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 Dahlstrom’s circle of acquaintances. On the contrary. Dahlstrom 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 Dahlstrom with an un-identified man down at the harbor. It seemed likely that on that occasion the man had handed the money over to Dahlstrom, 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 Dahlstrom 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 to do. She longed to have herself back. Her mother wasn’t going to change, but Fanny would soon be fifteen, and she wouldn’t have to live at home much longer. Maybe she could even move out next year when she started tenth grade. There were plenty of kids out in the country who did that. They lived in town during the week and went home on the weekends. Why couldn’t she do that, too? All she had to do was tell the school counselor or nurse about her situation, and she was sure to get help.
When she gave Calypso a hug in his stall, she felt so grateful to the horse. It was as if he gave her strength and self-confidence. And the faith that everything was going to work out.
She had ridden her bike only three hundred yards when she saw the headlights. He came driving along the opposite side of the road, slowed down, and rolled down the window.
“Hi. Are you on your way home?”
“Yes,” she responded, stopping.
“Wait there,” he said. “I just have to drive a little farther and turn the car around. Wait right there.”
“Okay.”
Reluctantly she got off her bicycle and stood at the side of the road. She watched him drive off and had a strong urge to do the same. Just bike home as fast as she could to get away from him. The next second she changed her mind. She was going to tell him it was over. Once and for all.
When he returned, he wanted her to get in the car.
“But what should I do with my bike?” she asked, resigned.
“Leave it in the ditch. No one’s going to take it. We can come back and get it later.”
She didn’t dare do anything but comply. Her legs were shaking as she got into the car.
“I have to go home. Mamma is at work, and I have to take Spot out for a walk.”
“No problem. I just wanted to talk to you for a minute. Is that all right?”
He asked the question without looking at her.
“Okay,” she said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.
His voice sounded strained, and he seemed tense. His jaw moved as if he were clenching his teeth.
She thought he was driving too fast but didn’t dare object. It was dark out, with little traffic on the road. He headed south toward Klintehamn.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s not far. You’ll be home soon.”
Fear began to creep into her veins. They were getting farther and farther away from town, and she now realized where they were going. She debated with herself and decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to protest. The tense atmosphere in the car told her that it would be best not to.
When they reached the house he told her to take a shower.
“Why should I?” she asked.
“You reek of the stable.”
She turned on the shower and the hot water struck her bare skin but she couldn’t feel it. Mechanically she soaped up while thoughts zigzagged through her mind. Why was he acting so strange? She dried herself off with a bath towel, trying to rid herself of the uneasiness that crept over her. She told herself that he was just tense because of what had happened last time. For safety’s sake she put all her clothes back on. In case she had to run away.
He was sitting in the kitchen reading a newspaper when she came downstairs. That made her feel calmer.
“You put your clothes back on?” he said, his voice stony. He gave her a distracted look-his glassy eyes were fixed on her, but it was as if he didn’t really see her.
Her sense of relief vanished instantly. What was wrong with him? Was he on drugs? His question hung in the air.
“Yes,” she said uncertainly. “I thought-”
“What exactly did you think, my dear?”
“I don’t know. I have to go back…”
“Back? So you thought that we drove all the way out here just so you could take a shower?”
“No. I don’t know.”
“You don’t know. Well, there’s plenty that you don’t know, sweetheart. But maybe it’s just as well that you put your clothes back on. That might make it more interesting. We’re going to play a little game, you see. Doesn’t that sound like fun? You’re so young that you like to play games, don’t you?”