‘But she can’t have forced him to go for a swim,’ Frank said. ‘That’s not possible. She wouldn’t do that and he wouldn’t have let her.’
‘The children always used to do dares,’ she said.
‘That was their older brother. He was the one who always pushed everyone out of their comfort zones.’
She seemed to think about this as she spread the cashmere blanket across her legs. Then she sat up straight, as if she only just realised something, a disturbed look on her face.
‘She could have taken him out in that damn canoe, Frank. You heard what the police officer said. The canoe was drifting. They could have paddled out together and she could have pushed him in…’
Birgitta ran out of steam and he squeezed her legs, imagining the scenario she was spelling out. The children had loved the open water.
‘He would have been forced to swim back, Frank. Except he didn’t make it…’ Birgitta sniffled. ‘I don’t know any more. Why don’t you see her, Frank? Please. Find out what really happened between the two of them.’
‘The police say she’s moved,’ he said. ‘But I already saw her.’
‘When? What did she say?’
‘She seemed indifferent,’ he said, which had been true right up until he was about to leave. Don’t come back. It will be too dangerous for you.
He hesitated before he told Birgitta what their daughter’s departing words had been.
‘It sounds as if she has truly lost control,’ Birgitta said, looking agitated. ‘Is she taking her pills?’
‘How am I supposed to know that?’ He threw his arms out in frustration. ‘Do you think she invited me inside to look at her medicine cabinet?’
‘Of course not, but did she act… I don’t know, erratically?’
He sighed. ‘More than usual, you mean?’
‘I want to know if she’s taking her medication,’ Birgitta said.
Angry tears were falling down her cheeks, the mascara creating black lines on her face. Frank stood up and started pacing the room.
‘This isn’t good,’ he said.
He had always suspected trouble would catch up with Sofia but he hadn’t expected this. She would hurt her own brother? Images of her diary came to mind, her blood-filled scenarios covering the pages. Bingo, their beloved cat… Yes, he realised, it was possible that she would harm someone she loved.
‘Maybe we didn’t do enough,’ he said. Had they raised a monster? ‘Should we have had her institutionalised?’
‘We did what we thought was best,’ she said, pulling her knees to her chest. She was shaking.
‘Did we really? Or were we naïve and selfish, thinking it was a phase that we needed to ride through? Maybe we didn’t take it seriously enough.’
‘You’re right, Frank. We should start taking it seriously now,’ Birgitta said, stretching her arms out to him. ‘I’m scared.’
He brought her into a hug and clung to her, their fingers digging in deep, like two wild creatures whose survival depended on the other. An animalistic urge to be even closer came over Frank; he kissed her, a deep frustrated desire welling up, and Birgitta surprised him by reciprocating with the same intensity. Clothes were pulled off as they scrambled into various positions. Her spread legs welcomed him and he slid on top of her, the large nipples hard as he brushed past. It was powerful but swift.
Afterwards, they got dressed in silence, retreating to their spots on the couch as if nothing had happened.
‘I think we should leave,’ Birgitta said, adjusting the chiffon bow under her chin.
The movement momentarily made him think of his business partner, Börje, whose wife Birgitta had embraced her sense of style from. The car accident that had claimed Börje’s and Inger’s lives was a blessing under the current circumstances, but Frank couldn’t afford to let his thoughts travel that road.
‘What do you mean?’ he said. ‘Leave the house?’
He had desired this particular home – he more than Birgitta – but he could understand how she would want to get away from the image of Anders’s body being pulled out of the water.
‘I want to leave the country,’ she said.
This was unexpected. Moving to another neighbourhood or city would have been more reasonable. He’d sold the business a couple of years back so there wasn’t really anything tying them to Chicago any more, but still…
‘Where would we go?’ he asked.
‘Anywhere,’ she said. ‘Don’t you ever want to just pick up and leave?’
He didn’t. He’d never even harboured any wishes to return to Sweden. Too often, he bumped into Swedes living in Chicago who viewed the home country through rose-tinted glasses. The grass was always greener and it was easy to find faults with the place where you lived.
‘Haven’t we had to start over many times already?’ she said. ‘New suburbs, new schools, new neighbours?’
‘We moved to new houses and areas to improve our standing and, anyway, those were superficial relationships,’ he said. ‘What about your other friends, the ones who have stuck by you for years?’
She crossed her arms and looked away.
‘You can’t trust anyone these days,’ she muttered.
They sat in silence for a while. He wasn’t in the mood to argue. Did he want to leave? Maybe the house, but Chicago? He wasn’t sure.
‘There’s something else,’ she said, picking up her phone from the table.
‘Don’t keep things from me,’ he begged. ‘We’re in this together.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing else, I promise. Only this message.’
She scrolled down on her phone and showed him her screen.
Don’t try to find me. If you do, you’re next.
‘We have to leave,’ she said. ‘Or she will come after us too.’
Chapter 12
Kristin
May 2017
Kristin has never been to a group therapy session before, but here she is, in a confined basement in Olof’s office building. It’s not unpleasant though. Someone has made a real effort to paint the walls in bright colours and added atmospheric lighting. Seven people are gathered in a circle, sitting on fold-out chairs.
On the surface, everyone seems normal but when you hear their stories, you’re no longer sure. One girl constantly checks the news for crimes nearby, an older man says he retraces his steps every day to make sure he hasn’t murdered anyone, and a woman sitting next to Kristin holds onto door handles to avoid hitting people. Right now, her fingers are firmly clasped around the seat of the chair.
Kristin feels unsettled but Olof makes it clear that they shouldn’t judge each other. Only, she knows how they will react if she explains that she’s actually done something criminal.
‘No one lives in your body,’ Olof says. ‘And no one else has to live with your mind.’ He pauses and looks at her. ‘Kristin, do you want to go next?’
Everyone turns to her, the expectation paralysing.
‘My name is Kristin,’ she starts. ‘I recently moved here after living in the US.’
It’s better to explain her accent that way, to avoid too many questions. Although she knew some Swedish when she moved here, she’s studied a programme for immigrants to become fluent.
‘That’s really cool,’ a girl called Ebba says.
She’s got pink nails and tight jeans, and swings her long, Nicole Kidman-red hair from side to side. Kristin imagines she’s in her late teens or early twenties.
‘I’m not sure what else to share,’ Kristin says.
‘Boring,’ Ebba says, trying to hide her words behind a pretend cough.
‘I…’ Kristin feels the pressure. She wants this girl to think she’s interesting. Also, everyone else has been honest. ‘I don’t like sex.’
‘Oh my God,’ Ebba says, and Kristin is expecting her to say it’s the stupidest thing she’s ever heard because everybody loves sex.
‘I can’t stand sex either!’ Ebba exclaims instead. ‘
Finally somebody said it out loud.’
*
During the break, Ebba comes up to her.
‘Thanks for mentioning the “s” word,’ she says. ‘I’m sick of how sex-obsessed our society is. It’s as if we’re expected to always want it and I never do. I mean, I really don’t. You get me, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s so sticky and sweaty and ugly.’ She shudders. ‘And people change when they’re naked.’
Kristin nods. If only you knew, she thinks.
‘Do you take medication for the anxiety?’ Ebba asks.
‘Eh, no. Not anymore.’
Ebba nods her head as if she’s pondering this. ‘I don’t either. Olof suggested I take something to increase, what’s it called… the serotonin, I think, but I don’t want to.’
She looks Kristin up and down, assessing her.
‘I like you,’ Ebba says eventually. ‘You’re different from the other nut jobs here.’
*
After the session, Kristin has a new friend, whether she likes it or not. Ebba thinks it’s beyond cool that Kristin has lived in the US. She still hasn’t been on a plane, she says, but Kristin finds that hard to believe. Although, if it’s true, it makes Kristin feel stronger. Even though it’s not supposed to be a competition, it makes her feel better equipped for life than Ebba.
‘Do you have a job?’ Ebba asks her when they head out.
‘Not yet, but I’m going to an old people’s home to volunteer tomorrow. What about you?’
Ebba shudders. ‘Old people give me the creeps. I’m studying, distance learning mainly so that I can do it from home. That’s why I do this group thing. It forces me out. Hey, we should hang out some time.’
They exchange numbers and Ebba promises to be in touch. Then she’s off. Behind Kristin, someone else’s steps approach and, out of habit, she quickly turns around, but it’s only Olof.
‘Let me guess. You thought it was interesting, but you have no plans to return?’
She looks at her feet, feeling embarrassed. Is it that obvious?
‘I might give it another go,’ she says. She might, for Olof’s sake.
‘I see you talked to Ebba.’
She nods. ‘She seems nice.’
‘I’m usually an advocate for openness but just be careful of sharing too much with her. I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?’
Careful? He doesn’t want her to get hurt? He cares.
‘Well, that’s my car.’ He points to a Saab parked by the pavement. ‘See you next week.’
She watches him leave, thinking: maybe Ebba should be careful of her? Why didn’t that cross his mind?
*
That evening the phone rings and Niklas answers, Kristin on tenterhooks in the background. Is it another anonymous call?
‘It’s for you,’ he says. ‘Someone from… group therapy?’
‘Oh…’
Conscious of Niklas’s presence, Kristin tries to keep the conversation short.
‘So I might have a job for you…’ Ebba drones on.
‘Thanks… but can I call you in the morning?’ Kristin says.
‘Sure, but there’s something I have to talk to you about. I gave in and had sex with my boyfriend but now I’m worried I’m pregnant. And I also bought a gun.’
The pregnancy stuff she understands, but a gun?
‘Don’t joke about...’ Kristin lowers her voice so that Niklas can’t hear her ‘… guns. I’m not even sure I believe you. The laws are too strict here.’
Brandon had a cabinet full of weapons, but that was in the US. In Sweden, people can’t buy firearms from a shop on the side of the road. Even Niklas’s second cousin who’s a policeman can’t bring his gun home.
‘I didn’t buy it legally, did I?’ Ebba says, sounding irritated. ‘I have a friend whose boyfriend helped me. It wasn’t cheap. I paid four thousand kronor for it. Anyway, I regret it. I only got it because I thought it would make me feel safe.’
‘But now you worry that it’s going to be used against you?’
That someone is going to grab it out of your hand and point the cold barrel at your own head?
‘I guess.’
‘There’s only one thing to do,’ Kristin says. ‘Get rid of it.’
‘Can you help me?’
Friends should be there for one another. Ursula was her good friend, before she abruptly disappeared from Kristin’s life. Maybe she should commit to a new friendship and what better way to start than by helping Ebba?
‘Fine. But I have to go now,’ she says.
‘Come over to mine tomorrow, please. Do you have WhatsApp? I can pin you the address?’
After she’s hung up, Kristin has no choice but to explain to Niklas about therapy and who Ebba and Olof are.
‘I plan to see him once a week,’ she says.
‘Do you really need to go every week?’ Niklas says. ‘It will be rather… well, you know…’ His eyes drop to the floor. ‘Expensive?’
‘It’s my…’ she starts but she can’t say it out loud. My money. It doesn’t matter. With Niklas, it’s still money and whichever way it’s spent is bad. Still, she feels irritated. ‘You don’t think I’m worth spending money on?’ she says instead. ‘Isn’t me getting better worth every krona?’
He looks lost and she almost softens. Almost.
‘Well?’ she says.
‘I think you’re good the way you are,’ he says, shrugging as if it’s that simple.
Is it that simple? She backs down slightly.
‘You really think so?’ she says.
He nods and she feels lighter. This is Niklas, not Bruce, Jason, Conrad or Stanley. Niklas is caring. How could she be mad at him?
‘Oh, I forgot to tell you,’ he says. ‘My friend Jonas from the post-box place called. He said a package had arrived with your number on it, so I picked it up. That’s your first mail, Kristin. Maybe that will cheer you up.’
Niklas disappears into the storage room while she stays in the hallway, thinking of likely senders. No one has her physical address. She opted to rent a PO Box downtown instead.
‘Here it is.’
Niklas appears with a brown, padded A4 envelope with US stamps on it. Her name has been left out and that’s something Ursula would have thought of. She understands how these things work.
The package is light. She opens it cautiously, wishing Niklas would leave her to it, but he’s too excited, his eyes curious. He’s probably hoping for free stuff but, inside, there’s a white envelope and nothing else.
‘That’s it?’
‘I guess,’ she says, shrugging her shoulders. ‘It’s probably a letter from my friend, Ursula. I’ll read it in bed.’
She takes it into the bedroom and, luckily, Niklas doesn’t follow. Sitting on her duvet cover, she switches the bedside light on and tears the envelope open. A white note lands on the bed, with large, black capital letters typed into one single word:
MURDERER
She stares at the letters forming the astonishingly harsh word, one by one.
M U R D E R E R
If jumbled up, could they mean something else? Is it a code? But however much she tries; the word remains the same. MURDERER.
Who knows about her PO Box? The same person who wants her to rot in hell? The person with the cap? Who? Who?
‘There was no evidence,’ she tells the room. ‘The house was searched and my bank statements were checked for evidence of nut purchases. There wasn’t anything. Nothing…’
But the question they kept asking: had she gone to a market and bought nuts with cash?
‘There were no traces in the trailer,’ she says.
But you cleaned and you cleaned. MURDERER.
Panicked, she scrunches up the note, throwing it on the floor. There it remains, a ball of paper, disturbing her tidy life.
Chapter 13
X stuck to his word and tried to pay me for ‘seeing to’ his friend, but I turned the money down.
‘Come on, take it,’ he said, holding up the wad of cash. ‘Otherwise I’ll feel bad.’
‘No,’ I said but he took hold of my face, the green notes stroking my cheek, and kissed me tenderly.
‘Don’t be like that,’ he said. ‘You did me a huge favour and I will be forever grateful.’ He paused. ‘I love you. You’re my girl.’
‘I have a boyfriend,’ I said quietly.
‘You obviously don’t love him or you wouldn’t have slept with me, babe. We belong together.’
I broke away from him and left. For days, I avoided answering calls from X and didn’t even see my boyfriend, convinced that guilt was displayed all over my face. He deserved much better than a cheating girlfriend. What was wrong with me?
I tried to focus on studying and working, both dreading and hoping that X would show up at the restaurant and apologise for what he’d made me do. But he didn’t turn up. Neither did my boyfriend, who seemed satisfied with sending me messages that read:
you’re probably busy studying – good for you
This made me feel worse. I should be working even harder to build that future of ours but I struggled to concentrate.
Tired and depressed, I arrived home after one of my shifts, to find my mother in a glorious mood.
‘Honey,’ she said, a wide grin on her face. ‘I need to talk to you.’
Great. She was probably going to tell me about a new boyfriend. God forbid, he was even moving in.
‘What’s up?’ I asked, seating my worn-out body on one of the two kitchen chairs.
My mother lit another cigarette, the ashtray already filled to the brim.
‘I have amazing news,’ she gushed. ‘Elliott has been offered a job in Nevada and he’s asked me to come with him! Isn’t that just the greatest?’
‘Wow.’ This guy was serious. ‘I’m happy for you.’
‘You can’t come with us though…’
I’d figured I wouldn’t be part of the package. I always knew I would be sacrificed for the right man.
What Did I Do? Page 6