‘But TV sells books.’ Gaby’s nostrils flared. ‘Just that one short interview this morning is going to really spark sales of your book.’ She was impatiently tapping her long fingernails on the desktop.
‘I’m sure that’s true, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not doing anything like that again.’ And he really meant what he said. He didn’t want to appear in the spotlight any more. He couldn’t. Even that one interview was too much; it had been enough to provoke a reaction. Maybe he could still keep fate at bay if he put a stop to it. But he had to do it now.
‘I must say, you’re not being very cooperative. I can’t sell your book or get readers to notice it if you won’t help me. And that means taking part in the promotional efforts.’ Gaby’s voice was ice cold.
Christian felt a buzzing start up inside his head. He stared at Gaby’s pink nails against the light-coloured desktop, and he tried to stop the roar that kept getting louder and louder. He began scratching the palm of his left hand. He felt a prickling under his skin. Like an in visible eczema that got worse the more he touched it.
‘I’m not doing anything like that again,’ he repeated. He didn’t dare meet her eye. The slight nervousness he’d felt before coming to this meeting had now turned to panic. She couldn’t force him. Or could she? What exactly did it say in the contract that he’d signed? He hadn’t really read it, he’d been so thrilled about getting his book accepted for publication.
Gaby’s voice cut through the roaring sound. ‘We expect you to show up, Christian. I expect you to show up.’ Her annoyance provided more impetus for the prickling and itching sensation inside of him. He scratched even harder at the palm of his hand, until he felt it sting. When he glanced down, he saw bloody streaks left by his fingernails. He looked up.
‘I need to go home now.’
Gaby studied him with a frown on her face. ‘How are you doing, actually?’ The furrow on her brow deepened when she saw the blood on the palm of his hand. ‘Christian…’ She seemed at a loss for what to say, and he couldn’t take it any longer. The thoughts were buzzing louder and louder, saying things that he didn’t want to hear. All the question marks, all the connections, everything merged together until the itching under his skin was the only thing he noticed.
He jumped up and ran out of the room.
Patrik stared at the phone. It would take quite a while to get a complete report on the body that they’d found under the ice, but he was counting on receiving confirmation very soon that it really was Magnus Kjellner. Rumours were no doubt already flying through Fjallbacka, and he didn’t want Cia to hear about it from anyone other than the police.
But so far his phone had remained silent.
‘Nothing yet?’ Annika stuck her head in the door, giving him an enquiring look.
Patrik shook his head. ‘Nope. But I’m expecting to hear from Pedersen any minute.’
‘Let’s hope you do,’ said Annika. The second she turned to go back to the reception area, the phone rang. Patrik grabbed the receiver.
‘Hedstrom.’ He listened, motioning for Annika to wait. It was Tord Pedersen from the forensics lab on the line. ‘Yes… Okay… I understand… Thanks.’ He put down the phone and exhaled loudly. ‘Pedersen confirmed that it’s Magnus Kjellner. He won’t be able to give us a time of death until after the post-mortem, but he can say with certainty that Kjellner was the victim of a violent assault. His body has a number of stab wounds on it.’
‘Poor Cia.’
Patrik nodded. His heart felt heavy as he thought about the task ahead of him. Even so, he wanted to tell her himself. He owed it to her after all the times she’d come to the police station, each time looking a little sadder, a little more haggard, but still holding out hope. Now there was no longer any hope, and the only thing he could offer her was the certain knowledge that her husband was dead.
‘I’d better go over there and have a talk with Cia right away,’ he said, standing up. ‘Before somebody else tells her.’
‘Are you going alone?’
‘No, I’ll take Paula with me.’
He went to his colleague’s office and knocked on the open door.
‘Is it him?’ As usual, Paula got right to the point.
‘Yes. I’m going to have a talk with his wife. Could you come along?’
‘Sure. Of course,’ she said, pulling on her jacket and following Patrik, who was already moving towards the front door.
In the reception area they were stopped by Mellberg.
‘Have you heard anything?’ he wanted to know.
‘Yes. Pedersen has confirmed that the victim is Magnus Kjellner.’ Patrik turned away to head for the police car parked outside the station, but Mellberg wasn’t ready to let him go.
‘So he drowned, right? I knew he killed himself. Probably some sort of woman trouble, or maybe he lost a bundle playing poker on the Internet. I just knew it.’
‘It doesn’t appear to be a suicide.’ Patrik weighed his words carefully. From bitter experience he knew that Mellberg did whatever he liked with information he obtained, and it could easily lead to disastrous results.
‘Bloody hell! You mean it was murder?’
‘We don’t really know very much at this point.’ Patrik’s voice had taken on an admonitory tone. ‘The only thing Pedersen could tell me was that Magnus Kjellner had suffered extensive wounds.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Mellberg said again. ‘That means this investigation is going to get a lot of attention. We need to pick up the pace. We need to put everything that has already been done, or not done, under the microscope. I haven’t really been involved very much so far, but now we need to focus all of the station’s resources on the case.’
Patrik and Paula exchanged glances. As usual, Mellberg was oblivious to their lack of confidence in his leadership abilities. He went on enthusiastically:
‘We need to call a meeting and go through all the material we have on hand. I’ll expect everyone to be present and accounted for at three p.m., eager to get to work. We’ve wasted too much time already. Good Lord, should it really take three months to find a man? It makes me downright ashamed.’ He cast a stern look at Patrik, who fought to control a childish impulse to give his boss a good kick in the shin.
‘Three o’clock,’ said Patrik. ‘Understood. But if you don’t mind, we need to get going now. Paula and I are on our way over to see Kjellner’s wife.’
‘Go, go,’ said Mellberg impatiently, waving them out. He seemed to be already lost in thought, deciding how to delegate the work in what had now turned out to be a murder investigation.
All his life, Erik had been in control. He was the one who decided. He was the hunter. Now somebody was hunting him, some unknown person that he couldn’t see. And that frightened him more than anything else. Everything would have been easier if he knew who was after him. But he honestly didn’t know.
He had devoted a lot of time to pondering the situation, even taking an inventory of his life. In his mind he’d listed all the women he’d known, his business contacts, his friends, and his enemies. He couldn’t deny that he’d left a trail of bitterness and anger in his wake. But hatred? He wasn’t so sure about that. The letters he’d received practically smouldered with hatred and a resolve to do harm. There was no question about that.
For the first time Erik felt alone in the world. For the first time he realized how thin a protective veneer he possessed, and just how little all the success and pats on the back meant in the long run. He had even considered confiding in Louise. Or Kenneth. But he never seemed to find a moment when his wife wasn’t looking at him with scorn. And Kenneth was always so submissive. Neither seemed fertile ground for confiding his concerns. Or for sharing the uneasiness that he’d felt ever since the first letters had arrived.
There was no one he could turn to. He realized that he alone was to blame for his isolation, but he had enough self-awareness to know that he wouldn’t have acted differently even if he could. The taste of success was too sweet. The feeling of being superior and idolized was too intoxicating. He had no regrets, but he still wished that he could talk to someone.
For lack of anything else, he decided to seek out the second-best thing. Sex. Nothing else made him feel so invincible yet at the same time allowed him to relinquish control in a way that was otherwise foreign to him. It had nothing to do with whoever his partner happened to be. They had changed so often over the years that he could
