The Gallows Bird

‘There were so many others who had done the same thing she did. So many…’ said Lars, letting the words die out. ‘Every new place we came to. Every place had to be… cleansed.’

‘By murdering a person who had killed someone while driving drunk?’

‘Yes,’ said Lars with a smile. ‘Only then could we have any peace. We had to show that we wouldn’t tolerate that sort of crime, which we would never forget. You can’t just destroy someone’s life like that… and then walk away.’

‘The way Elsa did after she killed Sigrid?’

‘Yes,’ said Lars, and the blackness in his eyes deepened. ‘Like Elsa.’

‘And Lillemor?’

Now they were almost down to the pier and Patrik wondered what they should do if Hanna and Lars took the rescue boat, which was much faster than the other one. They’d never be able to catch them. But the skipper seemed to have had the same thought, because he was already backing away from the dock so that only the smaller boat was left.

‘Lillemor.’ Lars scoffed. ‘A stupid, worthless human being. Exactly like that other riff-raff I was forced to work with. I never would have recognized her, but I remembered her name when I saw where she was from. I knew that we had to do something.’

‘So you told the others that she had bad-mouthed them, in order to create chaos and distract her.’

‘You’re brighter than I gave you credit for,’ Lars said with a smile, taking the first step backwards out onto the pier. For a second Patrik considered trying to overpower him. But even though he sensed that Lars was only bluffing in holding his sister hostage – they had done everything together, after all – Patrik still didn’t dare. He had no weapon; it was up on the hill with Martin’s and Gosta’s, so in this situation Lars and Hanna had the upper hand.

‘I was the one who rang Lars,’ Hanna said in a harsh voice.

‘We know,’ said Patrik. ‘We have it on videotape. Martin watched it, but we didn’t understand…’

‘No, how could you?’ she said with a sad smile.

‘So Lars picked her up after you called him.’

‘Yes,’ said Hanna, climbing cautiously into the boat. She sank down on the thwart in the middle of the boat, while Lars sat down by the outboard motor and turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened. Lars frowned and tried again. The motor emitted a whine but still wouldn’t start. Patrik watched in astonishment, but he realized what was happening when he glanced over at the rescue boat that sat bobbing a safe distance from the island. The skipper held up a petrol tank, and Patrik realized that he had confiscated it. An enterprising fellow, that Peter.

‘There’s no petrol,’ said Patrik, sounding calmer than he was. ‘So there’s nowhere for you to run now. Backup is on the way, so the best you can do is surrender and see to it that nobody else gets hurt.’ Patrik could hear how lame this sounded, but he couldn’t think of the right words. If there were any.

Without replying Lars undid the painter and kicked the boat away from the dock. The current caught it at once and they started slowly drifting away from shore.

‘You won’t get anywhere,’ said Patrik as he tried to see what options he had. But there were none. The only alternative was to make sure that Lars and Hanna were picked up. Without a motor they wouldn’t get far; they would probably run aground on one of the nearby islands. Patrik made a last attempt.

‘Hanna, it’s obvious that you weren’t the mastermind behind all of these events. You still have a chance to save yourself.’

Hanna didn’t answer. She simply stared back at Patrik. Then she reached for Lars’s hand that was still holding the pistol. He was no longer pointing it at her head, but was bracing his hand on the thwart she was sitting on. With the same uncanny calm she took Lars’s hand and lifted it so that he was again pointing the gun at her temple. Patrik saw the puzzled look on Lars’s face. Then, for a brief second, his expression was full of horror. The next instant an eerie calm fell over him. Hanna said something to Lars that no one standing on the island could hear. He said something in reply, then pulled her closer to him, so that she was resting against his chest. Hanna put her finger on top of his. And squeezed the trigger. Patrik felt himself jump; behind him Martin and Gosta gasped. Unable to move, unable to say a word, they watched as Lars carefully sat down on the boat’s gunwale, still holding Hanna’s now dead and bloody body in a tender embrace. Blood had sprayed up into his face, so that it looked as though he was wearing war paint. With the same calm expression he looked at them one last time. Then he put the pistol to his own temple. And pulled the trigger.

When he fell back, over the edge, Hanna fell with him. Hedda’s twins disappeared beneath the surface of the water. Down into the depths just as Hedda had once consigned them to die.

After a few seconds the rings on the surface vanished, and there was no trace of where they had gone down. The bloody boat bobbed on the waves and far off, as in a dream, Patrik saw more boats approaching. Backup was on the way.

Chapter 10

When the shock of the crash turned everything into a nightmare, he knew that it was all his fault. She had been right. He was a jinx. He hadn’t listened, but nagged and begged and never yielded until she gave up. And now the silence was deafening. The sound when the cars crashed together had been replaced by a terrible stillness, and the pressure from the seat belt was hurting his chest. Out of the corner of his eye he saw sister move; he hardly dared turn to look at her. But when he did he saw that she didn’t seem to be injured either. He fought against the urge to cry as he heard his sister quietly begin to sniffl e, and then give in to terrible, wailing sobs. At first he didn’t dare look in the front seat. The silence there told him what he would find. It felt as though guilt had a strangle-hold on him. He carefully undid his seat belt and then leaned forward slowly, full of dread. What he saw made him flinch, and the quick movement intensified the pain in his chest. Her eyes were staring at him, dead and unseeing. Blood had run out of her mouth and her clothes were soaked in red. He thought he saw accusation in her vacant gaze. Why didn’t you listen to me? Why didn’t you let me take care of you? Why? Why? You jinx. Look at me now.

He sobbed and then gasped for breath, trying to force some air into his throat, which felt so tight. Somebody outside tried the door handle and he saw a woman’s face staring at him in shock. The woman was moving oddly, reeling, and with surprise he recognized the smell of that other woman. The one who existed only in his memory. He smelled the same sharp odour that had come out of her mouth, settling on her skin and clothing. After everything soft had disappeared. Then he felt himself dragged out of the car, and he understood that the woman had come from the other car, the one that had crashed head-on into theirs. She went round to pull sister out, and he studied her closely. He would never forget her face.

Afterwards there had been so many questions. Such strange questions.

‘Where are you from?’ they had asked. ‘From the forest,’ they answered, not understanding why that response had caused such frustrated expressions. ‘Yes, but where did you come from before that, before the house in the forest?’ They had just stared at the people asking, without understanding what they were supposed to say. ‘From the forest’ was the only answer they could give. Of course he had thought about the salty place with the screeching birds. But he never said anything about that. All he really knew was the forest.

He mostly tried not to think about the years that followed those questions. If he’d known how cold and evil the rest of the world was, he never would have nagged her to take them outside the forest. He would have gladly stayed in that little house, with her, with sister, in their own world, which in hindsight seemed so wonderful. In comparison. But that was a guilt he had to bear. He had caused what happened. He hadn’t believed that he was a jinx. Hadn’t believed that he brought misfortune down upon himself and others. He was the one to blame for the dead look in her eyes.

During the years that followed, sister was the only reason he kept going. The two of them were united against all those who tried to break them down and make them just as ugly as the world outside. They were different. Together they were different. In the dark of night they always found consolation in each other and were able to escape the horrors of the day. His skin against hers. Her breath mingled with his.

And finally he also found a way to share the guilt. Sister was always there to help him. Always