The Drowning

‘Would you mind if I went to bed?’ said Patrik, putting his hand on her knee.

‘Not at all. You do that, sweetheart,’ she said absentmindedly. ‘I’m going to stay up for a little while. Then I’ll come to bed too.’

‘Okay.’ He gave her a kiss and then he headed upstairs to their bedroom.

She stayed where she was, sitting on the sofa in the dark. The TV news programme was on, but she left the sound off so she could listen to her own thoughts. Alice. Maria and Emil. There was something she ought to be seeing, something she ought to understand. She shifted her gaze to the book lying on the coffee table. Slowly she picked it up and placed it in her lap so she could look at the cover and the title. The Mermaid. She thought about depression and guilt. About what Christian had wanted to convey in his novel. She knew that the answer was there, in the words and the sentences he had left behind. And she was going to find out what it was.

22

The nightmares started haunting him every night, as if they had been waiting for his conscience to awake. It was actually strange that it took so long. He had always known what happened, after all. He had pictured the way he had removed the baby bath seat and let Alice sink down into the water. And how her little body had kicked and flailed as she tried to breathe, and then how she grew so still. He had always seen her eyes, those blue eyes looking at him, unseeing, from under the water. He had always known, but he had never understood.

It was just a small thing, a tiny detail, that made him comprehend at last. It happened one day during that last summer. By then he already knew that he couldn’t stay. There had never been a place for him, but that insight came to him only gradually. Finally he knew that he had to leave the family.

The voices told him the same thing. One day they too had appeared, not unpleasant or nasty, but more like friends and confidants whispering to him.

The only time he doubted his decision was when he thought about Alice. But that feeling of hesitation never lasted long – because it made the voices grow stronger. So he decided to stay only until the summer was over. Then he would leave and never look back. And everything having to do with Mother and Father would be left behind.

On that particular day, Alice wanted some ice cream. She always wanted ice cream, and if he felt like it, he would go with her to the kiosk near the square. She always asked for the same thing: a cone with three scoops of strawberry ice cream. Sometimes he would purposely pretend to misunderstand and order chocolate ice cream for her instead. Then she would shake her head vigorously and tug at his arm, struggling to say the word ‘strawberry’.

Alice was always in seventh heaven when she got her special treat. Her face lit up with delight, and with the greatest satisfaction she would begin methodically licking at the ice cream. Round and round so that it wouldn’t start dripping. The same thing happened on that day. She got her cone first and slowly began walking away as he waited for his and then paid for both of them. When he turned around to follow Alice, he stopped in mid-stride. Erik, Kenneth, and Magnus. All three of them were sitting there, looking at him. Erik grinned.

He could feel the ice cream dripping from the cone on to his hand, but he had to walk past them. He tried looking straight ahead, out at the water. Tried to ignore their eyes and ignore the way his heart was pounding faster and faster. He took one step forward, then another. Suddenly he felt himself falling headlong. Erik had stuck out his foot just as he was passing. At the last second, he managed to put out his hands to break his fall. The weight of his body made his wrists twinge. The ice cream flew out of his hand, landing on the dirty pavement.

‘Whoops,’ said Erik.

Kenneth laughed nervously, but Magnus gave Erik a reproachful look.

‘Did you really have to do that?’ he asked.

Erik didn’t seem to notice what Magnus said. His eyes were shining. ‘You didn’t need any more ice cream.’

With an effort he got to his feet. His arms hurt, and tiny pieces of gravel were stuck to the palms of his hands. He brushed himself off and limped away, moving as fast as he could, while Erik’s laughter rang in his ears.

A short distance ahead Alice was waiting for him. He ignored her and just kept on going. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her come trotting after him, but not until they had almost reached home did he stop to catch his breath. Alice stopped too. At first she merely stood there, listening to him wheeze as he tried to get enough air. Then she held out her cone to him.

‘Here, Christian. Take my ice cream. It’s strawberry.’

He looked at her outstretched hand and at the ice cream. Strawberry ice cream, which Alice loved with such passion. At that moment he realized the full extent of what he’d done to her. And then the voices began to scream. They were about to make his head explode. He fell to his knees, holding his hands over his ears. They had to stop, he had to make them stop. Then he felt Alice’s arms around him, and everything went quiet.

Patrik had slept like a log all night. Yet he still didn’t feel rested.

‘Sweetheart?’ No answer. He glanced at the clock and swore to himself. Eight thirty. He really needed to get going; they had a lot to do today.

‘Erica?’ He went downstairs but didn’t hear a sound from either his wife or daughter. In the kitchen he found a pot of fresh coffee waiting for him, and a note in Erica’s handwriting was lying on the table.

Sweetheart, I took Maja to the day-care centre. I’ve been thinking about what you told me yesterday, and there’s something I need to check out. I’ll ring as soon as I know more. Could you find out two things for me? 1. Did Christian have a nickname for Alice? 2. What sort of mental illness did Christian’s mother suffer from? Hugs and kisses, Erica. P.S. Don’t be mad at me.

What on earth was she up to now? He should have known that she wouldn’t be able to let well enough alone. He picked up the phone lying on the table and called Erica’s mobile. After a few rings, he was transferred to her voicemail. He told himself to calm down, since he realized there was nothing more he could do at the moment. He needed to get to the station, and he had no idea where she was.

Besides, the questions Erica had included in her note had piqued his interest. Had she come up with some sort of theory? Erica was smart – there was no denying that. And she often saw things that he’d missed. He just wished that she wouldn’t keep going off on her own this way.

He drank a cup of coffee as he stood at the counter. After a moment’s hesitation, he filled a special travel mug that Erica had given him as a Christmas present. Today he was going to need some extra caffeine.

The first thing he did upon arriving at the police station was to go into the kitchen to have a third cup.

‘So what’s on the agenda for today?’ asked Martin when they almost collided in the corridor.

‘We need to go through all the material about the murder of Christian’s girlfriend Maria and her child. I’ll phone Goteborg and see if we can have the files delivered. I’ll probably have them sent by courier, which means I’ll have to hide the expense somehow, so Mellberg won’t notice. Then we need to check with Torbjorn to find out if he’s heard anything from the forensics lab about the rag and the tin of paint in Christian’s basement. The report probably isn’t ready yet, but we might as well put a little pressure on them. Could you start with that?’

‘Sure, I’ll take care of it. Anything else?’

‘Not at the moment,’ said Patrik. ‘I need to check on something with Ragnar Lissander. I’ll tell you about it after I find out a bit more.’

‘Okay. Just let me know if there’s anything else you need me to do,’ said Martin.

Patrik went into his office. It was so odd how tired he felt. Even all the caffeine was having no effect on him today. He took a deep breath in an attempt to rally himself and then phoned Christian’s foster father.

‘I can’t really talk right now,’ said Ragnar, and Patrik understood that Irene must be nearby.