Unspoken

ears.”
    After hanging up the phone, Knutas leaned back in his chair and started filling his pipe. He was grateful that no police officers were on the list, and he accepted his friend’s explanation. Good Lord, who hadn’t done something stupid? Once, many years ago, he had actually swiped a package of underwear from a shop on Adelsgatan. He was standing in the store, holding the package, when he was suddenly seized with a wild impulse to find out what it felt like to steal something. He walked right out the door with the package under his arm. He was so nervous that he was shaking, but when he exited the store, a giddy feeling of joy came over him. A kind of invulnerability. It was as if the act made him untouchable. After he had gone far enough from the store to know that he had escaped undetected, he glanced at the package, only to find that he had taken the wrong size.
    Knutas still felt ashamed every time he thought about what he had done. He turned his chair halfway around and looked out the window. Somewhere out there a murderer was walking around.
    Nothing indicated that they would find him among Dahlström’s circle of acquaintances. On the contrary. Dahlström was apparently mixed up in something, but they had no clue what it might be. Whatever it was, he had done a good job of hiding it. The question was how long it had been going on. Probably not much longer than the date of the first deposit in his bank account, Knutas guessed. July 20. The same day that Niklas Appelqvist saw Dahlström with an un-identified man down at the harbor. It seemed likely that on that occasion the man had handed the money over to Dahlström, who later in the day went to his bank to deposit it. Twenty-five thousand kronor. The next deposit was made in October, and for the same amount. Was it possible that the two deposits didn’t actually have anything to do with each other? From the beginning Knutas had assumed that they were connected somehow, but now he was no longer certain. The explanation might be as simple as payments for various carpentry work. But why would someone who had hired Dahlström for something so trivial decide to meet him down at the harbor at five in the morning? It was obvious that the man didn’t want to be recognized.
    Fanny’s muscles were pleasantly tired. Calypso had been wonderful. She had gone out riding, taking her favorite route through the woods even though it was a bit too long for the sensitive racehorse. But never mind. It was so seldom that she went out, and she just couldn’t resist.
    He was a gentle horse and responded to her prods without the least effort. He made her feel quite proficient. They galloped for long stretches along the soft forest path. Not a living creature as far as the eye could see. For the first time in a long while she had felt something that resembled joy. She felt a surge inside her chest as they raced forward. She stood up halfway in the saddle, urging the horse on. Tears rose in her eyes from the speed. Knowing that they were going faster than she could actually handle made the whole experience even more exhilarating. This was truly living: to see the horse’s ears pointing forward, to hear his hooves pounding dully on the ground, to feel the animal’s power and energy.
    As they went back to the stable at a walk with the reins drooping, she felt so relaxed. She sensed a budding hope that everything was going to be all right. First and foremost, she had to break things off with him for good. He had called her cell about twenty times that day, but she had refused to answer it. He wanted to apologize. She had listened to his messages, and he sounded upset and remorseful. He tried to convince her that he didn’t mean what he had said. This morning he had sent a picture message with hearts and flowers. None of that had any effect on her anymore.
    It was over, no matter what he said. Nothing could make her change her mind. She had decided to ignore his threat about getting her thrown out of the stable. She had worked there for a year, and everyone knew her. They wouldn’t pay any attention to him. And if he tried, she was thinking about revealing everything. By law it was a criminal offense for him to have sex with her; she was fully aware of that. She was no fool. And he was an old man. He might even end up in prison. It would serve him right. It would be so great to be rid of him, to have her body to herself, and to get out of doing all the shit he wanted her