Unspoken

he did when he was so old? she had wondered. If was as if his eyes made her older than she was. Although he didn’t always pay attention to her; sometimes he ignored her completely. Then, to her surprise, she would feel disappointed, as if she actually wanted him to notice her.
    One time he had asked her if she wanted a lift. She said yes because it was windy and below freezing. He had a big car, and she got in. He put on some music—Joe Cocker. That was his favorite, he told her with a smile. She had never heard of Joe Cocker. He asked her what she liked to listen to. When she couldn’t think of anything, he just laughed. It was great to sit there in his warm car and listen to his gentle laughter. It felt somehow safe.
    The mere fact that she was sitting in that big fancy car made her feel more important.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 20
    The morning dawned with a pale white sun that barely managed to rise above the horizon. The sea was still relatively warm, and from the surface a mist slowly lifted upward. The water merged with the sky, and in the haze it was impossible to distinguish one from the other. A seagull shrieked between Visby’s medieval merchant buildings on Strandgatan. The rugged ring wall from the thirteenth century that surrounded the town was the best preserved in all of Europe.
    From the harbor came the sound of a small fishing boat chugging its way into port with its nighttime catch of cod.
    Knutas had just dropped off Lina at the hospital where she worked as a midwife. She started work at seven thirty in the morning, which suited him fine. He could drive her there and still arrive in time for the morning meeting.
    They had been married for fourteen years, and he didn’t regret a single day of it. They met when he was attending a police conference in Copenhagen. One evening he went to a restaurant on Gråbrødretorv with a colleague. Lina was working there as a waitress while she was studying. It was a warm summer evening, and she had on a short-sleeved blouse and black skirt. She had tried to bring some order to her unruly red hair by fastening it with a barrette, but stray locks kept on escaping and falling into her eyes. She had more freckles than anyone Knutas had ever seen. The tiny spots reached all the way to the tips of her milky-white fingers. She smelled of almonds, and when she leaned over the table, her arm brushed against his.
    The next evening they had dinner together, and that was the beginning of a love the likes of which he had never even come close to before. The year that followed was filled with passionate encounters, exhausting good-byes, long nightly phone conversations, an aching sense of longing, and an ever-growing mutual feeling that they had found their partner in life. Lina finished her training, and without further ado she agreed to marry him and move to Gotland. He had just been promoted to head of the criminal division, and that was why they had decided to try living on Gotland.
    It had turned out to be a good decision. Lina had no trouble adapting. With her open and cheerful manner she quickly made new friends and created her own life for herself. After only a couple of months she had found a temporary position at Visby hospital. They bought a house, and then it wasn’t long before the twins were on their way. Knutas was thirty-five when they met, and he’d had a couple of previous long-term relationships, but he had never known how natural everything could feel. With Lina at his side, he was prepared for anything.
    Of course they’d had their crises and arguments, just like everyone else. Lina had a quick temper, and when she started yelling in a strong Danish accent, he had a hard time understanding what she meant. He often couldn’t help laughing, which only made her more furious. Even so, their arguments usually ended amicably. There was no sense of competition between the two of them.
    Now her birthday was coming up, and he was feeling stressed. She was going to be forty-seven next Saturday, but this year he had no clue what to buy her.
    And right now, he had other things on his mind. He was looking forward to the interview with Bengt Johnsson. The man had been drunk out of his mind when they took him in, so the interview had been postponed.
    Smittenberg had decided to arrest him, having good reason to suspect him of murder, or at least man-slaughter. That was the lowest degree of suspicion, and the evidence against Johnsson would have to be stronger for him