Silver Tears(22)

If I had known what awaited me, what he would subject me to, I would have killed him immediately and without hesitation. It would have spared me a lot of pain. And trouble.





Faye was lying on the big bed in her suite. Her bags were standing, packed, by the door. Tomorrow she was going to leave the Grand H?tel and move into the apartment by ?stermalmstorg. Although it would feel good to be in her own space after so many days at the hotel, she realized to her surprise that she was going to miss David.

The display on her phone lit up and she saw that Kerstin had sent her a message. She clicked on it and read it, a smile spreading across her face.

Everything seems to check out. Have so far been unable to find any issues with David Schiller whatsoever. No criminal records, no defaulted payments, nothing on social media, and I’ve also made discreet inquiries in his business circles and haven’t turned up anything that suggests he’s not okay.

Faye rolled onto her stomach. She couldn’t stop smiling when she thought about her time with David in the hotel spa the day before. They had sat there talking for over an hour before they had had to part ways.

The fact that she had been able to start telling someone about Jack—what he had forced her to think and do—made her feel like she’d lost several pounds. The relief was huge. David had seen her and heard her. She felt like a person. Not just a woman, where the endgame for the man was always to get a lay.



She pulled out her phone again and called Julienne on FaceTime.

Her daughter’s face on the small screen always made her forget all her troubles, all her negative thoughts. That was the only thing she felt grateful to Jack for. He had given her a daughter who was, in Faye’s eyes, absolutely perfect. From the messily painted pink toenails to the blond hair that tumbled a long way down her back.

“Hi, sweetheart!”

“Hi, Mommy,” said Julienne, waving cheerily.

Her hair was wet and Faye guessed that she had been in the pool again.

“What are you doing?”

“Me and Grandma have been swimming.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Mmm, lots of fun,” said Julienne.

“I had a swim too. Yesterday. I thought about you then.”

“Oh right,” Julienne said. Faye noticed that she had already begun to lose interest in talking on the phone. Life was tempting her away.

“I’ll call tonight and talk to you then. Miss you. Kiss kiss.”

“Mmm, bye-bye,” said Julienne, waving hastily and impatiently.

“Say hi to Gra—” Faye began to say, but Julienne had already hung up.

Faye smiled. Without doubt, Julienne was going to grow up into an independent woman.

She got up from the bed, went to the bathroom, and turned on the tap to draw a hot bath. Someone knocked on the door and Faye glanced quickly at her wristwatch. It was twenty to nine. Faye stopped the water and went into the hallway.

“Yes?” she called through the door.

“It’s Yvonne Ingvarsson from the police.”

Faye took a deep breath and then opened the door. Yvonne Ingvarsson looked at her with a hint of a smile.

“Can I come in for a while?”

Faye remained in the same spot, her arms folded.

“I don’t think it’s okay for you to just turn up like this.”



“I want to show you something. Can I come in or not?”

Faye sighed and stepped aside so that Yvonne could come into the room. After three or four feet the officer stopped.

“Nice suite.”

“I didn’t know that visits like this were part of your job description. What’s this all about?”

Yvonne Ingvarsson didn’t answer. Instead she put her hand in her bag and took out a clipping from a gossip magazine. It was an old photo of Faye and Jack. She passed it over.

“I don’t know…”

Yvonne held up a finger to shush her, then put her hand back in her bag and took out a printed photo. Faye noticed that Yvonne’s nails were chewed down, the cuticles dry and inflamed. This photo was blurrier, the light was yellowish, and it seemed to have been taken in the evening. Faye saw right away that the woman whose back was visible was herself. The coat she was wearing was the same as the one in the picture with Jack.

“What do you have to say?” Yvonne asked, scrutinizing her with curiosity.

“About what?”

“It’s you in the photo, Faye. You know it and I know it. You weren’t in V?ster?s. You were at the scene of the murder.”

A quick, unpleasant smile flashed across the woman’s face. She squinted at Faye.

“It’s not me,” said Faye. “Every housewife in ?stermalm has that coat—it’s a Moncler. It’s like having clogs if you live in the country.”

Yvonne shook her head slowly, but Faye calmly stood her ground. Just like the last time Yvonne had turned up, Faye thought to herself that they wouldn’t be having this conversation if there was evidence. And the fact that she had turned up on a Sunday made Faye suspect that Yvonne was acting beyond her authority.

What did she want? Money? Or could someone have bribed Yvonne to harass her? But no, something told her this was a private crusade—a vendetta aimed at Faye.



“What exactly is it you want?” she asked.