Free The Stonecutter by Camilla Läckberg Page B

nevertheless the feeling was real, and she was not in the habit of denying herself anything. Though she had no precise plan, she knew what she wanted, and she wanted it now. Consequences were not something she ever needed to take into consideration.
    It never occurred to her that Anders might not want her. She had never met a man who was indifferent to her. Men were like apples on a tree, and she only needed to reach out her hand to pick them. Though it was true that this apple might present a slightly greater risk than most. She had kissed married men without her father’s knowledge, and in some instances had even gone farther than that, but even those men were safer than the one she was about to meet. At least they belonged to the same class as she did. With the others, if she had been caught, the affairs would have been regarded with a certain indulgence once the scandal died down. But a working-class man, a stonecutter. No one would even dare think such a thought. It simply would never occur to them.
    But she was tired of upper-class men, spineless, pale, with limp handshakes and shrill voices. None of them was a man like the stonecutter. She shivered at the memory of his callused hand against hers.
    It hadn’t been easy to find out where he lived without arousing suspicion. But a glance at the wage slips during an unguarded moment had provided his address, and then, when she arrived, she had pinpointed his room by the workboots on the windowsill.
    The first pebble produced no response, and she waited a moment, afraid of waking the old lady snoring loudly in a nearby room. But no one moved inside the house. She paused to preen in the ethereal moonlight. She had chosen simple, dark clothing so as not to emphasize the difference in their social standing. She had even plaited her hair and wound it atop her head in one of the simple hairdos that were common among the working-class women. After a moment, she picked up another pebble from the gravel walkway and tossed it against the window. Now she saw a shadow moving inside, and her heart skipped a beat. Full of adrenaline and the euphoria of the chase, Agnes felt her cheeks flush. When he opened the window, puzzled, she sneaked behind the lilac bush that partly covered the window and took a deep breath. The hunt was on.

    Patrik left Mellberg’s office with a heaviness in both his heart and his step. The damned old fool! He understood quite well that the superintendent had forced Ernst on him merely out of spite. It would almost be funny if it weren’t so bloody tragic. How stupid.
    Patrik stepped into Martin’s office, frustration radiating from his body.
    ‘What did he say?’ asked Martin warily.
    ‘Unfortunately he can’t spare you. You have to keep working on some car-theft mess. But he apparently has no problem getting along without Ernst.’
    ‘You’re kidding,’ Martin whispered since Patrik hadn’t closed the door behind him. ‘You and Lundgren are going to work together?’
    Patrik nodded gloomily. ‘Looks that way. If we knew who the killer was, we could send him a telegram and congratulate him. This investigation is going to be hopelessly sunk, if I can’t keep Ernst out of it as much as possible.’
    ‘Well, shit!’ said Martin, and Patrik could do nothing but agree. After a moment’s silence he slapped his hands on his thighs and stood up, trying to muster a little enthusiasm.
    ‘I suppose there’s nothing for it but to get to work.’
    ‘Where did you intend to start?’
    ‘Well, the first thing will be to inform the girl’s parents about the recent developments and cautiously try to ask a few questions.’
    ‘Are you taking Ernst along?’ Martin asked skeptically.
    ‘No, I think I’ll try to slip off by myself. Hopefully I can wait to tell him about his change of assignment until a little later.’
    But when he came out in the corridor he realized that Mellberg had foiled his plans.
    ‘Hedström!’ Ernst’s whiny voice echoed