Unspoken (30 page)

Anders turned his head. To his great surprise, he saw the sun gleaming over the expanse of the sea, which was blue and relatively calm.

He had almost forgotten how beautiful the view was. When they arrived the day before it was already dark.

“Incredible! I’ll be right down.”

He took a quick hot shower.
What a luxurious summer house this is
, he thought as he admired the lovely tiled wall.

Breakfast was on the table when he came downstairs to the kitchen: a real Gotland loaf of rye bread, butter, cheese, liver sausage, ham, salami, and vegetables. The aroma of strong coffee was spreading through the kitchen. A fire was crackling in the fireplace.

Anders appreciated Leif’s sense for food, and he dug in with a good appetite.

“What service,” he said, grinning at his friend, who was sitting on the other side of the table, studying a nautical chart.

“Tomorrow it’s your turn to make breakfast. I was thinking that we should take the boat out, since it’s such good weather. A light wind and forty-one degrees.”

“It’s great to see sunshine in the middle of December. That’s a real treat.”

“Did you sleep well?”

Anders hesitated for a second. “Like a rock. How about you?”

“Same here. I always sleep well in the country.”

Anders cleared the breakfast dishes and packed up his gear. He was looking forward to the fishing trip.

Two days left before Christmas. Anticipation was shining in the children’s eyes. At the same time, she found herself as far away from the idyllic family scene and the serenity of Christmas as she could get. She woke up in Viveka’s guest room, feeling sick. The pregnancy probably wasn’t the only reason. It had been a late night. She and Viveka had consumed a lot of wine and stayed up talking half the night.

She might as well go ahead and drink wine. She no longer needed to think about the well-being of the baby. She had made up her mind, but she wasn’t able to get an appointment for an abortion until after Christmas. She was going to have to spend the entire holiday noticing the clear signs of her pregnancy. A constant reminder of the child growing inside of her.

She still hadn’t dared talk to Johan. She didn’t want him to influence her decision. Of course it was selfish, but she didn’t see any other option. She had chosen to lock him out. She had distanced herself from him completely and refused to speak to him on the phone. She defended her actions by telling herself that it was sheer self-preservation. It was lucky that he had gone back to Stockholm. That made things a little easier. To see him now would be disastrous. And she had to think about the children she already had.

They had decided to celebrate a completely normal Christmas, with the whole family together. To visit relatives and friends and do everything they usually did. She would just have to suffer through the nausea as best she could. She had only herself to blame, and Olle didn’t seem to be the least bit sorry for her. There wasn’t a trace of the sympathy he had exhibited when she was pregnant with his own children.

When she saw Sara and Filip she was filled with tenderness. They had no inkling of the chaos that was raging inside their mother.

The doorbell rang. With a sigh she got out of bed and fumbled for her bathrobe. It wasn’t even ten o’clock.

When she opened the door she found herself looking at the faces of her husband and children.

“Good morning!” they cried in unison.

“You have to get dressed,” Sara told her eagerly. “Hurry up!”

“What’s going on?”

Emma cast an inquiring glance at Olle, who was looking sly.

“You’ll see. Go and get ready. We’ll wait.”

Viveka was now up, and she came out to the entryway.

“Hi. Has something happened?”

“No. We’re just here to pick up Emma,” said Olle cheerfully.

“Come into the kitchen and wait.” She turned to the children. “Would you like some juice?”

“Yes!”

Fifteen minutes later Emma was ready, and they set off. Olle drove south, heading away from Visby. In Vibble he turned onto a road leading through the woods.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

They parked outside a solitary house and rang the bell. Dogs could be heard barking inside. The children were jumping up and down with excitement.

“That’s Lovis,” shouted Filip. “She’s so cute!”

A young woman of about twenty-five opened the door, holding a baby in her arms, and with a golden retriever circling her legs. The dog was overjoyed to see the visitors.

Emma had to wait in the hall while the others hurried out to the kitchen. She could hear them whispering. Then they came out to join her, first Olle with an adorable golden puppy in his arms, followed closely by the children.

“Merry Christmas!” said Olle, handing her the puppy, who wagged her tail and stretched out her snout to lick Emma’s hands. “You’ve always wanted to have a dog. She’s yours, if you want her.”

Emma felt herself beaming as she took the puppy in her arms. The dog was small, soft, and plump, and she eagerly licked Emma’s face. The children were looking up at her happily. A ribbon was tied around the puppy’s neck with a card attached: “To Emma with all my love—your Olle.”

She sank down onto the bench in the hall, with the puppy climbing all over her.

“See how much she likes you?” Sara chattered.

“She just wants to keep licking and licking,” said Filip with delight as he tried to pet the puppy.

“Do you want to keep her?” asked Olle. “You don’t have to. We can leave her here.”

Emma looked up at him without saying a word. Everything that had happened flashed through her mind. His coldness had scared her, but it probably was because he felt hurt. And with good reason. Of course she understood. She saw hope in the faces of her children. For their sake she would have to try.

“Yes,” she said. “I want to keep her.”

The call came into police headquarters as Jacobsson and Kihlgård were sitting in the pizzeria on the corner. The Stockholm police reported that Tom Kingsley had booked his return flight for the following day. He was due to land at Arlanda Airport at 2:45 p.m. They assumed that he planned to continue on to Visby the same day. The next flight for Visby was scheduled to depart at 5:10 p.m. The police at Arlanda would apprehend him at the airport and then escort him to Visby. Wittberg called to convey the information, and Jacobsson sent a text message to Knutas to update him.

“That’s great,” said Jacobsson, breathing a sigh of relief. “Maybe we can finally put an end to this whole story so we can have some time off during Christmas.”

“I certainly hope so. If he really is the killer.”

“And why wouldn’t he be?”

“You just never know. Surely he should realize that he’s going to come under suspicion sooner or later. There’s nothing keeping him here. If Kingsley really is the perpetrator, we have to ask ourselves why he doesn’t stay in the States. Why would he come back here and risk getting caught?”

“Maybe he’s convinced that he’s not a suspect.”

“Sure. But it wouldn’t surprise me at all if the guy turns out to be innocent and we have to start from scratch.”

Kihlgård stuffed the last bite of the aromatic calzone into his mouth and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

Jacobsson gave him a dubious look. “Optimist,” she muttered.

“I think it’s strange that Knutas seems so certain that Kingsley is the perp. Just because the investigation has come to a dead end, that doesn’t mean he has to grasp at straws.”

“Then how do you explain the morning-after pill?” Jacobsson objected.

Kihlgård leaned back and lowered his voice. “It could be that Fanny trusted Kingsley enough that she asked his advice about those blasted pills, and then she left the instructions at his place. That’s not inconceivable, is it?”

Jacobsson looked at him skeptically. “Is that what you really believe?”

“Why not? We shouldn’t lock ourselves into Kingsley. That’s crazy.” Kihlgård ran his hand through his thick mane, which was sprinkled with gray.

“So what should we do?” asked Jacobsson.

“How about having some dessert?”

Anders steered the little fishing boat out to sea. It was always so peaceful standing at the helm. Leif was preparing the nets on deck. He came from a family of fishermen and was quite experienced. When he was ready, he came to stand next to Anders in the wheelhouse.

“There’s not much salmon on this side of the island, so we’ll have to fish for cod instead.”

“That’s too bad. It would have been great to have fresh salmon for dinner.”

“We can always try, by trolling. I’ll toss out the lines behind the boat and let them trail in our wake. Now that it’s so cold, the fish are right below the surface. If we’re in luck, we’ll catch a salmon or a steelhead.”

They passed Tofta Beach, and Anders was amazed at how deserted it looked. The emptiness of the rippling sand dunes was a huge change from the hordes of swimmers in the summertime. Tofta was by far the most popular beach on the island, especially among young people. In the summer the beach towels were spread out so close together that you could hardly see the sand.

Leif gazed across the sea.

“Can you see the two Karlsö islands over there? It’s incredible how clear they are.”

Both islands stuck up from the water, the big one behind the little one. Anders had been out there so many times. His whole family went out to Big Karlsö every May to see the colonies of guillemets. That’s when the unusual auks hatched their young.

Glints of sunlight kept coming through the clouds, and even though the wind was picking up, they decided to stay out at sea while the nets were in the water. Leif unpacked some sandwiches and a thermos of hot chocolate, which they enjoyed on deck. It was hard to believe that Christmas Eve was just a couple of days away.

Anders was tired, so he went into the cabin to lie down for a while. He fell asleep to the sound of the waves lapping against the hull. After an hour he woke up to find Leif nudging him.

“We have to pull up the nets. It’s getting windy.”

Anders was surprised to see how quickly the weather had changed. Gusts of wind met them as they came up on deck, and the sky was now dark. The boat was pitching back and forth as they pulled up the nets. It was a nice haul—they counted nine cod. The trolling lines brought in two salmon. Not exactly spectacular specimens, but still not bad.

“Now we’d better see about getting back home as fast as possible,” said Leif. “I was listening to the marine report while you slept. There’s a storm on the way.”

It would take them an hour to get back to Gnisvärd. Darkness fell, and as they passed Tofta, the first squall set in. The boat listed abruptly. Anders, who was on his way up the companionway to the wheelhouse, fell headlong through the door.

“Damn it!” he shouted as he hit his head on the table.

It wasn’t far now to land, but the boat was being tossed right and left. The fish were in buckets on deck, and when the first wave struck, Leif yelled, “We need to bring in the fish or they’ll all end up back in the sea. Be careful when you open the door.”

Leif kept his eyes fixed on the black water, battling the swells as best he could. Anders reached for the door handle and pushed open the door. One bucket had turned over, and the fish lay scattered on deck. The next wave crashed over the gunwale and washed some of the catch overboard.

Anders gathered up the remaining fish and threw them back into the bucket.
God, this is nuts
, he thought.
Here I am practically risking my life just to save a few lousy fish
. He could see Leif’s tense face through the window.

Anders stumbled his way into the wheelhouse. His clothes were soaked through.

“Fucking hell. How’s it going?” he asked Leif.

“Okay. We’re close to shore, so it’s going to be all right. But this weather is damn awful.”

Suddenly the lights of the Gnisvärd dock appeared in the dark. Anders breathed a sigh of relief. They were only a hundred yards away.

When they once again had solid ground under their feet, Knutas realized how scared he had actually been. His legs could barely hold him up. They secured the boat and hurried back to the house.

“What an ordeal,” Anders gasped. “Right now all I want is to get out of these clothes and take a hot shower.”

“You do that,” said Leif. “I’ll make a fire in the meantime.”

Up in his room, Anders discovered that his cell phone was gone. Damn, it must have been washed overboard when he was out on deck. Now Jacobsson wouldn’t be able to reach him. He would have to ask Leif if he could borrow his cell. He also wanted to call Lina and tell her about their dramatic adventure. There was no phone in the house, in spite of all the other modern conveniences.

They warmed themselves up with some Irish coffee as they made dinner.

Leif prepared the salmon with an expert hand. He started by slitting open the fish with a sharp knife. Then he removed the guts and pulled the backbone away from the filets. Anders felt his mouth watering as he watched Leif brush the filets with oil, sprinkle them with herbs, and place them on a bed of coarse salt. Then he put the fish in the oven to bake.

When it was ready they hungrily launched into the salmon, washing it down with strongbeer. They talked about the day’s drama. What an adventure. It could just as easily have ended in disaster. Outside the window the wind was blowing harder, and more snow was on the way.

After a number of shots of whiskey with their coffee, they were both feeling fairly intoxicated. They listened to some music and talked about trivial things, and by the time Anders went upstairs to bed, it was two in the morning. Leif had passed out on the sofa.

Anders fell into bed and should have fallen asleep instantly. Instead he was wide awake, thinking about the investigation, about Kingsley. According to Jacobsson’s text message, the suspect was supposed to return home later today. The case that had consumed all his thoughts, day and night, for the past month would most likely be solved just in time for Christmas Eve. He was looking forward to enjoying Christmas dinner with his family and relatives without having to think about the murder. He suddenly felt a great longing for Lina and the kids. He had an urge to get in the car and drive straight home.