Юхан Теорин - Echoes From the Dead

“Who are you?” she heard Lennart shout.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” The new voice was even louder than Lennart’s and furious. “Put the fucking headlights on! Why are you driving with no fucking lights on?”

“Calm down,” said Lennart. “Police.”

“Who’s that... is it Henriksson?” demanded the other voice.

Julia swung her legs out and fumbled for her crutches. She managed to get to her feet, although the ground was uneven and she nearly stumbled and fell.

“Have you come from the shore?” Lennart asked the stranger.

In the lights from the tangled cars she suddenly recognized the other driver. He came from Långvik, and he was a hotel owner.

Then she remembered his name too: Gunnar Ljunger.

“Who are you?” he shouted, voice thick with rage.

“Calm down, Gunnar,” Lennart said. He obviously recognized him as well. “Where have you been?”

“Down... down by the shore. I’ve been out for a drive.”

“Have you seen Gerlof Davidsson?”

“No.”

“We’re looking for him.” Lennart pointed. “The helicopter over there is looking for him too.”

“Really?”

Ljunger seemed remarkably uninterested, Julia thought. She took a step forward and called to Lennart:

“Is it far to the shore?”

“I don’t think so,” he replied. “A few hundred yards.”

“I have to get down there,” Julia insisted.

Gripping her crutches firmly, she started hopping along, past Gunnar Ljunger’s car and down the gravel track.

“Gunnar, you’ll have to reverse out of the way,” she heard Lennart say behind her. “I’m driving down to the shore.”

“Henriksson, you can’t possibly...”

“Move the car,” repeated Lennart, more crisply. “Then stay in it, we need to figure out...”

His voice was swiftly lost in the wind. Beyond both cars, Julia could see the lights of the helicopter again; it had landed a couple of hundred yards away.

She hurried along, slipping in muddy puddles on the track, but she kept going.

Getting closer, she could see two men in light gray overalls trapped in the beam of the helicopter’s searchlight; they were bending over something on the shore. A body. They lifted it up out of the sand.

“Dad!”

The men glanced over at her.

The body on the beach was lying in a blanket, unmoving. Not again, Julia thought. I can’t lose you, too. Please... Not again.

The body coughed. A dry, frail sound.

“Dad!” Julia called out.

“Julia...” He slowly turned his head toward her.

He coughed again.

“Careful, now,” warned one of the men. “We’re going to pick you up.”

They lifted Gerlof in the blanket and carried him quickly away.

“Can I come with him?” implored Julia, following clumsily. “I’m his daughter. And I’m a nurse.”

“Not possible,” said the man closest to her, without looking up. “We haven’t got room.”

“Where are you flying?”

“To the emergency department in Kalmar.”

She went with them as far as the helicopter anyway, despite the fact that her crutches kept getting stuck in the grass. She fought to stay close to the body in the blanket.

“I’ll follow you to the hospital, Dad.”

Just before they lifted him into the helicopter, Gerlof raised his head and for the first time she could see his face. It was chalk white. But his eyes were open and feverishly bright, and suddenly they focused on her. He said something, quietly and inaudibly.

“What?” She leaned forward, listening hard.

“Ljunger did it,” whispered Gerlof.

Julia whispered back: “Did what, Dad?”

“Took... our Jens.”

Then he was gone, lifted like a parcel into the helicopter. The door closed behind him.

“You need to get out of the way,” said one of the pilots before slamming his own door.

Julia shuffled back reluctantly, head spinning.

When the blades began to rotate again, she was fifty yards away; she watched them spinning faster and faster. The wonders of technology. A loud clatter in the darkness — and the helicopter carrying her elderly father lifted toward the black sky, climbing higher and higher before speeding off to the southwest.

Implacably the softer sounds of the wind and the waves returned. Julia heard a distant cry, and turned her head.

It was Lennart. Both cars were still tangled on the bend in the road, and although Julia’s arms were aching by now, she gripped her crutches firmly once again and made her way back along the gravel track to the scene of the accident.

“Was it Gerlof?” said Lennart.

Julia nodded. “Yes. They’ve taken him to Kalmar.”

“Good.”

Gunnar Ljunger now sat in his car with the door open, but apparently hadn’t been able to reverse out of the way to let the police car through.

He’d switched the engine off after the crash, and couldn’t get it going again. The only sound was a feeble click when he turned the key.

Ljunger struck the leather-covered steering wheel in a temper.

“Lock the car and leave it here,” said Lennart. “You can come to Marnäs with us.”

Ljunger sighed, but he had no choice. He took a briefcase out of the Jaguar, then got into the passenger seat of the police car next to Lennart. Julia had to sit in the back behind Lennart.

During the drive to Marnäs she leaned forward, watching Ljunger.

What had he done down on the shore? What had he said to Gerlof?

Ljunger sat there with his back straight, apparently unaware of her scrutiny, but the atmosphere in the car was tense.

“Are you going to tell me now?” Lennart asked the hotel owner after a few minutes.

“Tell you what?”

“What you were doing here on the coast road?”

“Enjoying the weather,” said Ljunger tersely. “Is that a crime?”

“Why were you driving so fast?”

“I’ve got a Jag.”

“Did you know Gerlof was lying down on the beach?”

“No.”

Julia sighed. “He’s lying,” she told Lennart.

Ljunger ignored her.

“The helicopter picked up your body heat, Gunnar,” said Lennart. “Gerlof’s body temperature was too low. Lucky for us you were there.”

Ljunger didn’t comment. He was looking out of the windshield with his eyes half closed, either uninterested or just bone tired.

There was a space in front of the Marnäs police station, and Lennart parked the car. He unlocked the door of the station and all three of them went in.

He switched on the light, went over to the desk, and turned on his computer. Ljunger positioned himself in the middle of the floor, like a soldier facing his troops.

“I shall make a short statement, nothing more,” he said, eyes locked on Lennart. “I have no intention of staying here any longer than necessary this evening. I want to get home.”

“We all want to get home, Gunnar,” remarked Lennart. He logged on to his computer. “Coffee?”

“No.” Ljunger looked at Julia and asked: “Is she staying?”

Lennart seemed to stiffen when Julia was referred to as she — but Julia herself merely shook her head. She had other things to worry about.

“ She’s going to the hospital to see her father,” she told the men, “to see if he’s going to survive.” She stared at Ljunger. “And to ask him what happened down there on the shore.”

“Good. You do that.”

Ljunger wasn’t even looking at her, but there was a clearly perceptible smile at the corners of his mouth. It was as if he found the whole encounter most amusing.

“Sit down, Gunnar,” said Lennart, pointing to the chair next to his desk.

Then he took a couple of steps over to Julia by the door and lowered his voice. “Will you be okay now?”