We Know You Remember (108)

She didn’t say a word about the dragonfly nymphs, about her brother valuing freedom so highly that he let them go before they got their wings.

“So you’re trying to say what, exactly . . . ?”

Eira reached for the bottle of wine, not because she wanted it but because she needed it. In order to lift the weight off herself and ignore what he thought.

“Has it ever occurred to you that Lina Stavred might actually be alive?”

“If I was investigating the case,” GG said carefully, “then that might be something that crossed my mind. But like I said, I’m not.”

“Just listen to me, give me a minute.”

In the end, it took almost twenty. By the time she finished, she had told him all about Simone and why it had first occurred to her that she could be Lina, how much of a coincidence it would be for Eira to have stumbled over a woman who made such an effort to remain anonymous.

“Twenty-three years,” said GG, looking up at the sky, at the soft white clouds. “That’s a long time. Would it even be possible to live like that for twenty-three years?”

“There are plenty of people who live under the radar, we know that—people without documentation, criminals, people living under threat . . .”

“Yeah, of course, but I mean from a human point of view, knowing that you’d hurt your parents like that . . .”

“Lina was planning to run off with Kenneth Isaksson,” said Eira. “Maybe she really didn’t want to go home again. From what I’ve heard about Lina Stavred, she always put herself first. She only became the sweet girl once she went missing.”

“Or maybe she always was, in her parents’ eyes.”

“If I’m right, there should be DNA to . . .”

“No.” GG put his hand on hers, only for a brief moment. It wasn’t an invitation, nothing like that; it was simply meant to keep her grounded.

Telling her to calm down.

To pull herself together.

“She was with Ivan Wendel for almost a year,” said Eira. “There must be traces of her, clothes she left behind, maybe even a hairbrush . . .”

“I’m serious,” said GG. “You have to drop this.”

He got up and patted her on the shoulder, headed inside to the bathroom. Eira heard the spatter of liquid, realized he wasn’t the kind of person who closed the door in his own home.

Then he was behind her again.

“You know there has to be a strong justification,” he said. “A suspicion of wrongdoing, a decision from the prosecutor. We don’t just collect DNA because we feel like it.”

“I know,” said Eira, getting up.

“And even if you’re right,” he continued, “it’s not a crime to go into hiding. It’s hardly illegal to live.”

Eira left her half-empty glass on the table and excused herself by saying she needed to catch the next train to Kramfors.

“How’s it going, by the way?” she asked as they stood in the hallway, where a couple of moving boxes were jostling for space with bin bags.

“What?”

“You talked about having kids, or not.”

“Ah, no, it didn’t work out in the end.”

“Sorry, it’s none of my business.”

GG passed her the shoehorn. “You like to think you’re immortal,” he said. “But then a few months pass and nothing happens, and in the end you have to face up to your responsibilities. Go to the doctor, find out who the problem is with.” He gestured to his tall body, making Eira think thoughts she didn’t want to think. “And then she didn’t feel it was so urgent anymore, finding an apartment together. It turned out she’d never deleted her Tinder account.”

“You’re right,” said Eira. “I think I need a holiday.”

GG took her hand, warm and lingering.

“I meant what I said before,” he said. “In case a job opens up this autumn.”





Chapter 64





There was another woman sitting in the chair by his bed now. With two small guitars dangling from her ears.

They swung as she leaned forward.

“I didn’t realize you were awake,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

Olof didn’t know what to tell her. He never said much to the nurses, only slightly more to the physiotherapist. It would be good to know which group this woman belonged to. The cleaners were the easiest; they didn’t speak much Swedish.

“I only just got here,” said the woman. “You were sleeping. They told me you’re doing much better.”

He thought he recognized her. There were far more people working in a hospital than he could keep track of. He hadn’t spoken to so many women in years. Ever, as far as he could remember.

Olof flinched as she took his hand.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I should have been there for you.”

With those words, the memories started coming back to him. He wanted more morphine, but they had started phasing it out. A door slamming shut. Someone shouting at him.

You sick bastard. Get out of my room.

“Ingela?”

“God, it’s been so long. I don’t know what to . . .”

His sister started laughing. No, maybe she was crying. Both. How was he meant to deal with this? Olof pulled his hand away. He had regained a lot of movement in it by then, thanks to the exercises and the massages.