The Double Silence (Andas Knutas 7)

through his mind.
    Fifteen minutes later calm was once again restored. He had just enough time to ring Pia before Emma came home.
    He picked up the phone and tapped in her home number.
    Maybe now she’d have time to talk.

EXHAUSTED, ANDREA SANK down on to the sofa. It was past midnight before the children had finally fallen asleep. They had been sad, bewildered, and on edge ever since she’d been forced to tell them that their father was dead. Pontus worried that he was going to die too, while Oliver had closed off his emotions and declined to speak at all. The youngest child, Mathilda, was convinced that her mother was also going to disappear, so she clung to Andrea, refusing to let go. In reality, the kids hadn’t had a particularly close or strong relationship with their father. Andrea was always the one who had taken most of the responsibility. She was the one who was at home, cleaning, doing the laundry, baking apple cakes and helping the children with their homework. She was the one who drove them to football and hockey practice and to their riding lessons. She was the one who attended the parent-teacher meetings. Sam could always blame his absence on his job. Pappa had to go out of town. Pappa had to work on a screenplay. Don’t bother Pappa because he’s reading through script changes; he needs his sleep because he’s shooting a film.
    Andrea tried to find some solace in these kinds of thoughts. At least the children still had her. If it weren’t for the kids, she would have preferred to lie down and die. In fact, she had actually toyed with that idea. She would go out to Sandviken on the east coast of Gotland, since she had such fond memories of that place. There she’d take off all her clothes except for a white cotton dress that was her favourite. She’d put on bright red lipstick, the kind that wouldn’t come off in the water. Paint her toenails the same colour, and then in the evening walk barefoot straight out into the water.Let the sea envelop her; let the water rush into all the nooks and crannies of her body, capturing her life’s breath and extinguishing it. She would be a lovely corpse, no question about that.
    She yawned without feeling sleepy, shivering with cold even though it was still warm outside. She switched on the TV and tried to concentrate on a Spanish film by Almodóvar. She and Sam both liked the Spanish director very much, and they’d seen all his films. Tonight it was
Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown
. The perfect movie for me, she thought ironically. She was wearing only her bathrobe. She spread a blanket over her legs, turned on a light, and poured herself another glass of wine. It wouldn’t matter if she got a bit drunk before going to bed. She’d done that every night since Sam was found dead, out there on Stora Karlsö. She was filled with nausea at the thought of how he’d looked. His body completely ravaged. She’d been forced to identify him, but she’d hardly recognized her own husband. The father of her children.
    A sob rose in her throat but no tears fell. Even though she’d lost everything, she still hadn’t been able to cry. She felt dried up, shrivelled up, stunned. Thoughts whirled through her mind without meaning or purpose. Disconnected. Nothing made any sense. She had no idea how long she might remain in these hellish depths. Everything she’d had was now gone. She was floating about in a void, a no man’s land, a limbo. She took some more sips of wine.
    Suddenly she gave a start. She thought she saw a shadow race past outside the window. The big windows facing the back garden reached from floor to ceiling. That was one thing that Sam had insisted on when the house was built. Andrea had been less convinced; it seemed so exposed. ‘Who’s going to look in?’ Sam had protested. ‘Both the living room and kitchen face the woods. Nobody is going to be walking past.’ She could hear his voice so clearly, echoing inside her head. She froze, the wine glass halfway to her lips, and stared into the darkness. She could just make out the apple trees in the garden, the lilac arbour in the distance. The edge of the woods. The silhouette of a bird was visible against the darkening sky. It never got pitch dark at this time of year. Probably a blackbird, she thought. It sat very still. Quiet and motionless.
    What had she seen? The next second she heard a clattering sound. Someone or something was definitely out there. Keeping her eyes fixed on