‘Well, they both sound like threats, although they’re not very specific.’
‘Yes, that’s what I thought too. And that’s definitely Christian’s opinion, even though he kept trying to downplay the whole thing. He refused to show the letters to the police.’
‘Then how did…?’ Patrik held up the plastic bag.
‘Oh, er, I guess I just happened to take them by mistake. How silly of me.’ She tilted her head to one side and turned on the charm, but her husband wasn’t so easily fooled.
‘So you stole these from Christian?’
‘I don’t know if I’d use the word “stole”. I just borrowed them for a while.’
‘And what exactly do you want me to do about these… borrowed materials?’ asked Patrik, even though he knew full well what her answer would be.
‘Somebody is clearly threatening Christian, and he’s scared. I could tell when I saw him today. He’s taking these threats very seriously, so I don’t know why he won’t go to the police. But maybe you could discreetly examine the card and letter to see if you can find anything useful?’ Erica was using her most entreating tone of voice, and Patrik already knew that he would give in. Whenever she was in this sort of mood, it was impossible to deal with her, which was something he had learned the hard way.
‘Okay, okay,’ he said, holding his hands in the air. ‘I surrender. I’ll see if we can find out anything. But it’s not high on my list of priorities.’
Erica smiled. ‘Thanks, sweetheart.’
‘Now go on home and get some rest,’ said Patrik, but he couldn’t resist leaning forward to give her a kiss.
After she left, he found himself plucking aimlessly at the plastic bag holding the threatening messages. His brain felt sluggish and obstinate, but something was nonetheless starting to stir inside. Christian and Magnus were friends. Could there be…? Patrik immediately pushed the thought aside, but it kept coming back, and he glanced up at the photograph that was taped to the wall in front of him. Could there be a connection?
Bertil Mellberg pushed the pram as Leo sat inside, happy and contented as usual, and occasionally smiling to show the two lower teeth that had recently come in. Ernst had been left behind at the station today. Otherwise the dog usually walked beside the pram, making sure that nothing threatened what was fast becoming the most important person in his world. For Mellberg, Leo was already the centre of his universe.
Mellberg had never known that it was possible to have such strong feelings for anyone. Ever since he had been present at the baby’s birth and then been the first to hold the infant, he had felt as if Leo had his heart in an iron grip. It was true that Mellberg also felt great affection for Leo’s grandmother, but the tiny tyke was at the very top of the list of people who meant the most to Mellberg.
Reluctantly Mellberg steered the pram back towards the station. His colleague Paula was actually supposed to have taken care of Leo during lunch while her partner, Johanna, tended to some errands. But when Paula had to leave on a domestic violence call, to help a woman whose ex-husband was ‘beating the shit out of her’, Mellberg had quickly stepped in and volunteered to take the baby out for a walk. Now it was time to take him back. Mellberg was deeply jealous of Paula, who would soon be taking maternity leave. He wouldn’t have minded cutting back his own hours for a while so he could have more time to spend with Leo. In fact, that might not be such a bad idea. As a good boss, he should give his sub ordinates a chance to take more training courses. Besides, Leo needed a strong male role model right from the start. With two mothers and no father in sight, they should think about what would be best for the boy and see to it that he was given the opportunity to learn from a solid, real man. Like himself, for example.
Mellberg used his hip to prop open the heavy front door of the station and pulled the pram inside. Annika’s face lit up when she saw them, and Mellberg swelled with pride.
‘So, I see the two of you have been out for a little walk,’ said Annika, getting up to help Mellberg with the pram.
‘Yes, the girls needed some help with him,’ said Mellberg, as he carefully began removing the baby’s outer garments. Annika watched with amusement. Apparently the age of miracles wasn’t over.
‘Come on, sonny, let’s go see if your mother is here,’ prattled Mellberg as he lifted Leo out of the pram.
‘No, Paula’s not back yet,’ said Annika, sitting down at her desk again.
‘Oh, what a shame. Looks like you’re stuck with your old grandpa a little while longer,’ said Mellberg, sounding pleased as he headed for the kitchen, carrying Leo in his arms. When he had moved in with Rita a couple of months ago, the girls had suggested that he be called Grandpa Bertil. So now he seized every opportunity to use the name that gave him such joy. Grandpa Bertil.
It was Ludvig’s birthday, and Cia was trying to pretend that it was a completely ordinary birthday. He was thirteen. That was how many years it had been since she had given birth in the maternity ward and laughed at how ridiculously similar father and son were in appearance. But now it meant that deep down inside she had to admit she was having a hard time even looking at Ludvig. At his brown eyes with the touch of green in them and at his blond hair, which the sun, even in early summer, had bleached almost white. Ludvig’s physique and mannerisms were also so similar to Magnus’s. They were both tall and lanky, and when her son gave her a hug, his arms felt like her husband’s. Even their hands were similar.
With trembling fingers Cia wrote Ludvig’s name in icing on the layer cake. That was something else they had in common. Magnus was capable of eating an entire cake all on his own, and it was so unfair that he never gained an ounce. For Cia, all she had to do was look at a cinnamon roll and she’d put on a whole pound. But at the moment she was as thin as she’d always dreamed of being. Ever since Magnus had disappeared, the pounds had seemed to melt away. Every time she tried to eat something, the food practically swelled inside her mouth. And she had a lump in the pit of her stomach from the minute she woke up in the morning until she went to bed at night, falling into a uneasy sleep; that lump seemed to leave little room for food. Yet she cared less and less about her appearance. In fact, she barely glanced at herself in the mirror any more. What did it matter, now that Magnus was gone?
Sometimes she wished that he had died right before her eyes. Suffered a heart attack or been hit by a car. Anything at all, just so she would have known what happened to him and been able to arrange a funeral, settle his estate, and take care of all the other practical matters that were necessary when somebody died. Then maybe she could have felt the pain of grief, until it gradually faded away, leaving the dull ache of loss, mixed with lovely memories.
Right now she had nothing. She felt as if she were living in a huge void. He was gone, and there was nothing on which to pin her sorrow – no way for her to move on. She felt incapable of going back to work, but she didn’t know how long she could stay home on sick leave.
She looked down at the birthday cake. She’d made a real mess with the icing. It was impossible to read anything in the irregular swirls covering the marzipan on top. The sight seemed to sap her of all remaining strength. She sank to the floor, with her back leaning against the refrigerator and sobs rising up from inside, demanding to be let out.
‘Don’t cry, Mamma.’ Cia felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Magnus’s hand. No, it was Ludvig’s. Cia shook her head. She felt reality slipping away from her. She wanted to let it go so she could escape into the darkness that she knew awaited her. A beautiful, warm darkness that would envelop her for ever, if she let it. But through her tears she saw those brown eyes and that blond hair, and she knew that she couldn’t give up.
‘The cake,’ she sobbed, trying to get up. Ludvig helped her to her feet and then took the tube of icing out of her hand.
‘I’ll fix it, Mamma. Why don’t you go and lie down while I take care of the cake?’
He stroked her cheek. He was thirteen, but no longer a child. He was his father now. He was Magnus – her rock. She knew that she shouldn’t allow him to take on that role; he was still too young. But she didn’t have the energy to do anything else but trade roles with him.
She dried her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt while Ludvig got out a knife and carefully scraped off the lumpy icing from his birthday cake. The last thing Cia saw before she left the kitchen was her son concentrating hard to shape the first letter of his own name. L, as in Ludvig.
