Mari Jungstedt - Dark Angel

‘Hi, sweetheart. Where are you?’ he asked.

‘I’m in town, running some errands.’

‘Oh. Because I called the house and nobody answered.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘How’s Elin?’

‘She was tired, so Viveka is babysitting her. I thought it was best for her to stay at home in peace and quiet. So I left her with Viveka.’

‘Really?’ Johan sounded surprised. ‘Is anything wrong?’

‘No, not at all. I just needed to take care of a few things. It’s nice to have a little time to myself.’

‘I know what you mean. It was a rough night, but it won’t last much longer, sweetheart. And she’ll never have whooping cough again. At least that’s a relief.’

‘Yes.’

Emma thought about the child inside of her, and all sorts of images raced through her mind. Another birth, more breastfeeding, getting the child used to the day-care centre, dirty nappies and more illnesses. Just the thought of all that made her panic.

Suddenly she heard a clattering sound from the table where the man and woman sat. Or had been sitting. At first she couldn’t see either of them. Then she heard a whimper and caught sight of an arm flailing about, chopping at the air. The younger man had left the table. Their eyes met as he passed Emma.

The older woman was also on her feet. But there was something odd about her. She looked as if she felt sick.

‘Johan, I have to go. I’ll call you later.’

MIKAELA HAMMAR POURED HERSELF more water and drank half of it.

‘None of us had a clue that we had a half-brother until Mats contacted us. Mamma had never said a word about him. Then one day the phone rang, and it was a man named Mats Andersson. He said that he was my half-brother, and he wanted to see me, so we agreed to meet at a café in Norrtälje. Of course I didn’t know whether he was telling the truth. Yet I had no reason to doubt what he said.’

‘How long ago was this?’ asked Knutas.

‘Almost exactly two years ago. In May, to be precise. I remember that we sat outside to drink our coffee because it was a warm day.’ Her face lit up in a smile. ‘And it was an incredible meeting. I knew as soon as I saw him that he was telling the truth. He looks so much like Mamma and my brother Simon that it’s ridiculous. The same eyes and mouth. The same narrow face and high cheekbones, dark eyebrows and naturally red lips.’ She ran her hand over her own face to show what she meant. ‘Unfortunately, I wasn’t blessed with the same colouring. He also showed me his birth certificate.’

‘Who was his father?’ asked Jacobsson.

‘It didn’t say. Mats doesn’t know who his father is, and Mamma refuses to tell him.’

‘So he’s been in contact with her?’

Mikaela sighed bitterly.

‘He’s tried to meet her several times, but she doesn’t want anything to do with him. She pretends that he doesn’t exist. The first time she refused to see him, he was only thirteen. Can you imagine anyone doing such a thing? Giving away her child and then refusing to see him?’

Knutas cast a quick glance at Jacobsson. He put his hand on her arm.

‘Are you feeling all right? Should we take a break?’

‘No, it’s OK.’

Mikaela gave them a surprised look but didn’t comment.

‘So how did this all start?’ asked Knutas.

‘Mamma got pregnant the first time when she was only fifteen. Long before she met Pappa. It was a brief fling with a guy who just disappeared afterwards. And then she had Mats in 1966. She didn’t want to keep the baby, but she didn’t give him up for adoption. She placed him with a foster family. Mats has had really bad luck and ended up with several different foster families, staying with each of them for only a few years before being forced to move. Because of that, he has never dared get really attached to anyone. His life has been very lonely and rootless. He was forced to keep moving during his whole childhood. And she never cared about him.’

‘Why didn’t she give him up for adoption?’ asked Jacobsson tonelessly.

‘That’s a good question. Maybe her parents advised her not to. I have no idea. But it certainly would have been better for Mats. Then he would have had a real family, someone he could call Mamma and Pappa.’

‘But then he got in touch with you. Did he also contact your brothers?’

‘Yes, all three of us thought it was great. It was like getting an unexpected gift. And Mats is an easy person to like. He’s so warm and sensitive. We talk on the phone several times a month if not more. Before midsummer we had a party here, and Simon’s family came too. It was wonderful. Mamma didn’t know about it. She was travelling abroad.’

‘Do all three of you have a good relationship with Mats?’

‘Yes, I think so. Especially Simon. They’re so alike, and they took to each other right away. They have the most contact. Mats actually lives very close to Simon, in Söder. I think that’s a good thing right now, since Simon is having such a hard time.’

Knutas gave Mikaela a long look.

EMMA JUMPED UP from her chair and ran over to the other table. The older woman was blue in the face. She was gripping her throat with both hands, gasping for air. Her eyes were filled with terror, and her body was shuddering with convulsions. All of a sudden she collapsed and fell to the ground.

‘Help!’ Emma screamed at the top of her lungs. ‘Help! Come here! This woman needs help!’

‘What’s wrong?’ The young waitress appeared, staring at Emma in bewilderment.

‘Call an ambulance! Now!’

The waitress nodded in alarm and ran off.

Emma had vague memories of a first-aid course that all teachers were required to take, but that was aeons ago. The woman didn’t look as if she were breathing, so Emma decided to try CPR. She tilted the woman’s head back and leaned over her. She pinched her nose with one hand and opened her mouth with the other. When she pressed her lips over the woman’s she instantly recoiled at the terrible smell. She couldn’t identify what it was.

Then Emma steeled herself and began blowing into the woman’s mouth.

THE CALL CAME in at 3.27 p.m., and within ten minutes the first police officers were on the scene. By then the medics had already declared the older woman to be dead. The younger woman who had administered CPR had collapsed and was rushed off to the hospital in an ambulance. A large number of officers descended upon the café, including a unit with dogs. The perpetrator had only just left the scene of the crime, so he might still be in the vicinity. Jacobsson and Knutas had gone to Stockholm, and neither of them answered their mobiles, presumably because they were on the plane returning to Visby.

Wittberg and Sohlman arrived a few minutes later. Wittberg brought the police car to a screeching halt in front of the café, and then they both jumped out and ran into the garden. A pale and upset waitress who looked to be no more than twenty was sitting on a chair with a blanket around her shoulders, smoking a cigarette.

‘It’s just awful. She comes here so often. She’s one of our regular customers,’ she said, her voice shaking.

‘The woman who died – what’s her name?’ asked Wittberg, while Sohlman hurried past him to have a look at the victim.

‘Veronika Hammar. She comes here a lot. At least several times a week, sometimes every day, although not lately.’

Wittberg swore. Veronika Hammar.

He sank down on to a chair next to the young girl, pulling a notebook and pen out of his pocket.

‘Tell me what happened.’

‘She came in and ordered a double espresso and a piece of carrot cake. Then she sat down at her usual table.’

The girl pointed to the spot at the end of the garden which was now cordoned off with police tape.