Free The Stonecutter by Camilla Läckberg

seemed somehow too intrusive. A long moment passed in silence, and Erica was just about to turn and go when she heard footsteps inside the house. Niclas opened the door.
    ‘Hi,’ she said softly.
    ‘Hi,’ said Niclas, grief evident in his red-rimmed eyes and pale face. He looked like a dead man condemned to walk the earth.
    ‘Pardon me for bothering you, it’s not what I intended, I just thought …’ She sought for words but found none. A heavy silence settled between them. Niclas fixed his gaze on his feet, and for the second time since she knocked on the door Erica was about to turn on her heel and flee back home.
    ‘Would you like to come in?’ he asked.
    ‘Do you think it would be all right?’ Erica asked. ‘I mean, do you think it would be any …’ she searched for the right word, ‘help?’
    ‘She’s been given a sedative and isn’t really …’ He didn’t finish the sentence. ‘But she said several times that she should have called you, so it would be good if you could reassure her on that point.’
    Charlotte’s concern about not phoning to cancel, after what had happened, told Erica how confused her friend must be. But that couldn’t prepare her for what she saw when she followed Niclas into the living room. She let out a startled cry and rushed over to her friend. If Niclas looked like the walking dead, Charlotte looked like someone who’d been buried long ago. Nothing of the energetic, warm, lively Charlotte she knew was left. It was as though an empty shell were lying on the sofa. Her dark hair, which usually formed a frame of curls around her face, now hung in lank wisps. The extra weight that Charlotte’s mother had criticized had always seemed beautiful in Erica’s eyes, making Charlotte look like one of Zorn’s voluptuous Dalecarlian women. Yet now, lying huddled up under the blanket, she looked merely doughy and unhealthy.
    She wasn’t asleep. Rather, her eyes stared lifelessly into empty space, and under the blanket she was shivering a little. Without taking off her jacket, Erica knelt down on the floor by the sofa. When she put Maja down on the floor beside her, the baby seemed to sense the mood and lay perfectly still for a change.
    ‘Oh, Charlotte, I’m so sorry.’ Erica was crying and took Charlotte’s face in her hands, but there was no sign of life in her empty gaze.
    ‘Has she been like this the whole time?’ Erica asked, turning to Niclas. He was still standing in the middle of the room, swaying a little. Finally he nodded and wearily rubbed his hand over his eyes. ‘It’s the medication. But as soon as we stop the pills she starts screaming. She sounds like a wounded animal. I just can’t stand that sound.’
    Erica turned back to Charlotte and stroked her hair tenderly. She didn’t seem to have bathed or changed her clothes in days, and her body gave off a faint odor of sweat and fear. Her mouth moved as if she wanted to say something, but at first it was impossible to make any sense of the mumbling. After trying for a moment, Charlotte said in a hoarse voice, ‘Couldn’t make it. Should have called.’
    Erica shook her head vigorously and continued stroking her friend’s hair.
    ‘That doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it.’
    ‘Sara, gone,’ said Charlotte, focusing her gaze on Erica for the first time. Her eyes seemed to burn right through her, they were so full of sorrow.
    ‘Yes, Charlotte. Sara is gone. But Albin is here, and Niclas. You’re going to have to help each other now.’ She could hear for herself that it sounded like she was simply mouthing platitudes, but maybe the simplicity of a cliché could reach Charlotte. But the only result was that Charlotte gave a wry smile and repeated dully, ‘Help each other.’ The smile looked more like a grimace, and there seemed to be some sort of bitter underlying message in the words. But maybe Erica was imagining things. Strong sedatives could produce strange effects.
    A sound behind them made