Dark Secrets (47 page)

“I didn’t know you’d read my book,” Sebastian said to her as he sank down into the chair. “You didn’t mention it.”

“Perhaps I didn’t get around to it.”

“She loved it,” Valdemar chipped in, unaware that his daughter’s expression darkened with every word he uttered. “She practically forced me to read it. I think it was one of the reasons she decided to join the police.”

“Really? How wonderful!” Sebastian sat back in his chair contentedly. “To think I had such an influence on her!”

Game over. Sebastian smiled at her. She would never, ever have the last word again. Her darling dad had just made sure of that.

Mikael called Ursula from the train station, wondering whether she was going to meet him or if he should make his own way to the hotel. Ursula swore to herself. She hadn’t forgotten that he was coming, but she also hadn’t given it a thought all day. She glanced at the clock. It had been a very long day, and it wasn’t over yet. She was standing in Groth’s bedroom, about to tackle the double wardrobe with the neatly folded shirts, pullovers, underwear, socks, and everything else that Ragnar didn’t feel should be hanging up, with precisely an inch between the hangers.

Her initial thought was to ask her husband to wait for an hour or so. She was in a foul mood. The lack of any concrete discoveries annoyed her. She had started with the guns, but had realized immediately that they weren’t going to lead anywhere. There were signs that they had been fired recently, but then Groth was a competitive marksman. Without a bullet for comparison, the information was worthless. The rest of the study had been equally disappointing. Nothing in the desk, in the filing cabinet by the window, or on the bookshelves. Perhaps there might be something on the computer, but Billy would look into that. The bathroom had also been a waste of time. Not so much as a strand of hair in the drain.

And now she had Mikael in her ear, going on and on. She was the
one who had asked him to come, after all. It was getting close to dinnertime. Surely she had to eat at some point? Ursula gave up, went downstairs, and stuck her head into the kitchen, where Billy was going through cabinets and drawers.

“I’m going out for a while. I’ll be back in an hour or two.” Billy looked at her in surprise.

“Okay.”

“Do you mind if I take the car?”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m just… going out to dinner.”

It made no sense to Billy at all. He couldn’t remember when Ursula had last announced that she was disappearing to get something to eat. In his eyes she was the woman who lived on prepackaged sandwiches from various gas stations, which she then ate at various crime scenes.

“Has something happened?”

“Mikael’s in town.”

Billy nodded with as much understanding as he could muster, even though the whole situation was just getting stranger and stranger. Mikael, the husband Billy had seen once for ten minutes when he came to pick Ursula up from the annual Christmas party, had come to Västerås to have dinner with her.

Something had definitely happened.

Ursula left the house and marched angrily to the car. As she opened the door she suddenly realized she had forgotten the whole purpose of Mikael’s trip to Västerås for a moment.

It wasn’t Mikael she should be angry with.

Absolutely not.

He was completely innocent. It was bad enough that she was using him for her own ends. He presumably thought she had called because she wanted to see him, because she missed him, not so that his presence would teach Torkel a lesson.

She would have to be extra nice to him. She had to keep reminding herself of that. Not to punish the wrong person.

She got in the car and took out her cell phone. On the way into the town center she made two quick calls: one to the police station to make sure Torkel was still there and one to Mikael to arrange where they should meet. Then she slowed down to make sure she would arrive after him. Switched on the radio, listened for a while, let her thoughts drift.

The ball had been set in motion.

The punishment would be meted out.

“Hi, Torkel.”

Torkel turned around and immediately recognized the tall, dark man now rising from one of the sofas in reception. Torkel nodded a greeting. Did his best to smile.

“Mikael, good to see you. Ursula said you were coming up.”

“Is she here?”

“Not as far as I know, but I can check.”

“No problem, she knows I’m here.” Torkel nodded again. Mikael looked fresh. There were a few strands of gray among the dark hair at his temples, but it suited him. They were about the same age, yet Torkel couldn’t help feeling both older and more worn out. He certainly hadn’t aged as well, and the fact that Mikael had struggled with periods of alcohol abuse didn’t show at all in his appearance. Quite the opposite—he looked healthier and more athletic than ever.

It has to be genetic
, Torkel thought, but he still began to wonder if he shouldn’t join a gym after all. The two men stood in silence for a moment. Torkel definitely didn’t want to come across as unfriendly, but for the life of him he couldn’t come up with a single thing to say. In the absence of genuine interest, he decided to stick to routine. Play a safe card.

“Coffee? Can I get you a coffee?” Mikael nodded and Torkel walked over to the entrance, swiped his card, and held open the glass door for Mikael. They went through the open-plan office toward the staff room.

“I read about the murder. It seems to be a tough case.”

“It is, yes.”

Torkel led the way in silence. They had met on only a handful of occasions over the years, he and Mikael. Mostly at the beginning, when Ursula was new to the department. Torkel and Monica had invited them to dinner—two or three times, perhaps. At that time he and Ursula had been no more than colleagues, spending time with their respective partners. That was before they had embarked on their hotel-room relationship. How long had it been going on now? Four years? Five, if you counted that late night in Copenhagen. Which he, at least, had thought of—in a cold sweat of remorse—as a one-night stand. Something never to be repeated. But that was then.

Now it had become something else. The remorse and the assurance that it was a one-off were gone, replaced by a set of unwritten rules.

Only at work.

Never on home turf.

No plans for the future.

The last point had been the most difficult for Torkel. When they were lying beside each other, naked and satisfied, it had been difficult—almost impossible in the beginning—not to wish for more. More outside those anonymous hotel rooms. But on the few occasions when he had crossed the line and broken their agreement, her expression had hardened and he had been deprived of their encounters for weeks. So Torkel had learned his lesson.

No plans for the future.

They cost too much.

And now he was standing in the impersonal staff room staring at the brown coffee as it filled his cup. Mikael was sitting at the table next to the coffee machine, sipping his cappuccino.

They had already covered everything Torkel was prepared to say about the case, so small talk took over.

The weather.
(Spring has definitely arrived.)

How was Mikael’s job going?
(Same as usual, really, wall-to-wall problems.)

And how was Bella?
(Fine, thanks, she’s in her final year studying law.)

Did Mikael play any football these days?
(No, his knee wasn’t strong enough. Torn meniscus.)

Torkel couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he had been in bed with Mikael’s wife yesterday morning. He felt false.

Through and through.

Why the hell had Ursula arranged to meet Mikael here? Torkel suspected that he knew exactly why, and his suspicions were confirmed a moment later when Ursula materialized behind them.

“Hi, darling. Sorry I’m late.” Ursula swept past Torkel without so much as a glance and gave Mikael a loving kiss. Then she turned to Torkel with a dismissive expression.

“Have you got time to sit around drinking coffee?” Torkel was about to respond when Mikael leaped to his defense.

“I was waiting for you in reception—he was just being kind.”

“It’s just that we have an enormous amount to do—so much so that we’ve had to bring in extra staff. Isn’t that right, Torkel?”

Spot on. Mikael’s presence was Torkel’s punishment. Perhaps it wasn’t the most refined approach, but it still put him in his place. Torkel didn’t reply. There was no point fighting this battle. Not with Mikael there. And not at any other time, either. When Ursula was in this mood you just couldn’t win.

Torkel made his excuses, and also made a point of shaking Mikael firmly by the hand before he left. He could at least show some pride. He hated the feeling that he was slinking away with his tail between his legs.

Ursula took Mikael’s arm and they set off.

“I don’t know much about the restaurants around here, but Billy said there’s a good Greek place not far away.”

“Sounds great.” They walked a short distance in silence, then Mikael stopped.

“Why am I here?”

Ursula turned to face him, her expression puzzled.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. Why am I here? What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything. I just thought that since I’m only an hour from Stockholm, we could take the opportunity to…”

Mikael looked searchingly at her. Not convinced.

“You’ve worked closer to Stockholm than this and you haven’t called me.”

Ursula sighed to herself, but managed to prevent it from showing.

“And that’s exactly why. We don’t see enough of each other. I wanted to do something different. Come on, let’s eat.”

She took his arm and drew him gently along. As she pressed closer to her husband she cursed the idea that had seemed so clever and so obvious yesterday. What
was
she really trying to do? Make Torkel jealous?

Humiliate him?

Prove her independence?

Whatever the purpose might have been, Mikael’s presence already seemed to have fulfilled its function. Torkel was clearly uncomfortable with the situation, and his shoulders had been slumped lower than they had been for a long time when he took off without a word.

So the question that now occurred to Ursula was this: What was she going to do with her husband?

A
FTER JUST
an hour in the Greek restaurant, Ursula felt she had to get back to Ragnar Groth’s house. Dinner had been pleasant after all. Better than she had expected. Admittedly Mikael had asked a couple more times why she wanted him there. He seemed to find it difficult to believe that it was just because she wanted to see him. Which wasn’t surprising, really.

Her relationship with Mikael had been hard work for many years, and it was a miracle that it had survived, but during the struggle the bonds between them had also grown stronger. There was something about getting to know a partner’s innermost weaknesses that either strengthened a relationship or killed it. They both had their faults. Not least as parents. When it came to Bella, it was as if there were a tiny filter, a thin film that prevented Ursula from getting really close to her daughter, and which meant that she often put her work before her family. There were many times when Ursula had been tormented by the realization that she subconsciously seemed to choose forensic examinations and dead bodies over her vibrant, living daughter. She blamed her upbringing, her parents, and her brain, which prioritized logic over emotions. But the fact remained: that thin film was there and, with it, the sorrow over her own inability to connect. She always felt that she should have been there more often, been more involved. Particularly during those periods when Mikael had fallen back into alcohol abuse. When that had happened over the years both sets of grandparents had come to the rescue.

In spite of his weaknesses, Ursula couldn’t help admiring Mikael. He had never allowed his addiction to destroy their financial security, nor made it impossible for her and Bella to stay at home. When things got really bad he withdrew instead. Like a wounded animal. The person he let down the most every time he slipped was himself. His life was one long battle against his own shortcomings.