Dark Angel (Anders Knutas 6)

illuminated display. The message was brief but devastating.
    ‘Simon is dead. Call me. Mikaela’.

KNUTAS WAS STANDING next to the window in his office, looking out at the car park, which was wet with rain. He filled his pipe as he thought about the dramatic events of the past few days.
    From the very beginning this particular case had affected him more strongly than others. Maybe because it had made him think about his own role as a parent. Just before the murders occurred, Alexander Almlöv had been assaulted at the Solo Club. His own son Nils had witnessed the vicious attack but hadn’t dared tell his father, the police officer.
    Over the past weeks Knutas had spent almost as much time wrestling with that issue as he had trying to discover the identity of the killer.
    The fate of Mats Andersson was a tragic one, from start to finish. He had hoped to save his newfound and beloved brother from succumbing to despair by killing their mother. But before that happened, Simon had taken his own life. Knutas could understand how shocked Mats must have been to receive word of his brother’s death. Everything he had done was in vain. The plan he had spent months putting together was to no avail.
    Mats had ended up recounting the whole story about his desperate attempt to free his younger brother from their mother. Ultimately it seemed to him that there was only one option. He had to kill Veronika – destroy her before she destroyed the family that he had found at last. Simon, in turn, had tried all his life to save her, to make her happy and content with her life. But that had proved to be an impossible task. Both Mats and Simon had seen themselves as angels sent to the rescue. And it had all ended in disaster.
    Nobody can save anybody else, thought Knutas bitterly. Everyone has to save his own life.
    It was strange that things had gone so well for Veronika Hammar’s children, in spite of the difficult circumstances they had endured while growing up with their excessively demanding mother. At least Andreas and Mikaela had succeeded in creating a satisfactory life for themselves, and they seemed reasonably happy.
    They also had shown an ability to love. Was that something they’d learned from somebody else, or was it an innate part of being human?
    His thoughts were interrupted by Jacobsson knocking on the door.
    ‘Come in.’
    She sat down on his visitors’ sofa. Knutas sensed that she had something important to say, so he sat down across from her.
    ‘How are you doing?’
    ‘Fine, thanks.’
    She smiled. Her dark eyes had regained their familiar alert expression. He was happy to see it.
    ‘I’ve decided to try to find my daughter. Lydia.’
    Knutas didn’t reply. Instead, he got up and went over to sit next to her, giving her a hug. She relaxed into his arms, not moving as he stroked her hair.
    He had been pondering what to do about everything that Karin had told him in Stockholm. He had agonized over the decision he needed to make. He had no idea what to do, and there was no one he could consult.
    Karin had deliberately allowed a double murderer to escape. Maybe she was unbalanced. Maybe he would come to regret the decision he was about to make.
    Yet, at that moment, he knew that he could never tell anyone her secret.
    Never.

EPILOGUE
    THE LIGHT IN the flat is a heavy grey, just like in the city far below. Slussen’s never-ending circle with its constant stream of cars. They stubbornly continue to come from every direction, like arteries to a pumping heart. Then they disperse into the stinking body that is Stockholm.
    It’s time. I feel closer to myself than I ever have before. In the past I always lived through other people and for other people, wanting to please them. Trying to live up to something. And I always failed.
    I’ve merely been playing a role from the very beginning.
    I feel immensely tired. I no longer need to keep going. Or keep fighting. Or suffering. Soon it will be over. I gaze out at the city. I’m a stranger in the midst of everything going on around me. I no longer want any part of it.
    I had a dream that I was allowed to live my own life, just like everyone else. Work, travel, live. Give and receive love. Spend time with people, accumulate experiences, build relationships and mature. I imagined a future with a family, security and love.
    That’s no longer a possibility. It’s not meant to be. I had a son, whom I love. I hope that he will experience all those things. That he will