The Ice Child. Camilla Lackberg
of losing Lennart almost makes me fall apart. The only thing I can tell you is that it’s going to take time, and I’m here for you, if that helps at all. You know that, don’t you?’
Martin nodded.
‘And try to get some sleep. You’re starting to look like a wrung-out dishrag. I know you don’t want to take sleeping pills, but go to the health-food shop and see if they might have some sort of supplement that could help you.’
‘All right. I’ll do that,’ he said, deciding that it might actually be worth a try. He wouldn’t be able to keep going if he didn’t get at least a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep at night.
Annika got up to refill their cups. Ernst raised his head from his paws, but lowered it again, disappointed to see that no pastries were being offered to him.
‘What did the other districts say about the idea of bringing in a profiler?’ asked Martin, deliberately changing the subject. Annika’s concern warmed his heart, but it was too draining to talk about his grief for Pia.
‘They seemed to think it was a good idea. None of them has tried it yet, and any new suggestions would be welcome. Everyone is really shaken by what happened. And they’re all thinking the same thing: Have their missing girls been subjected to the same treatment as Victoria? They’re also worried about how the families will react when they hear the details. We can only hope that won’t happen for a while.’
‘Unfortunately, I don’t think it will take long. People seem to have a sick tendency to blab to the press. And given the number of medical personnel who saw the girl’s injuries, I’m afraid the news will leak out soon – if it hasn’t already.’
Annika nodded. ‘We’ll find out at the press conference, in that case.’
‘Is everything ready?’
‘Yes. It’s just a matter of finding some way to keep Mellberg out of there. That would make me feel a lot less nervous about things.’
Martin raised his eyebrows, and Annika held up her hands. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘Nothing would keep him away. Not even death. He would rise out of his grave like Lazarus just to attend a press conference.’
‘A very apt analogy.’
Martin set his cup in the dishwasher. As he was about to leave the kitchen he stopped and gave Annika a hug.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Now I have to be off to interview Tyra Hansson. She should be home from school by this hour.’
With a gloomy expression Ernst followed him out of the room. As far as he was concerned, the coffee break had been a big disappointment.
Life was wonderful. Amazing and totally unreal, yet so natural all the same. Everything had changed on that hot summer day. When the circus left Fjällbacka, Vladek did not go with it. He and Laila had agreed to meet on the evening of the last performance, and it was tacitly understood that he would then pack up his belongings and go back to her flat. He left everything behind for her. His mother and brothers. His life and his culture. His whole world.
Since then they had been happier than she could ever have imagined. Every night they fell asleep in each other’s arms, snuggled together in her bed, which was much too small, and yet there was space enough for the two of them and their love. The entire flat was actually too small. It was only a bedsit with a tiny kitchen in one corner, but oddly enough Vladek was content. They made do with the space they had, and day by day their love for one another grew.
And now they would need space for one more. She placed her hand on her stomach. The slight swelling was still hardly visible, but she couldn’t resist running her hand over it now and then. She had an urge to pinch herself to make sure this was real. That she and Vladek were actually going to be parents.
She saw Vladek come walking across the courtyard outside the block of flats, at exactly the same time he always did after a day’s work. She still felt as if an electric current passed through her every time she saw him. He seemed to sense her gaze, because he raised his head to look up at their window. With a big smile, filled with love, he waved to her. She waved back as she again caressed her stomach.
‘How is Pappa today?’ asked Jonas. He kissed his mother on the cheek and sat down at the kitchen table, trying to muster a smile.
Helga didn’t seem to hear him.
‘It’s so awful what happened to that stable girl,’ she said instead, setting in front of him a plate with several big slices of freshly baked sponge cake. ‘It must be terribly hard for all of you.’
Jonas picked up the piece on top and took a big bite. ‘You spoil me, Mamma. It almost feels like you’re trying to fatten me up.’
‘I know. But you were always such a skinny little boy. So thin we could count your ribs.’
‘Uh-huh. I’ve heard you say that a thousand times, how tiny I was when I was born. But now I’m almost six foot two, and there’s certainly no problem with my appetite.’
‘It’s good for you to eat, considering how busy you are. All that running about. That can’t be healthy.’
‘Right. Exercise is known to be a real health hazard. Didn’t you ever do any vigorous exercising? Not even when you were young?’ Jonas reached for another piece of cake.
‘When I was young? You make it sound like I’m ancient.’ Helga spoke sternly, but she could feel a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Jonas could always make her smile.
‘No, not ancient. I think “antique” is the word I was going for.’
‘Stop that now,’ she said, giving him a swat on the shoulder. ‘If you don’t watch out, there won’t be any more sponge cake, or any home-cooked meals either. Then you’ll have to make do with whatever Marta puts on the table.’
‘Good Lord, then Molly and I would starve to death.’ He took the last piece of cake from the plate.
‘It must be hard for the girls in the stable to hear that one of their friends suffered such a horrible end,’ Helga went on, wiping some invisible crumbs from the table.
The kitchen was always kept in perfect order. Jonas couldn’t recall ever seeing it messy, and his mother never stopped moving as she cleaned, baked, cooked, and took care of his father. Jonas looked about. His parents weren’t keen on modernizing anything, so the room had looked exactly the same all these years. The wallpaper, cupboards, linoleum, and furniture – everything was just as he remembered from his childhood. The refrigerator and worktop were the only things they had reluctantly replaced. But he liked the fact that so little had changed. It gave his life a sense of continuity.
‘It was quite a shock, of course. Marta and I are going to have a talk with the girls this afternoon,’ he said. ‘But don’t worry about it, Mamma.’
‘No. No, I won’t.’ She picked up the plate, which now held only a few crumbs. ‘How did it go with the cow yesterday?’
‘Good. It was rather complicated, but—’
‘JOOONAS!’ His father’s voice thundered from upstairs. ‘Are you there?’
His displeasure ricocheted off the walls, and Jonas noticed how his mother instantly clenched her jaw.
‘Best if you go up,’ she said