Free The Drowning by Camilla Läckberg Page B

gone there alone with the removal van to pick up his few belongings.

    Sanna ran her eyes over the messages in his inbox. A couple of emails from the publisher, several newspapers wanting interviews, some news from the local municipality having to do with his job at the library. That was all.
    This time the feeling of relief was just as glorious as ever when she logged out of his account. Before turning off the computer, she did a routine scan of his web browser history, but there was nothing unusual. Christian had checked out the websites for the newspapers Expressen and Aftonbladet , as well as his publisher’s home page. He’d also looked at a new child’s car seat online.
    But there was still the issue of the letters. He had insisted that he didn’t know who had sent those cryptic messages to him. Yet there was something in his tone of voice that contradicted his claim. Sanna couldn’t really put her finger on what it might be, and it was driving her nuts. What wasn’t he telling her? Who had sent those letters? Was it a woman who had once been his lover? Or someone who was his mistress now?
    She clenched and unclenched her hands, forcing herself to breathe calmly. The temporary sense of relief had already vanished, and she tried in vain to convince herself that everything was as it should be. Reassurance. That was the only thing she desired. She just wanted to know that Christian loved her.
    But deep inside she knew that he had never belonged to her. That he had always been searching for something else, someone else, during all the years they had lived together. She knew that he had never loved her. Not really. And one day he would find the person that he wanted to be with, the one he actually loved, and then she would be all alone.
    Sanna wrapped her arms around herself for a moment as she sat on the desk chair. Then she got up. Christian’smobile bill had arrived with the post yesterday. It would take her only a minute to peruse it.
     
    Erica walked aimlessly through the house. This eternal waiting was going to drive her crazy. She’d finished writing her latest book, but she didn’t have the energy to start on a new project right now. And she couldn’t do much in the house without her back and joints protesting. She spent her time reading or watching TV. Or she did what she was doing now – wandering around the house out of sheer frustration. At least today was Saturday, and Patrik was home. He’d gone out with Maja for a short walk so she’d get some fresh air. Erica was counting the minutes until they returned.
    When the doorbell rang, her heart nearly skipped a beat. Before she managed to respond, the door was thrown open, and Anna came into the front hall.
    ‘Are you practically going out of your mind too?’ she said, taking off her scarf and jacket.
    ‘How’d you guess?’ said Erica, suddenly feeling much more cheerful.
    They went into the kitchen, and Anna set a steaming bag on the counter. ‘Freshly baked buns. Belinda did the baking.’
    ‘Really?’ said Erica, trying to picture Anna’s eldest step-daughter wearing an apron and kneading dough with her black-painted fingernails.
    ‘She’s in love,’ said Anna, as if that explained everything. Which, in fact, it actually did.
    ‘Well, I can’t recall it ever having that sort of effect on me,’ said Erica, putting the buns on a plate.
    ‘Apparently he told her yesterday that he likes girls who are the domestic type.’ Anna raised one eyebrow and gave Erica a knowing look.
    ‘Oh, is that right?’

    Anna laughed as she reached for one of the buns. ‘Hey, calm down, you don’t have to go over to his house and give him a thrashing. I’ve met the boy, and believe me, within a week Belinda is going to get tired of him and go back to her black-clad losers who play in obscure rock bands and don’t give a shit whether she’s the domestic type or not.’
    ‘Let’s hope so. But I have to say that these buns aren’t bad.’ Erica