Erica repeated her question, this time a bit more gently: ‘Christian, what does it mean? Your reaction was awfully strong yesterday. So don’t try to make me believe that you were just feeling overworked.’

Still he said nothing. Suddenly the silence was broken by Sanna’s voice from the doorway.

‘Tell Erica about the letters,’ she said.

Sanna stayed where she was, waiting for her husband to respond. A few more minutes of silence ensued before Christian sighed, pulled out the bottom drawer of his desk and took out a small bundle of letters.

‘I’ve had these for a while.’

Erica picked up the letters and cautiously leafed through the pages. White sheets of paper with black ink. And there was no doubt that the handwriting was the same as on the card she’d brought along. Some of the words were familiar too. The sentences were different, but the theme was the same. She began reading aloud from the letter on top:

‘She walks at your side, she follows along with you. You have no right to your life. It belongs to her.’

Erica looked up in astonishment. ‘What’s this all about? Do you understand any of this?’

‘No.’ Christian’s reply was swift and firm. ‘No, I have no clue. I don’t know of anyone who would want to harm me. At least, I don’t think so. And I have no idea who “she” is. I should have thrown out those letters,’ he said, reaching for them. But Erica had no intention of relinquishing them.

‘You should tell the police about this.’

Christian shook his head. ‘No, it’s probably just someone having fun at my expense.’

‘This doesn’t sound like a joke to me. And I can see that you don’t think it’s funny, either.’

‘That’s exactly what I said,’ Sanna interjected. ‘I think it’s really creepy, especially since we have children, and everything. What if there’s some mentally disturbed person who…’ She stared at Christian, and Erica could tell that it wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. But he stubbornly shook his head again.

‘I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.’

‘When exactly did this whole thing begin?’

‘When you started writing the book,’ said Sanna, receiving a look of annoyance from her husband.

‘I guess that’s about right,’ he admitted. ‘A year and a half ago.’

‘Could there be some sort of connection? Did you put any real person or event in your book? Someone who might feel threatened because you wrote about them?’ Erica kept her eyes fixed steadily on Christian, who was looking extremely uncomfortable. It was obvious that he had no desire to discuss this topic.

‘No, it’s a work of fiction,’ he said, grimacing. ‘No one should be able to recognize themselves in my story. You’ve read the manuscript. Does it seem auto biographical to you?’

‘That’s not something that I would be able to tell,’ said Erica with a shrug. ‘But I know from my own experience that writers weave parts of their own lives into their manuscripts, whether consciously or not.’

‘Well, I didn’t!’ exclaimed Christian, pushing back his chair and standing up.

Realizing that it was time for her to leave, Erica tried to get up from the armchair. But her heavy body resisted her efforts, and all she could manage were a few grunts. Christian’s stern expression softened, and he reached out a helping hand.

‘It’s probably just some lunatic who heard that I was writing a book and started getting strange ideas about it. That’s all,’ he said, sounding calmer.

Erica doubted that was the whole truth, but her opinion was based more on a gut feeling than any concrete evidence. As she walked towards her car, she hoped Christian hadn’t noticed that were now only five letters in his desk drawer instead of six. She didn’t know what had made her take such a bold step, but if Christian wasn’t going to tell her the truth, then she was just going to have to find out more on her own. The tone of the letters was clearly threatening, and she was worried that her friend might be in danger.

‘Did you have to cancel any appointments?’ Erik nibbled on Cecilia’s nipple. She gasped as she stretched out on the bed in her flat. The beauty salon that she owned was within easy reach on the ground floor of the building.

‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To hear that I had to cancel clients in order to make room for you in my calendar. What makes you think you’re so important?’

‘What could be more important than this?’ He ran his tongue over her breast, and she pulled him down on top of her, unable to wait any longer.

Afterwards she lay next to him, her head resting on his arm. A few rough hairs tickled her cheek.

‘It was a bit strange, running into Louise yesterday. And you.’

‘Mmmm,’ replied Erik, dozing. He had no wish to discuss his wife or his marriage with his mistress.

‘I like Louise, you know,’ said Cecilia, playing with the hairs on his chest. ‘And if she knew…’

‘But she doesn’t,’ Erik snapped, propping himself up on his elbows. ‘And she’s never going to find out.’

Cecilia looked up at him, and he knew from experience exactly how this discussion was going to proceed.

‘Sooner or later she’ll have to know.’

Erik sighed to himself. Why did they always have to talk about the past and the future? He swung his legs over the side of the bed and began getting dressed.

‘Do you have to leave already?’ asked Cecilia. The hurt expression on her face annoyed him even more.

‘I’ve got a lot of work to do,’ he said curtly, buttoning his shirt. He had the smell of sex in his nostrils, but he would take a shower at the office. He always kept a change of clothes there, for just such occasions.

‘So this is the way it’s going to be?’ Cecilia was still lying on the bed, and Erik couldn’t help staring at her naked body. Her breasts were pointing upwards with big, dark nipples that were stiff from the cool temperature in the room. He made a quick calculation. He really didn’t need to hurry back to the office, and he wouldn’t mind having another go-round. It would take a bit of persuasion, so to speak, but the excitement that was already starting to build inside his body told him that it would be worth the effort. He sat down on the edge of the bed and softened his voice and expression as he caressed her cheek.

‘Cecilia,’ he said, and then he went on to speak words that rolled as easily from his lips as they had so many times before. When she pressed her body against his, he could feel her breasts through his shirt. He reached up and began unfastening the buttons.

After a late lunch at Källaren restaurant, Patrik parked his car in front of the low, white building, which would never win any sort of architectural prize, and entered the reception area of the Tanumshede police station.

‘You’ve got a visitor,’ Annika told him, peering over her reading glasses.

‘Who is it?’

‘I can’t say, but she’s a real looker. Maybe a bit on the plump side, but I think you’re going to like her.’

‘What on earth are you talking about?’ said Patrik, bewildered. He wondered why Annika suddenly seemed to have taken on the role of pimp for happily married colleagues.

‘You’ll just have to go and see for yourself. She’s waiting in your office,’ said Annika, giving him a wink.

Patrik went to his office and came to a halt in the doorway.

‘Hi, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘What are you doing here?’

Erica was sitting in the visitor’s chair in front of his desk, paging absentmindedly through an issue of the journal Police.

‘You’re certainly late getting back from lunch,’ she said, ignoring his question. ‘Is this what a busy day at police headquarters is like?’

Patrik merely snorted. He knew that Erica loved to tease him.

‘So, what are you doing here?’ he asked, sitting down in his desk chair. He leaned forward to study his wife more closely. Again he saw how beautiful she was. He thought about the first time she had visited him at the police station, in connection with the murder of her friend Alexandra Wijkner, and it seemed to him that she’d grown even lovelier since then. It was something that he occasionally forgot, caught up as he was in daily routines. One day followed another, filled with work, dropping Maja off at the day-care centre and then picking her up again, grocery shopping, and weary evenings spent on the sofa watching TV. But occasionally he was struck by how far from ordinary his love for Erica was. And now that she was sitting right here in front of him, with the winter sun shining through the window and lighting up her blonde hair, and with those two babies inside her stomach, the love he felt for her was so strong that it was enough to last an entire lifetime.