She went over to the desk.
She had never been a computer expert, but she should be able to work out how to start one of the computers. She put down her briefcase, pressed a button, and sat down in the chair to wait for the machine to boot up. Right in front of her was a notice-board with this autumn’s group pictures from the four day-care sections. About sixty children and the staff that took care of them. Axel sitting crosslegged on the floor and just behind him the snake who had stolen his secure life. She stood up, leaned over the desk and regarded her enemy. Her blonde hair down over her shoulders. And that fucking smile. She wouldn’t be smiling much longer.
She sat back down.
A window had appeared on the screen that asked for her username and password. She keyed in Linda Persson and clicked down to password.
Usually three attempts were allowed; that’s how it was with the server at work, at least.
Henrik. Please check your password. Axel. Wrong again. Bitch. Please contact community technical support.
She looked up at the notice-board again. Somewhere they must have the password written down so they wouldn’t have to look it up in the internal catalogue, but maybe they knew it by heart. She picked up the phone and punched zero.
‘School Board headquarters.’
‘Hi, Kerstin Evertsson from Kortbacken pre-school. I’ve forgotten the number for computer technical support.’
‘Four zero eleven. Shall I connect you?’
‘No thanks.’
She hung up. She could ring internally herself to minimise the risk of arousing suspicion. She lifted the receiver and dialled the number.
‘Computer support.’
‘Yes, hi, this is Linda Persson from Kortbacken preschool. We have a problem with our computer here and none of us can get into our email. It’s something with the password.’
‘I see, well, that’s odd. What did you say your name was?’
‘Linda Persson.’
The silence on the other end lasted a little too long.
‘Can I call you back?’
The question made her hesitate. Would Ines in the kitchen hear the phone ring?
‘Sure, but I’m in a bit of a hurry.’
‘I’ll ring in a couple of minutes.’
What choice did she have?
‘OK.’
She put back the receiver but lifted it and pressed down the button with her finger instead. The shorter the ring the better.
The seconds dragged by.
Her sudden nervousness was consuming more energy than she could afford. How long would she be able to last without some sleep? Was it possible that she had been unlucky enough that the man she had talked to knew Linda, that he could hear it wasn’t Linda on the line?
And then the phone rang.
‘Kortbacken pre-school, Linda Persson.’
‘Yes, this is computer support. Now, let’s see. I’ve cleaned things up a little so there shouldn’t be any problem. You just have to type a new password on the line and then confirm it three times in the dialogue boxes that come up afterwards. OK?’
‘That’s great. Thanks for your help.’
‘No problem. That’s what we’re here for.’
Uh-huh.
She hung up the phone and tried to gather her wits again.
Linda’s new password. That wasn’t so hard.
She smiled to herself and typed the word in the dialogue box and then confirmed it three times according to the instructions.
And then she was in.
She quickly scrolled down through the inbox but couldn’t find any mail from Henrik. Amongst the sent emails there was none to his address either. Either they only delivered their fucking letters by hand or else she used another email address when she was out seducing the kids’ fathers. She was probably afraid of losing her job, that little bitch.
Ha!
She clicked on ‘Write a new message,’ opened her briefcase and took out the original letter and the address lists for the children in the day-care. It took her only a few minutes to type out the letter, even though she added a few typos, and then she started reading through the address list. Simon’s pappa looked pretty good, he would get one. And then Jakob’s pappa, that might make his wife less interested in organising the planning meetings before the damned Stone-Age camp.
She clicked on ‘Send’ and they were off.
There, Linda. It’ll be very interesting to see how you explain this.
She turned off the computer, stuffed the letters back in her briefcase, and was just about to get up. Suddenly she heard the sound of footsteps approaching in the corridor outside, and she held her breath. The next moment the door handle was pushed down. She looked around. The room had no hiding places. The sound of keys rattling. With no time to think she slipped quickly out of the chair and crawled under the desk. The next instant the door opened, and she saw a pair of feet in indoor sandals approaching. As if the risk of being caught would be less if she closed her eyes, she shut them tight. At least she wouldn’t have to see the expression on Ines’s face if she found her under the desk. That mustn’t happen!
The sound of paper being picked up on the desk above her head. Had she taken everything? What if she had forgotten something? Or what if Ines had to throw something in the wastebasket squeezed in next to her under the desk? Of course, there was absolutely no reasonable explanation for why she was under there. Why had she hidden? She was just leaving a message for Kerstin. If Ines saw her she would be lost. Her revenge would be revealed as soon as the email was read by the recipients. Good Lord, what had she done? A sudden sound made her open her eyes in pure terror. Ines’s feet were only a few centimetres from her own. And then that sound again, longer this time. Her mind refused to decipher what she was hearing; maybe it was only a sound effect a second before the world found out about her miserable attempt. Then the feet in front of her hurried to the door and at the same instant her brain released the information: it was a doorbell she had heard. As soon as Ines left she crept out, her legs wobbly. She cast a glance at the desk to make sure she hadn’t left any papers and then hurried toward the nearest exit, the one through Axel’s section. The fatigue could no longer be held back, it felt like being inside a glass bubble; her world was shielded from what had once been called reality. The fear of being caught had used up the last of her adrenaline, which right now was the only thing keeping her on her feet. To keep going, she would have to force herself to risk sleeping for a while. Maybe in the car? Maybe if she drove off and parked somewhere safe, where nobody would find her?
She got into the car and started it.
A few hours’ sleep.
She had to sleep.
First, sleep for a while and then she would drive home and put together a really nice Friday night dinner for her family.
He lay naked in the bed. The flat was cleaned and neat, he had only left the sheet untouched. The walls of the room were bare; everything that had hung there when he woke up this morning was gone. All that was left was a smouldering heap of ashes down by Arstaviken. And somewhere in Karolinska Hospital lay a body, but it no longer had anything to do with him. It meant as little to him as it had done three years and five months before, before he
