Third Voice (46 page)

Olivia stood by the Chapel of Serenity and observed a little squirrel with her gaze. It was halfway up one of the mighty pine trees. Then it stopped and turned its head towards the church, as the muted tolling of the bells rang out over the cemetery. Olivia followed the squirrel’s gaze and saw people dressed in black on their way through the large church entrance, among them Maria. When she looked back, the squirrel had gone.

Olivia sat down on the third pew from the front, at the very end. The rest of the pew was full. The church could accommodate a couple of hundred people and it was a third full. Olivia kept her eyes fastened on her hands clasped in front of her on her knees. When the female priest described Sandra’s short life, she heard muted sniffs from young people, whom she assumed were school friends. She kept looking down at her knees, she didn’t want to look at the altar, to the place where the priest, Tomas Welander, had been standing not so long ago. She would not allow him to disturb this moment.

When the female priest invited the mourners to bid their farewells by the coffin, she remained seated. She had a single, red rose in her hand, she would place it on the coffin, but she wanted to wait, she didn’t want to queue up, she wanted to walk up to it alone.

As she saw the last mourners walking away from the coffin, she got up and went forward. There was a bed of flowers lying on the lid of the coffin. She stopped at one end and looked down at the narrow, light wooden coffin. Carefully, she let the rose drop down on the lid, along with her tears. She carried on standing there for a long time, until she finally felt she could say it: ‘I’m thinking of you, Sandra, like you asked me, I promise,’ she whispered.

Maria had stopped a little way from the coffin. She saw her daughter lift her head and dry her cheeks, she saw her tremendous sorrow as she straightened her body.

Olivia moved away from the coffin, looking down at the floor. When she reached Maria she stopped, took a step forward and gave Maria a long and heartfelt hug. As they hugged, she whispered into her mother’s ear: ‘
Te amo
.’

Olivia released herself from the embrace and walked towards the door. Maria stood still and surrendered to the lump in her throat.

The solemn organ music reached out through the church entrance. Olivia stood on the steps and saw the pale sun shining down over the cemetery, a very old cemetery, dating back to the twelfth century. Now it was covered in a blanket of sparkling white crystals: it had been snowing all night. Olivia went down the steps and walked out through the cemetery. She didn’t want to meet other mourners, she wanted to mourn alone. She walked over to the tombstones, large and small, back to the Chapel of Serenity. This had been the most agonising thing she’d ever done.

Bidding farewell to Sandra.

She stopped by the beautiful chapel and leant up against a large, dark pine tree. She could see people streaming out of the church, on their way towards cars and buses. Their lives would carry on, everything would carry on, the sun would shine until it rained, everything would keep going. She pulled out a little yellow Post-it note from her pocket and looked at it. Why couldn’t things carry on for you? Why weren’t you strong enough? She felt tears streaming down her cheeks again and put the note back in her pocket. Or was I the one who should have been stronger? Could I have acted differently? Was it my fault?

She moved her foot around in the snow in front of her.

It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t me who destroyed your life. Olivia felt the rage rising inside her. It was some repugnant men who destroyed it. Destroyed the life of a completely innocent young girl.

She stood up straight and looked over at the church. There was still a small group of people dressed in black standing on the
steps. She went the other way clasping her hands, with sadness and rage pressing against her chest. As she approached the last white grave, she’d made a decision.

For Sandra’s sake.

She passed by the grave and never saw a lonely jackdaw landing on the grey marble stone behind her.

We would like to thank Criminal Inspector Ulrika Engström and the French author and journalist Cédric Fabre for the valuable information they provided.

We thank Estrid Bengtsdotter for her painstaking efforts in reading the text.

We also thank Lena Stjernström at Grand Agency and Susanna Romanus and Peter Karlsson at Norstedts for the inspirational support on all levels.

Cilla and Rolf Börjlind have written twenty-six Martin Beck films for cinema and television, as well as most recently working on the manuscripts for the Arne Dahl’s A-group series. In 2004 and 2009, their crime series ‘The Grave’ and ‘The Murders’ were screened on Swedish television. In addition to this Rolf Börjlind has written eighteen films and received a Guldbagge Award for the manuscript for the film
Yrrol
.

As well as being among Sweden’s most praised scriptwriters, Cilla and Rolf Börjlind have now embarked on a new career as bestselling authors. Their books are characterized by charismatic protagonists and depictions of Sweden, full of social conflicts.

Before its release,
Spring Tide
, the first book in the series about Olivia Rönning and Tom Stilton, had sold rights to twenty countries. And when published, it received rapturous reviews from Swedish critics.

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