He looked at the empty chair across from him. It wasn’t the first time she had canceled lunch. He wasn’t bothered by it. Honestly. What bothered him was her manner. She was so distant, and he thought it had gotten even worse recently. Regardless what they talked about, he felt like he was talking to a wall. Even if she were sitting right across from him, she wasn’t really there. It was as if her mind were always somewhere else. Because of that, the empty chair across from him wasn’t much different than her company.
He grinned at his pathetic thoughts and looked up at the woman with the gold band. He met her eyes again and wondered what she was thinking about him now. Maybe she saw a naive idiot who thought that where there was someone who loved, there was love.
He got up from the table, picked up the chair and went to her.
“You can use this one,” he said.
“You don’t need it?” she said with a smile.
“Not anymore,” he said.
* * *
There was a loud crash as Jana Berzelius drove over a manhole cover. The beams of sunlight hit the wet asphalt, and the sharp light made her squint. She was forced to brake when a short, muscular woman in black jeans and a black leather jacket biked quickly across the road without looking for cars.
Jana followed her with her eyes before stepping on the gas again. With a sharp left turn, she was home. She parked her black BMW X6 outside a fashion boutique, under a sign warning that parking was only allowed for fifteen minutes.
Her high heels drummed against the asphalt as she approached the apartment. She attempted to take in her surroundings and stopped on a street corner, pretending she was removing a pebble from her shoe and taking the opportunity to look around. For a brief moment, she wondered if she had ever looked at Knäppingsborg in this way before. She could perceive every sound in the neighborhood, and it was almost as if she could see each brick in the facade of the building she was standing in front of.
Her heart beat even harder as she continued onward. But nothing seemed different or strange. Had the police already been in her apartment? Were they watching her that very minute? Waiting to capture her? They surely knew by now who owned the apartment.
She walked quickly along the street, looking straight ahead yet quickly registering the people who looked at her, who noticed her but who then presumably didn’t give her another thought.
Jana arrived at the street entrance, opened it and listened. She prepared to meet someone or hear voices.
But the stairwell was deserted.
She tried to walk quickly, but her shoes still clicked under her weight. Finally, she was on the top floor of the building. With both feet on the last step, she stood still and listened. There was the noise of water rushing through a pipe, but otherwise, her breathing was the only sound.
She continued cautiously toward the door. She stopped and stood still with her hand on the doorknob. She inserted her key and stepped in.
She began to walk toward the kitchen, but she stopped short with the thought that she usually heard him. Footsteps in one of the rooms. A door closing. Panting from the living room as he did push-ups.
But now—no sound. Not one.
Had they already taken him?
Or had he been able to get away?
The thought made her heart pound faster.
She went into the living room and looked around—and then saw him lying there. He was stretched out and his hair was messy, and it was obvious he’d been working out. The shirt from the hospital, which he was still wearing, was damp with sweat.
“What do you want?” he asked without looking at her.
“The police know you’re still in town. Have you been outside the apartment today?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said. “I went to the grocery store, met a few neighbors, introduced myself and all that.”
“You’re funny,” she said. “Great.”
“And you seem to have a fucking vivid imagination,” he said, standing up.
“I just happen to know that the police are looking for you, and someone saw you. They could be anywhere.”
“How the fuck could someone have seen me?”
“I don’t know. But there’s a hatch in the attic that you can use.”
He looked at her.
“Aren’t you overdoing it a little now?”
She shook her head.
“Through the attic storage area, you can get out onto the roof. Two chimneys down there’s a hatch that takes you down into the next building, and from there you...”
“Are you worried about me?” he asked, smiling.
“I don’t give a damn about you. I’m trying to save my own skin,” she said, turning on her heel.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
MIA BOLANDER STOOD in the window of the conference room, waiting for Henrik and Gunnar. She looked out over the world below. Stroking her hand over her lank, blond hair, she wondered how long it had been since she’d had her hair cut.
An old man walked along the sidewalk below, holding a yellow plastic bag from the discount grocery store. Wearing a faded black parka over his rounded shoulders, he glanced around shiftily before stumbling on in the search for empty PET bottles, or whatever it was he was hunting for.
She sighed at the man, at her hair and at the feeling that she couldn’t shake—that damn feeling of futility.
Just then, the door opened. She looked quickly at Henrik and Gunnar as they entered. As Henrik walked to the table, she thought he looked bored. He walked slowly, moved his hands slowly, and when he opened his mouth, he even talked damn slowly, too.
“Four men in the apartment,” he said, releasing the report onto the table. “But no Danilo.”
He looked quickly at her before pulling out a chair, sitting down and clasping his hands behind his neck.
“It’s a setback,” Gunnar said as he also sat down.
“He’s probably skipped town altogether,” she said.
“So what do we do?” Henrik said. “Please, Mia, come and sit.”
“Sure,” she said, walking to the table.
“I need more resources, more manpower, so that we can intensify our hunt for him,” Gunnar said.
“And if they don’t agree?” Mia said, sitting down.
“If I’m going to keep my reputation and my value to this place, I have to have the resources I need.”
“Officers are already looking for him around the clock,” Henrik said.
“That’s not enough,” Gunnar said. “We have to have more people on it, leave no stone unturned. Danilo Peña has appeared to have found a place where he believes he can hide until the worst blows over, and we are damn well going to find where that is.”
* * *
Three minutes later, Henrik walked down the hallway. What a defeat this was. Their only job was to find Danilo Peña—or understand why they couldn’t. But aside from the failure of the apartment tip, no information at all had come in. After Danilo escaped from the hospital, all traces of him had disappeared.
Despite the comfortable indoor temperature, he felt sweat running down between his shoulder blades under his thin Oxford shirt. He tugged on it as he pushed open the door to his office. The chair squeaked as he sank down in it.
“I’ve got a hit.”
He spun around and saw Ola Söderström, who had come into the room without Henrik noticing.
“Hit on what?”
“The name Ted.”
Henrik tugged on his shirt again.
“So we have a Ted in the system?” he said.
“Yes, several, and some in the area with criminal records. A Ted Henriksson, a Ted Kjellson and a Ted Strandberg... Should we pass their photos to Aida and Sara? Or wait until Anneli has gotten the results of the fingerprints found at the crime scene?”
“Fingerprints can take time,” Henrik said. “Let’s go with the photos in the meantime. But I think we should just show them to Aida.”
“Not Sara?”
“No, I think that first we should let Aida take a look at them. Maybe we can get her to open up a little more.”
“Should I print them out?”
“Immediately.”
* * *
Jana Berzelius gave the clerk a long, almost empathetic look when he pressed the wrong button on the register for the second time. His hair was red and combed back, and the name tag on his chest said “New Employee.” His nervous manner didn’t make her any calmer. It was humiliating that Danilo thought she cared about him. The reason she had gone home to the apartment was to protect herself. Nothing else. He shouldn’t get any ideas about it.
The clerk stuffed the receipt in the bag, as if to show how conscientious he was at his job.
Jana took the bag and took a roundabout way home to Knäppingsborg to avoid any police seeing her. When she entered her apartment, she went straight into the bedroom and put the bag on the bed.
“You’re home again?” Danilo said.
She spun around and saw him coming out of her walk-in closet.
“Get out of here,” she said. “I don’t want you in here.”
“I understood that when you locked the door. What do you have in the bag? A present?”
“It’s a new toothbrush. I don’t have the slightest desire to share one with you.”
He grinned lopsidedly at her.
“Knock it off,” she said. “And leave my room right now.”
He walked slowly to the door, stopped in the doorway and turned toward her.
“That’s a beautiful safe you have in your closet. What do you keep in it?”
She met his gaze but said nothing.
“You should have a smarter place to hide your stuff, Jana.”
“Who says I don’t?” she said, stepping toward him.
He smiled more broadly now.
“Good,” he said. “Just so you don’t need to waste time gathering your things if everything goes to hell. I keep a few things hidden, too.”
“Where?” she said, gripping the door handle.
“The closest one is under the floorboards in an abandoned building here in town. Things I need are there.”
“A pistol?”
“Yes, and money, a few picklocks, a passport...the usual stuff.”
“But no clothes, I take it,” she said, examining him.
“No clothes,” he said. “Or toothbrushes. So, it was really thoughtful of you to buy one for me.”
“I bought it for myself,” she said, closing the door.
* * *
The first minute passed in silence. No one said a word. Mia Bolander sat still in Maria’s kitchen and felt the chances of having the right man singled out quickly fade. She looked at Aida, who sat with her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes wandering. Mia heard the hum of the stove fan, saw a few unwashed plates and a baking dish with the dried remains of fish on the counter. The fish was cold and half-eaten.
She really fucking wanted to leave that kitchen, no question about it. The atmosphere was as dismal as the dried-up food. It was as if she, Henrik and Aida were sitting at a wake.
“Aida?” Henrik tried again cautiously, but she didn’t lift her gaze. “Is it okay if I show you the pictures now?”
She shook her head.
“It’s important to us that you look at them.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Why not?” Mia asked, a little too irritated, and immediately received a look from Henrik.
Aida didn’t answer. She just hugged herself even harder.
“And the name Ted,” Henrik said, “Are you sure that name doesn’t mean anything to you?”
She shook her head again, but this time her nostrils flared.
“You have nothing to lose by talking to us.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t,” Mia said.
“Yes... Sara.”
The room fell silent. A tear squeezed out from the corner of Aida’s eye and rolled slowly down her cheek, but she didn’t wipe it away. It was as if she were pretending it wasn’t there.
“What do you mean by that?” Henrik asked.
A new tear on her cheek.
“She’ll die, I know it.”
“Why do you think that?”
“He said that he would kill her if I told.”
She buried her face in her hands.
“Who said that?” Mia said, who now felt like she’d fully woken up. “Who in the hell said that to you?”
She didn’t answer.
“Aida,” Henrik said, “who said that to you?”
“I can’t say.”
“Was it Ted who said that?”
“I don’t want to say his name.”
“Should I go get your grandmother?” Henrik asked. “Do you want me to?”
“I don’t want to have her here, she doesn’t know anything. I just want Sara... If anyone...”
“Why don’t you want her here?” Mia asked.
Aida dried the tear, and her face took on an introspective look.
“Tell us, Aida,” Henrik said calmly. “We’re here to help you. You are completely in safe hands. No one but us knows where you and Sara are living right now.”
He gave Mia a look as if to say she should hold back. She knew the look well. He didn’t want her to interfere right now.
“I just want to...think a little...” Aida said.
“You can think as much as you want,” Henrik said.
She took a deep breath and then turned her face toward the window.
“I...” she began but trailed off, as if she didn’t know how to continue. She opened her mouth again, looked up at the ceiling and started over.
“It’s strange,” she said. “But I remember the first time the Mercedes parked outside our building. Sara was just a baby. He...”
She took another deep breath.
“He introduced himself, shook Mom’s hand and asked her out. Alone. Sara and I never got to go with them. So I always took care of Sara. I think I tried five times before I made the formula correctly. But I had to learn, that’s just how it was.”
Aida’s shoulders sank.
“Sara learned to walk when she was about nine months old. Mom was scared that something would happen to her, and so I knew it was my responsibility to take care of her when Mom wasn’t home.”
Mia sat quietly, listening to every word the teenager said.
“We didn’t have much money. After Dad died, we moved to that little apartment, so Sara and I shared a room. It was always me who put her to bed, got up in the night to find a clean diaper, that sort of thing. Until I got my overnight job.”
Aida pulled her legs up onto the chair and hugged them as if she were freezing.
“Mom often stayed in bed when she was not at work. Mommy needs to rest, she would say, things like that. Can you get Sara from preschool?”
Aida fell silent for a moment.
“Mom cried a lot, too. You could tell. Then the phone calls started. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help hearing through the walls. She was always saying ‘sorry,’ and I hated her for that.”
Aida stopped again.
“Go on,” Henrik said. “You’re doing great.”
She nodded, speaking quietly.
“He kept asking her to go out. He would come to our door to pick her up. It would be early in the evening, and she would be back home before I left for work. I remember Midsummer holiday last year. She didn’t want to go with him that evening. She said No a bunch of times, but in the end she got into his car after all. He was taking her to a place in
the archipelago, he said.”
“When was this?”
“Sara was four years old then. I didn’t work yet.”
Her eyes filled with new tears.
“A few days later, when Mom came back...I still remember how she looked...but I don’t want to talk about it now...”
“You don’t have to,” Henrik said calmly.
“She was hurt...and you couldn’t see her eye, it was swollen all around and it looked like it wasn’t there...”
Aida’s voice trembled.
“Mom didn’t want to see him after that...but he wouldn’t listen to her. He ignored what she said to him and kept coming to our apartment and forcing his way in, forcing himself on her. Mom wanted to keep us safe so she told us always to stay in our room. But Sara didn’t want to be locked in. She would always start crying and screaming. And I would let her cry, let her scream. I didn’t want to make her be quiet.”
“Why not?” Henrik asked.
“Because I didn’t want to hear Mom’s screams.”
The room fell silent. Aida’s eyes were fixated on the table as if she’d said something stupid. Henrik laid his hand on her shoulder. “It is very important for us to find the man you’re talking about,” he said. “Is it okay if I show you the pictures now?”
She nodded slowly.
Henrik slowly laid out the pictures of the men. Only when all three pictures were lying there did she look up. Her eyes suddenly widened.
“That’s him,” she said, pointing to the picture in the middle.
She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.
* * *
Jana Berzelius didn’t answer on the first ring as she usually would when Henrik called. She was sitting on her bed with her computer on her lap, preparing her presentation for an aggravated extortion case scheduled for the following Tuesday. In one hand she held a cup of yogurt she had brought from the kitchen to avoid eating in Danilo’s presence. She couldn’t stand being around him. It was far too risky and distracting to have him here. But she had to get her journals and notebooks back, by whatever means necessary, and then it was goodbye, Danilo.
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