The Black Path
Page 36
“Yes, I’m here. But I don’t want to see anybody, just him. Will you ask him, please.”
“Okay,” says Maria hesitantly, realizing at the same time that she’s missed something, that she hasn’t understood. “I’ll go and find him.”
It takes a couple of minutes.
Just as long as nobody else comes out here, thinks Rebecka.
She needs a pee, she should have gone to the bathroom first. And so thirsty, how’s she going to be able to talk to him when her tongue is sticking to the roof of her mouth?
She catches sight of herself in the mirror and discovers to her horror that she’s wearing her grandmother’s old quilted nylon jacket. She looks like somebody who lives out in the forest and grows everything organically, is on a permanent collision course with the authorities, and looks after stray cats.
She’s seized by an impulse to run out to the car and take off, but then her cell phone rings. It’s Maria Taube.
“He’s on his way,” she says, and rings off.
And there he is.
Rebecka feels like an aquarium containing an electric eel.
He doesn’t say “Hi, Martinsson,” or anything. It’s as if he realizes this is serious. He looks so good. Just like he used to. He doesn’t often wear jeans.
She steadies herself and tries to forget about her hair, which is way too long and needs styling, cutting, coloring. Tries to forget about her scar. And that bloody jacket!
“Come with me,” she says. “I’ve come to take you back to my place.”
She thinks she ought to say something else, but she can’t manage any more than that.
He smiles a little. But then his face grows serious. And before he has time to say anything, Malin Norell is standing behind him.
“Måns?” she says, looking from him to Rebecka. “What’s going on?”
He shakes his head regretfully.
Rebecka doesn’t know who he’s shaking his head at. Her or the woman behind him.
But then he smiles at her and says:
“I just need to get a jacket.”
But she has no intention of letting him go, oh no. Not for a second.
“Take mine,” she says.
They’re sitting in the car. The falling snow outside is like a white curtain, zero visibility. Rebecka is driving very carefully. They don’t say much. Nothing, in fact. Måns is studying the torn sleeves of the quilted nylon jacket he’s wearing. It has to be the ugliest jacket he’s ever seen in his life.
Then he looks at Rebecka. She really is something else. Completely crazy. And he begins to laugh. He can’t help himself.
She’s laughing too. She laughs until the tears are pouring down her face.
Much later. When she’s resting in his arms, she starts to cry. It just overflows. And at first he jokes with her, and says:
“That good, was it?”
And that makes her laugh, but the tears come back.
Then he holds her tight. Holds her and strokes her hair, kisses the scar above her lip.
“It’s okay,” he says. “Just let it all out.”
And she cries until she’s finished crying. And he’s full of good intentions. He’s going to take care of her. She can move back to Stockholm and start working for the firm again. It’ll be fine.
During the night she wakes up and looks at him. He’s sleeping on his back, his mouth wide open.
He’s here right now, she thinks. I’ll try not to hold on to him so tight that he wants to get away. I’ll just enjoy it.
The fact that he’s here right now.
Author’s Acknowledgments
Half the series has been written. It feels strange. I look at the previous two books and the manuscript of this one, and it feels as if someone else has written them. As usual, it’s all lies. Certain people do exist, but what I’ve written about them is fiction.
Many people have helped me, and I would like to thank some of them here: Lennart Edström, consultant, who helped me with the progress of Rebecka’s illness, among other things; senior doctors Peter Löwenhielm and Jan Lindberg, who helped me with regard to physical injuries and my dead bodies; lecturer Marie Allen, with whom I have had the pleasure of discussing traces of blood and strands of hair; prosecutor Cecilia Bergman; dog handler Peter Holmström; and the artists Anita Ponga, Maria Montner and Camilla Jüllig, who have all freely shared their expertise. And I must stress that Ester’s family is not Anita Ponga’s.
As always, any errors are my own.
Thanks also to: my editor Rachel Åkerstedt, merciless and wonderful. All the brilliant people at my publishers; just walking in there makes me happy. The fantastic Bonnier Group Agency, who manage to sell my books to the world. Elisabeth Ohlson Wallin and John Eyre for their original cover design.
Thanks to my mother, Eva Jensen, Lena Andersson and Thomas Karlsen Andersson for reading the manuscript and turning somersaults with joy and giving me praise. I needed that so much. You put up with me. Thanks to my father and Mona, who read and checked on the facts relating to Kiruna.
And finally: thanks, Per. The book is finally finished. And now I’m coming to get you.
About the Author
Åsa Larsson was born in 1966; she grew up in Kiruna and now lives in Mariefred. She is a qualified lawyer and made her debut in 2003 with Sun Storm, which was awarded the Swedish Crime Writers’ Association prize for best debut novel. The sequel, The Blood Spilt, was chosen as Best Swedish Crime Novel of 2004. The books were an immediate success; they have been sold to ten countries, and are being launched in the United States; the film rights have been sold to Sandrew Metronome.
ALSO BY ÅSA LARSSON
Sun Storm
The Blood Spilt
THE BLACK PATH
First published in Sweden as Svart stig
A Delta Trade Paperback / August 2008
Published by
Bantam Dell
A Division of Random House, Inc.
New York, New York
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved
Copyright © 2008 by Åsa Larsson
Delta is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc., and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
Larsson, Åsa, 1966–
[Svart stig. English]
The black path/Åsa Larsson; translated by Marlaine Delargy.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-0-440-33798-0
1. Delargy, Marlaine. II. Title.
PT9877.22.A78S8313 2008
839.73'8—dc22 2007018323
www.bantamdell.com
v1.0
Table of Contents
Title Page
Do you remember…
Extract from case notes…
An early spring evening,…
Inspector Anna-Maria Mella and…
Rebecka Martinsson is discharged…
It’s Tuesday. Every Tuesday,…
Rebecka is celebrating New…
It was fortunate that…
The dead woman came…
It was five past…
Chief Prosecutor Alf Björnfot…
That’s right, thought Rebecka…
Rebecka Martinsson met Anna-Maria…
The program lasts an…
Rebecka Martinsson finished her…
Is it okay if…
Anna-Maria Mella sank down…
The avenue of lime…
Ester Kallis is conceived…
My name is Ester…
Morning briefing at Kiruna…
Mauri Kallis was squatting…
Yes, I do recall…
Rebecka had her evening…
As usual, Anna-Maria Mella…
Anna-Maria Mel
la looked around…
He wasn’t a particularly…
Rebecka Martinsson got home…
It snowed throughout Wednesday…
Mauri Kallis was up…
Anna-Maria Mella unlocked the…
Mauri Kallis saw Ester…
Ebba Kallis was woken…
Anna-Maria Mella and Sven-Erik…
When Inna and Mauri…
Rebecka Martinsson was going…
Ester Kallis was sitting…
Mauri Kallis’s dinner guests…
Anna-Maria Mella and Sven-Erik…
Rebecka is lying in…
Author’s Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Åsa Larsson
Copyright