Free The Gallows Bird by Camilla Läckberg

the knife made the first cut in her skin, she had felt the anxiety recede. It felt like it ran out of the wound on her arm. Disappeared along with the blood that slowly trickled out, red and hot. She loved the sight of her own blood. Loved the feeling of the knife, or a razor blade or whatever the fuck else she could find within reach that would cut away the anxiety that sat so firmly anchored in her chest.
    She also discovered that this was the only time they noticed her. The blood made them turn their attention to her and really see her. But the kick had proven to be less intense each time. With each wound, each scar, the effect on her anxiety diminished. And instead of looking at her with concern, as they had done at first, now her parents just looked at her with resignation. They had lost their grip on her, and decided to help those they could save instead. People with damaged hearts and internal organs that had stopped functioning and needed to be replaced. She had nothing of the sort to offer. It was her soul that was broken, and that was not something they could fix with a scalpel. So they stopped trying.
    The only love now available to her was from the cameras, and the people who sat night after night in front of their television sets watching her. Seeing the real Jonna.
    Behind her she heard a guy asking Barbie if he could touch her silicone implants. The viewers would love it. Jonna deliberately raised her arms so the scars were visible. It was the only way she could compete.
    ‘Martin, can I come in for a minute? We have to talk.’
    ‘Of course, come on in, I’m just finishing up some reports.’ He waved Patrik inside. ‘What is it? You look worried.’
    ‘Well, I’m not quite sure what to think about this. We received the autopsy report on Marit Kaspersen this morning, and I must say there’s something that seems very odd.’
    ‘What’s that?’ Martin leaned forward with interest. He remembered that Patrik had muttered something along those lines on the day the accident occurred, but then he’d honestly forgotten about it. Patrik hadn’t mentioned it since then either.
    ‘Well, Pedersen wrote down everything he found, and I talked with him on the phone too, but there’s something we simply can’t explain.’
    ‘Tell me.’ Martin’s curiosity was mounting by the second. ‘First of all, Marit didn’t die in the car crash. She was already dead when it happened.’
    ‘Already dead? How? What was it, a heart attack or something?’
    ‘No, not exactly.’ Patrik scratched his head as he studied the report. ‘She died of alcohol poisoning. She had a point six-one blood alcohol level.’
    ‘You’ve got to be kidding. Point six-one is enough to kill a horse!’
    ‘Exactly. According to Pedersen she must have drunk a whole bottle of vodka. In a very short time.’
    ‘And those who knew her said that she never drank.’
    ‘Precisely. There was no sign of alcohol abuse in her body either, which probably means that she had built up absolutely no tolerance. According to Pedersen she would have reacted very rapidly.’
    ‘So she got herself plastered for some reason. It’s tragic, of course, but unfortunately something that happens from time to time,’ Martin said, puzzled by Patrik’s obvious concern.
    ‘Yes, that’s what it looks like. But Pedersen found something else that makes the whole thing a bit more complicated.’ Patrik crossed his legs and skimmed through the report to find the place. ‘Here it is. I’ll try to translate it into layman’s terms. Everything Pedersen writes is so cryptic. It seems she had an odd bruise around her mouth. There are also signs of trauma inside her mouth and throat.’
    ‘So, what are you getting at?’
    ‘I don’t know.’ Patrik sighed. ‘There wasn’t enough for Pedersen to make any definitive conclusions. He can’t say for sure that she didn’t guzzle a whole bottle of booze in the car, die of alcohol poisoning, and then veer off the