remained. When he had stared long enough at the light that seeped in through the bedroom curtains, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and went over to Tennisvagen to see Virginia and her husband. It was nine o’clock and they had just got up.
Lennart opened the door. Mike marched past him into the kitchen where Virginia tried to hide her embarrassment behind the newspaper and claimed that she couldn’t remember anything.
‘Don’t give me that crap,’ Mike said, pointing an accusing finger at her. ‘Don’t give me that fucking crap. Ylva’s missing, presumably dead, and you think it’s funny to lay that shit on me. Something to gossip about over a glass of wine.’
Lennart took a step forward, tried to play the man.
‘Mike, why don’t you sit down, then we can talk this through sensibly?’
‘Don’t touch me.’
Mike’s breathing was audible.
‘I was so pleased to get your invitation,’ he said. ‘And then you throw that shit in my face.’
Virginia sat in silence, her cheeks burning red.
‘What the hell were you thinking? Do you think, do you both seriously think that I’ve got something to do with Ylva’s disappearance? Do you really?’
‘Of course we don’t,’ Lennart assured him. ‘It was a misunderstanding. Wasn’t it, Virginia?’
She sat paralysed, didn’t move a muscle.
‘Well, let me tell you that I had absolutely nothing to do with Ylva’s disappearance. She has been missing for ten months and seven days. And not an hour passes without me wondering what happened the night she disappeared, not a single hour. I just hope it was quick, that she didn’t suffer. And you have the gall to sit here and presume you know. To speculate! You should be fucking ashamed of yourselves, both of you.’
Mike turned to face Lennart, stared at him with contempt.
‘Riding around on your Harley without a silencer, do you know that everyone’s laughing at you? A middle- aged man on a motorbike. What next? An electric guitar? If you had any idea of what I’ve gone through, what Sanna and I have to face every day, you wouldn’t say that sort of thing, you miserable bastards.’
Virginia sat there without saying a thing and stared at the table. Lennart made another attempt to get the upper hand.
‘Mike, for Christ’s sake.’
‘Just shut up. You haven’t got the balls.’
Mike slammed the door behind him. He ran up the steps to Ankerliden and carried on towards Backavagen. He walked fast, even though it was a steep slope, and felt more confident in his step and calmer in his heart than he had done for a long time.
When he got home, his mother and Sanna were up and breakfast was on the table.
His daughter looked at him.
‘Where have you been?’
‘I went down to see Virginia and Lennart. There was something I had to say to them.’
‘Was the fancy dress party fun?’
Mike stretched out his arms and lifted her up.
‘It was great fun,’ he said and spun round in a jig.
He held Sanna tight and smiled at his mother.
Mike dropped Sanna off at school and drove straight to the hospital. He paid for a full day in the car park. He had no idea how long it would take but assumed that it might take a while.
He walked over to the lifts and read the sign. Fourth floor.
The door into the corridor was locked, so Mike pressed on the bell. A nurse appeared and walked towards him with raised eyebrows and a question mark on her face. He was wearing an expensive suit and obviously didn’t look like a patient.
She opened the door.
‘How can I help you?’
‘My wife is missing, presumably dead. My neighbours think I’m behind it. I have a daughter who is eight, I need help. Someone to talk to.’
He saw the nurse hesitate, as if she thought it was maybe a joke. Then she gave a quick nod.
‘Have you been here before?’
Mike shook his head.
‘Follow me,’ the nurse said.
She showed him where to wait and promised to be back shortly.
It only took a couple of minutes. She returned with the doctor, a man of around sixty. Mike thought he looked familiar. Maybe a parent of one of his friends.
The man held out his hand. Mike shook it, gratefully.
‘Hello. My name is Gosta Lundin. You want to talk to someone?’
Mike nodded.
They went into one of the rooms and the doctor closed the door behind them.
‘Please, sit down.’
‘Thank you.’
Gosta Lundin sat down on the other side of the desk.
‘I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.’
‘Mike, Mike Zetterberg.’
The doctor started, looked up at him briefly and then wrote down his name.
‘ID number?’
Mike rattled off his number.
The doctor placed his pen on the desk and smiled at Mike.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘So, you just came here without an appointment?’
‘Yes.’
‘And why was that?’
Mike told him the story.
‘… she just never came home,’ he concluded. ‘It was no more dramatic than that. I have no idea what’s happened to her, whether she had an accident or was murdered.’
‘But you think that she’s dead?’
There was a pause before Mike answered. He wanted to be sure of his words.
‘I find it difficult to believe anything else.’
‘You said that your friends suspect that you might have something to do with your wife’s disappearance. Do the police share this view?’
‘My wife had an affair a year or so before she disappeared. And, for all I know, maybe not just the one. When I told them that, the officers leaned back and looked at each other. As if they were just waiting to ask where I’d hidden the body.’
‘But that didn’t upset you as much?’
‘It was upsetting and offensive in every way, but at the time, in the chaos that followed my wife’s disappearance, I basically couldn’t have cared less. There was no official charge, more insinuations in the form of exchanged looks and silent observation. As if they were waiting for my conscience to get the better of me and for me then to break down and tell them what I’d done.’
‘So why is it different now?’
‘Because I’ve just managed to settle back into what we call everyday life. The party felt like a turning point. It was a fancy dress party. I hate dressing up. But I went, just to prove that I was back on track.’
Mike looked up. Met the doctor’s gimlet eyes.
‘You think that it shouldn’t bother me?’ he said. ‘What the neighbours think and do. That, given everything else, it shouldn’t make a difference?’
Gosta Lundin shook his head, without taking offence.
‘I didn’t say that. And it wasn’t what I meant either.’
