Mari Jungstedt - The Dead Of Summer

He hesitated only a second before he emerged from the woods and ran as fast as he could across the yard. He kept close to the house as he crept further away, the whole time keeping his eyes fixed on the woods. The gravel crunched under his feet. Just a little further. His mouth was dry, and he was trying to slow down his breathing.

He caught sight of a patio door that stood ajar. Swiftly, he slipped inside the living room and then dashed up the stairs in a few bounds to reach the next floor. There he suddenly found himself standing in what looked like a studio, with a high ceiling and an enormous circular window facing the sea. All of a sudden he heard the front door open downstairs. Shit. They were back already.

He didn’t dare move. Frozen in place, he listened to at least two men moving around below. They exchanged a few words in their incomprehensible language. At any moment they might decide to come upstairs. Did the floor creak? His stomach turned over as he lifted one foot with the greatest caution. For several seconds he held it up in the air before he dared set it down again. Keeping his weight evenly distributed, Knutas soundlessly moved towards what looked like the door to a bedroom. He had noticed earlier that it had a balcony, so maybe it would be possible to climb down from there.

Doors opened and slammed below as they searched for him. He wondered how much time had passed since he’d spoken to Kihlgård on the phone. Ten minutes? Fifteen? It would take a while before the police reached the isolated island. He was on his own.

Suddenly he heard someone coming up the stairs. The door to the bedroom was open slightly; two more steps and he was inside. He could hardly believe his eyes when he saw that he had found a good place to hide and that the room also had a big wardrobe fastened to one wall, with sliding frosted-glass doors. He stepped inside and slid the door shut, hoping that no one would hear him, then waited tensely. A strong smell of paint filled his nostrils. It was stuffy inside the wardrobe, and the heat was almost unbearable. He took short, shallow breaths in order to save on oxygen.

Only a few seconds later he heard quick footsteps approaching. Someone was inside the room now; a man’s voice muttered something, and then there was the sound of the door to the balcony being opened. Footsteps tramped on the wooden deck, shouts to someone who was apparently outside the house, further away.

Thoughts of Lina and the kids flew through Knutas’s mind. A flash of fear raced through his body. Was he a hair’s breadth from death?

That was all Knutas had time to think before the door to the wardrobe slid abruptly open.

THE STREET WAS silent and deserted. It was so hot that the air shimmered. An elderly woman was slowly heading along the road, taking her dog for a walk. Otherwise nothing moved in the idyllic residential area. Johan parked his car outside the house. The garden was resplendent, but the grass was much too high. Last summer he had been the one who mowed the lawn. That was when Elin was a newborn, and he was the happiest man in the world. It felt like so long ago. Like a whole different life.

He quickly walked up the front path. The patio furniture was out, and the hammock was in place, but it didn’t look as if anyone had used it in a while. The house looked empty even though the pram stood on the porch. Perhaps she wasn’t home after all? Maybe she hadn’t taken the pram when they went to the beach.

He rang the bell and listened to it echoing inside. Waited nervously and tried to peer through the kitchen window, but he didn’t see anyone.

He rang the bell again. Now he heard the sound of shuffling footsteps. Slowly, someone turned the deadbolt inside. A fly was making its way up the door jamb. He stared at the painted sign: ‘Home of Emma, Filip, Sara and Elin.’

One name is missing , he thought.

Finally Emma opened the door.

‘Hi,’ he said.

How small she looked, as if she’d shrunk in the wash. She made no motion to let him come in.

‘Where’s Elin?’

He glanced uneasily at the hall behind her.

‘She’s asleep.’

‘Can I come in?’

‘No.’

She folded her arms.

‘Please let me come in. I’ve driven all the way here from town just to see you.’

‘Why? What possible reason could you have for coming to see me?’

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked hesitantly.

‘“What’s the matter?”’ she repeated. ‘There’s nothing in particular going on with me – the question is, what’s going on with you? You’ve got a new girlfriend, right? So what do you and I have to do with each other any more? Nothing.’

‘Take it easy.’

He tried to step inside, but Emma blocked his way. She stared at him with a cold expression, and her voice changed into a snarl.

‘You’re not welcome to set foot in this house ever again! Do you hear me? And from now on, you can pick Elin up at the day-care centre or at some other neutral location, because you’re not welcome here. I don’t want to have anything more to do with you!’

Anger flashed through Johan’s mind. Everything that he’d had to endure descended on him all at once.

‘Damn it all,’ he snapped as he stepped forward, forcing her to retreat into the hall. ‘Calm down. Is it really so strange that I’d sleep with somebody else? You’ve pushed me away, treated me like I have the plague. And why did you do that, Emma? Why? Because a mentally ill man kidnapped our daughter? Was I the one who took her away? Did I have anything to do with what happened? No, but apparently you think I was to blame for the whole thing! And why do you think that? Oh right, it’s because I was just doing my fucking job! Do you really think, in your wildest imagination, that I would do anything that might harm Elin? Or you, for that matter?’

Looking frightened, Emma backed her way into the kitchen, unprepared for the strength of his reaction. She’d never seen Johan so angry.

‘Well, let me tell you one thing, Emma. I’m sick and tired of longing for you, tired of hoping that everything will turn out all right. I’ve had enough. For three years I’ve done everything in my power to bring us together, but what good has it done? I can’t do it any more. So just go ahead and sit here in this house feeling sorry for yourself.’

Emma couldn’t look at him any more. She sank down on to a chair and turned away. She held her hands over her ears and closed her eyes tight in order to shut him out. She intended to sit there like that until he finished what he was saying and left. The only thing she wanted was for him to disappear. For some strange reason, she felt perfectly calm inside. It was as if all her thoughts had now been confirmed. That it was over between them, it was definitely over. Once and for all. When Johan finally left, slamming the door behind him, she was still sitting in the same position.

And she stayed like that for a very long time.

THE YOUNG MAN stared at him in astonishment.

‘Who are you?’ he asked in English.

‘Wait, wait. I’m a police officer,’ said Knutas, stumbling over his words.

The man standing in front of him suddenly looked nervous.

‘Police?’

He grabbed Knutas by the arm and hauled him out of the wardrobe, calling to his companions.

The next moment, Knutas was surrounded by all three. With trembling hands he pulled out his police ID.

The man with the most tattoos, who seemed to be the leader, studied the ID, then turned it over and looked at the back. He cast a glance at the other two and muttered something incomprehensible.

‘Can I sit down?’ asked Knutas. His legs were shaking.

‘Yes. Come with us.’

They escorted him down the stairs and out to the back of the house to some patio furniture.