at her disposal, with the promise that she could stay as long as she liked. All the talking behind her back, all the contempt they had previously directed at her, all that was as if it had been swept away with the wind. The women brought her food and clothing. Everything she wore now was either borrowed or a gift. She had nothing of her own left.
Anders's cutter mates at the quarry had also come by. Dressed in their Sunday best and newly scrubbed, they stood with their caps in hand and looked at the floor. They shook her hand and mumbled some words about Anders.
Agnes couldn't wait until she could get away from this patched, threadbare crowd. She longed to go aboard the boat that would take her to another continent. She wanted to let the sea air blow away the filth and decay that lay like a membrane over her skin. For a couple more days she had to tolerate their sympathy and their pathetic attempts to show goodwill. Then she would set off and never look back. But first there was what she wanted to get from the bloated, red-faced man sitting next to her, this man who had abandoned her so cruelly four years ago. Now she would see to it that he paid, and paid dearly, for each and every one of the four years that had passed.
Her father continued to stammer, still in shock over the news she had just announced. 'But, but, how will you make a living over there?' he asked with concern, wiping the sweat from his brow with a little handkerchief that he pulled out of his pocket.
'I don't know,' she replied with a melodramatic sigh, allowing a worried shadow to glide across her face. It was gone in an instant, but there was still enough time for her father to notice.
'Won't you change your mind, my heart? Come stay with your old father instead.'
She shook her head, waiting for him to offer another suggestion. In that respect he did not disappoint her. Men were so easy to see through.
'Won't you at least let me help you, then? Some money to get you started, and an allowance so you can manage? Couldn't I do that much for you? Otherwise I'll worry to death about you, all alone and so far away.'
Agnes pretended to ponder the idea for a moment, and August hastened to add, 'And surely I can see to it that you have a better ticket for the crossing. A private stateroom in first class. That sounds a little better than travelling squeezed in with a bunch of other people.'
She nodded graciously and said after a pause, 'Well yes, I suppose I could let you do that. You can give me the money tomorrow. After the funeral,' she added, and August flinched as though he'd burned himself.
He tentatively tried to find the right words. 'The boys,' he began in a trembling voice, 'did they look like our side of the family?'
They had been the spitting image of Anders, but in a stony I voice Agnes said, 'They looked precisely like the pictures of you when you were little. Like small copies of you. And they often asked why they didn't have a grandfather like the other children.' She saw how her words twisted like a knife in his breast. One lie after another, but the more his conscience weighed on him, the more he would fill her purse.
With tears in his eyes her father got up to take his leave. In the doorway he turned round to look at Agnes one last time. She decided to throw him a little scrap and nodded graciously. As she predicted that small gesture made him happy, and he gave her a smile with his eyes shining.
With hatred Agnes watched him go. She would allow someone to betray her only once. After that there were no second chances.
Patrik sat in the car and tried to focus on the first task of the day. He thought it important to follow up as soon as possible on the call he had made just before he left work yesterday evening. But he was having a hard time forgetting the stupid words he'd said to Erica last night. To think that it could be so difficult. He'd always believed that raising a child was easy. Well, maybe a lot of work, but not as anxiety-ridden as it had been during the past two months. He sighed, feeling dejected.
Not until he parked outside the brown-and-white blocks of flats by the southern road into Fjallbacka was he able to concentrate on the present and forget his problems at home. The flat he was heading for was in the first block, second stairwell, and he took the stairs up to the first floor. The sign on the door said 'Svensson & Kallin'. He knocked cautiously. He knew that the couple living in the flat had a young child, and he was painfully aware of how Unwelcome a stranger would be if he woke the kid. A young man of about twenty-five opened the door. Although it was already nine-thirty he looked sulky, as if he'd just got up.
'Mia, it's for you.'
He stepped aside without greeting Patrik and shuffled into a small room off the hall. Patrik looked into the room that was probably intended as a guest room, but now it was set up as a game room, with a computer, several joysticks, and piles of games strewn across a desk. A game of 'shoot to kill as many enemies as possible' was running on the computer. The young man, who Patrik assumed was either Svensson or Kallin, started playing as if he had entered another world.
The kitchen was to the left down the hall, and Patrik stepped inside after depositing his shoes by the front door.
'Come in, I'm feeding Liam.'
The little boy sat in a white highchair, being fed porridge and some sort of fruit puree. Patrik waved to him and was rewarded with a mushy smile.
'Have a seat,' said Mia, pointing to a chair across from them.
He did as she said and took out his notebook.
'Could you tell me exactly what happened yesterday?'
A light trembling of her hand holding the spoon showed how upsetting the events of the previous day had been for her. She nodded and related briefly what had happened. Patrik took notes, but it was the same information that Annika had received the day before when Mia had called in her report.
'And you saw no one in the vicinity of the car?'
Mia shook her head. Liam, who apparently thought his mother was playing a game, shook his head frenetically too, which made it considerably more difficult to feed him the porridge.
'No, I didn't see anybody. Either before or after.'
'You parked the pram in the rear, you said?'
'Yes, it's more secluded there, and I thought it would be a safer place to leave him. I wanted to take him inside with me, but he was asleep, and it seemed more trouble than it was worth to drag the pram into the store. I was just going to be gone a couple of minutes.'
'And then when you came out, you saw a dark substance in the pram and on Liam.'
'Yes, he was screaming like crazy. His whole mouth must have been stuffed full, but he'd managed to spit out most of it. The inside of his mouth was coloured black.'
'Did you take him to a doctor?'
Again she shook her head, and Patrik saw that he'd hit a nerve.
'No. I probably should have, but we were in a hurry to get home, and he seemed to be doing all right, except that he was scared and angry, so I…'
Her voice trailed off and Patrik hurried to say, 'I'm sure it's not dangerous. You did the right thing. The boy does look like he's feeling fine.'
Liam waved his arms, as if to confirm what was said and then opened his mouth wide for the next spoonful of porridge. There was obviously nothing wrong with his appetite, as evidenced by his plump double chin.
'The shirt I called about yesterday, did you
She got up. 'No, I didn't wash it, just as you asked me. And it's full of that black stuff. Looks like ashes, I think.'
She went to get the shirt. Liam stared longingly at the spoon, which she'd put down beside the bowl. Patrik hesitated for a second, then moved to the chair Mia had been sitting on and took up
