by Anna Jansson
“You wouldn’t have a bit of the strong stuff would you?”
“Spirit?” Anders wasn’t surprised. Guran must have already checked the contents of his liquor cabinet.
“Yeah, please. First you put a sugar lump in the cup…” he demonstrated to Julia, “… then you add the coffee until you can’t see it and then schnapps until you can. That’s how you do it.”
“Why was my father dangerous?” Julia asked again.
“With a guy like your father in the army there’s no need to worry about the bad old enemy ambushing you. Oh heck, he scared the hell out of me.”
Julia’s eyes grew big and round. Anders tried to get Guran to control himself and not worry his daughter.
“We were in Norrland, camping, it was freezing, mid-winter, by some lake or other, can’t remember what it was called. The tent was so goddamn cold you had to keep the fire going. Either your hair caught on fire and your feet froze or the other way round if you turned your sleeping bag round toward the wood-burner. I was on fire duty and I must have dropped off. What the fuck, you know, you were wiped out from carrying all the gear. Sometimes we hitched a lift on our skis or bicycles behind a tractor, that was goddamn lethal, too. More injuries than soccer. Your feet were full of blisters because of the boots and you were so tired you’d sleep standing up.”
“You were on fire duty.…” said Erika, helping him back on track after his digression. Guran peered at the bottle of schnapps. First he needed another shot, like putting some more money in the jukebox slot.
“I fell asleep on duty. I admit it. When I woke up it was cold as hell but the stove was still full of glowing embers, and in front of it stood a dark figure with an AK4 in one hand and a heap of ammunition in the other. He walked like a zombie toward the wood-burner and was just about to chuck the whole lot on the fire. That would have meant a one-way ticket to eternity for the whole lot of us if I hadn’t lunged at his feet and knocked him down. Your dad, I mean. He was walking in his sleep. After that he was discharged, lucky bastard.”
CHAPTER 39
“I DON’T WANT TO GO UP and sleep on my own.” Julia’s voice was puny and anxious. She looked at Anders, who was concentrating on his cards behind the colorful stacks of chips.
“I’ll raise,” said Guran.
“Dad!” said Julia insistently.
“Big girl like you don’t need to make a fuss, do you,” said Guran with a chuckle.
Anders had already half-risen out of his chair; now he sat down again. After all, Guran had come all the way from Norrland to visit him.
If he’d only called first, a babysitter could have been arranged.
“I’ll go with you.” Erika had just staked everything on a bluff and lost to Anders. He was as bad at winning as she was at losing. She couldn’t avoid feeling slightly disgruntled at his crowing, his smug announcement that everyone was a loser and airhead except for the winner. Julia, after playing for a while alongside her father, had grown tired of the game earlier and turned on the television instead; also the stereo and the computer, progressively turning up the volume until it crossed the pain barrier. Anders was hardened to it, he seemed not to hear it. Guran didn’t notice or pretended he didn’t. But Erika developed a formidable headache. This was not what she’d been expecting of the evening.
Julia scrutinized Erika from head to toe, evaluating the advantages of her company against the desire to push her away and maintain distance. “All right, then.” She gave her father a goodnight kiss on the cheek, then followed Erika up the stairs.
Erika looked around with a searching gaze. The security gate was still there, from the time Julia was a toddler, although now held up with a piece of string. Julia followed Erika’s eyes.
“It’s like Guran says. Dad sometimes walks about in his sleep. Sometimes he closes the gate before he goes to bed.” Julia clucked with laughter and unexpectedly took Erika by the arm. “I’ll show you my room.”
“Yes, I’d like to see it.” Something about her touch made Erika’s eyes fill with tears. It just came over her. Her loss. Her own girl would have taken her by the arm like that, if only life had treated them better. She was grateful about Julia unexpectedly confiding in her, which made her feel emotional and warm. Maybe her loss of contact with her own children had made it difficult to handle Julia’s truculence in the beginning. It had confirmed what she already knew, that she was no good with children.
“Ta-da!!” Julia opened her bedroom door with a theatrical gesture.
“You like horses, don’t you?”
Julia’s face was overwhelmed by a big smile. She nodded. The whole room was horsified. There were three large posters of thoroughbreds, foals in the green grass, a muzzle touching a girl’s face. The bedspread was decorated with an image of two horses lovingly grazing beside each other. The border of the wallpaper consisted of a long row of ponies. In the bookshelf were magazine holders with various issues of “My Horse.” There was a riding helmet on the desk, also some very fine charcoal drawings of wild horses. “Who did those drawings?”
“My friend Ronny. He’s a classroom assistant, really cool and totally brilliant at everything.”
Erika also used to ride when she was growing up. She’d even competed for a couple of years in dressage. But when the children arrived and she took time off work because of her breastfeeding psychosis, the hobby became too expensive. Julia’s eager questions brought back old memories. Riding camp. Adventures. Injured horses and her great sorrow when her favorite horse had to be put down.
“My mom was world class at dressage. Well, maybe not world class but almost,” Julia added.
Erika didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded to indicate she was listening.
“Do you want to see how beautiful she was?”
Erika wasn’t sure that she did. She felt her smile draining from her face and her body stiffening. The presence of Isabel was so pervasive, even ten years after her death and even though Julia could not possibly have any memory of her. She was a fairytale, a legend constructed gradually by recourse to excellent character traits, fantasies, and all the perfections that normal mortals couldn’t aspire to. An impossible rival. Julia took Erika by the hand and led her through the corridor to a room on the other side.
“This was Mom’s study.” Julia turned on a lamp. The light fell on a large portrait over the magnificent oak desk. A bridal photograph. Erika stared. It was like seeing her own face. The woman in the photograph was younger, of course. But her facial features… her cheekbones, eyes, and hair, even her smile, were strikingly similar. There was also something of Linn Bogren about her. The soft outlines of the round face, the nose and chin. The voluminous curly brown hair, the dark brown effervescent eyes – all three of them had these in common. When her eyes fell on the bridal bouquet, the air went out of her lungs and she felt a heavy weight pressing down on her chest. Was it pure coincidence that the wedding bouquet consisted of lilies of the valley?
“You look funny.” Julia gripped Erika’s arm.
“She looks like someone.”
“She looks like you, can’t you see? The ones he brings home are dark and curly haired. But you’re the best one.” She squeezed Erika’s arm again.
Erika smiled mechanically. The thought gave her vertigo. That woman who’d been found on Galgberget.… Her mouth dried up. She tried to control herself for Julia’s sake, while her suspicions dug a deepening hole in her trust. Could it really be like this? Anders was a sleepwalker. Was he also a murderer? Was there any risk of him hurting his own child? He loved Julia more than anything in the world. Erika’s immediate impulse was to take the girl in her arms and flee to a safe place where she’d be safe. Should she contact the child’s grandmother and ask her to take care of the girl, and then contact the police? No, she had to calm down. There was no evidence. Anders, her beloved Anders, was sitting down there playing poker. She could hear their talking and laughter downstairs. She might be wrong. Maybe her suspicions were just a
product of her overworked mind.
Erika went back with Julia to her room. Managed to have a few jokes with her while they were brushing their teeth together and using the same mirror, so that one body seemed to have two heads on it, like a totem pole. Erika’s dark hair looked strange with Julia’s fair eyebrows and lashes.
“I like you, Erika.” Julia gave her a goodnight hug and then crawled into her bed and turned out the light. The words lingered in the dark like a warm breath. I like you.
That was why she had to stay and protect Julia until she knew how things were. For her sake and for Anders’s, only with them was there a meaning in life. It was madness staying, but she couldn’t leave them. Erika fiddled with the cell phone in her pocket. She didn’t dare call, in case someone in the house overheard her, and more than anything she wanted to avoid worrying Julia. She went back into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. She must find evidence. Julia and Anders had their own sections in there. On the left were girlish perfumes and a pink comb, hair grips, and a little nail brush with a horse’s head on it. On the right, his shaving things, his aftershave which he liked so much, some lesser-known brands of deodorant. A small, sharp pair of nail scissors which she pocketed. A dark blue comb, unfortunately without any hairs. For a single strand of hair to be usable in DNA analysis, it still had to have its root. She dropped a foot file, which had not been so well cleaned, into her toiletry bag. She undressed, shivering with cold. She had to behave normally, had to pretend to be asleep when he came up. The house was completely silent now. The army pal must have left. Suddenly she heard the sounds of scraping chair legs and footsteps across the wooden floorboards. How could she have been so blind? She thought about what they had found in Linn Bogren’s bathroom. Some coughed-up phlegm containing polishing dust. Most likely from Anders’s newly polished wood floor. Everything had been served up right before her eyes, yet she had failed to see.
Erika crawled into the bed, lay completely still and tried to breathe deeply, as if she were asleep. She heard him brushing his teeth, getting undressed. Then felt the large mattress shifting its center of gravity.
“Are you awake?” He kissed her neck, caressed her back. “Erika? I want you to stay here with me.” He took hold of her shoulder to turn her toward him. She made her body as heavy and limp as she could. “There’s something I’d like to tell you.” She came so close to opening her eyes. So close to hearing the truth. But instead she sighed deeply and stayed on her left side. She could feel his member throbbing against her behind when he embraced her and caressed her breasts. Her heart was beating fast. Maybe he could feel this through her skin? Hard, rapid heartbeats that demanded oxygen and whipped up her rate of breathing.
“I love you so much.” His breath smelt of booze.
She’d have liked to scream and run away or simply give up all resistance. The way things were now, she was in a vacuum where everything was a lie. He pulled her silk nightie over her hips, rolled down her panties and tried to force himself inside, without success. His thrusts were hard and painful. She tensed herself. It was dry and smarting down there; her fear made the pain even worse. After what felt like an eternity, he gave up. There was a swaying motion in the mattress. She heard his steps on the stairs. She lay there for a long time, listening. The dishwasher started up with a scraping sound. A door shut somewhere. Or was she imagining it? What if he were no longer in the house? They could flee. No not yet! She had to steel herself, had to stay and get her hands on more evidence. Before she abandoned him she had to be one hundred percent sure that he was the guilty party.
Carefully Erika lifted the comforter and placed her feet on the floor. Step by step she moved toward the stairs, then stopped on the ledge in the middle. A blue light was shining from his study. She could see him in the hall mirror, through his doorway. He was sitting by the computer and she could observe his facial expression. Concentrated and grim. His eyes stared at the screen. He inserted a USB memory stick. She saw his fingers moving over the keyboard. Suddenly he stood up and Erika rushed back to bed. She heard him make some slamming noises in the kitchen. The tap was running, the fridge door opened and closed, but the other sounds were drowned out by the churning dishwasher.
He returned to the bedroom again, collapsing into his side of the bed without taking any notice of her, even though she was facing him. His breathing grew deeper and slower. She squinted at him; he seemed to be asleep. Was it a wise idea to get up and give Hartman a call – ask for advice? The cell phone was on the bedside table next to the scissors. She reached for them, touched the cold case of the telephone, snatched up the scissors. He moved. Quickly she drew back her arm under the comforter and lay on her back so she’d have a better view of what he was doing. Suddenly he sat bolt upright in the bed. She opened her eyelids just enough to see without showing him she was awake. He stood up stiffly and went to the wardrobe. His bathrobe was hanging on a hook, and he put it on. With ungainly steps he started moving toward the stairs, opening the gate as he did so and disappearing out of her field of vision.
Erika followed him, glided along barefooted like a shadow across the floor. Ready to flee, fight, scream for help. Her stomach muscles were tense and cramped, her breathing controlled. She had to find out the truth. Was he really sleepwalking? Or was this just an extenuating factor, an excuse for the repulsive deeds she’d been forced to see? Maria had once jokingly suggested that Anders might be a psychopath or married or weird in some other way – after all, normal men were rarely ever available. In fact he was too good to be true, wasn’t he? How could she ever have thought anything else? But she loved him. What a relief it would be just to give up; to embrace him, love him as if it were their last moment on earth, give herself over to unbounded passion and then accept the lethal blow when it came. No, she had to find evidence. For her own sake she had to know if he were guilty or innocent, conscious or unconscious of the terrible things that had been done. Only then would she be able to give up or stay. Nothing was worse than the uncertainty.
He went out on the veranda. The hood of his bathrobe covered his face completely. He lit a cigarette. The red glow followed his hand to his mouth, then hung limply at his side.
He traced a few circles in the air with his wrist, let go of the butt, and stepped on it. He stood immobile for a long while, then slowly and apparently aimlessly started wandering round the garden under the apple trees. Erika hurried back. She’d seen what she needed to see.
The challenges he faced on the computer screen were so much easier to deal with than reality. Logged into the surgeon’s program on the simulator, he could perform advanced stomach surgery, brain surgery, or an autopsy on his intended victims. He liked the thought of how vulnerable they were, anaesthetized and immobile, just waiting for his knife. When their lives were in his hands in this way, he was raised above all human laws and morals. A god creates his own rules.
He’d decided to spare Erika Lund for a little while longer. The knowledge that she was a policewoman turned him on. She had been chosen as the observer of the degradation, thus earning a full punishment. Later, once she’d fulfilled her purpose, it would be a real pleasure to see her agony.
CHAPTER 40
“I’M NOT WELL, I’ve got a migraine. I’m taking the day off.” Erika leaned back against the pillows. When the alarm clock went off, she’d sat bolt upright. How amazing that she’d managed to sleep at all.
“I didn’t know you suffered from migraines.” Anders’s clinical doctor’s eye scanned her.
She almost spoke of a temperature and sore throat, then stopped herself just in time. He would have felt her forehead and dismissed it all as nonsense.
“It doesn’t happen very often, it already started last night. That’s why I went to bed so early.” She held up her hand, shielding her eyes against the light.
“Yes, things didn’t work out last night the way I’d planned them. Sorry. Can I get you something, what do you usually take?” He had such a charming way of givin
g his whole attention to the one he was talking to. She almost melted, then pulled herself together.
“Nothing. I never take pills.” Did he suspect something? Would he drug her and… and then, what would happen after that?
“Can I bring you a bit of breakfast?” He crawled onto the bed and put his cheek against hers, kissing her forehead. “I love you, you know that? Whatever happens I love you.”
“I love you,” she mumbled back, her face pressed into his shoulder. Whatever happens… why had he put it like that? It added fuel to her fears, her sense of balancing on the edge of the void.
“You want coffee and a piece of toast? An egg?”
“I feel sick. I’ll try to eat something later. As long as it’s dark and quiet it usually goes away.”
She heard them bustling down in the kitchen. The washing machine started up. The tumble dryer. Julia’s voice, and his deep rumbling voice. A car started. Was it his? It was difficult to tell whether they’d left the house. Erika sneaked out of bed and up to the window to look down at the garage and driveway. His car was still parked there. If he would only leave soon, make himself scarce so she could search the house. Could she bring a pair of his shoes? Those loafers he was wearing today had not been on any of the crime scenes. But there had been other shoeprints. Maybe she could blacken his soles and make an imprint of them on paper?
Erika jumped when she felt an arm on her shoulder. She gasped for air, wanted to scream but stopped herself.
“Did I scare you that much?” He took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes, utterly serious. There was no way out. He kept a firm grip on her. “How are you?”
“I don’t know. I feel sick.” She removed his hands, ran for the bathroom, then locked herself in. Coughed and spluttered, splashed with the toilet brush in the water so it would sound as if she were being sick.