I was starting to think of myself as a dangerous man. The sort of man you shouldn’t come anywhere near. Lucy and I left Police Headquarters hand in hand. Metaphors are useless, but just then it was fair to say that problems were gathering above our heads like storm-clouds. Fredrik Ohlander was dead. That was something I really hadn’t expected.
‘I need a drink,’ I said.
‘Now? It’s only just gone eleven o’clock.’
‘Then we’ll have an early lunch today. Lunch and something to drink.’
We jumped in a taxi and drove to Riche. I prefer hanging out in Östermalm, even if I end up in other parts of the city like Kungsholmen or Vasastan surprisingly often. When we were picking the location for our office, Lucy was adamant that we should establish ourselves in Östermalm. I wasn’t convinced. I didn’t want it just round the corner. Kungsholmen felt like a smart choice. Close to Police Headquarters, and also on an island. Islands are good. You’re in no doubt about when you leave them. All you have to do is cross a bridge and you’ve left all the mess behind.
The taxi taking us to Riche crossed Kungsbron. Lucy looked out over the water.
‘Who was he?’ she said.
‘Who?’
‘The man who died. The man you said you were at university with.’
The man you said . . . I could hear the doubt in her voice, and it bothered me.
‘I was at university with him. But he switched subjects and became a journalist.’
‘Why haven’t I ever heard of him?’
‘Because I’ve never socialised with him.’
‘But you must have had some sort of contact with him, seeing as he was run down in a car that was apparently very similar to yours?’
I saw the taxi-driver twitch in the rear-view mirror.
‘Let’s talk about it later,’ I said.
Lucy didn’t reply.
We arrived and I paid the driver. Lucy went into the restaurant ahead of me. A waitress showed us to a table in the window.
‘Something to drink?’
‘A glass of white wine,’ Lucy said.
‘G&T,’ I said.
The waitress disappeared.
Lucy focused her gaze on me. It wasn’t warm, but jet-black. Furious.
‘After everything we’ve been through,’ she said. ‘And you’re still – still – keeping things secret from me.’
If only you knew, I thought.
The nightmares floated up to the surface again. I did what I usually did and pushed them back down again. They weren’t relevant; they’d only come to life because of our trip to Texas. While we were there they hadn’t been a problem at all. I’d had to focus on my own survival, on the mystery of Sara Texas. I’d managed to keep the past at bay, with one exception: my memories of my dad. His betrayal, our farewell, his death. But now I could feel the whole mess slipping out of my grasp. The past, and the lies, were breathing down my neck. It was only a matter of time before I’d have to get to grips with things.
I took a deep breath and wished my drink had arrived.
‘There’s a perfectly natural explanation for why you didn’t know about Fredrik Ohlander,’ I said.
And I told her what there was to tell. That after everything that had happened, I wanted to leave some sort of record behind if I died or disappeared. That I wanted to make sure my story was documented in the event that I was unable to tell it myself.
Lucy listened impassively.
‘Too many people had died,’ I said gruffly. ‘Don’t ask me what I think now that Fredrik’s gone too. This really is unbelievably fucking unpleasant.’
Our drinks arrived. Lucy sipped her wine, I my G&T.
‘Do you regret not having something stronger?’ I said.
‘Regrets are pointless,’ Lucy said.
Her remark could have been directed at me, it was hard to tell. The alcohol made its way into my bloodstream and offered temporary respite.
‘Who knew?’ Lucy said.
‘No one.’
‘Rubbish, he’s dead.’
‘That’s what’s so terrible. I didn’t even tell you about Fredrik.’
Lucy drank more wine.
‘He could have talked.’
That thought had also occurred to me. Particularly after what Didrik had said about him working on something ‘seriously top secret’. Had Fredrik felt the need to get the details of my fucked-up story confirmed?
‘Who else could he have talked to?’ Lucy said.
‘Anyone,’ I said. ‘I gave him all the names.’
Lucy crossed her legs.
‘Anyone,’ she said. ‘Any one of all the people you yourself have talked to. You know what that means, don’t you?’
I did. It meant that whoever killed him was one of the many people I’d met in the past few weeks. In Sweden, and in Texas. It was a nightmare scenario.
‘We need to find out what he did after he and I met,’ I said.
A hopeless statement.
‘There’s a lot we need to find out,’ Lucy said.
Another hopeless statement.
Little more than a week ago she had been absolutely exhausted. Now her batteries were recharged, but there was a flatness far too close to the surface.
My mobile rang. It was Madeleine.
‘I’ve got the name you wanted,’ she said.
‘Great!’
My outburst made the other guests turn round. I calmed down.
‘But I haven’t managed to get hold of a picture of Mio.’
I couldn’t help feeling disappointed. But disappointment wasn’t the dominant emotion. Once again I was left wondering how it was possible. How could not even the police have a photograph of a child who had been the subject of a nationwide search?
‘Can we meet up?’ Madeleine said.
I glanced at the time.
‘I’m having lunch at the moment. Then I’m going to a funeral.’
‘A funeral?’ Madeleine said. ‘Who’s died?’
‘Far too many people,’ I said. ‘Would five o’clock work?’
Fear came out of nowhere. I started looking round automatically. Lucy noticed my fluttering gaze and frowned. I ignored her. Was I being watched? Could I trust that the phone was secure? Or was I sentencing Madeleine to death as well?
From one death to another. In American films funerals are always incredibly well-attended. The reality is often very different. We aren’t as popular as we like to imagine. And really – how many people do you want to attend your funeral? All your old shags? The forgotten and forsaken? People you’ve trampled on and shoved in the shit? Or all the old relatives whose names you don’t even know and therefore don’t give a damn about? The moment I got out of the car a short distance from the church where the service was going to be held, I made up my mind to write a guest-list. If I was going to die in the near future, I wanted to make sure the right crowd gathered at the funeral.
I had no desire whatsoever to attract any unnecessary attention. So I had already decided in advance that if there weren’t many people there, I wasn’t going to go in. Either there’d be enough of a crowd to hide in, or there wouldn’t. There wasn’t. I recognised Jeanette Roos from a distance of a hundred metres. She hated me, and would kick up a hell of a fuss if she caught sight of me.
I slipped behind a large tree. They’d chosen a church out in Nacka. I had no idea what their connection to the place was, but I was grateful for all the greenery surrounding the church, the churchyard and the car park. I didn’t particularly want to show myself, and I needed easy hiding-places.
Marion, Bobby’s sister, was approaching the church from another direction. She nodded to her mother and walked right past her. I tried to remind myself what sort of childhood she’d had. How tough it must have been. But I couldn’t do it. I don’t know how many times I end up rejecting my own mother’s outstretched hand each month. She keeps begging for a full-blown mother-son relationship, and I keep saying no. But only to a full-blown relationship. A half-arsed one is fine.
Jeanette was in pieces. I could see that easily enough from my ridiculous hiding-place. She was standing next to a younger woman who stroked her back from time to time. There was no sign of the priest. And hardly anyone else either, come to that. There was a group of young men, four or five of them, maybe, a short distance away. One of the men glanced in my direction. It was Elias Krom.
My heart did an extra beat and I pulled back. The whole hiding-behind-a-tree thing wasn’t really right for me. The next time I looked out, they had all gone inside the church. Everyone except Elias. He was still standing outside smoking. His hand was shaking. Then he stubbed his cigarette out and started walking in my direction.
Really good players know when to capitulate. I’m one of them. I knew I’d messed up. So I stepped out from behind the tree and waited for Elias.
‘What are you doing here?’ he said.
Hunted people easily run out of energy. Elias looked like he’d spent years running for his life.
‘I was thinking of attending the service, but that probably isn’t a good idea.’
‘There’s hardly anyone here,’ Elias said. ‘Best you don’t come in.’
I couldn’t disagree.
‘Who was the woman standing next to Jeanette?’ I said.
‘Malin. Bobby’s girlfriend.’
‘I need to talk to her. Can you arrange it?’
He stared at me, wide-eyed.
‘I’ve done you enough favours,’ he said.
‘Me?’ I said. ‘You’re not getting me mixed up with Bobby now? He was the one who told you to pretend to be him and sneak into my office, not me.’
‘I didn’t sneak in.’
‘So what? I need to talk to Bobby’s girlfriend. If I give you a phone number, can you see that she gets it?’
He shook his head and started to back away. His whole body was trembling.
I stepped forward and grabbed hold of his arm.
‘What’s happened?’ I said. ‘Why are you so nervous?’
He gulped several times before answering. His eyes were flitting about the churchyard so erratically that it was hard to follow them.
‘Someone’s following me. Not all the time, but nearly. Just when I start to breathe out, the bastard comes back. I don’t know what he wants, and I don’t know who he is. But I think it’s going to end badly. Like it did for Bobby and Jenny.’
I chose my words with care.
‘I get that you don’t trust me,’ I said slowly. ‘But I’m still going to ask you to do this. Because otherwise this will never end. I can guarantee that.’
‘Did you get your kid back?’
His words hit me like a punch, even though that wasn’t his intention.
‘Yes, she’s okay. But . . . I’ve only got her back on loan. You understand? There are things I need to sort out. Like finding out who killed Bobby, for instance.’
Elias ran his fingers through his hair. It was greasy. There was dirt under his fingernails.
‘I don’t want to get involved. Sorry, but that’s how it is. I wouldn’t be here today if I didn’t care about Bobby, but now I have to think of myself.’
‘That’s exactly what I’m telling you to do!’ I said, in a voice that was louder than I intended. ‘You won’t be able to sort this out on your own.’
‘What do you mean, “this”? What the fuck is “this”? I don’t understand a thing. I just want my fucking life back!’
If he spoke any louder he’d wake the dead from their eternal slumber. Now it was my turn to look round at the churchyard and beyond. There was no one in sight. But that was hardly proof that neither of us was being followed.
‘Just fix it for me to talk to Bobby’s girlfriend,’ I said. ‘Do that, and I won’t bother you again. Okay?’
He rubbed his face hard and blinked.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Okay.’
He put his hands in his trouser pockets.
‘You should go into the church now,’ I said. ‘Before they come looking for you.’
‘I will,’ he said. ‘Why is it so important for you to talk to Bobby’s girlfriend?’
I had no desire to elaborate on that, so merely said: ‘I think Bobby did a lot of looking for his nephew on his own. He may have left a load of stuff behind. Such as a picture of Mio, for instance.’
Elias blinked again. His eyes seemed to be irritating him.
‘A picture of Mio? Haven’t you already got one?’
‘No.’
Elias’s hand flew up from his pocket. He scratched the corner of one eye.
‘He looked a lot like you.’
‘Me?’
My eyebrows shot up in surprise.
Elias nodded thoughtfully.
‘A lot like you,’ he said. ‘Same colouring.’
A gust of wind made the trees tremble. I stood there in silence and watched as Elias went inside the church. I had unexpectedly found out something I hadn’t known a thing about before.