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Authors: Camilla Läckberg
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see.’ Annoyed, Erica turned away and started banging pots and pans as she took them from the cupboard. ‘We’re going to have to grit our teeth for another night. I’ll tell them tomorrow. Start chopping some onions, will you? I can’t make dinner for six all by myself.’
In oppressive silence they worked together in the kitchen until Erica couldn’t keep quiet any longer.
‘I was at the library today,’ she said. ‘I copied some material that you might be able to use. It’s on the kitchen table.’ There was a neat stack of photocopies lying there.
‘I told you that you shouldn’t – ’
‘No, no, I know. But now it’s done, and it was really fun for a change instead of sitting at home staring at the walls. So don’t complain.’
By this time Patrik had learned when he should shut up, and he sat down at the kitchen table and began going through the material. They were newspaper articles about the disappearance of the two young women, and he read them with great interest.
‘Damn, this is great! I’m going to take this stuff to the office tomorrow and go through it more carefully, but it looks fantastic.’
He went over to stand behind her at the stove and put his arms around her swollen belly.
‘I didn’t mean to complain. I’m just concerned about you and the baby.’
‘I know.’ Erica turned to face him and put her arms round his neck. ‘But I’m not made of porcelain, and if women in the old days could work in the fields until they pretty much gave birth on the spot, I can certainly sit in a library and turn pages with no ill effects.’
‘Okay, I know.’ He sighed. ‘As soon as we get rid of our lodgers, we can pay more attention to each other. And promise me that you’ll tell me if you want me to stay home. The station knows that I’ve volunteered to work during my holiday and that you take precedence.’
‘I promise. But now help me get the dinner ready and maybe the kids will calm down.’
‘I doubt it. Maybe we should give them each a shot of whisky before dinner, so they’ll fall asleep.’ He gave her a wink and then laughed.
‘Ooh, you’re terrible. Give one to Conny and Britta instead, then we’ll at least have them in a good mood.’
Patrik did as she suggested, casting a mournful glance at the hastily dropping level in the bottle of his best single-malt. If Erica’s relatives stayed another couple of days, his whisky supply would never be the same.
3
SUMMER 1979
She opened her eyes with great caution. The reason was a splitting headache that produced shooting pains to the very roots of her hair. But the strange thing was that there was no difference in what she saw when she opened her eyes. It was still the same dense darkness. In a moment of panic she thought that she had gone blind. Maybe there was something wrong with that homebrew she had drunk yesterday. She’d heard stories about that stuff – young people who went blind drinking home-made rotgut. But after a few seconds her surroundings hazily began to emerge, and she understood that there was nothing wrong with her eyesight; she was somewhere with very little light. She looked up to check whether she could see a starry sky, or maybe some moonlight if she were lying outdoors somewhere, but she realized immediately that it never got this dark in the summertime. She should have been able to see the ethereal light of a Nordic summer night.
She touched the surface she was lying on and picked up a fistful of sandy soil, which she let run between her fingers. There was a strong odour of humus, a sickly sweet smell, and she had a sense of being underground. Panic set in. Along with claustrophobia. Without knowing how big the space was she had an image of walls slowly closing in on her. She clutched at her throat when it felt like the air was running out, but then forced herself to take some calm, deep breaths to keep the panic at bay.
It was cold, and she understood all at once that she was naked except
In oppressive silence they worked together in the kitchen until Erica couldn’t keep quiet any longer.
‘I was at the library today,’ she said. ‘I copied some material that you might be able to use. It’s on the kitchen table.’ There was a neat stack of photocopies lying there.
‘I told you that you shouldn’t – ’
‘No, no, I know. But now it’s done, and it was really fun for a change instead of sitting at home staring at the walls. So don’t complain.’
By this time Patrik had learned when he should shut up, and he sat down at the kitchen table and began going through the material. They were newspaper articles about the disappearance of the two young women, and he read them with great interest.
‘Damn, this is great! I’m going to take this stuff to the office tomorrow and go through it more carefully, but it looks fantastic.’
He went over to stand behind her at the stove and put his arms around her swollen belly.
‘I didn’t mean to complain. I’m just concerned about you and the baby.’
‘I know.’ Erica turned to face him and put her arms round his neck. ‘But I’m not made of porcelain, and if women in the old days could work in the fields until they pretty much gave birth on the spot, I can certainly sit in a library and turn pages with no ill effects.’
‘Okay, I know.’ He sighed. ‘As soon as we get rid of our lodgers, we can pay more attention to each other. And promise me that you’ll tell me if you want me to stay home. The station knows that I’ve volunteered to work during my holiday and that you take precedence.’
‘I promise. But now help me get the dinner ready and maybe the kids will calm down.’
‘I doubt it. Maybe we should give them each a shot of whisky before dinner, so they’ll fall asleep.’ He gave her a wink and then laughed.
‘Ooh, you’re terrible. Give one to Conny and Britta instead, then we’ll at least have them in a good mood.’
Patrik did as she suggested, casting a mournful glance at the hastily dropping level in the bottle of his best single-malt. If Erica’s relatives stayed another couple of days, his whisky supply would never be the same.
3
SUMMER 1979
She opened her eyes with great caution. The reason was a splitting headache that produced shooting pains to the very roots of her hair. But the strange thing was that there was no difference in what she saw when she opened her eyes. It was still the same dense darkness. In a moment of panic she thought that she had gone blind. Maybe there was something wrong with that homebrew she had drunk yesterday. She’d heard stories about that stuff – young people who went blind drinking home-made rotgut. But after a few seconds her surroundings hazily began to emerge, and she understood that there was nothing wrong with her eyesight; she was somewhere with very little light. She looked up to check whether she could see a starry sky, or maybe some moonlight if she were lying outdoors somewhere, but she realized immediately that it never got this dark in the summertime. She should have been able to see the ethereal light of a Nordic summer night.
She touched the surface she was lying on and picked up a fistful of sandy soil, which she let run between her fingers. There was a strong odour of humus, a sickly sweet smell, and she had a sense of being underground. Panic set in. Along with claustrophobia. Without knowing how big the space was she had an image of walls slowly closing in on her. She clutched at her throat when it felt like the air was running out, but then forced herself to take some calm, deep breaths to keep the panic at bay.
It was cold, and she understood all at once that she was naked except
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