The Stonecutter. Camilla Lackberg
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asleep and wore his usual serious expression as Lilian carried him into the kitchen. She sat down on her chair again and let her grandson play with the gold chain she wore round her neck.
Ernst took a breath and seemed about to ask some more questions, but a warning glance from Patrik made him stop. Patrik continued instead, cautiously. ‘Can you think of anyone at all who you think might have wanted to harm Sara?’
Charlotte gave him an incredulous look and said in her hoarse voice, ‘Who would want to hurt Sara? She was only seven years old.’ Her voice broke, but she was making an obvious effort to control herself.
‘So none of you can think of any motive? Nobody who wanted to hurt you, nothing like that?’
That last question prompted Lilian to speak. The red patches of anger she’d had on her face when they arrived flared up again.
‘Somebody who wanted to hurt us? I should say so. There’s only one person who fits that description, and that’s our neighbour Kaj. He hates our family and has done everything to make our life a living hell for years!’
‘Don’t be stupid, Mamma,’ said Charlotte. ‘You and Kaj have been fighting with each other for years, and why would he want to hurt Sara?’
‘That man is capable of anything. He’s a psychopath, I have to tell you. And take a closer look at his son Morgan. He’s not right in the head, and people like that are capable of anything. Just look at all those psychos that have been let back out on the streets and what they’ve done. He’d be locked up if anyone had any sense!’
Niclas put his hand on her arm to calm her down, but it had no effect. Albin whimpered at the tone of their voices.
‘Kaj hates me, simply because he’s finally met somebody who dares to contradict him. He thinks he’s a big shot just because he was the manager of a company and has plenty of money. That’s why he and his wife can move here and everyone in town treats them like some sort of royalty. He’s totally inconsiderate, so I wouldn’t put anything past him.’
‘Stop it, Mamma!’ Charlotte’s voice now had a new sharpness to it, and she glared at her mother. ‘Don’t go making a scene.’
Her daughter’s outburst made Lilian stop talking. She clenched her jaws hard with anger, but she didn’t dare contradict her daughter.
‘So,’ Patrik hesitated, a bit shocked by Lilian’s vehement remarks, ‘besides your neighbour you can’t think of anyone who has anything against your family?’
They all shook their heads. He closed his notebook.
‘Well then, we have no more questions for the time being. Once again, I just want to say that I’m truly sorry for your loss.’
Niclas nodded and got up to show the policemen out. Patrik turned to Erica.
‘Are you staying, or would you like a lift home?’
With her eyes fixed on Charlotte, Erica replied, ‘I’ll be here for a while yet.’
Outside the front door Patrik paused to take a deep breath.
Stig could hear voices rising and falling downstairs. He wondered who had come to visit. As usual nobody bothered to inform him about what was going on. But maybe that was just as well. To be honest he didn’t know whether he could handle all the details about what had happened. In a way it was nicer to lie up here in bed, in his private cocoon, and let his mind process in peace and quiet all the feelings that Sara’s death had provoked. His illness somehow made it strangely easier for him to deal with the grief. The physical pain was always assaulting his consciousness and pushed away some of the emotional torment.
With an effort Stig turned over in bed and stared blankly at the wall. He had loved the girl as if she were his own granddaughter. Naturally he saw that she could be difficult and moody, but never when she came up to see him. It was as if she instinctively sensed the full extent of the illness that was ravaging his body. She showed respect for both him and his illness. She was probably the only one who knew what a bad state he was in. With the others he made every effort not to show how great the pain was. Both his father and grandfather had died a miserable and humiliating death in a crowded hospital room, and that was a fate he intended to do everything to avoid. So to Lilian and Niclas he always managed to call up his last reserves of energy and put on a relatively controlled façade. And the illness seemed to be doing its part to help him stay out of the hospital. At intervals he would get better, perhaps feeling a little weaker and more tired than usual, but fully capable of functioning in everyday circumstances. But he always took sick again and ended up back in bed for a couple of weeks. Niclas had begun to look more and more concerned, but thank goodness Lilian had so far managed to convince him that it was best for Stig to be at home.
She was truly a gift from God. Of course they’d had their clashes during the more than six years they’d been married, and sometimes she could be a very hard woman, but the best and most tender side of her seemed to come out in caring for him. Since he’d taken ill they had lived in an exceedingly symbiotic relationship. She loved taking care of him, and he loved having her do it. Now he had a hard time imagining that they had been so close to going their separate ways. There was nothing so bad that it didn’t bring some good with it, he always told himself. But that was before the worst of all possible evils had befallen them. And he couldn’t find anything good in that.
The girl had understood the state he was in. Her soft hand on his cheek had left a warmth that he could feel even now. She would sit on the edge of his bed and tell him about everything that had happened that day, and he would nod and listen intently. He didn’t treat her like a child, but as an equal. She had appreciated that.
That she was gone was inconceivable.
He closed his eyes and let a strong new wave of pain carry him away.
STRÖMSTAD 1923
It was a strange autumn. Anders had never before felt so exhausted, and yet so full of energy. Agnes seemed to infuse him with new strength, and sometimes he wondered how he’d been able to make his body function before she came into his life.
After that first evening, when she plucked up her courage and came to his window, his whole life had changed. Now-a-days the sun didn’t shine until Agnes arrived, and it went out when they parted. The first month they had approached each other cautiously. She was very shy and quiet, and he was still astonished that she had dared take that first step. It was unlike her to be so forward, and he felt a warmth come over him at the thought that she had made such a departure from her principles for his sake.
He would willingly admit that at first he had hesitated. He had sensed problems on the horizon and could see only how impossible the situation was. Yet the feeling inside him was so strong that he somehow managed to convince himself that everything would work out in the end. And she was brimming with confidence. When she leaned her head on his shoulder and rested her slender hand in his, he felt as though he could move mountains for her.
There weren’t many hours when they could meet. He didn’t get home from the quarry until late in the evening, and then he had to get up early in the morning to go to work again. But she always found a way, and he loved her for it. They took many long walks round the edge of town under cover of darkness, and despite the raw autumn cold they always found some dry spot where they could sit and kiss. By the time their hands began venturing under each other’s clothes it was already far into November, and he knew they had reached a crossroads.
He cautiously brought up the subject of the future. He didn’t want her to get in trouble, he loved her too much for that, but at the same time his body was urging him to choose the path that would lead them to a union. Yet his attempts to talk about his torment were silenced by a kiss from her.
‘Let’s not talk about that,’ she said, kissing him again. ‘Tomorrow, when I come to your place, don’t come outside to me. Instead let me come inside.’
‘But what about the widow —’