Dark Secrets by Michael Hjorth Read Free Book Online Page A

Just to silence that little voice at the back of her mind that had made its presence felt as soon as she was given the news about Roger and had grown in strength as the day went on. The little voice that refused to go away.
    Lena was starting to get a headache. She needed some fresh air. And a cigarette. She got up, picked up her purse, and headed for the exit. Her worn heels echoed desolately on the stone floor. She was almost there when she saw a woman of about forty-five, dressed in a suit, rushing in through the revolving doors. The woman marched purposefully toward her.
    “Lena Eriksson? Kerstin Hanser, Västerås police. Sorry I’m late.”
    They traveled down in the elevator in silence. Hanser opened the door when they reached the basement and allowed Lena to step out in front of her. They went along the corridor until they were met by a bald man wearing glasses and a white coat. He led them into a smaller room, where a metal cart stood alone in the middle of the floor, lit by a fluorescent bulb. Beneath the white sheet the contours of a body were visible.
    Hanser and Lena walked up to the cart and the bald man moved slowly around to the other side. He met Hanser’s eyes and she nodded. He turned down the sheet carefully, exposing Roger Eriksson’s face and neck as far as the collarbone. Lena gazed down steadily at the cart as Hanser took a respectful step back. She heard neither a sharp intake of breath nor a muffled cry from the woman by her side. No sobbing; no hand raised to the mouth in a reflex movement. Nothing.
    It had struck Hanser as soon as they met in the waiting room. Lena’s eyes were not red and swollen from crying. She didn’t look grief stricken or as if she were just holding herself together. She seemed almost calm. But Hanser had picked up a whiff of alcohol in the elevator, overlaid with eucalyptus, and guessed that this was the reason for the lack of emotion. That and the shock.
    Lena stood motionless, looking down at her son. What had she been expecting? Nothing, really. She hadn’t dared to think about what he would look like. Hadn’t been able to imagine how she would feel, standing there. What would the time in the water have done to him? He was slightly swollen, definitely. As if he’d had some kind of allergic reaction, but otherwise she thought he looked just the way he alwaysdid. The dark hair; the pale skin; the black, prominent eyebrows; a hint of stubble on his upper lip. Eyes closed. Lifeless.
Of course.
    “I thought he would look like he was asleep.”
    Hanser remained silent. Lena turned her head toward her, as if seeking confirmation that she wasn’t wrong.
    “He doesn’t look like he’s asleep.”
    “No.”
    “I’ve seen him asleep so many times. Especially when he was little. I mean, he’s not moving. His eyes are closed, but…”
    Lena didn’t finish the sentence. Instead she reached out and touched Roger. Cold. Dead. She let her hand rest on his cheek.
    “I lost my son when he was fourteen.”
    Lena still had her hand on the boy’s cheek, but she turned her head slightly in Hanser’s direction.
    “Oh?”
    “Yes…”
    Silence again. Why had she said that? Hanser had never mentioned it to anyone else in a similar situation. But there was something about the woman by the cart. Hanser had the feeling that Lena wasn’t allowing herself to grieve. Couldn’t grieve. Perhaps she didn’t even want to. So it was meant as a consolation. An outstretched hand to show that Hanser understood what Lena must be going through.
    “Was he murdered too?”
    “No.”
    Hanser suddenly felt stupid. As if her comment was meant as some kind of comparison when it came to suffering.
Look, I’ve lost someone too, so there you go.
But Lena didn’t appear to give it another thought. She turned back and looked at her own son once more.
    So many years when he had been the only thing she had to be proud of.
    Or so many years when he had been the only thing she had.
    Finished.
    Is