The Nightmare

15

It sounds as if someone is bouncing a ball against the wall beneath Chief Medical Officer Nils Åhlén’s window. The Needle is waiting with Joona Linna for Claudia Fernandez. They don’t have much to say, so they keep quiet. Claudia Fernandez had been asked to appear at the department of forensic medicine early that Sunday morning to identify the body of a dead woman.

When Joona had to phone to tell her they feared her daughter, Viola, was dead, Claudia’s voice sounded unnaturally calm.

“No, that can’t be. Viola is out in the archipelago with her sister,” she’d said.

“On Björn Almskog’s boat?” Joona asked.

“Yes. I called Penelope and asked her to take her sister with them. I thought Viola needed to get away for a while.”

“Was there anyone else on the boat?”

“Björn, of course.”

Joona had fallen silent and waited a few seconds to force away the heaviness in his heart. Then he’d cleared his throat and said, very softly, “Mrs. Fernandez, I would like you to come to the department of forensic medicine’s pathology office in Solna.”

“Why?” she’d asked.

Now Joona is sitting on an uncomfortable chair in the office of the chief medical officer. Wedged in the corner of the frame of The Needle’s wedding picture is a tiny photo of Frippe. From a distance they keep hearing the ball thud against the wall. It is a lonely sound. Joona remembers how Claudia Fernandez had caught her breath when she finally understood that her daughter might indeed not be alive. They’d arranged for a taxi to pick her up from her town house in the Gustavsberg neighborhood. She should arrive here any minute.

The Needle had tried for some small talk but gave up when Joona did not respond. Both of them wish this moment would soon be over.

Hearing steps in the hallway, they rise from their chairs.

To see the dead body of a loved one is merciless-everyone’s worst fear. The experts say it is a necessary step in the process of grief. Joona has read that once an identification is made, there’s a certain kind of liberation. One can no longer sustain wild fantasies that the person is still alive. These kinds of fantasies and hopes only lead to frustration and emptiness.

Those are nothing but empty words, Joona thinks. Death is horrible and it never gives you anything back.

Claudia Fernandez is now in the doorway. She’s a woman of about sixty, frightened. Traces of worry are etched on her face. She huddles as if chilled.

Joona greets her gently.

“Hello. My name is Joona Linna and I’m a detective inspector. We spoke on the phone earlier.”

The Needle introduces himself almost soundlessly as he briefly shakes the woman’s hand and then turns away to shuffle through some folders and files. It must seem he is a cold person, but Joona knows he’s deeply moved.

“I’ve been calling and calling, but I can’t reach my girls,” Claudia says. “They should-”

“Shall we go in?” The Needle interrupts, as if he hadn’t heard her words.

Silently they walk through the familiar hallway. With each step Joona feels as if air is being squeezed from his body. Claudia is in no rush. She walks slowly a few paces behind The Needle, whose tall silhouette precedes them. Joona turns and tries to smile at Claudia, but then he has to turn away from the expression in her eyes. The panic, the pleading, the prayers-her attempts to make a bargain with God.

It feels as if she is being dragged in their wake as they enter the morgue.

The Needle mumbles something to himself in an angry tone. Then he bends down and unlocks the stainless-steel locker and pulls out the drawer.

The young woman’s body is covered with a white cloth except for her head. Her eyes are dull and half closed, her cheeks a little sunken, but her hair is still a black crown about her beautiful face. A small, pale hand is half uncovered along her side.

Claudia Fernandez reaches out her hand, carefully touches the hand of her daughter, and begins to whimper. It comes from deep within, as if in this moment part of her is breaking to pieces.

She begins to shake. She falls to her knees. She holds her daughter’s lifeless hand to her lips.

“No, no,” she’s crying. “Oh God, dear Lord, not Viola. Not Viola…”

From a few feet behind, Joona watches her shoulders shake as she cries; he hears her despairing wail crescendo and then gradually fall away.

She wipes at the tears streaming down her face, breathing shakily as she slowly gets back up on her feet.

“Can you positively confirm that this is Viola Fernandez?” The Needle says gruffly.

His voice stops and he quickly clears his throat, angry at himself.

Claudia nods her head and gently moves her fingertips over her daughter’s cheek.

“Viola, Violita…”

She draws back her shaking hand and Joona slowly says, “I’m very, very sorry for your loss.”

Claudia looks faint but reaches out a hand to the wall for support. She turns her face away and whispers to herself.

“We were going to the circus on Saturday. I bought tickets as a surprise for Viola…”

They all look at the dead woman: her pale lips and the arteries in her throat.

“I’ve forgotten who you are,” Claudia says in confusion. She looks at Joona.

“Joona Linna,” he says.

“Joona Linna,” the woman says with a thick voice. “Let me tell you about my daughter Viola. She is my little girl, my youngest, my happy little…”

Claudia looks at Viola’s white face and it seems as if she might fall to one side. The Needle pulls over a chair, but Claudia waves it away.

“Please forgive me,” she says. “It’s just that… my eldest daughter, Penelope, had to endure so many terrible things in El Salvador. When I think about what they did to me in that jail, when I remember how frightened Penelope was, how she’d cry and scream for me… hour after hour… but I couldn’t answer her, I couldn’t protect her…”

Claudia meets Joona’s eyes and takes a step toward him. Gently he puts an arm around her, and she leans heavily against his chest, trying to catch her breath. She moves away again, not looking at her daughter’s body, gropes for the chair back, and then sits down.

“My greatest joy was that Viola was born here in Sweden. She had a nice room with a pink lamp in the ceiling, toys and dolls. She went to school. She watched Pippi Longstocking on television… I don’t know if you can understand, but I was proud that she never needed to be hungry or afraid. Not like us, not like Penelope and me. We wake up at night and are frightened that someone will come into our house and hurt us…”

She falls silent and then whispers, “Viola was happy, just happy…”

Claudia leans forward to hide her face in her hands as she weeps. Joona lays a hand gently on her back.

“I’ll go now,” she says, even though she’s still crying.

“There’s no hurry.”

She manages to contain herself, but then her face twists again into tears.

“Have you talked to Penelope?” she asks.

“We haven’t been able to reach her,” Joona says in a low voice.

“Tell her that I want her to call me because-”

She stops suddenly. Her face turns pale. Then she looks up again.

“I just thought that she might not be answering me when I call because I… I was… I said some horrible things, but I didn’t mean anything, I didn’t mean anything-”

“We have already started a helicopter search for Penelope and Björn Almskog, but-”

“Please, tell me that she’s alive,” she whispers. “Tell me that, Joona Linna.”

Joona’s jaw muscles tense as he reassures her by the pressure of his hand and says, “I will do everything I can to-”

“She’s alive, tell me that,” Claudia whispers. “She must be alive.”

“I will find her,” Joona says. “I know that I will find her.”

“Tell me that Penelope is alive.”

Joona hesitates and then meets Claudia’s black eyes as a few lightning sensations sweep through his heart. A number of unseen connections click in his mind, and suddenly he hears his own voice answer, “She’s alive.”

“Yes,” Claudia whispers.

Joona looks down. He’s not able to recover the thought behind the certainty he’d felt that prompted him to ignore caution and tell Claudia that her eldest daughter was still among the living.