We Know You Remember (98)

Kerstin had fallen asleep on the sofa.

Eira turned off the TV and studied her mother’s sleeping face. It had been a good day in the garden.

Her soft snoring.

When should she tell her that Magnus was in custody?

Before it appeared in the papers, before the neighbors started looking at them differently, before the news vans parked up outside the house.

Just not this night.

After three hours of trying, she eventually managed to get hold of Magnus’s lawyer. Eira went upstairs to be sure her mother couldn’t hear her.

“I’m so glad you called,” said the lawyer, Petra Falk. “Magnus asked me to give you a ring, but I never got round to it.”

Her bright voice didn’t provide much comfort. Eira pictured a platinum blond with round, golden glasses; maybe their paths had crossed in court, or during an interview with a suspect.

“How is he?”

“It’s been a difficult day,” said Petra Falk. “But as good as we could hope for.”

“I know I’m not allowed to talk to him.”

“It’s complicated. You have a certain amount of knowledge of the case—you know things that not even the investigators know.”

“They’re going to question me tomorrow.”

Eira sat down on the edge of her bed. She could see the treetops outside, a sliver of reddish yellow moon. It was almost full.

“How’s it looking for him?”

She heard the lawyer speak, slowly and matter-of-factly. The drunk driving was, of course, the least of his worries. The suspicion of the murder—or manslaughter—of Kenneth Isaksson was something that had the potential to drag on. Evidentiary problems after twenty-three years, vague circumstantial evidence and witness statements, forensic finds that left room for interpretation. Petra Falk hoped to have the charges dropped on lack of evidence—assuming it even got that far. Either that or to have them reduced to manslaughter.

“And Lina?”

“I’m determined to make them keep the murder of Lina Stavred out of this. The only thing pointing to her even being there that day is the twenty-three-year-old statement of someone who thought they saw her in a boat. They’ve got nothing.”

“But they found her dress,” said Eira, realizing as the words left her mouth that it was she who had led them there. It was to her credit, but it was also her fault. “And the rucksack she had with her when she went missing.”

“I haven’t seen their reports yet, but as I understand it we’re looking at fragments of material that could be interpreted as a rucksack. Seems like we’ve got a badger on our side there.”

Eira sat quietly for a moment, trying to bring some kind of order to the many details. The cardigan, the dress, the condom, Kenneth Isaksson being a better lover than the others . . . It was like a sprawling root system, covered in the insects and parasites that fed off it, such a swarm that you couldn’t distinguish one from the next.

She heard the lawyer’s bright voice, a torrent of words, and saw the moon break free from the treetops and rise higher in the sky.

“If the prosecutor decides to merge this with Lina’s case, I’ll be emphasizing Kenneth Isaksson’s criminal past, the drugs . . . Isn’t he the more likely killer? But like I said, I doubt it’ll get that far, not unless they find her body. Even if Lina Stavred was in Lockne on the night in question—something that hasn’t by any means been proved—there’s nothing to say that she died there. She could have drowned in the river at a later date. From the forensic evidence, she could even have walked away.”

“Without her dress?”

“I’m not being literal here,” said Petra Falk. “It was just an example of a possible line of argument.”

Eira didn’t say what she was thinking. She was too tired, felt a powerful longing to slump back on the mattress. She couldn’t cope with yet another person talking about argumentation, even if it was her job. More than anything, she just wanted to sleep.

“Was there anything specific you wanted to tell me?” she asked.

“Like I said, I’d emphasize that there are a number of plausible scenarios . . .”

“You said Magnus asked you to call me.”

“Oh yes, sorry, I almost forgot.”

It sounded like she was reading aloud. Magnus wrote this himself, thought Eira. She could just picture his scrawl on a scrap of paper.

She imagined it being unfolded.

Tell my sister I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill her. You don’t do that kind of thing to the person you love. Tell Eira, so she understands.





Chapter 57





Eira was rowing against the stream, fighting the power of the river. She was in a hurry now, because she had forgotten about a meeting at the station. It had already started, everyone else was there; she was the only one who was late. The oars caught in some kind of vegetation, seaweed or something, and then she saw the bodies floating around the hull and had to let go of the oars to grab them. Some of them weren’t quite dead yet. One of the oars popped out, and Eira leaned over the gunwale, paddling with her hands; she had to catch it. She saw a face beneath the water, his eyes still full of life. The boat drifted on and he slipped beneath it, she could no longer see him.