Free She's Never Coming Back by Hans Koppel

would be open. She said who she was and asked to speak to BillÅkerman. Luckily he was there, which lowered the chances that he’d spent the night with Ylva or knew where she was, but Nour wanted to make sure.
    ‘Hello.’
    His voice was aggressive, just like his personality.
    ‘Hello, my name is Nour. I work with Ylva Zetterberg.’
    Bill waited for her to finish and to say more.
    ‘I’ve seen you a couple of times,’ Nour continued. ‘But I don’t think you know who I am.’
    ‘I know who you are.’
    His voice was cold and businesslike, there was no hint of invitation or intimacy. But Nour still felt flattered in a way. She wondered whether Bill’s success with women was simply due to social ineptitude. Or was it disinterest? Bill didn’t care, which aroused a competitive spirit in women who were normally spoilt for attention.
    ‘I’m sorry to call you like this, but it’s kind of urgent. Ylva’s disappeared. She didn’t go home last night. Her husband’s called me a couple of times and asked if I maybe know where she is.’
    ‘I have no idea.’
    ‘So she wasn’t with you?’
    ‘Why the hell would she be?’
    ‘I know that you—’
    ‘That was a hundred years ago. Was there anything else?’
    ‘No.’
    Bill hung up. Nour sat with the telephone in her hand. Her immediate impulse was to go to the restaurant and apologise. She didn’t feel good, like an old gossip sniffing out scandal.
    Ylva would be furious when she found out that Nour had phoned Bill.
    Nour was ashamed. She had let herself be drawn in by Mike’s anxiety. Instead of reassuring him, she had taken his hysteria a step further.
    Did Mike even know that his wife had had an affair with Bill? Nour wasn’t certain.
    If Ylva didn’t turn up soon, Mike would ring her again to find out who she’d spoken to. She couldn’t really say that the only person she’d contacted was Bill. Nour had to phone a few other people, so she could say that she had. Despite the fact that she already knew that none of them would have any idea where Ylva might be. The phone calls would only reinforce the image of Nour as some hysterical gossipmonger.
    Nour felt her irritation growing. How come she should be tidying up after Ylva? She wasn’t the one who’d fucked around.

18
    Sanna saved the longest fries until last.
    ‘Look,’ she said, holding one up in front of her.
    ‘Wow, that’s a long one,’ Mike said.
    He glanced over quickly and then looked back at the road. He stayed in lane on the roundabout and out on to the motorway.
    ‘I’ve had longer ones,’ Sanna said, world weary. ‘One was super long.’
    ‘Longer than that?’ Mike exclaimed.
    ‘Much longer. Double as long.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Well, maybe not double.’
    ‘But very long?’
    ‘Yes.’
    Sanna happily stuffed the fry in her mouth.
    Mike wondered whether he should drive into town and ask his mother to look after Sanna for a couple of hours. That would leave him free to make phone calls and do some ferreting, and it would spare Sanna having to witness the scene when Ylva finally decided to pitch up. The problem would obviously be his mother’s questions and accusations. She and Ylva rubbed along well enough, but their friendliness was strained, and he didn’t want to upset the balance.
    Mike should probably contact the police. Not because he thought it was necessary, but because Ylva deserved it. It made it seem more serious and reinforced the idea that he’d been taken in. The alternative, that he suspected her of being unfaithful without doing anything about it, was worse.
    He decided to go home. It was more than likely that Ylva would be waiting for them there.
    Mike managed to convince himself and took the northbound exit at Berga.
    *
    The front door was still locked and there were no new shoes in the hall. But Mike called anyway.
    ‘Hello?’
    Sanna looked up at him.
    ‘Is Mummy still not home?’
    Mike shook his head.
    ‘Where is she?’
    ‘I don’t