Slowly We Die

by Emelie Schepp

  Philip didn’t answer. He turned his gaze out the window again. Sandra didn’t say anything, either; she just turned off the light and left him alone in the room.

  He stood for a moment in the darkness and listened to the sound of the front door closing. From a distance he could make out sirens of an emergency vehicle. Not a police car or his EMT colleagues—it was a fire truck. The sirens came closer; now they were behind him, on the road leading downtown, and he wondered where the fire was.

  Then the light in the room turned on again. He turned around and saw Lina playing with her necklace.

  “We missed you at the table,” she said.

  “Oh,” he said.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing really. I just wanted to be alone.”

  She let go of her necklace and went to him. “I thought you liked Sandra.”

  “We work together,” he said, seeing that her eyes were bloodshot. “But that doesn’t mean I like her.”

  “That’s my friend you’re talking about,” she said.

  “Exactly, so it’s better if you sit and gab with her than if I do.”

  “Okay,” she said. “I know Sandra can be a little naggy sometimes.”

  “A little?” he said.

  “But at least she’s honest.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  Lina avoided his eyes.

  “You said you were at work today,” she said.

  “And?”

  “So how was it?”

  “It was fine,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Why are you asking?”

  “Because Sandra said you weren’t at work today.”

  It took more than ten seconds for Philip to respond. It felt like a long time to stand in front of your wife trying to come up with a good explanation while you can’t hear anything but the sound of her breath.

  “I...” he began, but fell silent again.

  “You’re seeing someone else.”

  When she met his eyes, he suddenly understood why her eyes were red. She’d been crying.

  “No!” he said. “Why would you think that?”

  “You aren’t even wearing your wedding band anymore. Where is it?” she asked.

  “I lost it at work.”

  “Oh, sure.”

  “Don’t you believe me?”

  “What should I believe when you lie to me?”

  “But...” he said.

  She interrupted him.

  “Where were you, then? If you weren’t at work, where were you?”

  “I was at the gym.”

  “All day? Really?”

  He felt himself beginning to get irritated.

  “I went to Katarina’s, too.”

  “Katarina Vinston? I knew it.”

  “Knew what? I just wanted to talk to her!”

  “And by ‘talk’ you mean...?”

  Philip didn’t answer.

  “Fuck you,” she said, leaving the room.

  Philip stood there with his cell phone in his hand. He had wanted to call Katarina again, but this time he let it go.

  * * *

  “Wait!” Henrik called.

  Jana Berzelius was on her way to the elevator when he caught up with her.

  “I’ve talked to Anneli,” he said. “She has gotten results from almost all of the tests from Shirin Norberg’s apartment.”

  “And?”

  “We now know that there are fingerprints that match Henriksson’s, so it’s obvious that he has been in her apartment.”

  Jana slowly shook her head and resumed walking. Henrik followed her.

  “But you know as well as I do that that’s not enough to convict him,” she said. “Clearly he knew Shirin. I have no idea why he’s trying to hide having been at her apartment, but it would be best for him to just admit that he’d been there, and then the fingerprints are worthless.”

  “Yes,” Henrik said, “but the fingerprints together with a confession?”

  “A confession that he’s hit her, yes,” Jana said. “But not that he intentionally killed her. Or even mutilated her. We need more on him.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Henrik said, rubbing his eyes. “And can he even use a Gigli saw?”

  “We’ll have to press him harder in the next interrogation if we’re going to get anything of use out of him,” Jana said.

  They arrived at the elevator but chose to take the stairs instead to the first floor. Outside the window to the stairwell, the lights of the city glittered. Jana looked at the red bands of car lights when she heard Henrik yawn again.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s been a long day. First Peña, then this Henriksson.”

  “Peña...you mean the perp who escaped from the hospital?” Jana said cautiously, feeling again that she was on thin ice.

  “Yes. The hospital...yes. He’s impossible to find. We’d gotten a tip on an apartment today, but it was a dead end. We just have to keep looking.”

  “For how long?”

  “Until someone tells us to stop.”

  “And now they’ve asked us to do just that,” came Gunnar Öhrn’s rumbling voice from behind them. He had come down the stairs, too, and was about to put on his jacket.

  “What do you mean?” Henrik asked, turning around. “Are we going to give up the search?”

  “Yes, you might think so,” Gunnar said.

  Jana felt her pulse quicken as her hopes rose.

  “I tried to tell the brass that this is a high profile, high priority case,” Gunnar said as he approached them. “I also said that I wanted to allocate more resources there, but the only thing I got as an answer was: Not possible. Not possible, can you believe that?”

  Jana knew she shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t show too much interest, but it was as if the words slipped out of her.

  “What does that mean?” she said.

  “It can mean a damn lot of things,” Gunnar said. “But to my ears, it means that we have to get help from another direction.”

  “So you’ll continue looking?” she asked, immediately feeling less hopeful.

  “Yes,” Gunnar said. “And I’ve decided that we should turn to the public for help. Danilo Peña is crazy. And dangerous. We must not forget that he is suspected of being responsible for the murder of several young Thai girls. We can’t have him running around right under our noses.”

  “Have you thought that through?” Henrik said. “Issuing a description can lead to—”

  “—better chances of finding him. Yes, I’ve considered the decision carefully, and I want to send out his name and picture first thing tomorrow morning.”

  October 3

  Dear Diary,

  In geography today, we were split up into groups. I hate working in groups. Usually the kids I’m supposed to work with disappear, going off together and hiding so that I can’t find them.

  When I finally saw Linus, who was in our group, I asked him what I should do. He said, why not kill yourself. I was just in the way.

  How am I supposed to work with kids who hate me?

  After class, our teacher and I had a talk. She asked me if I had any friends.

  I lied and said, “Martin.” I think it made her feel better. She knew I was lying. But I think it’s easier for her to accept lies instead of dealing with tough problems.

  So now I’m grouped with the weirdos Markus, Theodor and William. We have nothing in common. Never will, either. I find myself mostly in my own world and detest this fucking loneliness.

  On the way home from school, they stood outside the schoolyard and waited for me. I thought about turning around, but knew they’d follow me anyway if I did. So I continued toward them. Tried to pretend I didn’t care. But they surrounded me and said: “Are you scared now? Are you sca
red now, you fucking monster?”

  And I was scared, really. But I didn’t say that. Those guys are so much bigger and taller than I am.

  Then one of them grabbed me from behind, grabbed my shirt, and I knew that I didn’t stand a chance. There was no corner to hide in, no bathroom to run into, no teacher who was going to see what was going on.

  They pushed me up against the wall, and they yelled and cheered. A fist punched me, landed in my stomach. In my face. I thought it was Linus hitting me, but it wasn’t. It was the tallest of the boys. He smiled the whole time, as if it were fun.

  I tried to get away, but every punch pushed my body into a wall. It didn’t really matter that I was being hit. It didn’t hurt all that much.

  But yet I cried. Because it was Martin who was hitting me.

  Mom didn’t see my bloody nose when I came home. I tried to hold her hands. I tried to catch her eye. But I only saw her blank, distant gaze. I want her to look at me like she did before her operation. But we’ve become strangers.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTEEN

  Saturday

  ON THE WAY out of the apartment, Mia Bolander attempted to zip up her jacket, but the zipper got stuck. She carefully tried to ease out the fabric that had caught in it, but after a few seconds her patience was gone. She pulled and tugged on the zipper until she heard the fabric rip, but she didn’t care. She swore loudly when the zipper pull broke off and disappeared down the staircase.

  Most of all, she wanted to run up the stairs again and crawl back into bed. Preferably not alone. Unfortunately she didn’t have anyone else in her life right now, so instead she just continued down the rest of the stairs to the lobby.

  Her wine-red Fiat Punto was parked outside on the street.

  She put the key into the ignition, but the car wouldn’t start. She tried again and again, but the car was as dead as a doornail. Just then, her damn cell phone rang.

  “Yeah?” she answered. “What now, Henrik?”

  “There’s been another murder,” he said. “Where are you?”

  “At home. My fucking car won’t start.”

  “I’ll pick you up in five minutes, okay.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To Borg, near the golf course. It’s going to be an unpleasant sight.”

  * * *

  Jana Berzelius stood in the kitchen with her eyes fixed on the TV. The evening news was just about to start.

  “The police have announced today that they are looking for one of the main suspects behind the narcotics ring that was revealed in Östergötland in December, the so-called Policegate scandal in which National Police Commissioner Anders Wester is involved. On Wednesday, Danilo Peña escaped from Vrinnevi Hospital, where he was being treated for the injuries he sustained in connection with his capture. The thirty-one-year-old man is considered dangerous and is believed to still be in the Norrköping area. The police are interested in all information that could lead to the man’s capture.”

  Jana felt the noose being tightened around her neck. It was no longer if he would be found, but when. She gave in to an urge and threw the remote control, blood pulsing in her temples.

  “Did you know about that?” Danilo said, standing in the doorway. If he was surprised, he hid it well.

  “Yes,” she said, turning her gaze to the floor.

  “So today’s the day they’ll come here to get me?” he said with irritation.

  “You were lucky yesterday,” she said.

  “You were, too,” he said. “More problematic than anything was that you didn’t know what was going on. Sloppy.”

  “I played it safe. I can’t afford to take chances, and neither can you.”

  He went to the table and sat down. “Just think, the police are so desperate to find me that they’ve turned to the general public...”

  “You’re a person of interest for them,” she said. “They need you as a witness against Wester, if nothing else.”

  “Interest,” he said, snorting. “Do you think the media will also think I’m interesting?”

  “We just saw proof of that, didn’t we?” she said. “Every detail of your escape seems to be a media magnet. You should probably prepare for being on the run for a few more days.”

  Danilo’s eyes gleamed when she said that. He leaned so far forward that his chest pressed against the edge of the table. But suddenly, when the first enthusiasm had passed, he regained control of himself and leaned back.

  “But this BOLO could be very significant,” he said.

  She lifted her gaze and looked at him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The police really want to find me,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “So maybe we should let them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The only way for me to leave Norrköping safely is to let the police believe that I’m somewhere else.”

  “How? By calling in a false tip?” she said.

  “That’s not enough,” he said. “We have to give them physical evidence.”

  “Who’s ‘we’?” she said.

  “Sorry,” he said aggressively. “I mean you. You have to be the one to throw them off the trail.”

  “How is that?”

  “Think of a scheme.”

  They sat silently across from each other while Jana thought about what he could possibly expect of her.

  “Exactly what type of scheme were you thinking?” she said.

  “This,” he said, tugging on the dirty shirt he’d been wearing since he escaped from the hospital. “It’s crawling with traces of me. You could plant it somewhere.”

  “And possibly my DNA, too,” she said. “So that won’t work.”

  “Don’t be so damn nervous. But if we’re going to use this shirt, you’ll have to buy me a new one. And pants. Basically a set of new clothes.”

  “New clothes?” she said.

  “Yes,” he said. “I can’t leave the apartment naked.”

  He was serious. She saw it clearly in how his jaw muscles tensed and how he was breathing. It was a strange feeling to sit across from him, so close and for so long a period of time, she thought.

  “This is how it’s going to play out,” he said. “You’ll buy me some new clothes and plant this shirt as a false lead in another city, not too close or too far away, and it absolutely shouldn’t be Södertälje.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I have a meeting there.”

  “I don’t know if I want to know any more.”

  “Now listen up and listen carefully,” he said. “When you’ve planted it, call in a false tip. We have no time to lose. I have to be in Södertälje on Tuesday at exactly 8:00 p.m. I’ll go disappear from there.”

  “Who are you meeting?”

  “The less you know, the better.”

  Jana’s eyes narrowed.

  “I don’t want to be seen with you. Nothing can connect me with you.”

  “Listen. I’d always rather be safe than sorry.”

  “So how have you been communicating about this Södertälje meeting?”

  “Cell phone.”

  “Cell phones are dangerous,” she said. “The police can trace you. They have a whole room filled with investigators whose sole purpose is to find you.”

  “That’s why I used yours.”

  “You can’t have used it again. I’ve had it on me the whole time since...”

  “The shower, I know, but that’s when I took care of all of my business.”

  “So...”

  “Shut up now, Jana. The only thing you should be worried about is that I don’t miss that meeting on Tuesday.”

  She looked at him, at his dirty shirt, and in just that moment the thought popped into her head: that altho
ugh she’d made such a concerted effort to tolerate him these past few days, this involvement wouldn’t ever end. It would just get worse and worse. He would be able to continue setting whatever demands he wanted, as long as he had control of the boxes that contained her journals.

  “It’s not actually so difficult, is it?” he said.

  “What?”

  “What you’re thinking about.”

  “It might be difficult,” she said.

  “Possibly,” he said. “But it’s easy to see that you’re going to go along with it.”

  * * *

  Philip Engström shoved a slice of cheese into his mouth and set the orange juice, butter and a tube of caviar spread on the table.

  Lina didn’t look at him when she came into the kitchen. She pulled the comforter along with her and sat cross-legged on the chair, letting the thick down of the duvet warm her shoulders. Her light brown hair was gathered in a high, tight ponytail.

  Philip reached his hand out, but she didn’t take it.

  “I don’t want to...” She fell silent.

  “What don’t you want?” he said.

  She lifted her gaze and looked him in the eye with a gravity that made him scared. “I don’t want to have children anymore.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t want to have children at all.”

  “Okay,” he said, pulling his hand back.

  “Okay?” she said. “Is that all you have to say?”

  “What should I say? If you don’t want to have children, there’s not much I can do about that, right?”

  “No, I’ve already decided,” she said, blinking quickly a few times as if trying to hold back tears.

  “Good,” he said. “So now that that’s decided...so I guess we’re done, too.”

  He leaned back in the chair and turned his gaze to his coffee mug. He knew he should go to her, comfort her, say a few well-chosen words. But he couldn’t move.

  “But I don’t want that,” she said quietly, drying the tears from her cheeks. “I don’t want us to be done.”

  Philip sighed.

  “What do you want, then?”

  She stared at him, now with a disappointed look.

  “I want to hear you say it,” she said.

  “Say what?” he said, looking down at the table.