Karin Alvtegen: Missing

‘It would have been helpful if you had come to us a little earlier. We could have avoided all this.'

This was Patrik's mother speaking again. Sibylla understood only too well what she meant. Her inner ear was tuned in to the row Patrik had been given.

She looked at them, speaking quietly.

'You wouldn't have believed me – or would you?'

No one replied.

'Only Patrik did. Maybe he is the only one who has trusted me. Ever.'

A long silence. Per-Olof finally broke it. 'Well, there you are. You're free to go. What do you plan to do?'

Bergstrom stepped away from his wall.

'I know what Miss Forsenström is doing next. She's coming with me to Vetlanda. We're going to have a little talk with her mother.'

Sibylla shook her head.

'No. I can't face her.'

'Sibylla. I don't think you know what you're saying.' I want 300,000 kronor. That's all I need.'

Bergstrom smiled condescendingly.

'My dear Sibylla, we're talking many millions here.'

Their eyes met and after a while it seemed he had almost accepted that she meant what she said.

'But you shouldn't let her get away with it. She's keeping back a whole fortune.'

Sibylla thought about a fortune, but couldn't imagine what she would do with it.

'OK. Seven hundred grand. Tell her where to put the rest, why don't you.'

The lock whirred even before she had time to take her finger off the bell. She wondered if he always stood next to the buzzer. Just like last time, he was waiting by his open front door when she reached his landing. Neither of them spoke before she'd stepped inside and he'd pulled the door shut behind them.

'You've done well – from notorious serial killer to popular heroine in just one week. It's impressive, no other word for it.'

She walked into the room, straight to his computer. This time he did not stop her.

'Did you find him?'

He nodded.

'How much did you say you wanted this time? Five grand?'

He smiled. She put her hand in her jacket pocket, found the notes and put them down on the keyboard. He pulled a white envelope out of the back pocket of his jeans and handed it to her.

'Your kid, is he?'

She just looked at him, took the envelope and walked away from him, in the direction of the hall. He followed her. 'Can't help being curious.'

She didn't reply, just went out on the landing and closed his front door behind her. This was the first time that she allowed herself to think about it and give way to her feelings. She was shaking all over. To calm herself, she walked down one floor. Only then could she contemplate even looking at the envelope. She sat down on a step, her heart beating hard.

The white envelope contained the answer to fourteen years of anxious speculation.

Who was he? Where did he live? What kind of person was he?

Now she would know.

The bus was leaving in two hours' time. The documents had been signed and exchanged, the cheque was on the table. They had arranged for Gunvor Stromberg to meet her in the bus terminal to hand over the keys.

Peace and quiet. Rest for a troubled soul.

In this white envelope was the name of the one who had always been missed.

She would always miss him. She had lost him fourteen years ago and now, everything she could do was too late, far too late.

Why was she doing this? For his sake? Or for her own sake?

She stopped walking downstairs, struck by her own unexpected insight into his rights, as opposed to hers.

So, by which right would she come marching into his life, fourteen years after his birth. What did he have to gain? She would get the reward of knowing, of her search having come to an end. Did he owe her that?

He was free from grief. Why should she drag him along to share hers?

If she still owed him anything, it was to bear her sense of loss on her own.

She had arrived on a landing. On the wall in front of her was the lid to a rubbish chute. People stopped there to throw their bags of waste into the basement bin. A useful place to shed your past. Her heart pounding in her chest, she opened the lid. She did not feel anxious. Her mind was filled with the liberating knowledge of doing the right thing.

If the bus service stuck to the timetable, she would be home in time to hear her neighbour's trumpet play a greeting to the setting sun.

KARIN ALVTEGEN (b. 1966) is regarded as the most exciting new crime writer in Scandinavia. Missing was awarded the premier Scandinavian crime writing award and was also nominated for the Poloni Award and Best Crime Novel 2000 in Sweden. Alvtegen lives in Stockholm. Her great aunt was Astrid Lindgren.

ANNA PATERSON has worked as a literary translator from the Germanic languages for over a decade. She won the prestigious Bernard Shaw Prize for Literary Translation in 2000.