He sits back.
‘I’ve kept my promise all these years, but now I’m too old to hunt. Plus, Ulf wants to sell the permit to someone else. Rumour has it that he’s running short of money.’
Kent winks at her, which irritates Laura. In fact, everything about this bitter old man infuriates her. Kent Rask used to beat his son instead of trying to help him. He accepted a hunting permit in return for keeping quiet about Sofia Jensen, and let Iben grow up believing that her mother had left her. The thought of young Iben and Tomas alone in the back seat of Kent’s car while Källegården burned and Sofia danced around laughing makes her head pound.
Is this the secret Hedda was interested in?
‘I think I’d better go.’
She gets to her feet, but Kent grabs her wrist.
‘Why are you in such a hurry, little Laura? We haven’t talked about your aunt yet. Hedda and I did quite a bit of business together.’
She remains motionless. The fingers digging into her wrist are rough, dirt ingrained in the cracks. The three dots are still visible between the thumb and forefinger, as is the uneven triangle on the back of his hand.
She ought to leave, right now. But she came here to find information, so she snatches her hand away and sits down again.
‘What kind of business?’ she asks as calmly as she can manage. Tries not to look at the shotgun.
‘Forest business.’ Kent places his index finger on his lips. The nail is long, with a black edging of snuff. ‘In the Eighties I did a little home distilling. It was very lucrative; there weren’t many state-owned off-licences around. Your aunt was one of my best customers.’
He digs out the plug of snuff with his finger, transfers it to the coffee cup in front of him, then wipes the finger on his dressing gown. Laura feels sick.
‘Hedda sold the moonshine on to the summer visitors in the holiday village, of course.’
Kent says this as if it’s common knowledge, then realises that Laura is surprised.
‘Didn’t you know? I thought you helped out. Orphan Boy often came here to collect Hedda’s orders.’
Laura doesn’t reply. She really hates that nickname.
‘Anyway. Once Hedda got the dance hall going, plus the boat and all the rest of it, she had lots of new thirsty customers. My equipment was working overtime.’
He savours the memory for a few seconds before continuing.
‘We had a couple of really good summers, until Ulf Jensen started interfering. Said he didn’t want his daughter anywhere near booze or illegal activities. He threatened to call the police. I can’t understand why Hedda didn’t tell him to go to hell – half the police force were buying from us, and Hedda wasn’t exactly scared of confrontation. But this time she gave in. Ended our association.’
‘When was this?’
Laura can’t look at the old man’s lips, where the remains of the snuff still linger.
‘Autumn ’87. I remember because it was the same year as the fire.’
Laura makes an effort to match what she’s just heard with her own memories.
‘You gave me a lift in your car that winter,’ she says. ‘You said you had to pick up something for my aunt. We came off the road.’
‘Oh, you remember that!’ Kent says with a laugh. ‘Yes, Hedda had paid in advance for a delivery. After Ulf threatened her, she asked for her money back. I stalled for a while, hoped she’d change her mind. But I repaid her a few days before the fire.’
‘You were going to fetch the money that night?’
Kent nods. ‘You ran away like a frightened little rabbit. What did you think I was going to do? Rape you?’
Laura clenches her jaw. She remembers Ulf Jensen turning up, how the two men nearly got into a fight.
‘You must have been furious with Ulf. You’d already fallen out, and now he’d lost you your best customer.’
‘Furious isn’t the half of it. That self-righteous fucker cost me thousands of kronor.’
‘So what did you do about it?’
Kent grins at her once more.
‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’
Another image comes into her mind: the blackened cadaver of a sheep, hanging from a tree while the crows peck at its brain.
She’s about to accuse him when he struggles to his feet. She hears barking in the distance – not the sound of the guard dogs that met Laura when she arrived, but a shriller, more anxious sound.
‘Can you smell smoke?’
27
Winter 1987
It was afternoon when Laura woke up, but she was still tired. She felt drained of both strength and emotion.
There was nothing left of everything she had longed for since the summer. All that remained was betrayal – and lies.
A gentle tap on her door, then her aunt said: ‘You have a visitor.’
Laura wiped her red, puffy eyes with the back of her hand. ‘OK.’
Peter stuck his head around the door. ‘Can I come in?’
She nodded, hiding her disappointment that he wasn’t Jack.
‘How are you feeling?’ he said, sitting down on her desk chair.
‘Like shit,’ she mumbled. ‘This whole winter is shit. Everyone’s lying to me, or keeping secrets. Hedda, Iben and Jack, even you and Tomas.’
Peter’s face flushed red. In a strange way, that made her feel better.
‘I know what the two of you have been doing,’ she went on. ‘Breaking into summer cottages and stealing stuff for Milla. How the fuck did you come up with that idea?’
‘It was Tomas. He wanted to impress Milla. He mows the lawns for some of the summer visitors, so he knows where they keep their spare keys. He said we could just walk in and take what we wanted.’
‘And you didn’t object? You’re just as bewitched by Milla as he is. You look like two lovesick puppies whenever you’re anywhere near her.’
The knot in her stomach loosened slightly; unleashing her anger on Peter was helping.
‘I’m just trying to keep an eye on Tomas,’ he said. ‘Make sure he doesn’t do anything really stupid.’
‘Like what? Is there anything more stupid than breaking into cottages when the owners can easily work out that Tomas knows where the keys are?’
‘There are worse things. Much worse. And much more dangerous.’
Peter looked away.
Words echoed inside Laura’s head. There seems to be a pyromaniac on the loose.
She inhaled sharply.
‘You think Tomas is responsible for starting the fires?’
He still couldn’t meet her gaze.
‘We have to tell Hedda!’
Peter got to his feet. ‘No, we don’t! We can’t do that to Tomas.’
‘Why not? He needs help.’
‘I don’t know for sure that it’s him, but if a rumour starts, then he’s going to get the blame. Don’t you remember what it was like when we were little? Tomas confessed as soon as an adult looked at him – whether he’d done anything or not.’
He came and sat beside her on the bed.
‘If the police question Tomas he’ll confess – you know that.’
Laura nodded slowly. Peter was right.
‘So what do we do?’
‘Like I said, I’m keeping an eye on him. We can’t do anything until we’re certain. Don’t say a word to anyone about this. Promise me, Laura!’
28
Kent Rask stumbles into the hallway with Laura close behind him. The old man is right; the smell of smoke is getting stronger.
He flings open the door. ‘No!’ he shouts, hurrying down the steps. He runs across the yard as best he can, accompanied by the two dogs. Laura remains standing just outside the door, incapable of moving.