THERE WAS A loud rip as Anne Sofie Bjerre pulled the duct tape off the roll. She looked over at the open closet, where Jens’s side had now been emptied. The hangers on the metal closet bar were empty, the shoe rack was dusted and bare.
She pulled the top of the last garbage bag closed and wrapped the tape around it. Then she carried the bag out into the stairwell, to the others, pressed the elevator button, and went back into the apartment to put on her shoes.
She looked at herself in the mirror in the front hall and smiled.
One more chance.
Those were the words the policeman had used. She had one more chance.
She knew she had made a mistake. She knew that all too well. All the times Jens had lashed out, all those times Lukas had cried and been afraid, pleaded for her help …
She should have stopped it. She should have protected her son.
She hugged his little body tight in her mind and promised that everything would be different now. No more Jens. No more drinking. No more lies and secrets. They would be a family now, she and Lukas. Because—after all—she loved her son. She loved him more than anything.
Everything will be different now.
She walked back out onto the landing and pulled the elevator grille open.
Anne Sofie dragged the bags of clothes out to the dumpsters behind the building. With every bag she threw away she felt lighter, purified and free.
She closed the last dumpster lid with a bang and brushed the dust off her hands. Then she headed back into the building.
She almost bumped into Old Eva inside. Her downstairs neighbor was laboriously limping her way up the stairs from the laundry room in the basement carrying a plastic shopping bag under one arm and a crutch under the other. She shook her head in annoyance when she saw Anne Sofie.
“They’re still here, those vermin. We’re going to have to call him again.”
“Call who?” Anne Sofie asked with a smile.
“The rat guy. The exterminator,” the old woman said. “They’re still here, those critters. I nearly stepped on one of them down in the laundry room.”
Old Eva kept talking and Anne Sofie nodded absentmindedly.
She had stopped listening. Her thoughts had immediately begun revolving around the bottle in the basement.
She pushed the elevator button. The hoist mechanism creaked as the elevator began its descent to the ground floor, slow and humming. There was a ding when it arrived, and Anne Sofie pulled the door open.
She stood there for a moment without getting in.
Then she turned on her heel and walked over to the stairs down to the basement.
She turned the light on in the basement room and quickly walked over to the sink next to the dryer. She opened the cabinet underneath and squatted down.
The laundry soap and fabric softener were in front on the shelf. The harsher chemicals were lined up in a row behind that. Drain cleaner. Bleach.
She pushed those things aside, looking for the vodka at the back of the cupboard. The bottle was wrapped in a blue checkered dish towel and wedged in behind the drain trap.
Anne Sofie took the bottle out of the cupboard and stood up. Her movements were quick and decisive. She unscrewed the cap from the bottle and held it over the sink drain.
This all has to go, she thought.
They were going to start over again, she and Lukas. Everything would be different from now on. She had told him that. She had promised that.
She eyed the bottle hesitantly.
It was half full, the vodka inside cold and as clear as water.
Tomorrow, she then nodded to herself. She would become a good mother tomorrow. She would make every effort, and everything would be different.
Tomorrow …
She closed her eyes and brought the bottle to her lips.