The Drowning. Camilla Lackberg

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The Drowning - Camilla Lackberg


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her way over to them and gave them both the obligatory kiss on the cheek. She was Louise’s hairdresser, and she and Erik had also been lovers for the past year. But of course they didn’t think Louise knew about that.

      ‘Hi, Cecilia,’ said Louise with a smile. She was a sweet girl, and if Louise held a grudge against everyone who had slept with her husband, she wouldn’t have been able to carry on living in Fjällbacka. Besides, she’d stopped caring years ago. She had the girls. And that wonderful invention: wine in a box. What did she need Erik for?

      ‘It’s so exciting that we have another author here in Fjällbacka! First Erica Falck, and now Christian.’ Cecilia was practically jumping up and down. ‘Have either of you read his book?’

      ‘I only read business journals,’ said Erik.

      Louise rolled her eyes. How typical of Erik to flirt by saying that he never read books.

      ‘I’m hoping that we’ll get to take a copy home with us,’ she said, drawing her coat tighter around her. She hoped the queue would move a little faster so they could get inside where it was warm.

      ‘Yes, Louise is the big reader in the family. But then, what else is there to do when you don’t have to work? Right, sweetheart?’

      Louise shrugged, letting the spiteful remark roll right off her. It wouldn’t do any good to point out that it was Erik who had insisted that she stay home while the girls were young. Or that she slaved from morning to night to make sure that everything ran smoothly in the well-ordered home that he took for granted.

      The small talk continued as they slowly moved forward. At last they were able to enter the lobby and hang up their coats before descending the stairs to the dining hall.

      With Erik’s eyes burning into her back, Louise headed straight for the bar.

      ‘Now don’t wear yourself out,’ Patrik told Erica, giving her a kiss before she swept out the door, her stomach leading the way.

      Maja whimpered a bit when she saw her mother disappear, but she stopped fussing as soon as Patrik set her down in front of the TV to watch Bolibompa. The show with the green dragon had just started. Maja had been much more fretful and difficult to handle during the past few months, and the fits of temper that followed whenever she was told ‘no’ were enough to make any diva envious. Patrik could partly understand. She must feel the excited anticipation, combined with apprehension, regarding the arrival of her two siblings. Good Lord. Twins. Even though they’d known from the very first ultrasound, done in Erica’s eighteenth week, he still hadn’t really been able to take in the news. Sometimes he wondered how they were going to manage. It had been hard enough with one baby; how were they going to cope with two? How would they handle the breastfeeding and trying to get some sleep, and everything else? And they needed to buy a new car that was big enough for three kids and their pushchairs. And that was just one of many matters to consider.

      Patrik sat down on the sofa next to Maja and stared into space. He’d been so tired lately. It felt as though his energy was just ebbing away, and some mornings it was all he could do to haul himself out of bed. But maybe that wasn’t so strange. In addition to everything going on at home, with Erica so worn out and Maja transformed into a tiny defiant monster, he was having a hard time at work. In the years since he’d met Erica, he and his colleagues had handled several difficult murder investigations; the grim nature of his work and the constant battle with his boss, Bertil Mellberg, was beginning to take its toll on Patrik.

      And now they were dealing with Magnus Kjellner’s disappearance. Patrik didn’t know whether it was experience or instinct, but he was convinced that something had happened to the man. Whether he was the victim of an accident or foul play, it was impossible to say, but Patrik would bet his police badge that Kjellner was no longer alive. The fact that every Wednesday he had to meet with the man’s wife, who looked smaller and shabbier each time, had really begun to wear on him. The police had done absolutely everything they could, but he still couldn’t get the sight of Cia Kjellner’s face out of his mind.

      ‘Pappa!’ Maja roused him from his reveries, using vocal powers that were far stronger than she knew. She was pointing her finger at the TV, and he saw at once what had caused the crisis. He must have been lost in thought much longer than he realized, because Bolibompa was over, replaced by a show for grown-ups that didn’t interest Maja in the least.

      ‘Pappa will fix it,’ he said, holding up his hands. ‘How about Pippi Longstocking?’

      Since Pippi was currently the big favourite, Patrik knew what his daughter’s answer would be. He got out the DVD, and when Pippi in the South Seas began to play, he sat down next to Maja again, putting his arm around her. Like a warm little animal, she snuggled happily into his armpit. Five minutes later Patrik was asleep.

      Christian was sweating profusely. Gaby had just told him that it would soon be time for him to go up on stage. The dining hall wasn’t exactly packed, but about sixty guests with expectant expressions on their faces were seated at the tables, with plates of food and glasses of beer or wine in front of them. Christian himself hadn’t been able to eat a thing, but he was drinking red wine. He was now on his third glass, even though he knew that he shouldn’t be drinking so much. It wouldn’t be good if he ended up slurring his words into the microphone when he was interviewed. But without the wine he wouldn’t be able to function at all.

      He was surveying the room when he felt a hand on his arm.

      ‘Hi. How’s it going? You look a little tense.’ Erica was peering at him with concern.

      ‘I guess I’m just nervous,’ he admitted, finding consolation in telling someone about it.

      ‘I know exactly how you feel,’ said Erica. ‘I made my first public appearance at an event for first-time authors in Stockholm, and they practically had to scrape me off the floor afterwards. And I can’t remember a single thing I said when I was on stage.’

      ‘I have a feeling they’re going to have to scrape me off the floor too,’ said Christian, touching his hand to his throat. For a second he thought about the letters, and then he was overwhelmed by panic. His knees buckled, and it was only thanks to the fact that Erica was holding on to him that he didn’t fall on his face.

      ‘Upsy-daisy,’ said Erica. ‘Looks like you’ve had a few stiff drinks. You probably shouldn’t have any more before your appearance.’ She carefully removed the glass of red wine from Christian’s hand and set it on the nearest table. ‘I promise you that everything will go just fine. Gaby will start off by introducing you and your novel. Then I’ll ask you a few questions – and you and I have already discussed what they’ll be. Trust me. The only problem is going to be hauling this body of mine up on stage.’

      She laughed, and Christian joined in. Not wholeheartedly, and he sounded a bit shrill, but the joke worked. Some of the tension eased out of him, and he could feel himself breathing again. He pushed all thought of the letters far away. He wasn’t going to let that affect him tonight. The Mermaid had been given a voice through his book, and now he was done with her.

      ‘Hi, honey.’ Sanna came over to join them, her eyes sparkling as she looked around the hall. Christian knew that this was a big moment for her. Maybe even bigger than for him.

      ‘How lovely you look,’ he said, and she basked in the praise. She really did look lovely. He knew that he’d been lucky to meet her. She put up with a great deal from him, more than most people would have been willing to endure. It wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t fill the empty space inside of him. Probably nobody could. He put his arm around her and kissed her hair.

      ‘How sweet you two are!’ Gaby came striding over to them, her high heels clacking. ‘Someone has sent you flowers, Christian.’

      He stared at the bouquet she was holding. It was beautiful but simple, composed solely of white lilies.

      With fingers that trembled uncontrollably, he reached for the white envelope fastened to the bouquet. He was shaking so much that he could hardly open it, and he was barely aware of the surprised


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