the hill that goes down to the water?’
Ylva nodded. ‘I live right by it.’
‘Right by it?’ the woman at the wheel parroted. ‘Really? Did you hear that, darling? She lives right by it.’
‘I heard,’ the man said.
‘What a small world,’ the woman said. ‘Well, then we’re neighbours again. What a coincidence. Are you on your way home?’
‘Um, yes.’
‘Jump in, we can give you a lift.’
‘But I …’
‘Just jump in. The back seat. There’s so much rubbish here.’
Ylva hesitated, but didn’t have an excuse. She took out the other earpiece, wrapped the wires round the iPod, opened the car door and got in.
The woman pulled out from the pavement.
‘Imagine,’ the man said, ‘that you should live here too. Do you like it?’
‘Yes, I’m happy here,’ Ylva said. ‘The town is smaller, obviously, but the water and the beaches are fantastic. And there’s so much sky. Feels like everything is possible. But it’s very windy. And the winters are not great.’
‘Really? In what way?’
‘Wet and bitter. Just sleet and slush, never white.’
‘Did you hear that?’ the man said to the woman. ‘No real winter. Just slush.’
‘I heard,’ the woman said, and looked at Ylva in the rear-view mirror. ‘But then it’s lovely right now. Nothing to complain about at this time of year.’
Ylva gave an ingratiating smile and nod.
‘It’s nice now.’
She tried to sound positive and look natural, but her mind was working overtime. What would the fact that they’d moved here mean to her? How would it affect her life? How much did they know?
The feeling of unease could not be washed away.
‘Sounds marvellous, doesn’t it, darling,’ the man in the back seat said. ‘Marvellous.’
‘Certainly does,’ said the woman at the wheel.
Ylva looked at them. Their responses were repetitive and rehearsed. They sounded false. It could just be the accidental meeting, the uncomfortable situation. She convinced herself that the fear she felt was all in her mind.
‘Fancy bumping into you, after all these years,’ the man said.
‘Yes,’ Ylva replied.
He looked at her, studied her without even trying to hide his grin. Ylva was forced to look away.
‘Which house is it that you’ve bought?’ she asked, and registered that her right hand touched her face in a nervous gesture. ‘Is it the house at the top of the hill, the white one?’
‘Yes, that’s the one,’ the man said, and turned to look ahead.
He looked normal enough. Ylva let her nerves be calmed.
‘We were wondering who’d moved in. My husband and I were talking about it just yesterday. We guessed a family with children …’
Ylva stopped herself.
‘It’s mainly people with kids who move here,’ she explained. ‘You’ve had builders in. Have you completely redone the house?’
‘Only the cellar,’ the man said.
‘Your husband,’ the woman looked at Ylva in the rear-view mirror again. ‘So you’re married?’
It sounded as though she already knew the answer to her question.
‘Yes.’
‘Children?’
‘We’ve got a daughter. She’s seven. Nearly eight.’
‘A daughter,’ the woman repeated. ‘What’s she called?’
Ylva hesitated.
‘Sanna.’
‘Sanna, that’s a lovely name,’ the woman said.
‘Thank you,’ Ylva responded.
She looked at the man, he was sitting quietly. She looked at the woman. No one said anything. The situation didn’t allow for pauses and Ylva felt forced to fill the silence with words.
‘So, what made you move here?’
She wanted it to sound natural. It was an obvious question, but her throat felt dry and her intonation sounded wrong.
‘Yes, why did we move here,’ the man said. ‘Darling, do you remember why we moved here?’
‘You got a job at the hospital,’ the woman reminded him.
‘So I did,’ the man said. ‘I got a job at the hospital.’
‘We thought it would be good to make a fresh start,’ the woman explained, and braked for a red light on Tagagatan.
People were waiting at a bus stop about thirty metres away.
‘Listen,’ Ylva started. ‘It’s kind of you to offer me a lift, but I think I’ll take the bus all the same.’
She undid the seat belt and tried to open the door without success.
‘Child lock,’ the man told her.
Ylva leaned forward between the seats and put a hand on the woman’s shoulder.
‘Could you open the door, please? I want to get out. I don’t feel very well.’
The man put his hand into the inside pocket of his coat and took out something square, just slightly bigger than his palm.
‘Do you know what this is?’
Ylva took her hand off the woman’s shoulder and looked.
‘Well, come on then,’ the man said, ‘what does it look like?’
‘An electric shaver?’ Ylva suggested.
‘Yes, it does,’ the man replied. ‘It looks like an electric shaver, but it’s not an electric shaver.’
Ylva tried the door again.
‘Open the door, I want—’
The shock made Ylva’s body arch. The pain was paralysing and she couldn’t even scream. A moment later her body relaxed and she crumpled, her head against the man’s thigh. She was surprised that she was still breathing, as nothing else seemed to work.
The man reached over for Ylva’s handbag, opened it and poked around for her mobile. He took the battery out and put it in his inner pocket.
Ylva registered the car accelerating past the bus stop. The man kept the stun gun at the ready.
‘The paralysis is temporary,’ he explained. ‘You’ll soon be able to move and talk as normal again.’
He gave her a comforting pat.
‘Everything will be all right, you’ll see. Everything will be all right.’
5
Worth quarter of a billion and what was he doing? Standing in his briefs in the cellar, rummaging through until now unopened boxes, looking for his old school yearbooks. One way of passing the time.
Jorgen Petersson managed to open and go through about half of the boxes before he found what he was
