Unspoken

restaurant is doing so well. It’s always full of people, and it’s been like that ever since you opened. I don’t know how you do it.”
    “So what about you? How’s it going with the investigation?”
    “Good. We finally seem to be on the right track.”
    “What a nasty business.”
    “It’s been damn tough. When we know that a murderer is on the loose and we’re blindly fumbling around, not being able to make sense of things . . . it’s frustrating.”
    “So you’re not doing that anymore? Blindly fumbling around, I mean?”
    “No, I’m convinced that we’re close to solving the case. You know that I can’t discuss any investigations with you, but this much I can tell you: I think we’re very close now.”
    “Is it someone you’ve suspected for a long time?”
    “No. Actually, someone completely unexpected has turned up.”
    “So why haven’t you caught him?”
    “Enough questions, Leif. You know I can’t answer them.”
    Leif held up his hands. “Of course. Would you like some more wine?”
    They spent the rest of the evening playing chess in front of the fireplace. And they opened another bottle of Rioja.
    It turned out to be a late night. They didn’t get to bed until after midnight. Anders was given one of the upstairs bedrooms. The room was simply but beautifully furnished. The limestone walls were rough and bare. The slate roof was supported by heavy timbers. A wide wooden bed with a white flowered bedspread stood along one wall, and next to it were three country chairs painted blue. A little window with a deep recess faced the sea. The rhythmic sound of the waves lapping against the shore lulled him to sleep.
    When he awoke, he had no idea how long he had slept. It was pitch dark in the room. He couldn’t understand what had awakened him. He lay still with his eyes open and unseeing in the night, listening for sounds that weren’t there.
    He reached out his hand and turned on the lamp on the nightstand next to the bed. It was three ten in the morning.
    His mouth was dry, and he needed to go to the bathroom.
    Afterward he paused next to the window. He could hear the sea, but it seemed very calm. There was a light on in the boathouse. Strange. Was Leif out there at this hour? Maybe he had forgotten to turn off the light.
    The snow gleamed white in the darkness, and the glow from the outdoor lights cast long shadows. Nothing was going on, so he went back to bed.
    It took a long time before he fell asleep.
    The days had passed and Johan hadn’t heard a word from Emma. He had been back in Stockholm almost a week, since nothing new had occurred on Gotland that would warrant a trip to the island. At least nothing that he knew about. The police were being very tight-lipped. He had tried to put the pressure on Knutas several times, but he hadn’t gotten anything useful out of him. Experience told him that they were close to catching the perpetrator. The police always reacted the same way when an investigation entered a sensitive stage. They all just clammed up.
    He was longing for Emma terribly, but she refused to talk to him. Maybe a solution was near on more than one front. Oh, just let it happen, he felt at the same time. Bring on the shit, so we can get this over with once and for all. He was tired of all the worrying and all the planning for a future with Emma. Wondering how he would manage on Gotland, as a stepfather, as a man with responsibilities. Cooking pasta and reading good night stories and blowing noses and balancing things among Emma, her ex-husband, the kids, the in-laws; birthday parties, deciding where to spend Christmas Eve, and feeling torn between Stockholm and Gotland. And, to be honest, how much fun would it be to take over a family that already existed? He was a romantic who dreamed of getting married and eventually becoming a father. For Emma, none of it would be for the first time.
    Marrying again, having children again. Did she even want to have children with him? They had never talked about that. Why hadn’t they?
    It was probably just as well that they put an end to things, once and for all. He might meet some girl in Stockholm who didn’t have a broken marriage and kids as baggage. Then it could be a magical experience for both of them. Everything would be so much simpler—just the fact that they could live in Stockholm, close to their families, their work, and their friends. The conditions for having a successful and good life together would be so