The Stonecutter by Camilla Läckberg Read Free Book Online

Maja’s screams gave way to low sobs. Erica looked at Patrik, who had collapsed onto the sofa and was staring out at the storm.
    ‘What’s happened, Patrik?’ said Erica. She was trying for a kinder tone, but she couldn’t prevent a hint of uneasiness from creeping into her voice.
    ‘We got a report of a drowned child today. From here in Fjällbacka. Martin and I took the call.’ He paused, unable to go on.
    ‘Oh my God, what happened? Who was it?’
    Before he could answer her thoughts began whirling until they all fell into place at once, like tiny puzzle pieces.
    ‘Oh my God,’ she repeated. ‘It’s Sara, isn’t it? Charlotte was supposed to come over for coffee this afternoon, but she never showed up and there was no answer when I called her at home. That’s it, isn’t it? It was Sara you found, right?’
    Patrik could only nod. Erica sank into the easy chair to prevent her legs from buckling under her. Before her she could see Sara jumping on their living room sofa as recently as two days ago. With her long red hair flying about her head and laughter bubbling up inside her like an unstoppable primal force.
    ‘Oh my God,’ Erica said again, putting her hand to her mouth as she felt her heart sink. Patrik just stared out of the window, and she saw in profile his jaws clenching tight.
    ‘It was so horrible, Erica. I haven’t seen Sara that many times, but seeing her lying there in that boat, totally lifeless … I kept picturing Maja. Since then my thoughts have been churning. I can’t stop imagining if something like that happened to Maja. And then having to tell Charlotte what happened …’
    Erica uttered a whimpering, tormented sound. She had no words to describe the depth of the sympathy she felt for Charlotte, and Niclas too. She understood at once Patrik’s reaction, and found herself holding Maja even closer. She was never going to let her go. She would sit here holding her tight, keeping her safe, for ever. But Maja squirmed restlessly, intuiting that something was wrong.
    Outside, the storm continued to rage. Patrik and Erica sat in silence for a long time, watching the wild play of nature, and thinking about the child who was taken by the sea.
    Medical examiner Tord Pedersen began his task feeling unusually resolute. After many years in his profession, he had developed a toughness—either admirable or loathsome, depending on how one wanted to view it—that meant that most of the ghastly things he observed left little trace at the end of the day. But there was something about cutting open a child that conflicted with a primal instinct and disrupted all routine, undermining his hardened professionalism. His hand shook a bit as he moved it toward the girl’s chest.
    When she was brought in, he had been told that drowning was the presumed cause of death. So far, there was nothing he could see with the naked eye to contradict that hypothesis, but he would soon be able to formally confirm or reject it.
    The mercilessly bright glare in the post-mortem room emphasized the girl’s blue pallor so that it looked like she was frozen. The cold aluminum table beneath her seemed to reflect the cold, and Pedersen shivered in his green scrubs. She was naked as she lay there, and he felt as though he were violating her as he prized open the flesh and cut into the defenseless body. But he forced himself to go on. He knew that the task he was performing was important, both for the girl and her parents, even if they didn’t realize it themselves. It was necessary for the grieving process to have a final determination of the cause of death. Even though there didn’t seem to be any ambiguities in this case, the rules were in place for a reason. He knew this on a professional level; but as a human being and father with two boys at home, he sometimes wondered in cases like this how much humanity there was in the work he was doing.

4
    Strömstad 1923
    ‘Agnes, I have nothing but tedious meetings today. It’s