The Double Silence (Andas Knutas 7)

happened.’
    Andrea didn’t answer. She was looking out at the white horses through the rain-streaked window and seemed lost in thought.
    ‘Hello. Are you listening?’ Beata sounded offended.
    ‘Sure. Of course I am.’
    ‘Don’t worry about Sam,’ said Håkan. ‘He’ll be back soon.’
    ‘When the baby bird had swum out a short distance, it began peeping again,’ Beata went on. ‘And you know what? It wasn’t long before it got an answer, and we saw a male bird coming from far away, from the other side of the bird mountain. And it was peeping nonstop so that the baby would hear. They swam until they reached each other and then disappeared together out to sea. Cute, huh?’ Beata clapped her hands.
    Sometimes she’s such a child, thought Andrea.
    ‘That’s amazing. Really.’
    ‘Yeah, a real Walt Disney ending to the day. It was unbelievable. I think that’s the one thing I’ll remember most from out here.’ Beata sighed happily.
    Andrea drank the rest of her coffee.
    ‘What time is it?’ she asked.
    ‘Twelve forty-five,’ replied Håkan.
    ‘Can that be right?’ Andrea frowned, and then turned again to look out of the window.
    ‘Sam will be fine,’ said Håkan, trying to reassure her. ‘He probably sought shelter from the storm. He’ll be back as soon as it stops raining.’

KARIN JACOBSSON HAD closed the door to her office in police headquarters so she could make the phone call in peace. It was the most important call of her life, so far. She had decided to start by finding out more about the adoption procedure and how it had been accomplished before she did any more digging into the past. She tapped in the number for the tax office and supplied her national insurance number. Ten minutes later all the information arrived by fax. Her heart was pounding when the fax machine beeped to announce that the printout was ready. She stared at the machine that stood in a corner of her office. The pages were neatly stacked up in the tray. They represented the only thing of importance in her life, the only thing that had any real meaning: the information about her daughter – her name and where she lived. It was incomprehensible and made her feel dizzy. Karin’s mouth went dry, and she longed for a cigarette. Slowly she got up from her chair with her eyes fixed on the fax machine. Her hand shook as she reached for the pages. Without looking at them, she picked them all up and went back to her desk to sit down. She took a deep breath before she began to read. Her eyes immediately stopped on a date and a name.
    Born 14 September 1983 at 7.16 a.m. in Visby hospital. Hanna Elisabeth von Schwerin. Karin stopped breathing and just stared at the name: von Schwerin. Of all the God-awful names.
    Karin was a confirmed supporter of left-wing politics; she detested everything that had to do with ultra-conservative and right-wing beliefs. But her own daughter, Lydia, had the ultimate aristocratic surname. Theroom slowly began to spin. It couldn’t be true. There was nothing worse. She pictured a blonde young woman with a pageboy hairstyle and pearl necklace, her blouse tucked into a straight black skirt, wearing nylon stockings and pumps. Pink lipstick. Living in a big flat in the Östermalm district of Stockholm. Right-wing opinions, a manor house in Skåne and skeet shooting. She couldn’t imagine anything more terrible. The class difference alone would create an insurmountable barrier between them.
    She pictured herself ringing the doorbell of her daughter’s place, wearing her tracksuit jacket, jeans and Converse trainers. Her daughter’s supercilious expression. You’re supposed to be my mother? Ha!
    Karin stared at the name for a long time, speechless as thoughts whirled through her mind.

THE RAIN PATTERED on the roof. Beata, Andrea, John and Håkan were playing cards and reading in the lodge’s common room as they waited for Sam to return.
    ‘Where the hell can he be?’ Andrea gathered up the cards after the second round and peered out of the window, even though the visibility was non-existent. It was impossible to see down to the shore any more. ‘OK, that’s enough. I’m going to go look for him.’
    ‘You can’t go out in this weather. Isn’t he answering his mobile?’ said Beata, not taking her eyes off the page of the paperback book that she was reading.
    ‘No, the coverage out here is really lousy,’ complained Andrea. ‘I tried to phone the kids too, but it’s not