The Drowning

‘I really have no idea what to do about Louise,’ said Erik, getting up from behind his desk. ‘If it weren’t for the children …’ He shook his head as he put on his coat.

Kenneth nodded sympathetically. He knew full well what the situation was. And it had nothing to do with the children. What was stopping Erik from divorcing Louise was the fact that she would then be entitled to half of their money and other assets.

‘I’m going out for lunch, and I’ll be gone for a while. A long lunch today.’

‘Okay,’ said Kenneth. A long lunch. Oh, right.

‘Is he home?’ Erica was standing on the porch of the Thydell home.

Sanna seemed to hesitate for a few seconds before stepping aside to let her in.

‘He’s upstairs. In his workroom. He’s just sitting in front of the computer, staring.’

‘Is it all right if I go up to talk to him?’

Sanna nodded. ‘Sure. Nothing I say seems to do any good. Maybe you’ll have better luck.’

There was a bitter tone to Sanna’s voice, and Erica paused for a moment to study her. She looked tired. But there was something else that Erica couldn’t quite put her finger on.

‘Let me see what I can do.’ Slowly Erica made her way up the stairs, supporting her oversized stomach with one hand. Lately even such a simple task sapped her of all energy.

‘Hi.’ She knocked gently on the open door, and Christian turned around. He was sitting in his desk chair, but the computer screen was blank. ‘You really gave us a scare yesterday,’ said Erica, sinking on to an armchair in the corner.

‘Just a bit overworked, I guess,’ said Christian. But there were dark shadows under his eyes, and his hands were shaking. ‘Plus I’ve been worried about Magnus disappearing.’

‘Are you sure there’s not some other reason?’ Her voice sounded sharper than she’d intended. ‘I picked this up yesterday and brought it along.’ She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the note that had come with the bouquet of white lilies. ‘You must have dropped it.’

Christian stared at the card.

‘Put that away.’

‘What does the message mean?’ Erica looked with concern at this man she had started to regard as a friend.

He didn’t answer.

Erica repeated her question, this time a bit more gently: ‘Christian, what does it mean? Your reaction was awfully strong yesterday. So don’t try to make me believe that you were just feeling overworked.’

Still he said nothing. Suddenly the silence was broken by Sanna’s voice from the doorway.

‘Tell Erica about the letters,’ she said.

Sanna stayed where she was, waiting for her husband to respond. A few more minutes of silence ensued before Christian sighed, pulled out the bottom drawer of his desk and took out a small bundle of letters.

‘I’ve had these for a while.’

Erica picked up the letters and cautiously leafed through the pages. White sheets of paper with black ink. And there was no doubt that the handwriting was the same as on the card she’d brought along. Some of the words were familiar too. The sentences were different, but the theme was the same. She began reading aloud from the letter on top:

‘She walks at your side, she follows along with you. You have no right to your life. It belongs to her.’

Erica looked up in astonishment. ‘What’s this all about? Do you understand any of this?’

‘No.’ Christian’s reply was swift and firm. ‘No, I have no clue. I don’t know of anyone who would want to harm me. At least, I don’t think so. And I have no idea who “she” is. I should have thrown out those letters,’ he said, reaching for them. But Erica had no intention of relinquishing them.

‘You should tell the police about this.’

Christian shook his head. ‘No, it’s probably just someone having fun at my expense.’

‘This doesn’t sound like a joke to me. And I can see that you don’t think it’s funny, either.’

‘That’s exactly what I said,’ Sanna interjected. ‘I think it’s really creepy, especially since we have children, and everything. What if there’s some mentally disturbed person who …’ She stared at Christian, and Erica could tell that it wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. But he stubbornly shook his head again.

‘I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.’

‘When exactly did this whole thing begin?’

‘When you started writing the book,’ said Sanna, receiving a look of annoyance from her husband.

‘I guess that’s about right,’ he admitted. ‘A year and a half ago.’

‘Could there be some sort of connection? Did you put any real person or event in your book? Someone who might feel threatened because you wrote about them?’ Erica kept her eyes fixed steadily on Christian, who was looking extremely uncomfortable. It was obvious that he had no desire to discuss this topic.

‘No, it’s a work of fiction,’ he said, grimacing. ‘No one should be able to recognize themselves in my story. You’ve read the manuscript. Does it seem autobiographical to you?’

‘That’s not something that I would be able to tell,’ said Erica with a shrug. ‘But I know from my own experience that writers weave parts of their own lives into their manuscripts, whether consciously or not.’

‘Well, I didn’t!’ exclaimed Christian, pushing back his chair and standing up.

Realizing that it was time for her to leave, Erica tried to get up from the armchair. But her heavy body resisted her efforts, and all she could manage were a few grunts. Christian’s stern expression softened, and he reached out a helping hand.

‘It’s probably just some lunatic who heard that I was writing a book and started getting strange ideas about it. That’s all,’ he said, sounding calmer.

Erica doubted that was the whole truth, but her opinion was based more on a gut feeling than any concrete evidence. As she walked towards her car, she hoped Christian hadn’t noticed that were now only five letters in his desk drawer instead of six. She didn’t know what had made her take such a bold step, but if Christian wasn’t going to tell her the truth, then she was just going to have to find out more on her own. The tone of the letters was clearly threatening, and she was worried that her friend might be in danger.

‘Did you have to cancel any appointments?’ Erik nibbled on Cecilia’s nipple. She gasped as she stretched out on the bed in her flat. The beauty salon that she owned was within easy reach on the ground floor of the building.

‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To hear that I had to cancel clients in order to make room for you in my calendar. What makes you think you’re so important?’

‘What could be more important than this?’ He ran his tongue over her breast, and she pulled him down on top of her, unable to wait any longer.

Afterwards she lay next to him, her head resting on his arm. A few rough hairs tickled her cheek.

‘It was a bit strange, running into Louise yesterday. And you.’

‘Mmmm,’ replied Erik, dozing. He had no wish to discuss his wife or his marriage with his mistress.

‘I like Louise, you know,’ said Cecilia, playing with the hairs on his chest. ‘And if she knew …’

‘But she doesn’t,’ Erik snapped, propping himself up on his elbows. ‘And she’s never going to find out.’

Cecilia looked up at him, and he knew from experience exactly how this discussion was going to proceed.

‘Sooner or later she’ll have to know.’

Erik sighed to himself. Why did they always have to talk about the past and the future? He swung his legs over the side of the bed and began getting dressed.

‘Do you have to leave already?’ asked Cecilia. The hurt expression on her face annoyed him even more.

‘I’ve got a lot of work to do,’ he said curtly, buttoning his shirt. He had the smell of sex in his nostrils, but he would take a shower at the office. He always kept a change of clothes there, for just such occasions.

‘So this is the way it’s going to be?’ Cecilia was still lying on the bed, and Erik couldn’t help staring at her naked body. Her breasts were pointing upwards with big, dark nipples that were stiff from the cool temperature in the room. He made a quick calculation. He really didn’t need to hurry back to the office, and he wouldn’t mind having another go-round. It would take a bit of persuasion, so to speak, but the excitement that was already starting to build inside his body told him that it would be worth the effort. He sat down on the edge of the bed and softened his voice and expression as he caressed her cheek.

‘Cecilia,’ he said, and then he went on to speak words that rolled as easily from his lips as they had so many times before. When she pressed her body against his, he could feel her breasts through his shirt. He reached up and began unfastening the buttons.

After a late lunch at Källaren restaurant, Patrik parked his car in front of the low, white building, which would never win any sort of architectural prize, and entered the reception area of the Tanumshede police station.

‘You’ve got a visitor,’ Annika told him, peering over her reading glasses.

‘Who is it?’

‘I can’t say, but she’s a real looker. Maybe a bit on the plump side, but I think you’re going to like her.’

‘What on earth are you talking about?’ said Patrik, bewildered. He wondered why Annika suddenly seemed to have taken on the role of pimp for happily married colleagues.

‘You’ll just have to go and see for yourself. She’s waiting in your office,’ said Annika, giving him a wink.

Patrik went to his office and came to a halt in the doorway.

‘Hi, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘What are you doing here?’

Erica was sitting in the visitor’s chair in front of his desk, paging absentmindedly through an issue of the journal Police.

‘You’re certainly late getting back from lunch,’ she said, ignoring his question. ‘Is this what a busy day at police headquarters is like?’

Patrik merely snorted. He knew that Erica loved to tease him.

‘So, what are you doing here?’ he asked, sitting down in his desk chair. He leaned forward to study his wife more closely. Again he saw how beautiful she was. He thought about the first time she had visited him at the police station, in connection with the murder of her friend Alexandra Wijkner, and it seemed to him that she’d grown even lovelier since then. It was something that he occasionally forgot, caught up as he was in daily routines. One day followed another, filled with work, dropping Maja off at the day-care centre and then picking her up again, grocery shopping, and weary evenings spent on the sofa watching TV. But occasionally he was struck by how far from ordinary his love for Erica was. And now that she was sitting right here in front of him, with the winter sun shining through the window and lighting up her blonde hair, and with those two babies inside her stomach, the love he felt for her was so strong that it was enough to last an entire lifetime.

Patrik suddenly realized that he hadn’t heard what Erica said, so he asked her to repeat it.

‘I was just saying that I went over to see Christian this morning and have a talk with him.’

‘How’s he doing?’

‘He seemed okay, just a little shaky. But …’ She bit her lip.

‘But what? I thought he simply had a little too much to drink, on top of being nervous.’

‘Hmmm. Well, I don’t think that’s all of it.’ Erica took a plastic bag out of her purse and handed it to Patrik. ‘Yesterday that card was attached to a bouquet of flowers that was sent to him. And the letter is one of six that he’s received, starting about a year and a half ago.’

Patrik gave his wife a long look as he opened the bag.

‘I think it would be best if you read them without taking them out of the plastic. Christian and I have already touched them, but we don’t need to add any more fingerprints.’

Patrik looked at her again but did as she asked and read the text of the card and letter through the plastic.

‘What do you think it means?’ asked Erica, scooting forward to sit on the edge of her chair. But when it almost tipped over, she quickly had to redistribute her weight by moving back again.

‘Well, they both sound like threats, although they’re not very specific.’

‘Yes, that’s what I thought too. And that’s definitely Christian’s opinion, even though he kept trying to downplay the whole thing. He refused to show the letters to the police.’

‘Then how did …?’ Patrik held up the plastic bag.

‘Oh, er, I guess I just happened to take them by mistake. How silly of me.’ She tilted her head to one side and turned on the charm, but her husband wasn’t so easily fooled.

‘So you stole these from Christian?’

‘I don’t know if I’d use the word “stole”. I just borrowed them for a while.’

‘And what exactly do you want me to do about these … borrowed materials?’ asked Patrik, even though he knew full well what her answer would be.

‘Somebody is clearly threatening Christian, and he’s scared. I could tell when I saw him today. He’s taking these threats very seriously, so I don’t know why he won’t go to the police. But maybe you could discreetly examine the card and letter to see if you can find anything useful?’ Erica was using her most entreating tone of voice, and Patrik already knew that he would give in. Whenever she was in this sort of mood, it was impossible to deal with her, which was something he had learned the hard way.

‘Okay, okay,’ he said, holding his hands in the air. ‘I surrender. I’ll see if we can find out anything. But it’s not high on my list of priorities.’

Erica smiled. ‘Thanks, sweetheart.’

‘Now go on home and get some rest,’ said Patrik, but he couldn’t resist leaning forward to give her a kiss.

After she left, he found himself plucking aimlessly at the plastic bag holding the threatening messages. His brain felt sluggish and obstinate, but something was nonetheless starting to stir inside. Christian and Magnus were friends. Could there be …? Patrik immediately pushed the thought aside, but it kept coming back, and he glanced up at the photograph that was taped to the wall in front of him. Could there be a connection?

Bertil Mellberg pushed the pram as Leo sat inside, happy and contented as usual, and occasionally smiling to show the two lower teeth that had recently come in. Ernst had been left behind at the station today. Otherwise the dog usually walked beside the pram, making sure that nothing threatened what was fast becoming the most important person in his world. For Mellberg, Leo was already the centre of his universe.

Mellberg had never known that it was possible to have such strong feelings for anyone. Ever since he had been present at the baby’s birth and then been the first to hold the infant, he had felt as if Leo had his heart in an iron grip. It was true that Mellberg also felt great affection for Leo’s grandmother, but the tiny tyke was at the very top of the list of people who meant the most to Mellberg.

Reluctantly Mellberg steered the pram back towards the station. His colleague Paula was actually supposed to have taken care of Leo during lunch while her partner, Johanna, tended to some errands. But when Paula had to leave on a domestic violence call, to help a woman whose ex-husband was ‘beating the shit out of her’, Mellberg had quickly stepped in and volunteered to take the baby out for a walk. Now it was time to take him back. Mellberg was deeply jealous of Paula, who would soon be taking maternity leave. He wouldn’t have minded cutting back his own hours for a while so he could have more time to spend with Leo. In fact, that might not be such a bad idea. As a good boss, he should give his subordinates a chance to take more training courses. Besides, Leo needed a strong male role model right from the start. With two mothers and no father in sight, they should think about what would be best for the boy and see to it that he was given the opportunity to learn from a solid, real man. Like himself, for example.

Mellberg used his hip to prop open the heavy front door of the station and pulled the pram inside. Annika’s face lit up when she saw them, and Mellberg swelled with pride.

‘So, I see the two of you have been out for a little walk,’ said Annika, getting up to help Mellberg with the pram.

‘Yes, the girls needed some help with him,’ said Mellberg, as he carefully began removing the baby’s outer garments. Annika watched with amusement. Apparently the age of miracles wasn’t over.

‘Come on, sonny, let’s go see if your mother is here,’ prattled Mellberg as he lifted Leo out of the pram.

‘No, Paula’s not back yet,’ said Annika, sitting down at her desk again.

‘Oh, what a shame. Looks like you’re stuck with your old grandpa a little while longer,’ said Mellberg, sounding pleased as he headed for the kitchen, carrying Leo in his arms. When he had moved in with Rita a couple of months ago, the girls had suggested that he be called Grandpa Bertil. So now he seized every opportunity to use the name that gave him such joy. Grandpa Bertil.

It was Ludvig’s birthday, and Cia was trying to pretend that it was a completely ordinary birthday. He was thirteen. That was how many years it had been since she had given birth in the maternity ward and laughed at how ridiculously similar father and son were in appearance. But now it meant that deep down inside she had to admit she was having a hard time even looking at Ludvig. At his brown eyes with the touch of green in them and at his blond hair, which the sun, even in early summer, had bleached almost white. Ludvig’s physique and mannerisms were also so similar to Magnus’s. They were both tall and lanky, and when her son gave her a hug, his arms felt like her husband’s. Even their hands were similar.

With trembling fingers Cia wrote Ludvig’s name in icing on the layer cake. That was something else they had in common. Magnus was capable of eating an entire cake all on his own, and it was so unfair that he never gained an ounce. For Cia, all she had to do was look at a cinnamon roll and she’d put on a whole pound. But at the moment she was as thin as she’d always dreamed of being. Ever since Magnus had disappeared, the pounds had seemed to melt away. Every time she tried to eat something, the food practically swelled inside her mouth. And she had a lump in the pit of her stomach from the minute she woke up in the morning until she went to bed at night, falling into a uneasy sleep; that lump seemed to leave little room for food. Yet she cared less and less about her appearance. In fact, she barely glanced at herself in the mirror any more. What did it matter, now that Magnus was gone?

Sometimes she wished that he had died right before her eyes. Suffered a heart attack or been hit by a car. Anything at all, just so she would have known what happened to him and been able to arrange a funeral, settle his estate, and take care of all the other practical matters that were necessary when somebody died. Then maybe she could have felt the pain of grief, until it gradually faded away, leaving the dull ache of loss, mixed with lovely memories.

Right now she had nothing. She felt as if she were living in a huge void. He was gone, and there was nothing on which to pin her sorrow – no way for her to move on. She felt incapable of going back to work, but she didn’t know how long she could stay home on sick leave.

She looked down at the birthday cake. She’d made a real mess with the icing. It was impossible to read anything in the irregular swirls covering the marzipan on top. The sight seemed to sap her of all remaining strength. She sank to the floor, with her back leaning against the refrigerator and sobs rising up from inside, demanding to be let out.

‘Don’t cry, Mamma.’ Cia felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Magnus’s hand. No, it was Ludvig’s. Cia shook her head. She felt reality slipping away from her. She wanted to let it go so she could escape into the darkness that she knew awaited her. A beautiful, warm darkness that would envelop her for ever, if she let it. But through her tears she saw those brown eyes and that blond hair, and she knew that she couldn’t give up.

‘The cake,’ she sobbed, trying to get up. Ludvig helped her to her feet and then took the tube of icing out of her hand.

‘I’ll fix it, Mamma. Why don’t you go and lie down while I take care of the cake?’

He stroked her cheek. He was thirteen, but no longer a child. He was his father now. He was Magnus – her rock. She knew that she shouldn’t allow him to take on that role; he was still too young. But she didn’t have the energy to do anything else but trade roles with him.

She dried her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt while Ludvig got out a knife and carefully scraped off the lumpy icing from his birthday cake. The last thing Cia saw before she left the kitchen was her son concentrating hard to shape the first letter of his own name. L, as in Ludvig.

3

‘You’re my handsome little boy, do you know that?’ said Mother as she carefully combed his hair.

He merely nodded. Yes, he knew that. He was Mother’s handsome little boy. She’d said that over and over ever since he’d been allowed to come home with them, and he never grew tired of hearing it. Sometimes he thought about how things had been before. About the darkness, the loneliness. But all he had to do was take one look at the beautiful apparition who was now his mother, and everything else disappeared, slipped away, and dissolved. As if it had never existed.

He had just climbed out of the bath, and his mother wrapped him in the green robe with the yellow flowers.

‘Would my little darling like some ice cream?’

‘You’re spoiling him.’ Father’s voice came from the doorway.

He huddled inside the terry-cloth robe and pulled up the hood in order to hide from the harsh tone of the words that ricocheted off the bathroom tiles. Hiding from the blackness that rose up to the surface again.

‘All I’m saying is that you’re not doing him any favours by spoiling him like that.’

‘Are you implying that I don’t know how to raise our son?’ Mother’s eyes turned dark, bottomless. As if she wanted to obliterate Father by simply looking at him. And, as usual, her anger seemed to make Father’s own wrath melt away. He seemed to shrink and shrivel up. Becoming a little grey father.

‘You know best,’ he muttered and left, his eyes on the floor. Then they heard the sound of his footsteps fading and the front door quietly closing. Father was going out for a walk again.

‘We won’t pay him any mind,’ whispered Mother, pressing her lips close to his ear hidden under the green terry-cloth. ‘Because you and I love each other. It’s just you and me.’

He pressed close to her like a little animal and allowed her to comfort him.

‘Just you and me,’ he whispered.

‘I won’t! I don’t wanna!’ cried Maja, using up most of her scant vocabulary when Patrik desperately tried to leave her with Ewa, the day-care teacher, on Friday morning. His daughter clung to his trouser legs, howling, until finally he managed to prise her fingers loose, one after the other. His heart ached when she was carried off, still holding her arms out to him. Her tearful ‘Pappa!’ echoed in his head as he walked back to the car. For a long moment he just sat there, staring out the windscreen, holding the car keys in his hand. This had been going on for two months now, and it was no doubt Maja’s way of reacting to Erika’s pregnancy.

Patrik was the one who had to bear the brunt of this struggle every morning. He had actually volunteered for the job. It was just too hard for Erika to get Maja dressed and undressed. And squatting down to help the toddler tie her shoelaces was unthinkable. So there was really no other option. But the daily tussle was beginning to wear on Patrik’s nerves, since it started well before they even reached the day-care centre. As soon as it was time to get dressed in the morning, Maja would refuse to cooperate. Patrik was ashamed to admit that sometimes he got so frustrated that he would grab her a bit brusquely, making her scream at the top of her lungs. Afterwards he felt like the world’s worst parent.