Where Ravens Roost

by Karin Nordin

  He looked up and stared off straight in front of him.

  ‘Kjeld?’ Esme’s soft voice broke through his thoughts.

  ‘Mm?’

  ‘Are you all right?’

  It was a simple question, but there was no simple answer. Was he all right? No, he probably hadn’t been all right for a very long time. In fact, when he tried to recall a moment when he knew that he was all right, when everything in his life was good and he was content with the direction things had gone, he couldn’t think of anything. Except for maybe the day his daughter was born. He hadn’t wanted children. That had never been something he imagined for his life. But when he held her in his arms for the first time and looked down at her, knowing she was a part of him, he felt what he imagined must have been real happiness. Only he wasn’t sure that’s what it had been at the time because it was something he’d never experienced before. Everything prior to and after that fleeting moment, however, was proof that Kjeld was very much not all right. And when he looked down at that contract between his father and a man whom he’d never met, who he never would meet, Kjeld didn’t think that he would ever be all right again.

  Kjeld didn’t realise he was crying until the salty taste of silent tears hit his lips. He wiped his fingers over his eyes to dry them.

  ‘No, I’m not,’ he said, shaking his head from side to side. He felt like he was moving in slow motion.

  Esme reached out and placed a hand on his, tightening her fingers around his palm. The touch made the tears return.

  How could he ever be all right now that he knew the truth?

  How could he be all right when his father was dead?

  Chapter 53

  Peter Lindqvist was his father.

  Peter Lindqvist was dead.

  Dead and buried in the barn where Kjeld had spent much of his childhood.

  And now he was spread out on a slab in the morgue, the skeletal remains of a stranger to whom he owed his life.

  Five minutes into the drive back to Varsund proper, Kjeld asked Esme to take a turn off down an old logging road. The pea-green Volvo rocked and rattled against every bump on the trail, kicking up less dirt than it would have in the summertime due to the stiffened surface, intermittently patched in snow. The high-stretching birch trees loomed over the vehicle, closing in the further they travelled. The sky above was heavily overcast. Snow clouds. And the eerie lack of shadows on the way added to the tense silence in the car.

  Three miles down the road, nestled on the right, was a turnaround. Esme veered off into the curve and parked, staring blankly at the steering wheel while Kjeld climbed wordlessly out of the car. She knew him well enough to realise when he needed to be alone and she let him go without question.

  Through the woods along the bend of the road was a thin path, almost unnoticeable through the snow, formed by decades of hikers, hunters, and fishermen shortcutting to the river. Kjeld pushed through the crooked spruce, stepping over fallen branches, and avoiding the flat stones, slick with ice. He had the urge to get as far away from civilisation as possible. To be somewhere open and free. Somewhere that wasn’t suffocated by the choices of mankind. By his family’s choices.

  Closer to the water’s edge the birch trees that still clung to their leaves, rejecting the early brush with winter, stood stoic in shades of warm yellow and orange against the grey and green backdrop. Kjeld took a deep breath and gazed out over the vast, untouched beauty of Jämtland’s wilderness, willing it to fill him with something other than the grief that tugged at his chest. The silver water flowed smoothly, kicking up over large dark stones that jutted upward from the riverbed.

  When Kjeld thought about the contract his stomach twisted. He crouched down, cupped a handful of cold water, and swallowed it quickly, pushing down the urge to be sick. Why? Why hadn’t his parents told him? Why keep it a secret? What was there to gain? The questions rolled through his mind like a boulder tumbling downhill, but every time he tried to reason an answer all he could think of was how angry he was. Worst of all, it wasn’t his father or Peter Lindqvist he was angry with. For the first time in his life, Kjeld felt real resentment towards his mother. How could she, of all people, not tell him? That hurt Kjeld more than anything. He’d always been truthful with his mother and she’d always been open with him. Honest, it seemed, in everything except for the one aspect of his life that had formed the basis for who he was – the certainty of his history.

  But there was a hollow futility at being angry with her. Like the dead man in his father’s barn or the demented forester who barely recognised him anymore, Kjeld’s mother couldn’t give him any answers. And she could no longer defend herself.

  A frigid wind caught up in the trees and passed over him, sending a shiver through his body.

  Kjeld’s phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a message from Gunnar. David Lindqvist had been brought in for questioning in connection to the death of Peter Lindqvist.

  I’ll keep him on ice until you get here, the message ended and Kjeld couldn’t help but laugh at Gunnar’s over-the-top phrasing. Some things never changed while others were never the same.

  Kjeld’s stomach knotted again, more in determination than restlessness. He swallowed down another breath, suppressing that queasy distress from surging up through his chest and throat. There wasn’t time to think about the contract now. Later, when everything was resolved, when he had time to process what he’d learned and accept the emotional fallout of his parents’ choices, then he could think about it. Then he could decide what it meant for his past and for his future. If it meant anything at all. But for now he had to focus and see this situation through. It was the only way he’d be able to move forward.

  Kjeld took one last glance over the river. The clouds were darker in the distance, concealing the northern mountain peaks that ranged near the Norwegian border. A golden eagle soared overhead, its dark wings spread out in a dihedral glide until it disappeared behind an outcropping of pine. That crisp scent of approaching snow, so foreign from the damp industrial smell he’d grown accustomed to in Gothenburg, filled his nostrils. It was peaceful. Serene. On its own, separate from his thoughts and memories, this untamed piece of Varsund was the most beautiful place he’d ever seen. And it struck him then that perhaps his own recollection wasn’t what he thought it was.

  But that, too, was something to save for later.

  One step at a time, he told himself as he made his way back through the forest to the road where Esme was waiting for him.

  Chapter 54

  Trettio år sedan | Thirty years ago

  Kjeld didn’t know who the man with the hard features was when he opened the door, but his father did. Normally he wouldn’t be interested in adult talk, but the strange man was unlike anyone he’d seen before. He was tall and well groomed, ruddy hair slicked to the side with a severe part on the left in a style that reminded Kjeld of black-and-white photographs from the Forties. His posture was incredibly straight, aside from his slight lean to the left where he held himself up by a cane, a parting gift from his military days, making him look like a giant to a boy of eight – nine in a few months – and his clothes were new. Kjeld could tell they were new because his dress shirt looked starched, directly out of the packaging, and no one in Varsund starched their shirts. Not unless it was Christmas.

  The man looked down at him and smiled. It was a nice smile. He held out his hand to Kjeld, but before Kjeld could shake it his father pushed him aside and told him to go out to the barn and feed the birds. Kjeld thought about protesting, but he saw that sharp glare in his father’s eyes and knew not to press the matter. Instead he went to the kitchen to gather the pre-mixed meat and seed meal that his father had put together in the fridge for the ravens that morning, grabbed a pail by the back door, and hiked across the lawn to the barn.

  Kjeld didn’t like the birds.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t like birds in general, but the ravens in the barn frightened him. They were always watching him with the
ir black beady eyes, and he felt like they knew something he didn’t. Like they were hiding secrets. Secrets that he didn’t want to know.

  He stepped inside the barn and closed the heavy wooden door behind him. Once he’d accidentally left it open while he was feeding the birds and they all flew out. They came back a few hours later, of course. They always did. That’s what they were trained to do. But Kjeld still spent those two hours frantically chasing them down in the forest, worrying that they might not return. His father would never forgive him if he lost the birds. The birds were his life.

  Kjeld lifted the latch on the rookery and stepped inside, the chicken-wire door snapping back behind him.

  The ravens sat on their perches, eyeing him with mute curiosity. They were intelligent enough to know that Kjeld wasn’t as high on the social hierarchy as his father. The same rules didn’t apply.

  Kjeld clenched his small fingers around the pail’s handle and tried to ignore their stares. They unnerved him with their waiting and their watching. Their knowing. To a young boy they were scary. Scary and smart. Possibly smarter than him.

  The ground in the rookery was uneven. Kjeld tripped over his shoelaces and the pail of decaying meat tendrils flew up in the air like rice at a wedding.

  A rushed flapping of wings drowned out the clatter of the pail hitting the dirt floor and before Kjeld could scramble out of the enclosed space the hungry ravens were upon him, racing against each other for the scraps that covered him.

  He curled up onto his knees, arms over his head like he’d practised at school during the civil defence siren tests, and screamed. The birds flocked around him, snatching at the strewn pieces of meat with their sharp claws and dagger beaks. They scratched at his arms until he bled, poking at his scalp and his shirt to get at the raw flesh and carrion. He yelled until his voice cracked, but all he could hear was the cawing and cackling of the ravens as they fought each other for food.

  He cried. The birds swarmed.

  One of the larger ravens perched on his head and dug its beak into his upper ear. Kjeld screamed and swiped at the bird with his hand and the raven ripped its beak away, taking a large chunk of tissue with it. Blood streamed into his ear, pooling at the opening of the canal, and turned the noise of flapping and cawing into a whooshing din, heightened by the throbbing in his head.

  A warm wetness seeped through the front of his jeans and Kjeld cried harder. He opened his mouth to scream again, but he didn’t hear his own voice. All he could hear was the raucous screeching of birds. He tried to move, but he couldn’t. He was paralysed, frozen in place by the fear that they would finish dining on the meat and move on to him. He sucked in quick uneven breaths. His heart pounded in his chest, beating in rhythm to the pulsing ache in his ear. Feathers flailed against his face and he pushed his forehead to the ground to protect himself. The acrid scent of urine accosted his nose and he began breathing against the dirt floor to block the smell.

  The ravens covered his back like the wings of a fallen seraph. Dozens of sable bodies beat against him. Crowing. Clawing. He peeked one weeping eye open and saw the largest of the flock pecking at a piece of meat on the ground near his face. Its red-stained beak was crooked, curved like a scythe. It caught Kjeld’s stare and blinked back. Then it picked up the torn flesh of his ear and swallowed it whole.

  Chapter 55

  Nutid | Present Day

  Gunnar sat down at the interrogation table across from David Lindqvist. He placed a closed folder on the table in front of him, cleared his throat, and explained that he was going to start the recording. On the other side of the table he could see David begin to sweat. The bright fluorescent bulbs on the ceiling cast a sickly sheen on David’s forehead and Gunnar knew this interrogation was going to be quick. He could practically smell the other man’s fear of prosecution. Gunnar liked that. It gave him control. And Gunnar couldn’t help but feel a surge of ego in the fact that, despite the extra zeros in the Lindqvist bank account and their reputation in Varsund, in this confined space Gunnar was the one in charge.

  Gunnar’s ego was invigorated even more by the fact that David declined an attorney.

  This would be over in no time at all.

  ‘Let’s not beat around the bush,’ Gunnar said. He sent a glance to the two-way mirror on the side wall, knowing Kjeld was watching from the other side. He had a moment of nostalgia, remembering how they used to practise interrogations in college. They had dreams of one day pulling a “good cop, bad cop” routine on a suspect like in the movies. Had circumstances been a little different this might have been the perfect opportunity and the thought brought a smirk to his lips.

  Gunnar folded his hands atop the folder.

  David’s leg twitched under the table, his shoe squeaking along with the repetitive shaking.

  ‘Did you attack Kjeld Nygaard last night in the woods north of Varsund? For the record I’m presenting Herr Lindqvist with a map of the area.’ Gunnar removed a small map from the folder with an area along the Nygaard property edge circled. He slid it across the table.

  David didn’t look at the map. He swallowed. Gunnar watched as the knot at the front of David’s throat undulated up and down like a yo-yo.

  ‘This is all just a formality, right?’ David’s voice cracked. He leaned forward. ‘You’re not actually going to charge me with anything.’

  ‘Aren’t I?’

  ‘You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for my family,’ David whispered. ‘My father would see you ruined.’

  Gunnar shrugged. ‘Maybe your father thinks you’re a liability.’

  David’s brow creased in concern.

  ‘The best thing you can do for yourself is tell me the truth. I can’t help you if I don’t know what happened. And neither can your father.’

  David wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. ‘I didn’t mean to attack him. Not really. I was just trying to get something from him.’

  ‘But you did come at him with a knife.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to do it!’ David pressed his face into his hands.

  ‘You didn’t mean to do what?’

  ‘I didn’t mean to kill him.’

  ‘Kill who?’

  ‘Kjeld Nygaard. The guy from Gothenburg.’

  Gunnar took the map back and slipped it into the folder.

  ‘What was it that you took from him?’

  ‘A document. A property contract explaining the agreement not to mine on Nygaard land. I didn’t think he would come at me. I just thought he’d see the knife and give it up. I didn’t mean to kill him.’

  ‘And why were you trying to get this document?’

  David clenched his teeth. He leaned over the table and replied in a paranoid whisper. ‘You know why.’

  ‘Because Norrmalm Industries has been digging illegally on Nygaard property?’

  ‘I didn’t know it was illegal. I thought we had the right to mine on that tract of land. Legally, mind you. I have a contract giving Norrmalm permission to work that land in exchange for company stocks. How was I to know that there were extenuating circumstances?’ David drew his fingers back through his hair. ‘And I certainly didn’t mean to kill anyone. We had a fight. It was an accident.’

  ‘You didn’t kill Kjeld Nygaard, David.’

  David’s breath caught in his chest. He stared at Gunnar, searching for a sign that it was a trick. Then he looked to the two-way glass, his own reflection returning his shock. ‘He’s not dead?’

  ‘No,’ Gunnar said. ‘Luckily for you he’s still alive.’

  And if what Gunnar had read about his old college friend in the recent newspapers was true, then killing Kjeld Nygaard would require nothing short of an act of God. Or the devil. Whichever got to him first.

  David hung his head and breathed a deep sigh of relief.

  Gunnar pushed a stray strand of hair back into his blond quiff. He gave David a minute and then he replied. ‘Your uncle, however, was not so fortunate.’

  David picked
up his gaze. He was confused by the turn in the conversation. And Gunnar recognised it as honest confusion. David wasn’t that good an actor. If Gunnar had to place his money on whether David murdered his uncle or not in that moment, he would have gone with not.

  ‘Did you kill Peter Lindqvist?’

  ‘What? No.’

  ‘Did you bury his body in the barn and conceal the fact that he was dead from Norrmalm Industries and the rest of the Lindqvists?’

  The twitching in David’s leg stopped. His face went white but his body stiffened like a corpse. ‘No. I didn’t kill my uncle. I had nothing to do with that. I didn’t even know he was dead until you told my dad. I suspected something had happened to him, but no. I didn’t have anything to do with his death or his disappearance.’

  Gunnar cursed to himself. He avoided looking at the mirrored window. He didn’t want to give Kjeld the satisfaction of knowing that while he’d solved one mystery, he hadn’t solved the other. ‘Do you know who did have something to do with your uncle’s death?’

  David shook his head. ‘No. I don’t know anything about any of that.’

  A tapping on the window broke Gunnar’s line of thought. He tried to ignore it at first, but the tapping continued.

  He walked over to the interrogation-room door and opened it.

  ‘I’m kind of in the middle of something here.’

  Kjeld put his leg in the door so Gunnar couldn’t close it and leaned halfway into the room. David looked up at him, his expression startled and confused.

  ‘Why did you think Norrmalm had a right to that land in the first place?’ Kjeld asked.

  David frowned. ‘Because I bought it.’

  ‘Who from?’

  ‘Nygaard.’

  ‘Kjeld, seriously,’ Gunnar said. ‘I can’t have you in here during an official interrogation.’

  Kjeld ignored Gunnar. ‘And who was the recipient of these Norrmalm stocks you sold it for?’