He’d made a new attempt to spruce up the kitchen and was pleased with his efforts. He’d set the table with the fine china, and the candles were lit. It was with tense anticipation that he had prepared everything for this dinner. The idea that had occurred to him when he stood in the bank and transferred the money for the time- share apartment in Spain still pleased him. Of course it was all a little sudden, but they weren’t spring chickens anymore, he and RoseMarie. Since they’d found love at their age, there was no sense in wasting time.
He had given a lot of thought to how he would do it. When she saw the elegant place settings and the food, he intended to say that he wanted everything to be extra nice because they had to celebrate their purchase of the condo together. That should work. He didn’t think she would suspect anything. Then, after much anguish, he had decided to use the dessert, a chocolate mousse, as the hiding place for his big surprise. The ring. The one he’d bought on Friday and planned to give her as he asked the question he had never before asked any woman. Mellberg could hardly contain himself; he longed to see the expression on her face. He hadn’t stinted. Only the best was good enough for his future wife, and he knew that she would be thrilled when she saw the ring.
He looked at the clock. Five minutes to seven. Five minutes left until she would ring the doorbell. In fact, he ought to have a copy of his key made for her straight away. He couldn’t let his fiancee stand there ringing the bell like a guest.
At five past seven Mellberg was starting to get nervous. Rose-Marie was always punctual. He fidgeted with the place settings, adjusted the serviettes in the glasses, moved the silverware half an inch to the right, then moved it back again.
By seven thirty he was convinced that she must be lying dead in a ditch somewhere. He could see in his mind’s eye her car slamming into a truck, or one of those monster Jeeps that people insisted on driving, which could demolish everything in their path. Maybe he should ring the hospital. He vacillated back and forth, but then realized that perhaps he ought to try ringing her on her mobile first. Mellberg slapped his forehead. Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner? He punched in the number of her mobile from memory, but frowned when he heard the recorded announcement. ‘This number is no longer in service.’ He touched the number once more; he must have missed a digit. But the same message came up again. Odd. He would have to ring her sister to find out whether she’d been delayed there for some reason. Suddenly he realized that she’d never given him her sister’s number. And he had no idea what her name was. All he knew was that she lived in Munkedal. Or did she?
Now a distressing thought began to germinate in Mellberg’s mind. He rejected it, refused to accept it, but suddenly pictured the scene when he stood in the bank, and he imagined it playing back in slow motion. Two hundred thousand kronor. He had transferred that amount over to the Spanish account number that Rose-Marie had given him. Two hundred thousand. Money to buy a time-share apartment. Now he could no longer dismiss the thought. He rang directory assistance and asked whether they had any number or address for her. They found no listing under that name. Desperately he tried to remember whether he had seen any proof, any ID or the like that would confirm that her name was what she said it was. He realized with increasing horror that he had never seen anything of the sort. The grim truth was that he didn’t know what her name was, where she lived, or who she really was. But in an account in Spain she now had two hundred thousand kronor. Of his money.
Like a sleepwalker he went over to the fridge, took out her portion of chocolate mousse, and sat down with it at the dinner table so festively decked out. He slowly stuck his hand into the glass and dug his fingers into the brown mousse. The ring flashed through the chocolate when he pulled it out. Mellberg held it up and looked at it. Then he set it gently on the table and, with tears running down his face, he began stuffing the chocolate mousse into his mouth.
‘It was certainly a fantastic day.’
‘Mmm,’ said Patrik, closing his eyes. They had decided early on not to take off on a honeymoon directly, but instead take a longer trip with Maja when she was a few months older. Thailand was at present high on the wish list. But it felt a little strange to go back to their ordinary life again just like that. They’d spent Sunday sleeping in, drinking a lot of water and talking about all the events of Saturday. By Monday Patrik had decided to take the day off. He wanted them both to have a chance to wind down and digest everything before the daily routines took over again. Considering how much work he’d put in during recent weeks, no one at the station had any objections. So now he and Erica were lying on the sofa in each other’s arms; they had the house to themselves. Adrian and Emma were at kindergarten, and Anna had taken Maja over to Dan’s so that the newlyweds could have a day of peace and quiet. Not that she needed any excuse to spend time with Dan. She and the kids had been at his place all day yesterday as well.
‘ Didn’t you ever have any suspicions?’ Erica said cautiously when she saw Patrik far off in his thoughts.
Patrik understood at once what she meant. He thought about it.
‘No, I actually didn’t. There wasn’t anything… unusual about Hanna. I did notice that something was weighing on her, but I thought it must have been problems at home. And it was, although not in the way we thought.’
‘What about the fact that they lived together? Even though they were sister and brother.’
‘We’re never going to learn all the answers, but Martin rang and told me they’d finally received the reports from social services. Those two went through hell as foster children, after the accident. Imagine how it must have affected them after they were first kidnapped from their mother and then forced to live in such isolation with Sigrid. It must have created some sort of abnormal bond between them.’
‘Hmm,’ said Erica, but she still had a hard time imagining it. The whole thing was beyond comprehension. ‘But how could they keep the two different parts of their lives separate?’ she said after a while.
‘How do you mean?’ said Patrik, kissing the tip of her nose.
‘Well, I mean, how could they live a normal life? Get an education? And even become a cop and a psychologist? But at the same time live with such… evil that they’d done?’
Patrik took his time answering. He didn’t understand the whole situation either, but he had brooded a lot about it since they’d discovered the identity of the murderer, and he thought he had come up with some sort of answer.
‘I think that’s exactly the point. That there were two separate parts. One of them lived a normal life. It seemed to me that Hanna really did want to be a police officer and do something significant. And she was a good cop. Without a doubt. Lars I never met until just before…’ He broke off. ‘Well, the picture I had of him was hazier. But he was obviously intelligent, and I think his intention was also to live a normal life. At the same time the secret they were hiding must have haunted their psyches. So when they happened to run into Elsa Forsell when Hanna joined the police force in Nykoping, it must have triggered something inside them, something that had been festering for a long time. Well, that’s my theory, at any rate. But we’ll never know for sure.’
‘Hmm,’ said Erica thoughtfully. ‘It’s a little like how I felt with Mamma,’ she said at last. ‘As if she were living two separate lives. One with us – Pappa, Anna and me. And the other one inside her head, where we were not allowed.’
‘Is that why you decided to do some research about her?’
‘Yes,’ said Erica. ‘I don’t know for sure, but I feel that there’s something she was hiding from us.’
‘But you have no idea what it might be?’ Patrik looked at her and pushed back a lock of her hair.
‘No, and I don’t even know where to begin. There’s nothing left. She never saved a thing.’
‘Are you sure about that? Have you checked up in the attic? Last time I was up there, I saw plenty of old junk.’
‘I’m sure it’s Pappa’s, most of it. But… I suppose we could take a look. Just to be sure.’ She sat up. An eager tone had crept into her voice.
‘Now?’ said Patrik, who was not at all inclined to leave the warmth of a cosy sofa to go up to a cold, damp attic, which was also full of spider webs. If there was anything he hated, it was spiders.
‘Yes, now. Why not?’ Erica said, already on her way upstairs.
‘Sure, why not?’ Patrik sighed, getting up reluctantly. He knew better than to protest when Erica had set her mind on something.
When they got up to the attic Erica regretted the idea for a second. It did look as if there was nothing but junk up there. But they might as well take a look around. She ducked so as not to hit her head on the roof beams as she began moving things around and lifting up lids of cartons here and there. With a look of disgust she wiped her hands on her trousers. It certainly was dusty. Patrik also started looking around, although he now doubted whether his idea would produce anything. Erica was probably right. She knew her mother best. If she said that Elsy hadn’t save anything, then… Suddenly he caught sight of something that aroused his interest. Way in the back of the attic, wedged in beneath the sloping roof, stood an old chest.
