‘From what I understand, the threats began arriving before all the media attention started when your book came out. So that seems to indicate this is a personal matter. Do you have any comment about that?’

Again Christian shook his head, this time even more vigorously. He was clenching his jaw so tight that his face felt like a frozen mask. He wanted to run away from all these questions, stop thinking about her and the fact that, after so many years, she had finally caught up with him. He refused to let her in again. At the same time, he knew it was too late. She was already here; he couldn’t escape. Maybe he had never actually been able to flee.

‘So you have no idea who might be behind the threatening letters? Or whether there’s any connection to the murder of Magnus Kjellner?’

‘I thought you said you had information indicating he was murdered. Not that it was an established fact.’

‘Right. But that’s a reasonable assumption,’ replied the reporter. ‘And you have to agree that in a small town like Fjällbacka, it’s a strange coincidence that a man would receive threats and then one of his friends is found murdered. That stirs up a whole lot of questions.’

Christian felt his anger growing. What right did they have to come barging into his life, demanding answers and asking him to produce something that he didn’t have?

‘I have nothing more to say about any of this.’

‘You do realize that we’re going to write about it whether you cooperate or not? It would be in your own best interest to give us your view of the matter.’

‘I’ve said everything that I’m going to say,’ Christian replied, but the journalist didn’t look as if he was going to back off.

Then Christian stood up. He walked through the library and went into the toilet, locking the door behind him. He gave a start when he saw his face in the mirror. It looked like a complete stranger staring back at him. He didn’t recognize himself at all.

He closed his eyes, leaning forward with his hands on the sink. His breathing was fast and shallow. By sheer force of will, he tried to slow his pulse and regain control. But his life was about to be taken away from him. He knew that. Once upon a time she had taken everything, and now she was here to do it again.

Images danced on the inside of his eyelids. He heard the voices too. Hers and theirs. Without being able to stop himself, he tilted his head back. And then with great force he threw himself forward. He heard the sound of the mirror shattering, felt the blood on his forehead. But it didn’t hurt. Because in the seconds when the glass pierced his skin, the voices fell silent. A blessed silence.

It was just past noon, and Louise was marvellously drunk. To precisely the right extent. Relaxed, numbed, but without losing her grip on reality.

Louise filled her glass again. The house was empty. The girls were in school, and Erik was at the office. Or somewhere else, maybe with his whore.

He’d been acting strangely the past few days. Quieter and more subdued. And her sense of dread was mixed with hope. That was how she always felt when she thought Erik might actually leave her. It was as if she were two people. One of them felt relief at being able to escape the prison that their marriage had become, with nothing but betrayal and lies. The other person was panic-stricken at being abandoned. Of course she would get a large portion of Erik’s money, but what would she do with it when she was all on her own?

There wasn’t much companionship in her present life, but it was still better than nothing. She had a warm body next to her in bed at night, and someone sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper at breakfast. She had somebody. If he left her, she would be utterly forsaken. The girls were growing up; they were like temporary guests in the house, always on their way to see friends or go to school. They had already begun to adopt the taciturn behaviour of teenagers, barely answering at all when she spoke to them. When they were home, she mostly saw the closed doors to their rooms, and the only sign of life was the constant thudding of the music they had playing.

One more glass of wine had disappeared, and she poured herself another. Where was Erik right now? Was he at the office or was he with her? Was he rolling over Cecilia’s naked body, entering her, caressing her breasts? Here at home he never did any of those things. He hadn’t touched her in two years. At first she had tried slipping her hand under the covers to touch him. But after being rejected a few times, when he demonstratively rolled over on his side so his back was turned, or simply pushed away her hand, she had given up.

She could see her own reflection in the shiny stainless steel of the refrigerator. As usual, she studied herself, raising her hand to touch her face. She didn’t look that bad, did she? Once, she had been quite attractive. And she’d kept off the pounds, been careful about what she ate, disdaining her contemporaries who allowed buns and sweet rolls to add extra padding to their figures, which they then tried to conceal under a floral tent dress bought at Lindex. She, on the other hand, could still put on a pair of tight jeans and look respectable. She raised her chin. It had actually started to sag a bit. She raised it again. All right, that’s how it should look.

She lowered her chin, noticing how the skin relaxed into a small fold. She had to resist an impulse to take one of the knives out of the holder in front of her and cut off the repulsive flap of skin. She was suddenly disgusted by her own reflection. No wonder Erik didn’t want to touch her any more. No wonder he’d rather have firm skin under his fingers, wanting to touch something that was not slowly decaying and rotting from the inside.

She lifted her wine glass and tossed the contents at the fridge, erasing her reflection and replacing it with the gleaming red liquid that ran down the smooth surface. The phone was on the counter in front of her, and she punched in the number to the office. She had to find out where he was.

‘Hi, Kenneth. Is Erik there?’

Her heart was pounding hard as she put down the phone, even though by now she should be used to the situation. Poor Kenneth. How many times over the years had he been forced to cover for Erik? To quickly come up with some lie about where Erik was and what sort of task he was taking care of, assuring her that he was bound to be back in the office soon.

She filled her glass without bothering to wipe up what she’d thrown at the fridge and resolutely headed for Erik’s workroom. She wasn’t really supposed to go in there. He claimed that it disturbed the order of things if anyone else used the room, so she was strictly forbidden from even setting foot inside. And that was exactly why she was going there now.

Fumbling, she set down her wine glass on the desk and began pulling out the drawers. In all the doubt-filled years she’d spent with Erik, she had never gone through his things. She had preferred not to know. Suspicions were better than knowledge, even though in her case there was very little difference. Somehow she had always known who he happened to be seeing at the moment. Two of his secretaries, when they lived in Göteborg; one of the teachers at the day-care centre; the mother of one of the girls’ classmates. She could tell because of the evasive and slightly guilty expressions the women wore when they saw her. She had smelled their perfume, noticed a hasty touch that wasn’t appropriate.

Now, for the first time, she pulled out Erik’s desk drawers and rummaged through his papers, not caring whether he noticed what she’d done. Because she was becoming convinced that the oppressive silence of the past few days could mean only one thing. He was thinking of leaving her. Throwing her away like rubbish, used goods – and yet she had given birth to his children, kept his home clean, cooked all those fucking dinners for his fucking business contacts who were usually so boring that she felt as if her head would explode when she was forced to converse with them. If he thought that she would just step aside like some wounded animal and not put up a fight, he was sorely mistaken. And besides, she knew about business agreements that he’d made over the years that wouldn’t stand closer examination. It would cost him dearly if he made the mistake of underestimating her.