Mari Jungstedt - The Dead Of Summer

But eventually he was allowed to move into her house in Roma.

Their familial happiness was short-lived, because soon afterwards they had landed in the middle of a kidnapping drama, and for a few terrifying hours Elin was held captive by a murderer on the run from the police. While carrying out his reporting duties for Swedish TV, Johan had come too close to the perpetrator. Emma had accused Johan of putting their daughter’s life in danger, even though deep inside she knew that he hadn’t done it on purpose. After Elin was found safe, Emma had broken off the engagement. Several months had passed since then, and the contact between them was still chilly. They saw each other only when picking up Elin or dropping her off.

During the whole turbulent spring, Johan had rushed back and forth between Stockholm and Gotland, trying to spend as much time with Elin as he could.

Swedish TV had rented an apartment for him on Adelsgatan in the middle of Visby so that he didn’t have to stay in a hotel. Just a little cubbyhole, of course, but the location couldn’t have been more central.

Emotionally, Johan found himself in a miserable state. His body was screaming for Emma, and he constantly felt an aching yearning to be with Elin. It was like having a black hole inside him. Right now he had no idea what he was going to do; it was probably merely a matter of accepting the situation. He had wanted to demand to see his daughter at least 50 per cent of the time, as was his right, but it was actually his own mother who had made him change his mind.

‘One thing at a time,’ she had said to console him. ‘One thing at a time.’ Making demands in the midst of such chaos would just make everything worse. His mother thought that, with time, Emma would calm down and listen to reason. And he wanted to believe in her.

The situation couldn’t be described as anything but disastrous, yet the kidnapping drama that occurred in the early spring had also taken its toll on Johan, and he didn’t have the energy to deal with the conflict with Emma right now. For the time being, he made do with the few days he was allowed to spend with Elin.

DARK HAD FALLEN by the time Karin Jacobsson walked home from police headquarters. She crossed Norra Hansegatan and continued along the main street down to Östercentrum. The shops were closed, but some young guys were sitting at tables outside McDonald’s, bellowing into the warm July night. Teenagers walked past, on their way down to the ring wall and the old town looming inside. It was close to midnight, and she still hadn’t been able to get in touch with Knutas. Now it was too late to call. Instead, she sent off a brief text message:

‘Murder on Fårö. Man shot to death, execution-style. Ring when you have time.’

Just as she passed Ali’s barbecue stand outside Österport, her mobile rang.

‘Hi, it’s Anders. Are you kidding?’

‘I wish I was.’

She couldn’t resist smiling a bit when she heard how flabbergasted he sounded. She realized he must be frustrated at being so far away.

‘I tried to call you several times.’

‘I know. I was recharging my mobile, so it was switched off. Then I forgot about it. I’m on holiday, after all,’ he joked. ‘So tell me what happened.’

Jacobsson quickly outlined the sequence of events as she walked through the gate in the Visby ring wall at Österport and down Hästgatan.

The restaurants she passed were packed with people enjoying the warm night. Music poured out of the bars and eating establishments. Visby had a lively entertainment scene in the summer, and it was high season right now.

She had reached Mellangatan by the time she had finished her report.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Knutas. ‘What are you doing now?’

‘I’ve talked to Martin Kihlgård, and he and a few colleagues from the NCP will be here tomorrow.’

There was silence on the line for a moment. Jacobsson was at her front door. She felt a pang of guilt. Partly because Knutas was having a well-deserved holiday, which he really needed. Partly because it was so late, and he should be spending time with his wife instead of talking shop with her.

‘OK,’ she went on. ‘So now you know what happened, at any rate. But you’re on holiday. We can handle things here, Anders.’

‘I have every confidence that you can. Ring if you need anything. It’s no bother.’

‘Thanks. Good night.’

‘Good night. Give my best to everyone else.’

‘Sure.’

When Karin went to bed that night, she felt lonelier than she had in a long time.

VERA SAT IN the kitchen, staring with yearning at the other side of Friedenstrasse. The building directly opposite was six storeys tall with a light-coloured façade. She no longer needed to count the rows of windows to know where he lived. Gotthard Westenfelder – she tried out the name. Said it aloud. Never before in the twenty years of her life had she been so in love. They had met at the university just after she had completed her first year. Both of them were studying to be teachers, and they were in the same class. Even on the first day she thought there was something special about him. Not just in terms of appearance, even though he was very attractive with his blond hair and green eyes. It was a week before they spoke to each other. He asked her if she knew where to find one of the textbooks required for the course. She knew at once that his question wasn’t solely about books. They went out to a café and the next day to the cinema, and that was when he kissed her. That had been two weeks ago, and she was so in love that she couldn’t think about anything else. When she wasn’t with him, she still saw his face everywhere .

Now she was sitting here and trying to concentrate on the last exam before the summer holidays, but her eyes kept shifting to the window to stare at his building. Unfortunately, his bedroom window faced the other direction .

She looked down at her book, but the letters forming the words swam before her eyes, merging and separating and taking on a life of their own. She sighed and glanced out at the street one last time before she got up and went to the bathroom .

She stood in front of the mirror, studying her face. Vera was quite pleased with how she looked, even though she thought her sister Tanya was prettier . Tanya had their mother’s beauty, while Vera had inherited her features from their father’s Russian ancestors. Her parents had met in West Berlin, and after a few years there the family had moved to Hamburg, where her father, Oleg, had found a new job as a biologist at a large company while her mother, Sabine, worked as a teacher in a secondary school .

Vera ran her finger over her forehead, followed the curve of her cheekbone down to the tip of her chin. She had big grey eyes with dark lashes and eyebrows. The door slammed downstairs, startling her out of her reveries, and she heard her little sister’s voice saying: ‘Hello ?’

Vera went back to her place at the kitchen table .

‘ I’m so hungry,’ said Tanya .

She yanked open the refrigerator door and began pulling out one thing after another: cheese, salami, Sabine’s homemade meatloaf left over from dinner the night before .

‘ Haven’t you eaten anything today?’ asked Vera, watching with amusement as the pile of food on the table continued to grow .

‘ I didn’t have time .’

Tanya stopped what she was doing and gave her older sister a coy smile and a wink .

‘ What is it? Tell me,’ said Vera with a sigh. ‘Who is it now? ’

Her younger sister possessed a bewitching charm, and she knew how to make use of it. She regarded it as a sport to make men fall for her .