We Know You Remember (102)

Private.

She got up, opened the window for some fresh air. Looked out over the rooftops, to the mountains in the distance, the expanse of sky.

Air, reality, balance.

A boat coming ashore by Spr?ngsviken. Kenneth Isaksson, who wanted to live free in the wilderness. Lina, who wanted to get away.

Freedom.

To leave and never return.

She shut down her computer and went through to Anja Larionova’s office.

“Do you still have those old reports to hand?”

The local investigator took off her glasses, letting them swing from the cord around her neck.

“If you mean the stolen boats from 1996, then yes.”

“Do you think you could check whether anyone reported a motorcycle missing in July that year?”

Anja Larionova studied her closely. Her icy blue eyes matched her hair perfectly, not faltering at anything. Eira steeled herself, determined not to explain. Doing so would force her colleague to say no—unless she was willing to cross the line herself.

“A whole month of motorcycles, in the middle of the summer?” said Anja. “Come on.”

“A blue one,” said Eira. “Lightweight. A Suzuki.” She debated whether or not to mention the owner, but decided it would be simpler not to.

“Sure,” said Anja Larionova.

“Thanks.”

Eira then tracked down August. He was sitting alone in the lunchroom with a buffet salad from the supermarket.

“Oh, hey, I thought you were off today.” He smiled, still fiddling with his phone, then looked down at the plastic tub again. Eira had experienced this before: a slight shift, once the breeziness was gone.

“I need to talk to your girlfriend,” she said.





Chapter 59





The name of the café had changed since Eira had last been there, though on the other hand she didn’t go out for coffee in central Kramfors particularly often. It had been taken over by a Thai woman who had moved to the area for love.

Johanna was shorter than Eira had imagined. Cuter, and not quite so chilly.

If anything, she was chirpy.

“It’s great to meet you, August has told me so much about you. It’s so beautiful round here.” Johanna glanced out of the window, across the square in the very heart of Kramfors. It was a textbook example of the kind of Swedish town center that had sprung up following the wave of demolitions in the sixties. “Well, maybe not right here . . .”

Eira wondered what August had said about her, about them, but had no intention of finding out.

“Do you know what this is about?” she asked instead.

“Look, I’m really sorry I shared all that stuff, but there’s so much activity across my feeds that I don’t always have time to think first.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” said Eira.

“No, why would you?” The green smoothie Johanna had ordered arrived. It reminded Eira of water that had been standing for a little too long in a shallow brook. “Everyone’s got the right to an opinion, don’t they?”

Eira took a bite of her Kramfors cake, chocolate with glazed frosting.

“It’s to do with one of your friends,” she explained.

“On Facebook? It’s just . . . I’ve got a load of friends on there that I don’t actually know; I use my profile for marketing quite a lot.” Johanna took unusually small sips of her drink, like she was simply wetting her lips. “I work in skincare,” she added, “but I’m sure August must have told you that. I do the marketing for a brand. It’s not mine, but I’m their agent in Sweden. You have to let me do an analysis of your skin type.”

“Maybe later.”

Eira had asked August whether his girlfriend knew they were having sex. “Yeah, yeah, of course,” he had replied, as though it were a stupid question, a nonissue.

“It’s about a girl called Simone,” she continued. “I need to get hold of her.”

“OK . . .” Johanna picked up her phone, which had been buzzing on the table. “God, I’ve got so many followers, I can’t remember all of them. What did you say she was called?”

Eira repeated the name.

“Yeah, here she is, she doesn’t even have a profile picture. Why do people do that—are they ashamed of the way they look? I think it’s all so superficial, this obsession with looks on social media; surely the main thing is that you feel good on the inside, that’s real beauty. Hold on, let me check our mutual friends, that might jog my memory . . .”

Eira excused herself and went to the toilet. She splashed her face with cold water afterwards, in an attempt to keep her mind clear. She really didn’t have anything against the concept of free love, it was a beautiful thought, but she just couldn’t understand what August saw in Johanna that he also saw in her—two such different people. Or maybe that was the point, finding someone for the various sides of himself, because no one person could be everything.

She had never even considered that her skin might be a little dry.

“It’s just come to me,” Johanna yelled across half the café. “Come here, let me show you.”

She moved her chair closer until their shoulders and upper arms, one knee, were touching. It was too intimate, but Eira couldn’t bring herself to pull away. She became very aware of Johanna’s body. There was something strangely arousing about August’s absence between them, allowing them to get so close.