High Risk

by Simona Ahrnstedt

  He closed the lid of his computer. It would be a terrible idea to call Jill, of course. They had nothing in common, and she was a walking security risk. But she had also been on his mind all week, and one phone call surely wasn’t the end of the world. He debated with himself for half a minute or so, until his common sense lost out and he dialed her number, the private one.

  “Hello?”

  He heard her deep, husky voice after the very first ring. Somehow, he hadn’t expected her to answer, even though he was calling her cell phone. It was Saturday night. Shouldn’t someone like Jill be out at a gala, on a red carpet somewhere?

  “This is Mattias Ceder,” he said.

  Long pause. “Who?” she asked.

  A smile tugged at his lips. He’d been able to see straight though people ever since he enrolled at the Interpreter Academy; he was one of the military’s best interview leaders, and he knew a lie when he heard one.

  “We met in Kiruna, at Tom Lexington’s place,” he said politely.

  “Aha. The consultant. How are you?”

  “Good, good. How are you?”

  “Fine. I’m in Copenhagen. Nice city. If you like Danes.”

  He laughed. It sounded as if she’d had enough of them. “I bought your CDs.”

  “CDs, how very twentieth century. Which, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “All of them.”

  He heard her deep laugh again.

  “So have you listened to them?” she asked.

  He had spent every night listening to the CDs, allowing her pure voice to fill his apartment. “Yep. And I wanted to take you out to dinner to talk about them. When are you next in Stockholm?”

  “What makes you think I want to see you again?” Her tone was light and flirty.

  He could play games, if that was what Jill Lopez needed. Some might even say it was what he did best. Playing the game. “Do you?” he asked.

  “Maybe. I’m back in Stockholm on January sixth.”

  That was four days’ time. “I’ll book a table for the seventh.”

  “I do need to eat.”

  “Yeah, you do. I’ll make a reservation and see you then, Jill Lopez.”

  She hung up without another word. Mattias shook his head, equally happy and concerned that he had called.

  Chapter 29

  “Hi, Tom, it’s Isobel. I hope you’re well. Listen, could you give me a call back? I know I’ve left a bunch of messages, and I don’t want to hound you, but there’s something I need to talk to you about. Just give me a call, whenever you can. Take care.”

  The message from Isobel De la Grip was the last one left on Tom’s voice mail. He put down his phone. For so many weeks, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it, but now he’d listened to every last message. It took a while. A few times, when he’d gotten David’s concerned voice or his mom’s anxious questions in his ear, he’d felt the panic rising, but he needed to take back control of his life. He couldn’t go on like this, and so he forced himself to keep listening. He would call Isobel later.

  He looked down at the floor in the study where he had all of the documents from Chad spread out. More had arrived with the mail Johanna had forwarded on to him, and Tom had spent the past few days carefully going through everything, arranging papers, reports, and images across the floor, sorting them into piles, reading and thinking.

  He now had a good overview of what had happened in the village after his crash. He turned up the volume on the radio and sat down at the table. When the weather report came on, he turned up the volume further. It was as he’d thought. A snowstorm was expected over the next few days.

  “What do you say? Should we go into town and stock up a little?” he said to Freja, who sat up and scratched herself with her back leg in reply.

  * * *

  After buying batteries, an extra flashlight, candles, and matches, Tom walked over to the grocery store with Freja. He left her outside while he went in to buy fresh produce. He picked up a few bags of dog food, paid, and went back out to collect Freja, who was waiting impatiently. He gave her a treat before he untied the leash. She wolfed it down without either breathing or chewing. He petted her and she closed her eyes, pressed herself against his leg.

  “Hi there,” he heard. He looked up. It was Ellinor. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, and the weak sun made her pale hair glow. She had a small white dog with her. It seemed they were constantly destined to meet like this.

  “Hi, Freja. You and Tom seem to have found one another.” Ellinor bent down and stroked the dog, which gave her a dismissive wag of the tail and then started sniffing the fluffy little dog.

  “She gets me out. It feels good,” he said, realizing he felt better today. More exercise, better food, and less alcohol all meant he was sleeping better. He still woke from nightmares drenched in sweat, but he could at least fall asleep again now.

  “Where’s Nilas?” he asked.

  “He’s on call in Kalix. A horse.” She smiled again, and things almost felt like before, relaxed and normal. As though they were making small talk about what to have for dinner or to buy her sister for her birthday.

  Ellinor looked at him, and something passed between them. It almost seemed as if she wanted to give him a hug, but then she just said good-bye, waved, and left, quickly, through the snow.

  Tom headed back to his car. It had started to snow, and Freja was bounding around trying to catch the flakes on her tongue, barking at the piles of snow. Tom was in a good mood, too, he realized as he watched her. Maybe things really were about to turn around. He loaded the groceries into the trunk and closed the top. He was standing with one foot on Freja’s leash when she suddenly barked and ran off.

  “Freja!” he shouted. She was harmless, but she was also big, and he didn’t want anyone to be afraid. He watched her go and saw her jump up at someone.

  “Freja!” he repeated, starting to run toward the dog and the person she had attacked.

  “Don’t worry,” he heard. It was Ambra. He slowed down, surprised, and saw Freja jumping up and down in front of her. Ambra was laughing at the excited assault and bent down to grab the leash.

  “You should take better care of your dog,” she said as he reached her.

  Tom took the leash and gave the dog a stern look. Freja didn’t seem to feel the least bit guilty. She was trembling with excitement at having found Ambra for him. “Okay, okay, good girl,” he muttered before he took a closer look at Ambra. Same coat as before, same huge scarf and hat pulled down over her forehead. A red nose and those brilliant green eyes were practically all he could see. But it was her.

  “Aren’t you in Stockholm?” he asked.

  Ambra shrugged, and he wanted to smile at the familiar gesture. “I’m just here to check out a few things,” she replied vaguely. “It’s cold,” she added. Their breath was like clouds, and the wind bit their cheeks.

  “It’s going to get worse. You really should invest in a warmer coat.”

  “I know. My protest against Kiruna isn’t so functional, sadly.” She pulled her scarf even tighter.

  “When did you get here?” he asked, trying to make the dog calm down. She was still completely beside herself.

  Ambra patted Freja on the head. She was wearing thick gloves, but Freja still seemed pleased. “Yesterday.”

  He noted that Ambra had been in town twenty-four hours without letting him know. She wasn’t obliged to tell him anything, but he still felt a little surprised. “Same hotel?” he asked.

  “Yup, though this time the heating in my room works, which is a huge improvement.”

  “Where are you headed? Do you have time for a coffee?”

  “I’m going to see Elsa.”

  Tom wanted to spend time with her now that she was here, felt a sudden and inexplicable desire to be sociable. That was all it was, he told himself. Spending time with another person today, talking with them.

  “If you’re here tonight, maybe I could take the fourth estate to dinn
er?” he said.

  She looked hesitant. “I don’t know,” she said.

  “What if I tempt you with the Icehotel?”

  “Isn’t that miles away?”

  “Nah, not by car. They have a great restaurant, Lappland’s best chefs. You can’t keep coming all the way to Kiruna without seeing the Icehotel.”

  “And here I was planning to eat takeout in my room,” she said, but he could hear that she was warming to the idea. Maybe she was just as desperate for company as he was.

  “I have it on good authority that there’s no takeout food left.”

  Her eyes glittered. “Oh really? In the whole of Kiruna.”

  “Large areas of Norrbotten, actually. People are having to see one another and eat in restaurants if they don’t want to starve.”

  “Is that right?”

  “I saw it in the newspaper, so it must be true,” he said.

  “The great takeout famine?”

  “Exactly, so you read about it too?”

  She laughed, and he realized that he really did want to take Ambra Vinter out to dinner, flirt a little. Jesus, he didn’t even know if he could flirt. “Come on,” he said persuasively. And he wasn’t the persuasive type.

  She shook her head, as though against her better judgment, and he dealt the final blow. “It’s on me. Not just the food, secrets too.”

  Her green eyes shone as he knew they would. The woman was too curious for her own good, and he was exploiting it shamelessly.

  “Secrets? Truly? How could I say no to an offer like that?”

  And he smiled, an inexperienced smile, aimed at her; he felt happiness warm his chest. “No, I know, it’s irresistible. I’ll pick you up at the hotel.”

  Chapter 30

  Ambra couldn’t get over the fact that Tom Lexington was actually flirting with her. That smile . . . It was so rare, the effect was even more powerful. When Tom smiled, she just wanted to snuggle into his arms and rub herself all over him. It was rather undignified, that he had that effect on her. She should have known they would bump into each other; Kiruna wasn’t all that big. She had even thought about getting in touch. But so much about Tom was complicated, and she already had enough drama in her life. But then Freja spotted her, and now Tom was here, being handsome and overwhelming, wanting to eat dinner with her. She didn’t have anything planned for that evening, or any other evening in Kiruna for that matter. Going to dinner with Tom sounded like a great idea.

  Though it might also sound like the dumbest thing she could do.

  God, she shouldn’t trick herself into thinking they could just be friends, that she could handle this. But, of course, she found herself nodding yes.

  “Six o’clock, outside the hotel,” she said.

  “Great. See you then. Try not to freeze to death before that. Freja, come!” His voice was commanding and his movements firm. His entire being seemed bigger and more powerful than last time, and the breath caught in her chest. This was so gloriously dangerous. She forced herself to look relaxed and waved to him and Freja, ridiculously happy that they would be meeting again that evening.

  * * *

  She kept walking, to Café Safari, the small, yellow wooden building where she was meeting Elsa. As soon as she stepped inside, joining the throngs of tourists, Elsa appeared and gave her a long, warm hug. They made small talk in the line and then each ordered a slice of smörgåstårta—Swedish sandwich cake, layers of white bread, mayonnaise, shrimps, salmon, and veggies—and coffee.

  “You can’t get smörgåstårta in coffee shops anywhere in Stockholm,” Ambra said happily. She loved the savory delicacy.

  “Can you manage something sweet too?” Elsa asked.

  “Always,” Ambra replied, choosing a chubby piece of princess cake. Elsa picked a chocolate cake and placed it on the tray. They sat down upstairs, by one of the windows looking out onto the mountains and a last hint of the pinkish sun.

  “When does your train leave?” Ambra asked, delving into the layers of prawns, mayonnaise, and sliced cucumber.

  “Not until two-thirty.” Elsa was going to visit a friend. Ambra suspected this friend was a new love, because Elsa looked incredibly chic with her colorful scarf and newly set hair. She brought a big piece of smörgåstårta to her mouth. It was both gratifying and a little depressing that a ninety-two-year-old woman seemed to have more momentum in her love life than she did.

  As they ate, they talked about Elsa’s son, the number of tourists, and the snow festival at the end of January. Ambra went to fetch more coffee.

  “Thank you, dear,” Elsa said.

  “People should eat cake more often,” Ambra said as she cut into the green marzipan and whipped cream with her spoon.

  “Yes. Cakes and chocolate. Ingrid always said chocolate was proof of God’s existence.”

  “Are you a believer?”

  “Sometimes. Maybe.” Elsa stirred her coffee, seemed to be thinking about something. “I asked around a little, about the Sventins. Those girls you saw—they aren’t their grandkids.”

  “So they’re foster kids?” Ambra had been hoping to hear the opposite. She put down her spoon.

  “Yes.”

  “Jesus. I thought, hoped, that they were too old. This is a scandal.”

  “Yes.” Elsa gave Ambra a concerned look. “I don’t know whether I should tell you this . . . But Esaias Sventin is giving a sermon today. At the church.”

  “He is? Kiruna Church?” So he had become a Laestadian preacher. That didn’t surprise her; he was strict and unforgiving—it suited him perfectly.

  Elsa nodded. “I don’t know how they can allow it, how that sect can be allowed to use Swedish Church property, I mean, but he is.” She looked down at her little wristwatch. “In thirty minutes. Do you want to go?”

  Did she? Listening to his hateful voice. She had no choice, not really. She nodded.

  “I’ll come with you,” said Elsa.

  * * *

  Ambra was tense with nerves as she and Elsa approached the red church a short while later. She held open the door for Elsa, and they sat down at the very back. The dark, uncomfortable pews filled up with people. Women in long skirts and kerchiefs, their hair tied up. Men in simple, austere clothing. Pale children. Ambra’s palms were sweating, her shoulders tense.

  There were no lights on in the church, and the visitors sat on the benches in silence, their heads bowed, as though waiting for damnation. She studied their tense faces and was struck by the sense that they were all insane. Some argued that Laestadianism was a beautiful Christian community, that it was about a wholesome, simple life and love. But to her it was nothing but the evil and madness that, as a child, she had only barely survived.

  And then he came in.

  Esaias Sventin.

  Just thinking his name made her retch.

  She watched him as he passed. He looked older. When she’d lived with him, he was in his thirties, just a few years older than she was today. The Laestadians married young. Some daughters were betrothed when they were just nine. Esaias now had streaks of gray in his short hair. He wore black trousers and a black jacket, a white shirt without a tie. Wearing a tie was a sign of male vanity. He looked out at the congregation. Would he notice her? Could he feel she was here?

  “Want to leave?” Elsa whispered beside her. Ambra heard her as though through a fog. She was having trouble breathing, clutching her gloves tight in one hand. She shook her head. Esaias opened his mouth, and his voice—which had also aged—echoed across the church hall.

  “Laughter is the instrument of the devil,” he began. She recognized those words, had heard them over and over again.

  “Temptation is everywhere. The devil and his demons are everywhere. Sin is everywhere,” he continued.

  This constant obsession with driving out the devil, sins that had to be atoned for. He used to force her to eat. Rakel served huge portions, and when Ambra couldn’t manage everything, he would force her to eat and eat until she threw up
. “Those are the devil’s demons coming out of her,” he would say.

  There were variations on how the demons and sins were meant to leave her body. “Wash away the sin,” he might say as he dragged her over to the sink, filled it with ice-cold water, and pushed her into it until she thought she was about to die. Living in that house was like walking on eggshells, always being afraid, never knowing when they would crack. “Burn out the devil with pain,” he would say as he struck her with a belt. If she closed her eyes, she could still remember the terror and the shame.

  She sat perfectly still on the bench, didn’t want to relive those memories, didn’t want to be here anymore. Esaias’s voice roared in her ears. As an adult, she could see he was crazy, but she was still shaken by the memories that came flooding back to her.

  “Ambra?” Elsa’s voice was trying to reach her, but Ambra could barely hear, the roar in her ears was so loud.

  “Come on. Let’s go, this was a mistake,” Elsa said encouragingly.

  Ambra nodded and gathered her things. They got up. Ambra made the mistake of looking over at Esaias one last time. The movement must have caught his attention. He always did have eyes like a hawk, reacting to the smallest of movements. He caught sight of her, straight across the church hall. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  He stared at her.

  Flickers started to appear at the edge of her field of vision, the air left the room, her throat tightened.

  “Come on, Ambra,” she heard Elsa say. She felt the old lady’s hand clasp hers and pull her away from the row of pews.

  “Sinners and whores! They are everywhere!” Esaias’s words roared after her as she fled.

  When Ambra reached the steps, she paused for a moment to catch her breath.

  “I shouldn’t have suggested it,” Elsa said with remorse.

  “It’s not your fault. It’s his,” she said doggedly. He was crazy. And two children were now experiencing the same hell she had once been subjected to.

  They walked slowly toward the train station in silence.

  Ambra waved good-bye to Elsa, waited until she saw the train leave, and then allowed herself to react. She was shaking like a leaf. Jesus, what a day. And she still had her meeting with social services to go. She definitely deserved to be taken to dinner after this.