Liv

by Mikaela Bley

  ‘Hi, it’s me,’ he said carefully when she answered. ‘Am I calling at a bad time?’

  The southern Swedish accent that she hadn’t heard for so long made her completely weak in the knees. ‘Hi, no! Absolutely not,’ she said, sinking onto one of the chairs in the hall.

  ‘Who are you talking to?’ Didrik asked, showing up behind her.

  ‘It’s work, I’ll be back soon,’ Ellen answered. ‘Stay in the library for now.’ She waved him away and watched him as he staggered back. She could not for the life of her understand how she had been just about to sleep with him.

  ‘Who was that?’ Jimmy asked.

  ‘Just a friend. We’re watching a movie,’ she added for some strange reason.

  ‘Deep Throat or The Shining?’

  She forced out a laboured laugh. For Ellen, it was like therapy. The movies closed out her emotions, made her think about something else, and kept the anxiety at bay. A horror film, a boxing session, or a porno film gave her breathing room. It was the sort of thing you kept to yourself, but Jimmy had exposed her habit the very first time he was at her place. ‘I’m saving them for you,’ she said, but regretted it immediately. She didn’t want to sound eager.

  There was silence on the other end; she sensed a certain hesitation.

  ‘How is Bianca doing?’ she asked to smooth things over.

  ‘Are you drunk?’

  ‘No. Are you? Or are you just calling to check up on me?’

  ‘One might say that, perhaps. We received two complaints about you today.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Someone in Stentuna and one in Östra Villastaden in Nyköping. You’ve apparently been sneaking around in their gardens and snooping. If it continues, they’re going to file a police report.’

  HANNA

  12.00 A.M.

  The thunder was coming closer, and she looked forward to the rain and the relief of pressure. According to Stoffe, she’d just been confused and simply forgotten to lock the patio door and the front door. But why would she have done that when a murder had been committed only a few hundred metres from their house just two days ago?

  And where were the keys in that case? She’d searched everywhere, but in vain. Fortunately, they had extra keys, and now the doors were locked — she’d checked that three times.

  The children were asleep, but she went up and looked at them yet again. They had also been behaving strangely recently.

  Karl was lying with his feet on the pillow, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts. She looked at him a long time and was amazed at how tall he’d gotten. Despite the dark, she could see the scratches on his hands. When they came home from school, she’d asked him what he’d done, but as usual he just ignored her questions. She didn’t know what to do to reach him. Their relationship had got drastically worse in recent months; he was constantly indifferent and barely answered when spoken to. The frustration was mixed with worry, and she had a hard time holding back her emotions. Usually, it ended up with her screaming at him, even though it was the worst thing she could do to try to reach her son. Actually, she knew where the wounds came from — on some of the films that had been shown in the teachers’ lounge, they had seen how the children, among other things, would rub their hands until they started to bleed — but she wished that Karl would talk to her about it.

  Alice was covered in sweat. Hanna pulled down the blanket a little. That Alice was part of those games could not be ignored, though it was exactly what Hanna was doing. Her daughter had no marks on her body, but Hanna knew that the violations could leave scars on the inside, and in some ways that was even worse.

  She looked at the piece of paper she was holding in her hand. Sorry. It was Alice’s handwriting. There was no mistaking it. The question was, why had she written it and set it among the flowers in the memorial pile? What had she done? Or rather, what had they forced her to do? When Hanna had walked past the pile of flowers earlier in the day, she’d seen the note and put it in her pocket.

  She crumpled up the paper and decided to flush it down the toilet and pretend that she’d never seen it.

  Hanna went down to the living room and thought she heard strange sounds everywhere. There was a snapping sound from the kitchen and sounds from the garden. But she hardly dared look at the windows, afraid of standing eye to eye with someone.

  Maybe someone had chosen her as the next target and was just waiting for Stoffe to go away. Which he did quite often.

  Quickly, she looked around. Heard something, but soon realised that it was only the refrigerator humming.

  She switched on the TV and turned on the lamps, curled up on the couch, and pulled a blanket over her; it didn’t matter that she was sweating.

  She distractedly watched the news, which had a brief report on the Stentuna murder. They asked the general public to contact them with tips. That was all.

  Should she call? She’d had a hard time getting over that journalist who had come by. What business did she have here? Her pulse was still high, and she didn’t know how to slow it down. It felt like her heart was racing, and she was shaking slightly.

  Hanna pulled off the blanket and went out into the kitchen. Took out a packet of Ballerina biscuits and a litre of milk. Poured a glass and took three biscuits. Should she call Alexandra? But could she trust her? Never before had Hanna felt so alone and exposed, even though she knew that much of it was her own fault.

  In no time the whole packet was finished, and the milk carton was empty.

  The news had turned to sport. A minute of silence had been held at Friends Arena for the dad who’d been beaten to death after a soccer match. Hanna had never understood the whole business with soccer and violence. What was it that happened to men in groups? She was glad that Stoffe wasn’t interested in sport. But she was worried about Karl and how influenced he was by his buddies. She shuddered to think of the way people could incite each other to do awful things.

  She was having a hard time keeping her eyes open, but she didn’t dare fall asleep.

  Outside, it rumbled and flashed. With each boom, she jumped. After a while, she turned off the TV and pulled out the cord.

  The garden was lit up every time the lightning cracked. She looked out over the fields. Thought she saw something, but decided that she must have seen wrong when the next lightning bolt lit the garden. She curled up on the couch under the blanket.

  When she woke up, her neck ached, and she was soaked with sweat. The thunder had receded, and the rain was pattering against the windowpanes. She yawned and decided to go up and get into bed.

  Slowly, she went upstairs, dragging her feet behind her. Just wanted to crawl into bed. How was she going to work tomorrow? She quickly looked in on the kids, who still seemed to be sound asleep. Karl had settled down, and Alice had kicked off the blanket completely. She yearned back to the time when they were younger and used to want to sleep in her bed.

  She went into the bedroom and turned on the lamp. Gasped. Hardly understood what she was seeing and made an effort not to scream.

  Her whole top drawer of underwear had been thrown out on the floor. Bras, panties, all of it. She looked around in the mess. Felt muddled. Had she done this? The kids? Frightened and confused, she picked up the clothes and put them on the bed. That was when she saw it. On her pillow was a handwritten note. She picked it up and read it.

  You’re so sweet when you’re sleeping. I know what you’ve done.

  Had someone been in here, looking at her while she was asleep? She didn’t recognise the handwriting.

  Cold shivers ran down her spine. The note sailed down to the floor.

  Was there someone in the house right now?

  She wanted to scream, but remained silent. Looked around. Tried to understand and think rationally, and not let the fear take over.

  Took out the phone in her pocket and was about to call
the police, but changed her mind and called Stoffe instead. ‘There’s someone in the house,’ she whispered when he finally answered.

  ‘Calm down. Why would there be?’

  ‘Someone’s pulled out all my underwear and …’

  ‘What’s happened? Are the kids okay?’

  ‘Yes, I think so. Someone’s left a note — they were watching me while I was asleep.’ She didn’t tell him what else it said. ‘What is happening?’

  ‘Stay calm and quiet down so you don’t wake up the kids. This is what you do: take the baseball bat that’s by my side of the bed, and then go and search the house. Keep the phone with you. If you scream, I’ll call the police. Okay?’

  ‘Shouldn’t we call the police straight away?’ She tried to stay calm, but was shaking so much that she could barely hold onto the phone. ‘I don’t know if I can do this.’

  ‘I can almost promise you that there isn’t anyone in the house: if there was, then something would already have happened to you. I’ll call the police as soon as I have to. We shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves unnecessarily, and the police will get there in just a few minutes if it’s really needed — but remember we mustn’t say too much when we’re talking on the phone.’

  WEDNESDAY, 20 AUGUST

  ELLEN

  8.00 A.M.

  Even though it was early in the morning, the sun had already dried up the rain from the night’s thunderstorm, which had kept her awake half the night. Instead of sleeping, she’d lain there brooding, trying to understand how there could have been complaints about her from two different places on the very same day. The more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed.

  When Ellen went out the front door and down the steps, she stopped, amazed at how beautiful the sunlight was, shining on the apple trees outside the castle. She was as much surprised that she’d even noticed it. It wasn’t like her. Within a few short moments, her lips had started quivering. For a few seconds, it felt like she was going to start crying, but it soon passed, and she continued out onto the gravel yard.

  She had a hangover and regretted every drop she’d swallowed the night before. Why couldn’t she just drink like a normal person? Why was there no natural stopping point for her? She wanted to tell herself never to drink again, but knew that it was pointless and plain hypocrisy to even try to tell yourself something like that. It only gave the false hope of a promise she knew she would break, and knowing that she couldn’t keep it would make her very anxious. So it was better to be honest with yourself and realise your limitations.

  It was as if she were two different personalities. One when she woke up. That was the nice, gentle Ellen — the one who forgave everyone and everything, and who was never going to smoke a cigarette again in her entire life. But the further the day went on, the angrier she got, and the urge to smoke crept up on her at the same pace. She wished the two personalities could try to talk to each other, but as it was there was no communication between them.

  She was really in no shape to drive, but Jimmy had asked her, or rather ordered her, to come to a meeting at the office. As she wasn’t allowed to leave Örelo because of her parents, let alone go to work, she was forced to leave early to make it home before Margareta got back from her gardening course.

  Even though she was nervous about seeing Jimmy, it was probably just as well to get it over with. Hopefully she’d feel better afterwards, and perhaps she’d be able to put him behind her. Even though deep down she knew that wasn’t possible. In truth, she longed to see him. The feeling she’d got when he called the night before had floored her completely.

  Poor Didrik, she thought. When she ended the call with Jimmy, she’d found him standing in the garden, watering the herbs with his urine. She hoped that the rain had done its part, and Margareta wouldn’t notice it, and also that she herself wouldn’t be forced to eat those herbs. After that, she’d sent him home. He must have been much too drunk to drive. She couldn’t really remember if they’d kissed or not, but she felt ill from having even been close.

  She couldn’t keep on like this. She almost looked forward to the next appointment with Dr Hiralgo, even though after the first time she’d been telling herself she’d never go again.

  She needed a hug, or a cinnamon roll.

  And it was still only morning.

  Her plan was to try to convince Jimmy to let her report on Liv — she was in the area anyway, and no one else seemed to have been put on the case. She had to get him to understand that she needed to have something to focus on besides herself.

  Ellen tried to think of who in Östra Villastaden could have complained about her. Could it have had something to do with that teenage girl? The weirdest part was that there were two complaints. Hanna Andersson must have been one of them at any rate.

  ‘What the fuck!’ She ran over to the car and leant down. The tyre was flat. She walked around the car. All four tyres were the same. Someone must have punctured them. It was very unlikely that she would have driven over something and managed to get a flat on all four tyres.

  She looked around, but couldn’t see anyone in the vicinity.

  Why would someone have vandalised her car? She didn’t get it. Then she noticed that someone had written a message with their finger in the dust on the back window.

  Keep your mouth shut

  She got out her phone and took a picture of the window. What was she supposed to be keeping quiet about?

  Could it have been Didrik? Was he pissed off? But why would he write that message?

  Jeanette was her second thought. Jimmy’s girlfriend. Yesterday’s call was the first time Ellen and Jimmy had had any contact since the Lycke case. But the idea that Jeanette would have come all the way out to Örelo and punctured Ellen’s tyres and written Keep your mouth shut on the window … Ellen hadn’t received any threats from her since June. Not as far as she knew, anyway.

  She hoped that her mum hadn’t seen anything, but if she had, Ellen probably would have heard about it by now.

  It must have something to do with the murder in Stentuna; people had complained that she was snooping around, but no one knew that she lived at Örelo, did they? Though it probably wouldn’t be that hard to find that out.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing. It was a number she didn’t recognise. Was someone watching her? She looked around the yard, before reluctantly pressing the green receiver on the screen. ‘Ellen.’

  ‘Hi, my name is Carola and I’m calling from the police. I got your number from Ove and I’m your new point of contact. I have some things I’d like to talk to you about concerning the Stentuna murder.’

  HANNA

  10.10 A.M.

  Oat biscuits were being served in the teachers’ lounge, someone had brought in a whole tin, and Hanna couldn’t stop eating. When she was tired and afraid, her body reacted as if she needed to fatten herself up, as if she was preparing for a catastrophe.

  She’d actually thought about taking a sick day, but was afraid that it would seem suspect somehow, and in truth, she didn’t want to be at home either, not as the situation was now.

  Hanna hadn’t dared close her eyes the whole night. Every little snap in those following hours had made her body stiffen. During the night and early morning, she’d tried to go over what had happened — whether or not she could remember hearing anything before she’d come up to the bedroom and seen all her clothes spread around. She couldn’t shake off the thought that someone had been watching her while she was sleeping. And what was that person trying to say? She shuddered.

  When she’d gone around the house, nothing had seemed different, besides the fact that the patio door was open, and this time she knew she’d locked it. So the intruder had got hold of their key. That was why Hanna hadn’t found it the day before. A locksmith was going to change the locks today.

  But then she’d discovered the
worst part: Liv’s phone, which she’d had in the drawer of the nightstand, was no longer there. And Hanna had no one she could talk to about that.

  ‘You’re so quiet, Hanna. Is everything okay?’ her colleague Anna asked.

  ‘Absolutely.’ She finished chewing, and her mouth felt completely dry.

  Johan came into the teachers’ lounge, grabbed a fistful of biscuits, and chewed so that the crumbs flew. ‘Has something happened?’

  ‘No, what do you mean?’ Why was he looking at her like that? Could he see right through her? ‘Just the usual. Every day there’s something else. Sometimes I try to convince myself that those are innocent games they’re involved in out there, but we can’t close our eyes to it any longer. It’s illegal. I’ve seen how the whole village is getting tired of it. And they’re scared. Is it our fault? Is it we as a school who have failed to stimulate the children and keep things under control?’ She impressed herself by how smoothly she’d managed to shift focus.

  ‘It’s the parents’ fault — they can’t leave the upbringing to us. There’s so much shit going on in these families.’

  ‘Yes, if it weren’t for all the nutty parents, we’d have nice kids,’ Anna said, smiling.

  Hanna responded to the smile, but felt the shame like a thorn in her chest. Her children were part of all that ‘shit’. She had always seen herself as secure and loving, pedagogical — not too strict, but with clear rules. She’d always been open and made clear how important it was that they felt they could talk to her about anything. She had given them their own responsibility — perhaps too much? But she’d given them love — not like in lots of other families, where the parents barely saw their own children for all kinds of different reasons. Many people in Stentuna had it tough. They were unemployed, or had substance abuse problems or other issues that affected children. Hanna took another biscuit.