by Karin Nordin
‘Nygaard,’ David repeated.
Kjeld shoved past Gunnar until he was standing directly beside the table, staring down at David. David avoided his gaze.
‘Let me get this straight. Stenar Nygaard sold you a tract of land on his property in exchange for Norrmalm stocks?’ It was clear from the look on Kjeld’s face that he didn’t believe it.
‘No.’ David pressed a finger against his temple. ‘The other Nygaard. His daughter. She’s the one who sold it to me.’
* * *
Kjeld leaned against the window on the two-way side of the glass. The room was dimly lit, brightened by the fluorescent gleam from the lights in the interrogation room, and Kjeld caught himself staring at the odd shadow on his palm that stretched across the bandage where David had cut him. Gunnar, only marginally annoyed at Kjeld for interrupting his session, retreated back into the interrogation room to finish the questioning.
David was spilling everything he knew, but it still wasn’t enough. It still didn’t answer the big question. Who killed Peter Lindqvist? Who murdered his real father? And more importantly, why?
Esme, who had also been watching from behind the glass, took a step towards Kjeld. There was a split second where it looked like she might reach out and touch him, but she must have seen something in his posture that warned her against it because she didn’t. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest, her oversized sweater bunching around her neck, and put all of her weight on her right leg.
Kjeld turned off the intercom on the wall and the sounds from inside the interrogation room ceased. Replaced by total silence.
‘It doesn’t make sense,’ Esme said. ‘Why would Sara sell your dad’s property? What does that have to do with anything?’
Kjeld pulled anxiously at his beard. He’d been asking himself the same question for the last few minutes.
‘I know she’s been struggling for money, but I can’t imagine that on its own would be enough to convince her to go against our father.’ Kjeld paused. He suddenly realised the inaccuracy in what he said. Not our father. Her father. Because Stenar wasn’t his father. Not biologically anyway. ‘He’s always been adamant about the conservation of the Varsund forest. And she’s always been close with him.’
‘How bad is your sister’s situation?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Financial instability can be a big motivator. People make crazy decisions when they can’t afford to pay their bills or put food on the table. If she truly was having difficulty making ends meet then maybe she thought this was the only viable solution to keeping her head above water. Didn’t you say her husband has been having trouble keeping a job?’
Kjeld frowned. It occurred to him then that he’d never really asked Sara how difficult things were at home. He was too focused on himself and his father. He hadn’t thought about her at all. ‘I don’t know.’
‘All right. So, she sells off some of the land to cover some bills. Free up some debt. What does that have to do with the murder of Peter Lindqvist?’
Kjeld didn’t know. He wanted to believe that it didn’t have anything to do with Peter Lindqvist or his murder or his subsequent burial beneath the rookery in his dad’s barn. Kjeld, however, didn’t believe in coincidences and there were far too many coincidences about this entire situation.
‘It’s too bad you didn’t already know.’
‘Didn’t already know what?’
‘That Peter was your father.’ Esme watched the silent conversation between Gunnar and David through the glass. ‘You could have covered all her debts.’
Kjeld pushed himself away from the glass and followed her gaze to the other room. ‘What?’
‘I mean look at him,’ she said, nodding to David. ‘He’s an idiot. He’s never had to do anything in his life and he never will. When Norrmalm sells, he’ll make millions. And when Roland dies, he’ll inherit millions more.’
There was a moment when Esme’s expression became apologetic, but before Kjeld could say something she continued. ‘If you’d known Peter was your father then you’d be like David, too. Well, maybe not as much of a pompous arse. But you’d be wealthy. You could have given your sister the money.’
The thought of inheritance hadn’t even occurred to Kjeld. He’d been so busy trying to accept the details of his heritage in the missing pages of the contract between his father and Peter Lindqvist that he hadn’t actually considered the repercussions of it. The idea that Kjeld had a legal right to all of Peter’s possessions, both physical and financial, hadn’t crossed his mind. And as he wrestled with that information, another thought, based on little more than a nagging intuition that built up in his gut, came over him.
She knew.
Kjeld didn’t know how Sara knew and he didn’t know when she’d found out, but in that moment he found himself overwhelmed with the knowledge that she was somehow aware that Peter was his father.
It was the only thing that fitted.
‘We have to go,’ he said.
‘What? Where?’
‘Back to the house. Give me your car keys.’
Esme took out her keys, but held them back. ‘You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you drive my car without me. Tell me what you’re thinking.’
Kjeld was halfway through the door when he answered. He didn’t know exactly what it was that told him to go home. It was just a feeling. An instinct warning him that something bad was happening. ‘I’m thinking that it might be better if my father doesn’t remember what happened.’
Chapter 56
Trettio år sedan | Thirty years ago
Sara watched from her bedroom window as her brother stormed out to the barn with their father’s feed pail. The window was cracked open because it was so hot and humid and she could hear the sound of Kjeld kicking the pail across the yard.
Sara was disappointed. She was supposed to go with friends to the lake, but the forecast was calling for rain. She hated rain. Rain ruined everything. To make matters worse their mother was still in bed with a summer cold and there was no one else nearby to play with except Kjeld. She didn’t like playing with her brother. He never wanted to do the things she wanted to do. He just wanted to go outside and explore the woods. She hated the woods. The woods bored her. She wished they lived closer to town. Then maybe she could go with her friends to the ice-cream parlour or the bowling alley or sit on the benches outside of the school and talk about their plans for the new term that would start in a month. Except her parents would never let her go into town alone. Not even with friends. They’d make her take Kjeld with her and there was nothing more embarrassing than having her younger brother tag along with her friends. Especially when their parents let them leave the house on their own. Her parents didn’t let her do anything fun.
She let out an exasperated sigh and rolled onto her bed, looking at photographs of horses in the pony magazine she’d borrowed from her friend, Jessika. She’d begged her parents to get her a subscription, but they said it was too expensive. Jessika always let her borrow her magazines, which was nice, but Jessika always took out the stickers and put them on her school notebooks first. That was what all of the popular girls were doing nowadays. Sara wished she had stickers for her notebooks. But the stickers came with the magazines and the magazines came with an annual subscription price that they couldn’t afford.
The sound of her father’s voice coming from downstairs distracted her from her thoughts. He sounded angry and frustrated. What had Kjeld done this time?
Sara tossed the magazine onto her nightstand and crept out into the hall. The door to her parents’ room, where her mother was resting, was closed. She tiptoed down the hall until she reached the staircase. Then she sat on the top step and peered down through the balusters to the living room below.
Her father was arguing with another man. Sara didn’t recognise him, but she thought he looked very elegant. He reminded her of the professional equestrians in Jessika’s magazine. The sort that always wore knee-hi
gh riding boots, threw elaborate dinner parties, and owned an entire stable of prize-winning thoroughbreds. Of course, all of that was just in her imagination. The man wasn’t wearing riding boots and while he looked classy, like the charming debonair types in American films, she didn’t know if he had stables lit up by crystal chandeliers. She didn’t even know if he had horses. The only thing she knew was that he was handsome and tall and had the reddest hair she’d ever seen.
‘Absolutely unacceptable,’ Stenar said, making a gesture with his hand to show that he was adamant in his opinions. ‘You’re years too late for that, Peter.’
‘You don’t have the right, Stenar.’
Sara watched as the stranger – Peter, her father called him – stood his ground in the living room. Open but defensive. It made her think of the guards who stood in front of the royal palace in Stockholm that she saw on a school trip last year.
‘I don’t have the right?’ Stenar laughed. Then he cut himself off and lowered his tone. He didn’t want anyone to hear him, which just made Sara want to hear more. ‘You’re years too late for this conversation. I won’t allow you to come in here after all this time and break up my family.’
‘You misunderstand me, Stenar,’ Peter said. ‘I don’t want to break up anything. I want to be a part of my child’s life.’
‘Not your child. Mine. You gave up your right to be a father when you decided you didn’t want a family.’
Peter sighed.
Sara thought he looked sad. Like someone who had lost something very important to them, but hadn’t realised it until much later. She scooted closer to the balusters and tried to listen more intently.
‘I did want a family. I just wasn’t ready at the time. After I lost Yvonne and the baby I wasn’t thinking straight. I was confused. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know who to turn to.’
‘You didn’t seem to have any trouble turning to my wife.’
Peter ran a finger along the bridge of his nose. ‘That was a mistake. But you and Eiji were separated at the time.’
‘Not entirely separated,’ Stenar insisted.
‘You know what I mean.’
‘You slept with my wife!’
Mum?
‘We all made mistakes back then.’
‘Except you decided not to live up to your mistakes. You forewent your responsibilities. And who stepped in when you determined that your business was more important than your own child? Me.’
‘I know. I also know that I can never repay you for what you’ve done. But things are different now. I’ve come to realise that I was foolish in the past. I took advantage of you. Both of you. All of you. I want to make amends. I want to be a father.’
‘It’s too late for that.’
‘But think of the opportunity this would be. What sort of inheritance can either of your children expect from you? Let me take back my obligations as a father and I will ensure that both of your children will be provided for.’
Peter was desperate, but Stenar was resolute. And at the mention of money Sara saw her father’s cheeks flush red, hot with anger.
‘It’s always about money with you, isn’t it?’ Stenar scoffed. ‘Never about anyone’s well-being. Never about what it might do to a child to realise that the man they live with isn’t their father. Always about you. You’re so goddamn selfish, Peter. You’ve always been selfish. Well, I didn’t raise my children to be selfish, and I’ll be damned if I see them turn out that way.’
‘You’re not being reasonable. You can’t hide the truth forever.’
‘I don’t need to hide it forever. I only need to hide it for as long as I live.’
‘You’re a stubborn ass.’
‘I am. But my stubbornness will protect my family from turning out like yours. My kids won’t grow up to be entitled or complacent. They’ll never be rich, but they’ll understand the meaning of hard work. They’ll appreciate what they have, even if it’s not much.’
Stenar shoved past the elegant man in the direction of the front door. Sara hurried back to her bedroom so he wouldn’t see her eavesdropping. She slumped down on her bed and tried to make sense of what she’d heard. This man had been with her mother. What did that mean? Was their father not their father?
She heard a scream. She pushed up the window and listened. The air was still outside aside from the gentle rumbling of thunder in the distance.
Another scream. Followed by what might have been crying. It was coming from the barn. It was Kjeld. Probably just playing one of his stupid games again. Or maybe he got his fingers too close to the rookery and one of the birds bit him. He would deserve it for being so annoying. For embarrassing her in front of her friends.
Sara shut the window and flopped down on her bed. She stared up at the ceiling, where the paint on the old wooden planks was beginning to chip from moisture, and thought more about the things she’d heard the stranger say.
What did it all mean?
She picked up the magazine she was reading earlier and began skimming through the pages, only half paying attention. A few minutes later it began to storm and her brother’s cries were dampened beneath the pouring rain.
Chapter 57
Nutid | Present Day
The green Volvo tugged the corners around the winding road that cut through the spruce and birch on the way to the Nygaard house. Kjeld had more than exceeded the speed limit on the main street from Varsund, but the snow-slicked forest road forced him to ease up on the accelerator. A sense of urgency, however, pushed his foot hard on the pedal during the straight sections. Esme gripped the handrail until her knuckles went white, yelling at him to watch the turns. It was nothing short of a miracle that they didn’t end up in a ditch.
He parked the car behind his sister’s station wagon and slammed the door shut before jumping the front steps to the house.
Empty.
‘I’ll search upstairs,’ Esme said behind him.
‘There’s also a shed on the side of the house near the well,’ Kjeld added.
‘On it!’
Kjeld ran from room to room, calling out for his father, but no one answered.
In the kitchen a plate with a bread and cheese sandwich and a tin of pickled herring sat unfinished. Oskar was on the table, nose deep in the herring tin. Kjeld picked the chubby ginger cat off the table and set him and the can of herring on the floor. Then he peered out the window into the backyard where two tracks of footprints, lightly covered by the soft fall of snow, led to the barn. He felt his heart begin to beat faster in his chest and knew he was afraid. Not afraid of what may be happening, but of what would happen. Of what would happen when they were all alone together with the truth.
Kjeld headed out the back door and jogged across the yard; a lone dark figure moving across a sea of pristine white; murky grey clouds in the distance anticipating a coming storm.
Stenar was feeding the ravens in the rookery when Kjeld walked in and Kjeld felt a weight fall from his shoulders. Sara paced back and forth in front of the heavy tarp that draped over the engine of Kjeld’s first car. She stopped when she saw him, her face white and rigid.
‘Are you okay, Dad?’ Kjeld asked. He closed the barn door behind him, hinges squeaking from the cold, and took two slow steps deeper into the barn.
Stenar looked up from behind the wall of chicken wire. There was a rosy colour to his cheeks that he’d been missing since he was released from the hospital, but Kjeld couldn’t tell if it was from an improvement in his condition or the cold.
‘Just trying to get these chores done before your mum wakes up. Do you see what someone did? Dug a damn hole right in the middle of the rookery. What kind of nonsense is that? Who would do such a thing?’ Stenar coughed, scaring some of the birds into the corner perches.
‘I don’t know,’ Kjeld said, turning to face his sister.
Sara ceased her pacing.
‘Kjeld, it’s not what you think,’ she said.
‘What do I think?’
Stenar crouched down and used his hands to try and push the excess dirt, which had hardened some since it had last been touched, into the hole that had once hidden Peter Lindqvist’s body.
Sara fidgeted with her scarf, tightening it against a chill that only she seemed to notice. ‘I can explain.’
‘David Lindqvist is down at the police station right now telling Gunnar how you gave him permission to mine on Dad’s property.’
Stenar paused and peered at them through the chicken wire. ‘What?’
Kjeld took another step towards his sister. ‘He says he didn’t know that Norrmalm Industries had a prior agreement with Dad never to mine on his land. And yet, somehow, he found out about that agreement and nearly killed me for it.’
‘Kjeld …’
‘I told you about that. And then you told David, didn’t you?’
‘I didn’t think he would hurt you.’
‘Hurt me? He almost killed me.’
Stenar dragged himself to his feet and stepped out of the rookery, leaving the door slightly ajar. Wrapped up in a proper winter coat and gloves he looked like the big man Kjeld remembered as a boy, but he could tell from the rickety way his father walked that he was frail and sick.
‘Who’s mining on my land?’ Stenar asked. The pink colour in his cheeks flushed to a pale white.
‘Calm down, Dad,’ Sara said. ‘You have to take it easy. Your heart isn’t strong enough.’
‘The Lindqvists are mining on your land.’ Kjeld shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. ‘Above the ridge.’
Stenar leaned his weight on a stack of old milk crates. ‘But Peter promised me.’
‘Peter is dead,’ Kjeld said, his glare focused on Sara.
‘No, no,’ Stenar stammered. ‘He promised me. He promised me he wouldn’t. I kept my promise.’
‘I know you did, Dad.’
Stenar grimaced. He had the look of a man who was both confused and relieved. Tired but finally awake.
‘I needed the money, Kjeld. You’ve got to believe me. I never would have let them touch the property, but I didn’t have any choice.’ Sara begged. There was truth in her eyes. She wasn’t lying. ‘I couldn’t keep up with everything. The kids, Tom, Dad. I couldn’t do it all on my own. I was drowning in debt. This was supposed to pull us out.’