eye, Father gave him a warning look.

Mother seemed satisfied with that response. Impatiently she reached out for Alice, and after a moment’s hesitation, Father handed the baby to her. When she had left the room to calm the child, they looked at each other. Neither of them said a word. But he saw in Father’s eyes that he meant what he had said. They would never speak of what had just happened.

‘Kenneth?’ Her voice broke as she tried to call her husband’s name.

No answer. Was she imagining things? No, she was sure that she’d heard the door open and then close again.

‘Hello?’

Still no answer. Lisbet attempted to sit up, but her strength had been seeping away so fast over the past few days that she couldn’t manage it. What energy she had left, she saved for the hours when Kenneth was at home. All for the purpose of convincing him that she was doing better than she actually was, so that he’d let her stay home a little while longer. So she could escape the smell of the hospital and the feel of the starched sheets against her skin. She knew Kenneth so well. He would drive her to the hospital in an instant if he knew how bad she was really feeling. He would do it because he was still clinging desperately to hope.

But Lisbet’s body told her that her time was near. She’d used up all her reserves, and the disease had taken over. Victorious. All she wanted was to die at home, with her own blanket over her body and her own pillow under her head. And with Kenneth sleeping next to her in the night. She often lay awake, listening, trying to memorize the sound of each breath he took. She knew how uncomfortable it was for him to sleep on that rickety camp-bed. But she couldn’t get herself to tell him to go upstairs to sleep. Maybe she was being selfish, but she loved him too much to be away from him in these last hours that she had left.

‘Kenneth?’ she called out again. She had just persuaded herself that it was all in her imagination when she heard the familiar creak of the loose floorboard out in the hall. It always protested whenever anyone stepped on it.

‘Hello?’ Now she was starting to get scared. She looked around for the telephone, which Kenneth usually remembered to leave within reach. But lately he’d been so tired in the morning that he sometimes forgot. Like today.

‘Is someone there?’ She gripped the edge of the bed and again tried to sit up. She felt like the main character in one of her favourite stories, The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka, in which Gregor Samsa is changed into a beetle and can’t turn over if he lands on his back. He just lies there, helpless.

Now she heard footsteps in the hall. Whoever it was moved cautiously, but was still getting closer and closer. Lisbet felt panic taking over. Who would refuse to answer her calls? Surely Kenneth wouldn’t try to tease her in that way. He had never subjected her to any sort of practical jokes or surprises, so she didn’t think he would start now.

The footsteps were very close. She stared at the old wooden door, which she had personally sanded and painted what now seemed like an entire lifetime ago. When the door didn’t move, she again thought that her brain must be playing tricks on her, that the cancer had spread there too, so that she could no longer think clearly or tell what was real and what wasn’t.

But then, very slowly, the door began to open. Someone was standing on the other side, pushing it open. She screamed for help, screamed as loud as she could, trying to drown out the terrifying silence. When the door swung all the way open, she stopped. And the person began to speak. The voice was familiar and yet not, and she squinted to see better. The long dark hair she saw made Lisbet instinctively touch her own head to make sure the yellow scarf was in place.

‘Who are you?’ she asked, but the person held up a finger. And Lisbet fell silent.

The voice spoke again. Now it was coming from the edge of the bed, speaking close to her face, saying things that made her want to cover her ears with her hands. Lisbet shook her head, didn’t want to listen, but the voice continued. It was spellbinding and relentless. It told a story, and something about its tone and the narrative’s movement, both backward and forward, made her understand that the story was true. And the truth was more than she could bear.

Paralysed, she listened to the inexorable outpouring of words. The more she heard, the weaker was her hold on the fragile lifeline that had been keeping her going. She’d been living on borrowed time and sheer force of will, relying on love and her faith in it. Now that it had been taken from her, she let go of her grip. The last thing Lisbet heard was the voice. And then her heart burst.

‘When do you think we can talk to Cia again?’ Patrik looked at his colleague.

‘I’m afraid we can’t wait,’ said Paula. ‘I’m sure she understands that we need to keep working on the investigation.’

‘You’re probably right,’ said Patrik, but he didn’t sound convinced. It was always a difficult balance. Doing his job, which might involve intruding on someone’s grief, or showing compassion and thereby putting his work in second place. At the same time, Cia’s steadfast Wednesday visits to the police station had shown him what she considered the top priority.

‘What should we do? What haven’t we done yet? Or is there anything we need to do over? Have we missed something?’

‘Well, to begin with, Magnus spent his whole life here in Fjällbacka, so if he had any secrets, either now or in the past, we should be able to find them here. And that makes things easier. The local gossip mill is usually highly efficient, and yet we haven’t found out a single thing about him. Nothing that might give us a motive for why someone would want to harm him, much less take the drastic step of killing him.’

‘He seems to have been a real family man. A stable marriage, well-behaved children, a normal social circle. But in spite of all that, somebody went at him with a knife. Could it have been an act of insanity? Some mentally deranged person who snapped and then chose a victim at random?’ Paula presented this theory without a great deal of confidence.

‘We can’t rule that out, but I don’t think so. The most significant thing contradicting that premise is the fact that Magnus phoned Rosander to say that he’d be late. And besides, Rosander said that Kjellner didn’t sound like himself. No, something happened on that morning.’

‘In other words, we need to focus on the people he knew.’

‘Easier said than done,’ replied Patrik. ‘Fjällbacka has approximately a thousand inhabitants. And everybody knows everybody else, more or less.’

‘Oh, great. I’m beginning to see the problem,’ laughed Paula. She was a relative newcomer in Tanumshede, and she was still trying to get used to the shock of losing the anonymity of a big city.

‘But in principle, you’re right. So I suggest that we start at the centre and then make our way outwards. We’ll talk to Cia as soon as we can. And to the children, if Cia will allow it. Then we’ll move on to Magnus’s closest friends: Erik Lind, Kenneth Bengtsson, and especially Christian Thydell. There’s something about those threatening letters…’

Patrik opened his top desk drawer and took out the plastic bag containing the letter and the card. He told his colleague the whole story about how Erica had acquired them. Paula listened in disbelief. In silence she read the hostile words.

‘This is serious,’ she said then. ‘We should send these to the lab for analysis.’

‘I know,’ said Patrik. ‘But let’s not jump to any hasty conclusions. I just have a feeling that everything might be connected somehow.’

‘I agree,’ said Paula, getting up. ‘I don’t think it’s a coincidence either.’ She paused before leaving Patrik’s office. ‘Should we talk to Christian today?’

‘No, I’d like us to spend the rest of the day gathering all the information we can find about all three of them: Christian, Erik, and Kenneth. Then we’ll go through all the material together tomorrow morning, to see whether there’s anything we can use. I also think both of us should read through all the notes from the interviews that were conducted right after Magnus disappeared. Then we’ll be able to catch anything that doesn’t jibe with what people said the first time around.’

‘I’ll talk to Annika. I’m sure she can help with the background material.’

‘Good. I’ll phone Cia and find out if she can bear to meet with us.’

With a meditative expression on his face, Patrik sat and stared at the phone for a long time after Paula had left.

‘Stop calling here!’ Sanna slammed down the phone. It had been ringing nonstop all day. Journalists wanting to talk to Christian. They never said exactly what they wanted, but it wasn’t hard to guess. The fact that Magnus had been found dead so soon after the existence of the threatening letters was revealed had prompted the reporters to link the two events. But that was absurd. They had nothing to do with each other. It was also rumoured that Magnus had been murdered, but until she heard it from more reliable sources than the gossipmongers in town, Sanna refused to believe it. Even if such an unthinkable thing was actually true, why should there be a link to the letters that Christian had received? In an attempt to reassure her, Christian had said that the letters were probably sent by a mentally disturbed person who had decided to target him for some reason. A person who was most likely quite harmless.

She had wanted to ask him why, if that was the case, he had reacted so strongly at the book launch. Didn’t he believe his own theory? But all of her questions had vanished as soon as he told her where the blue dress had come from. In light of that revelation all else had paled. It was horrifying, and her heart had ached when she heard his explanation. At the same time, it was comforting to know the real story, because it clarified so much. And excused a good deal.

Her worries also seemed insignificant when she thought about Cia and what she’d been going through. Christian was going to miss Magnus. She would too, even though their relationship had at times been a little strained, but that was only natural. Erik, Kenneth, and Magnus had grown up together and shared a past. Sanna had been aware of them, but because she was so much younger, she had never spent time with them until Christian came into the picture and got to know the other men. Of course she knew that their wives thought she was young and perhaps a bit naive. But they had always welcomed her with open arms, and over the years that particular group of friends had become a regular part of their lives. They celebrated holidays together, and occasionally they ate dinner together on the weekends.

Of the other wives, Sanna liked Lisbet best. She was a quiet person with a droll sense of humour, and she always treated Sanna as an equal. Besides, Nils and Melker worshipped her. It seemed so unfair that she and Kenneth had no children of their own. But Sanna had a guilty conscience because she couldn’t bear to visit Lisbet. She had tried at Christmastime, going over there with a poinsettia and a box of chocolates. But as soon as she saw Lisbet lying in bed, looking more dead than alive, she wanted to back out and run as far away as possible. Lisbet noticed her reaction. Sanna could tell by her expression, which was a combination of understanding and disappointment. She couldn’t stand to see that disappointed look again, couldn’t stand to meet death disguised as a person and then pretend that it was still her friend lying in that bed.

‘Hey, how come you’re home already?’ Sanna looked up in surprise as Christian came in the front door and mutely hung up his coat. ‘Are you sick? Aren’t you supposed to work until five today?’

‘I’m just not feeling well,’ he muttered.

‘You don’t look so good, either,’ she said worriedly as she studied his face. ‘What did you do to your forehead?’

He dismissed her question with a wave of his hand. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘Did you scratch yourself?’

‘Let’s just drop it, okay? I’m not in the mood for an interrogation.’ He took a deep breath and then said in a calmer tone of voice, ‘A reporter came over to the library today, asking about Magnus and the letters. I’m sick and tired of the whole thing.’

‘They’ve been phoning here too, like crazy. What did you say to him?’

‘As little as possible.’ Then he cringed. ‘There’s probably going to be something in tomorrow’s paper anyway. They just write whatever they want.’

‘At least Gaby will be happy,’ said Sanna acidly. ‘How did your meeting go with her, by the way?’

‘Fine,’ said Christian curtly. But something about his tone told her that he wasn’t being completely truthful.

‘Really? I can understand if you were mad because of the way she threw you to the wolves like that…’

‘I said it went fine!’ snapped Christian. ‘Do you always have to dissect everything I say?’

Anger surged up inside him again, and Sanna could only stand there and stare. His expression was thunderous as he came closer and kept on shouting.

‘For God’s sake, can’t you just leave me alone! Don’t you understand? Stop poking your nose into something that’s none of your bloody business!’

She looked into the eyes of her husband, whom she ought to know so well after all the years they’d spent together. But the person staring back at her was now a stranger. And for the first time, Sanna was afraid of him.

Anna squinted her eyes as she rounded the curve just past the Sailing Club and headed towards Sälvik. The person she saw in the distance bore a striking likeness to her sister, judging by the hair colour and clothing. And the body was rather reminiscent of Barbamama on TV. Anna slowed to a stop as she rolled down the car window.

‘Hi! I was just on my way over to your house. Looks like you could use a lift the rest of the way.’

‘That would be great,’ said Erica, opening the door on the passenger side and sinking on to the seat. ‘I severely overestimated my ability to walk. I’m completely done in and soaked with sweat.’

‘So where have you been?’ Anna shifted into first and drove towards the house that had once been her childhood home but now belonged to Erica and Patrik. The house had almost been sold out from under them, but Anna quickly pushed aside all thoughts of her former husband Lucas and the past. Those days were over. For ever.

‘I went over to have a little chat with Kenneth. At Ocean View Development, you know.’

‘Why? You’re not going to sell the house, are you?’

‘No, no,’ Erica hastened to reassure her. ‘I just wanted to talk to him about Christian. And Magnus.’

Anna parked the car in front of the beautiful old house. ‘But why?’ she asked, almost instantly regretting that she’d asked. Her big sister’s inquisitive nature had occasionally landed her in situations that Anna preferred not to know about.

‘I realized that I know nothing about Christian’s background. He has never said a single thing about his past,’ replied Erica, climbing out of the car with a groan. ‘And besides, I think the whole thing is a bit odd. Magnus has presumably been murdered, and Christian has been threatened. Considering that the two of them were close friends, I don’t really buy the idea that it’s just a coincidence.’

‘Yes, but did Magnus get any threatening letters?’ Anna followed Erica into the front hall and hung up her coat.

‘Not that I’ve heard. I’m sure Patrik would know about it if he had.’

‘And do you think Patrik would have told you if something like that came to light during the investigation?’

Erica smiled. ‘You mean because my dear husband is so good at keeping things to himself?’

‘You have a point there,’ laughed Anna, sitting down at the kitchen table. Patrik never held out for long, especially once Erica had decided to finagle some piece of information out of him.

‘Besides, I could tell that Christian’s letters came as a surprise when I showed them to Patrik. If he’d found out that Magnus had received something similar, he would have reacted differently.’

‘Hmm, you’re probably right. So did you find out anything from Kenneth?’

‘No, not much. But I got the feeling that he found all my questions very uncomfortable. There seems to be some sort of sensitive issue here, but I can’t put my finger on what it could be.’

‘How well do they know each other?’

‘I’m not really sure. I can’t see what Christian would have in common with either Kenneth or Erik. Magnus seems a more likely friend for him.’

‘I’ve always thought that Christian and Sanna are an odd couple too.’

Erica paused for a moment, searching for the right response. She didn’t want to sound as if she were bad-mouthing anyone. ‘Sanna just seems a bit young,’ she said at last. ‘I also think she’s terribly jealous. And to a certain extent, I can understand why. Christian is a handsome guy, and their relationship doesn’t seem very equal.’ She’d made a pot of tea and now set it on the table along with some honey and milk.

‘What do you mean by equal?’ asked Anna.

‘I haven’t spent a lot of time with them, but I have a feeling that Sanna adores Christian, while he seems to treat her with a certain indifference.’

‘That doesn’t sound pleasant,’ said Anna, taking a sip of the tea, but it was still too hot. She set down her cup to let it cool off a bit.

‘No, it doesn’t. And maybe I’m making a hasty judgement, based on the little that I’ve seen. But there’s something about their interaction that makes it seem more like a parent and child than two adults.’

‘Well, at least his book is selling well.’

‘Yes, and his success is well deserved,’ said Erica. ‘Christian is one of the most talented writers I’ve ever come across, and I’m so glad that readers like his work.’

‘All the PR has helped a lot too. You should never underestimate the level of people’s curiosity when it comes to a scandal.’

‘That’s true, but as long as they find out about his book, I don’t care how it happens,’ said Erica, helping herself to another spoonful of honey. She had tried to get used to drinking tea without making it so sweet that the honey stuck to her teeth, but she just couldn’t do it.

‘How’s it going with those two?’ Anna pointed at Erica’s stomach, unable to hide the concern in her voice. She hadn’t been around much to help Erica out in the difficult period after Maja was born, since she’d had her own problems to deal with. But this time she was actually rather worried about her sister. She didn’t want to see Erica sink into a fog of depression again.

‘I’d be lying if I said that I’m not anxious,’ replied Erica hesitantly. ‘But I feel more mentally prepared this time around. I know what to expect, and how tough the first few months can be. At the same time, it’s really impossible to imagine what it’ll be like with two babies at once. It might be ten times worse, no matter how prepared I think I am.’

She too remembered how she had felt right after Maja’s birth. She had no memory of any details or any specific moments from her daily life during that time. In that sense, all she saw was blackness when she tried to think back. But the feeling was still very strong, and she panicked at the mere thought of falling once again into the bottomless despair and total obliteration of self that she’d experienced before.

Anna sensed what Erica was thinking. She reached out and put her hand on her sister’s.

‘It won’t be the same this time. Of course it will involve more work than with Maja; I can’t imagine otherwise. But I’ll be here for you, Patrik will be here for you, and we’ll both help you if it looks like you might fall into that deep pit again. I promise. Look at me, Erica.’ Anna forced her sister to raise her head and meet her eyes. When she had her full attention, Anna calmly reiterated: ‘We won’t let you end up like that again.’

Erica blinked away a few tears and squeezed her sister’s hand. So much had changed between them over the past few years. She was no longer like a surrogate mother to Anna. She was hardly even a big sister any more. They were just sisters, plain and simple. And friends.

‘I’ve got a container of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie in the freezer. Shall I get it out?’

‘And you waited until now to tell me this?’ said Anna, pretending to look insulted. ‘Bring out the ice cream before I disown you!’

Erik sighed when he saw Louise’s car skid into the parking area in front of the office. She almost never came here, so the fact that she was here now did not bode well. She’d also tried to reach him by phone a little while ago. Kenneth had mentioned it when Erik came back after a quick trip to the shops. For once, he’d been able to tell his colleague the truth about where he’d been.

He wondered why Louise was so determined to get hold of him. Could she have found out about his affair with Cecilia? No, the fact that he was sleeping with some other woman wasn’t enough of a motivation to make her get in the car and go driving through the slushy snow. He suddenly froze. Could she have found out that Cecilia was pregnant? Had Cecilia broken their agreement, even though it had been her idea in the first place? Had her desire to hurt him and to seek revenge turned out to be greater than her wish to receive a monthly payment to support herself and the child?

He saw Louise get out of her car. He was paralysed by the thought that Cecilia might have given him away. He should never underestimate a woman. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that she had sacrificed the money for the satisfaction of destroying his life.

Louise came in the front door. She looked upset. When she got closer, he could smell how the stench of wine enveloped her like a thick miasma.

‘Are you out of your mind? Did you drive here drunk?’ he snarled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Kenneth was pretending to be very interested in whatever was on his computer screen. But it didn’t make any difference, because he couldn’t help hearing what was being said.

‘To hell with that,’ replied Louise, slurring her words. ‘I drive better when I’m drunk than you do sober.’ She swayed a bit, and Erik glanced at his watch. Three in the afternoon, and she was already sloshed.

‘What do you want?’ He just wanted to get this over with. If she was going to rip apart his world, she might as well get on with it. He had always been a man of action, never flinching from unpleasantness.

But she didn’t heap accusations upon him about Cecilia and say that she knew about the child; she didn’t tell him to go to hell and say that she was going to take everything he owned. Instead, she put her hand in her coat pocket and pulled out something white. Five white envelopes. Erik knew at once what they were.

‘You were in my workroom? You went through my desk?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? You never tell me anything. Not even who has been sending you threatening letters. Do you think I’m crazy? Do you think I don’t know that these are the same letters they’ve been writing about in all the newspapers? Just like the ones that Christian got. And now Magnus is dead.’ Her anger boiled over. ‘Why didn’t you ever show them to me? Some sick person is sending threats to our house, and you don’t think I have the right to know about it? When I’m home alone all day, unprotected?’

Erik cast a glance at Kenneth, annoyed that his colleague could hear Louise yelling at him. But when he saw Kenneth’s expression, he froze. He wasn’t looking at the computer screen any more. He was staring at the five white envelopes that Louise had tossed on the desk. His face was pale. For a moment he looked at Erik, then he turned away. But it was too late. Erik understood.

‘Have you received letters like this too?’

Louise was startled by Erik’s question. She turned to look at Kenneth. At first he didn’t seem to have heard because he continued to study a complicated Excel chart showing a breakdown of income and expenses. But Erik wasn’t about to let him off the hook.

‘Kenneth, I asked you a question!’ It was Erik’s voice of command. The same as it had always been for all the years they’d known each other. And Kenneth reacted in the same way as he had when they were boys. Still the compliant one who always followed, submitting to Erik’s authority and need to control. Slowly he spun his chair around until he was facing Erik and Louise. He clasped his hands in his lap and said in a low voice:

‘I’ve received four. Three in the post and one that was left on my kitchen table.’

Louise turned pale. Her anger towards Erik had just been given more fuel, and she turned to face him. ‘What is this all about? First Christian, then you and Kenneth? What have the three of you done? And what about Magnus? Did he get letters like this too?’ She glared at her husband, then at Kenneth, and then back at Erik.

None of them spoke for a moment. Then Kenneth looked at his colleague and shrugged.

Erik shook his head. ‘Not that I know of. Magnus never mentioned it, but that doesn’t really mean anything. Do you know?’ He directed his question at Kenneth, who also shook his head.

‘No. If Magnus ever told anyone about something like this, it would have been Christian.’

‘When did you get the first one?’ Erik’s mind had started working through the new information. Twisting and turning it, trying to come up with a solution and then take control.

‘I don’t really recall. But before Christmas, at any rate. Sometime in December.’

Erik reached for the letters lying on his desk. Louise had retreated into herself, all her anger gone. She was still standing in front of her husband, watching him sort through the letters according to the date they were sent. He put the earliest one on the bottom and then picked it up to peer at the postmark again.

‘December fifteenth.’

‘So that’s about the same time as the one I got,’ said Kenneth, his eyes on the floor.

‘Do you still have the letters? Can you check the dates on the ones that were delivered in the post?’ asked Erik, speaking in his most efficient and businesslike voice.

Kenneth nodded and took a deep breath. ‘When the fourth letter was delivered, it was lying next to one of our kitchen knives.’

‘Are you sure you didn’t put the knife there yourself?’ Louise was no longer slurring her words. Fear had sobered her up, lifting the fog from her brain.

‘No, I’m positive that I cleared everything away, and there was nothing on the table when I went to bed.’

‘Was the front door locked?’ Erik still sounded cold and matter-of-fact.

‘No, it wasn’t. I don’t always remember to lock up at night.’

‘Well, all of the letters I got came with the post,’ said Erik, riffling through the envelopes. Then he happened to recall something he’d read in the articles about Christian.

‘Christian was the first one to get threatening letters. They started arriving a year and a half ago. You and I didn’t get any until three months ago. So what if this whole thing has to do with him? What if he’s the real target of whoever is sending these letters, and we’re just mixed up in this mess because we know him?’ Erik’s voice took on an indignant tone. ‘Damn him if he knows something about this and isn’t talking. Subjecting me and my family to some lunatic without warning us.’

‘But he doesn’t know that we’ve received letters too,’ Kenneth objected, and Erik had to admit that he was right.

‘No, but he’s going to find out now, in any case.’ Erik gathered up the envelopes in a neat stack and slapped them against the desktop.

‘So you’re thinking of going to talk to him?’ Kenneth sounded anxious, and Erik sighed. Sometimes he really couldn’t stand his colleague’s fear of any sort of conflict. He’d always been that way. Kenneth always went with the flow, never said no, always said yes. Which had actually worked to Erik’s advantage, since there could only be one person in charge. So far he had been that person, and that’s the way it was going to stay.

‘Of course I’m going to talk to him. And to the police too. I should have done that long ago, but it wasn’t until I read about Christian’s letters that I started taking the whole thing seriously.’

‘And it’s about time,’ muttered Louise. Erik glared at her.

‘I don’t want to upset Lisbet.’ Kenneth raised his chin, and there was a defiant glint in his eye.

‘Someone went into your house, put a letter on the kitchen table, and set a knife next to it. If I were you, I’d be more worried about that than about whether Lisbet might get upset. She’s home alone for a large part of the day. What if someone gets in while you’re not there?’

Erik saw that Kenneth had already had the same thought. At the same time that he was annoyed by his colleague’s lack of enterprise, he was trying to ignore the fact that he too had failed to report the letters. On the other hand, none of them had been placed directly inside his house.

‘All right, let’s do this. You go home and pick up the letters that you’ve received, and we can take all of them over to the police station together. Then they can get started on this whole matter at once.’

Kenneth stood up. ‘I’ll leave now and be right back.’

‘Good. You do that,’ said Erik.

After Kenneth left and the door closed behind him, Erik turned to Louise and studied her for several seconds.

‘There’s a lot we need to talk about.’

Louise looked at him for a moment. Then she raised her hand and slapped his face.