ALSO BY VIVECA STEN IN THE SANDHAMN MURDERS SERIES
Still Waters
Closed Circles
Guiltless
Tonight You’re Dead
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2012 by Viveca Sten
Translation copyright © 2018 by Marlaine Delargy
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Previously published as I hettans stund by Forum in 2012 in Sweden. Translated from Swedish by Marlaine Delargy.
First published in English by AmazonCrossing in 2018.
Published by AmazonCrossing, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and AmazonCrossing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503904842
ISBN-10: 1503904849
Cover design by Kimberly Glyder
To my beloved daughter Camilla
CONTENTS
MAP
A sea of . . .
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
TOBBE
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
EBBA
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
FELICIA
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHRISTOFFER
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
CHAPTER 54
CHAPTER 55
CHAPTER 56
CHAPTER 57
CHAPTER 58
CHAPTER 59
CHAPTER 60
CHAPTER 61
CHAPTER 62
CHAPTER 63
CHAPTER 64
CHAPTER 65
FELICIA
CHAPTER 66
CHAPTER 67
FELICIA
CHAPTER 68
TOBBE
CHAPTER 69
CHAPTER 70
CHAPTER 71
CHAPTER 72
WILMA
CHAPTER 73
CHAPTER 74
CHAPTER 75
CHAPTER 76
ELLINOR
CHAPTER 77
CHAPTER 78
CHAPTER 79
CHAPTER 80
CHAPTER 81
CHAPTER 82
CHAPTER 83
CHAPTER 84
CHAPTER 85
CHAPTER 86
CHAPTER 87
CHAPTER 88
CHAPTER 89
HARRY ANJOU
CHAPTER 90
CHAPTER 91
CHAPTER 92
CHAPTER 93
CHAPTER 94
CHAPTER 95
MATTIAS
CHAPTER 96
CHAPTER 97
CHAPTER 98
CHAPTER 99
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR
A sea of white hulls filled the harbor. There were boats everywhere, with people partying like crazy on board. A crowd of drunken teenagers milled around on the jetties in the mild summer evening. But the girl staggering along was so cold, she was shaking.
There were so many people, but no one she recognized. Everyone was talking and laughing, their voices heightened by excitement. The noise sliced through her, and she covered her ears with her hands to shut it out.
On the edge of despair, she screwed up her eyes and peered into the evening light, searching for a familiar face.
A large group was barbecuing on the beach, in spite of the notices stating that this was not allowed. Farther away stood several police officers in yellow high-visibility vests and more had just arrived on a red four-wheeler that had parked by the Sailors Restaurant.
The girl on the jetty didn’t even notice them. Her blond hair was a mess, her eyes wide. She was limping, and she had lost one of her shoes.
Someone pushed her, and she crashed into a trash can.
Her eyes darted to and fro. She let out a sob as she leaned against a fire hydrant, but no one took any notice of her. The buzz of conversation and laughter rose and fell all around her, and the loud music drowned out the whimpering sounds coming from her throat.
“Got to find the boat,” she whispered.
Another person bumped into her, and this time, she fell on the sunbaked jetty. She stayed down, too exhausted to get back on her feet. Her grubby cheeks were stained with tears, and she was mumbling something that only she could understand.
She shuddered, then wrapped her arms around her body in an attempt to get warm.
A middle-aged couple stopped in front of her. “Are you OK?” asked the woman, gently placing a hand on her arm.
The girl leaped to her feet and ran along the pontoon adjoining the quayside, far away from the couple.
“Got to find Victor,” she muttered. The music was louder now.
On board an impressive yacht, huge black speakers were pumping out an intensive techno beat. It was deafening, and the vibrations spread to the concrete beneath her feet. In the stern, a mahogany table was crowded with half-full glasses, bottles, and cigarette butts. A bare-chested, suntanned guy was sitting on a generous white leather sofa with a cigarette in his hand. He looked the girl’s body up and down.
“Feeling lonely?” He grinned and made a circular movement with his tongue. “If so, I’m happy to help!”
She recoiled, backed away, and ran in the opposite direction. She was faced with a forest of white masts, and she stared helplessly at the boats in front of her.
“Victor,” she whispered as the tears began to flow once more. “Where are you?”
Then her legs gave way, and she collapsed on the sand.
CHAPTER 1
Monday, June 16, 2008
“It’ll be lovely to visit the Larssons over Midsummer, don’t you think?”
Madeleine Ekengreen turned to Victor, but he didn’t bother to answer his mother. It was almost seven o’clock in the evening. The sound of a car outside the window indicated that his father’s Jaguar had just turned into the driveway. Madeleine glanced at her reflection in the stainless steel refrigerator door and adjusted her blond hair.
Who do you think you’re kidding? Victor thought. Eve
n with your highlights and all that Botox in your forehead, nobody thinks you’re thirty-five, no matter how hard you try.
“Victor?”
“I don’t want to go.”
“But we always go to see the Larssons,” Madeleine said, looking slightly strained, as if she couldn’t work out where the conversation was going. She placed a bowl of green salad on the table and gave it a quick toss. “What else would you be doing?” she went on.
Victor stared down at his plate. “I’d rather go to Sandhamn with Tobbe and some friends. Christoffer’s borrowing their dad’s motor launch, it’s so fucking cool.”
“Please don’t use language like that,” Madeleine responded automatically. It was obvious that she wasn’t happy with the idea of him spending Midsummer without his parents. “Will Tobbe’s father be there?” she asked after a moment.
Victor shook his head. “No. I think he’s going to Falsterbo.”
“What about Felicia?”
This time he nodded. “Of course.”
“And what do her parents have to say about this idea?” Madeleine sounded suspicious, but Victor knew she liked his girlfriend.
“They’re cool with it.”
In fact, Felicia had told her parents that she was going to Ebba’s place in the country. And Ebba had told her parents she was staying with Felicia.
Doubt lingered in Madeleine’s eyes, but she turned away and went over to the island to pick up a dish of grilled chicken. The door to the house from the garage slammed shut.
Here comes the great Johan Ekengreen, Victor thought.
“Are you sure Felicia’s parents are OK with this?” Madeleine said as she set the chicken on the table.
“Get off my back, Mom!” Victor reached for the carton of milk and filled his glass.
Madeleine said nothing. Victor knew she was hurt, but he couldn’t be bothered to apologize. She was always busy anyway, so why did she have to start moaning now that he had plans of his own for once?
It was perfectly OK when you and Dad took off to Paris during the autumn break, he thought. I had to look after myself all week.
“I’m sixteen, I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “Anyway, there’s a whole fucking load of us going.”
He knew his choice of words was bound to provoke her, and he gave her a challenging stare.
Madeleine gave up.
“There’s no need to get mad,” she said. “I can’t understand why you’re so touchy these days. You flare up all the time, whatever I say.”
“So get off my back!” Victor said again.
The kitchen door opened, and Johan Ekengreen came in, whistling cheerfully. He didn’t seem to notice the tension in the room.
Victor’s father was about to turn sixty-three. He was tanned, and he went to the gym several times a week. His hair had thinned only slightly, but Victor knew he secretly dyed it to hide the gray.
“Hi, you two.”
With a broad grin, he dropped his briefcase on the floor and loosened his tie, then took off his jacket and hung it over the back of a chair.
“Victor says he’s not coming with us at Midsummer,” Madeleine said, the look on her face making it clear that she expected her husband to have a serious word with their son.
“Why not?” Johan turned to Victor, but before the boy had a chance to speak, Madeleine went on: “He wants to go to Sandhamn with his friends instead of celebrating with the Larssons.”
Johan laughed, and Madeleine’s expression froze. “He’s growing up, honey. He wants to party on Sandhamn like everyone else. I would have liked to do the same thing at his age.”
Johan reached for the open bottle of wine on the table and poured himself a glass. He automatically sniffed the wine before tasting it. “Not bad,” he said, inspecting the label.
“Listen to me, Johan,” Madeleine snapped, wiping the drainboard with rapid, irritated movements.
“So can I go, Dad?” Victor chimed in before Johan had the chance to speak.
Jeez, he’d really lose it if his mom put a stop to his Sandhamn plans. He had plenty of money—his father had given him an envelope containing several thousand kronor as a reward for his final grades, which had been pretty good in spite of everything.
He’d be able to have a really good time at Midsummer.
“He’s not old enough.” His mother gave it one last shot. “He just turned sixteen. It’s too soon to let him go off on his own.”
“I presume Felicia will be with you?” Johan said.
“Yeah.” Victor nodded without looking up. Come on, Dad, he thought. Come on.
“In that case . . .” Johan turned to his wife. “Let the boy go. We’re only young once.” He took another sip of his wine, which shimmered blood-red through the fine glass. “We’re only talking about a few days in the archipelago.”
CHAPTER 2
Saturday
Nora Linde couldn’t suppress a sharp intake of breath when Wilma Sköld came down the stairs in the Brand villa.
The fourteen-year-old had a thick line of kohl around her eyes, and she was wearing so much mascara that her lashes had stuck together. Her denim skirt was so short that it looked more like a pair of shorts, and her bra was visible through her thin white top.
With great effort, Nora refrained from making a comment. Wilma was only in eighth grade, but with the makeup, she looked much older. Nora had to remind herself that it was Jonas’s job to deal with his daughter. After just eight months together, she could hardly start disciplining his daughter as if Wilma were her own child.
All through dinner, the girl had sat there as if she were on pins, as if every minute she was away from her friends was sheer torture. As soon as she’d been allowed, she had disappeared up to the bathroom to get ready.
Wilma walked past Nora into the dining room, where Jonas was at the table with Adam and Simon. Adam had finished, but Simon was still working his way through his new potatoes. He loved the first tender crop in June and had opted for a third helping.
“I’m going, Dad,” Wilma said. “I’m sooo late.”
Nora had followed her but stopped in the doorway, leaning on the frame. She could see that Jonas was taken aback at the sight of his daughter; sometimes Nora got the feeling that he didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that she was growing up.
“Aren’t you going to take a jacket?” Nora said tentatively. “It’s bound to get chilly later. You know what it’s like out here in the archipelago.”
Wilma acted as if her dad’s girlfriend hadn’t spoken and took a couple of steps toward her father. “Please can I have some money?” she begged.
“I thought you’d already had your allowance this month?”
“I have, but . . .” Wilma did her best to look like Daddy’s little girl. “It’s all gone.”
Jonas raised his eyebrows, but he reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He opened it, then hesitated, wondering if it was a good idea to give his teenage daughter extra cash.
“Please, Daddy, it won’t be any fun otherwise.”
Wilma leaned over the back of a chair, suddenly sounding like a child. For a second, Nora could imagine what she must have looked like when she was small, with her hair in pigtails and a gap between her teeth.
Inevitably Jonas capitulated. He took out three hundred-kronor notes and handed them to his daughter. “But if there’s any left over, I want it back,” he said.
Both the tone of his voice and Wilma’s smug expression suggested that wasn’t going to happen.
Adam glanced up from his plate and gave Wilma a long look. There was only a year between them, but so far Adam hadn’t shown much interest in going out in the evenings. Instead he preferred to stay home and play computer games, with or without his friends. Nora knew it was only a matter of time before he would want to go out partying, but she was perfectly happy with the current situation. The divorce from Henrik had more or less coincided with the onset of puberty for Adam, and neither had been straightforward.
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br /> “Can I at least get a hug before you go?” Jonas said as he put his wallet away.
Wilma walked around the table and bent down briefly. Then she straightened up and said in a suspiciously nonchalant tone, “Is it OK if I’m home by two?”
Jonas frowned. “We said twelve. You know perfectly well that’s what your mom and I agreed on.”
“But, Daaad . . . it’s Midsummer! Everyone else will be staying out way later—I’ll be the only one who has to go home early! That’s so unfair!”
Don’t give in, Nora thought; she couldn’t help feeling relieved that she didn’t have to join in the fight. She had enough troubles of her own. She stayed where she was, waiting for Jonas to respond, but without getting involved. Even Simon kept quiet for once, concentrating on his potatoes.
“Pleeease, Daddy . . .” Wilma tilted her head to one side, trying to look even sweeter than before.
Jonas pushed his plate away. “OK, let’s say one o’clock. But just this once. I don’t want to hear any talk of late nights for the rest of the summer.”
Wilma’s face was a picture of conflicting emotions. Should she keep pushing and risk annoying her father or settle for a partial victory?
Evidently one o’clock was better than nothing because she did a little dance and said, “I promise. Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.”
She leaned over and gave Jonas another hug, this time with considerably more sincerity. He tried to stroke her hair, but she slid away. She even managed a smile for Nora as she passed by. “See you tomorrow.”
“You take care now. Have you got your cell phone?”
“Yes!” The tone was impatient, the skinny teenage body already on the move.
“Make sure it’s switched on,” Jonas said. “Don’t forget! You have to promise to answer if I call you.”
Wilma opened the door, and she didn’t turn around. “OK, OK. I promise. Now stop going on!”
Nora sighed. Wilma had Jonas wrapped around her little finger, but Nora didn’t think the girl was easy to deal with. It was probably a good thing that they still lived separately, Nora in the new place in Saltsjöbaden and Jonas in his three-room apartment in the city.
Here on Sandhamn, Jonas was renting Nora’s former home; she and the boys had moved out the previous year and into the Brand villa, the beautiful turn-of-the-century house she had inherited from her neighbor, Aunt Signe. It was through the rental agreement that Jonas and Nora had gotten to know each other.