The Double Silence (Andas Knutas 7)

you’ve never been there?’
    ‘No, I think hardly anyone has. Its location has always been kept so secret. I know only a few people in the business who ever visited Bergman at his home, and those who have been there of course refuse to say where it’s located. Nobody knows. Not even you journalists. Am I right?’
    Johan was forced to agree. Where Ingmar Bergman lived was a well-guarded secret. He was fascinated by the loyalty displayed by the residentsof Fårö. Whenever a journalist appeared and asked about Bergman’s house, the people would shake their heads and seal their lips.
    ‘But maybe all the secrecy will come to an end now that he’s no longer alive.’
    ‘I assume so. And I think that’s too bad. In our media-fixated society where people’s personal lives are exposed right and left, it might be a good thing if some secrets still existed.’
    Sam Dahlberg’s face took on a distracted expression, and his voice faded. At that moment the church bells began to toll.
    It was time.

THE MAN STOOD a safe distance away and watched the crowd of people outside the church. He was casually dressed in dark-blue chinos and a white shirt. He wore sunglasses, even though it was overcast, and held a cigarette in his hand. Smoking fulfilled a function, since it made him seem occupied. No one noticed that he was focused on only one thing. A single thing that interested him. He was watching her, and from this distance she seemed even more beautiful. Like a madonna with her long hair falling in a mane down her back. Slender and fit, wearing a floral dress in some sort of thin fabric. So thin. He knew what was hidden underneath; he had tasted her fruits, and their sweetness still lingered on his tongue. Like a remembered pain from something that had been lost. Something that would never come back.
    No, he shouldn’t think like that. It clouded his vision and made his head burn. He had to put out the fire. Take control. Think clearly. Not let anything distract him. He needed to concentrate and focus on his goal. The people around her were nothing but hazy shapes. They were completely superfluous. She was the only one he was interested in. Just her. He didn’t let her out of his sight. She thought it was over and done with, but that was only her imagination. She didn’t understand what was best for her. He was the one in charge. He tossed his cigarette butt on the ground, grinding it under the sole of his shoe. Then he turned to look at her again. She tossed her head back and laughed. He didn’t hear her.
    Just watched. Biding his time.

HER FLAT WAS at the very top of the building, with a view over Visby’s multi-coloured rooftops and the sea beyond. Karin Jacobsson sipped at her evening cup of tea, peering through the dormer window. The usually expansive view was partially obscured right now because the town was swathed in a grey mist after the rain.
    Her cockatoo, Vincent, was chattering happily along with the tunes coming from the radio. But Karin was feeling gloomy. She was facing a decisive moment in her life, and she had no idea how to handle it. Time had caught up with her, and she realized that she was going to be forced to deal with the problem. Otherwise she would go mad. It had to do with the daughter she had given up for adoption, the child who was now grown up and probably lived somewhere in Sweden. She would be twenty-five in September. There had been no contact between them in all these years, but now Karin had made up her mind. She had to look for her. Find out who she was.
    Karin closed her eyes, summoning up memories from that brief time right after giving birth. The baby at her breast, that warm, sticky creature who was her own flesh and blood. Her little girl. Sometimes she regretted the fact that the midwife had allowed her to hold the baby for those few minutes; it had haunted her ever since. Her parents had decided that the baby would be given up for adoption. There had been no question of doing anything else, and initially Karin had offered no objections. She’d simply wanted to be rid of the evil, to forget that the rape had ever happened.
    But the moment she felt the baby’s body against her own, she hadchanged her mind. She had loved her from the first second. In secret she had named the child Lydia.
    Karin had no idea what her daughter’s real name was. She didn’t know where she lived or what sort of work she did or anything else about her. All her life, Karin had kept the secret