Free The Hidden Child by Camilla Läckberg Page B

Her name is Maja.’
    ‘I’d heard rumours to that effect,’ said Karin, laughing. ‘You’re married to Erica Falck, right? Tell her that I love her books!’
    ‘I’ll do that,’ said Patrik, waving to Ludde. ‘But what are you doing now?’ he asked Karin. ‘Last I heard, you were working for an accounting firm.’
    ‘Oh, that was a while back. I quit three years ago. Right now I’m on maternity leave from a consulting company that handles financial services.’
    ‘Is that right? This is actually my second day on paternity leave,’ said Patrik with a certain pride.
    ‘What fun! But where’s . . . ?’ Karin looked past him, and Patrik smiled a bit sheepishly.
    ‘Erica is looking after her at the moment. I had to go out to do some errands.’
    ‘Uh-huh. Well, I’m very familiar with the phenomenon.’ Karin gave him a wink. ‘The male lack of ability to multitask seems to be universal.’
    ‘I suppose it is,’ said Patrik, embarrassed.
    ‘But why don’t we get together with our kids sometime? It’s not that easy to keep them occupied on their own, plus then you and I would have a chance to talk to another grown-up. And that’s always a plus!’ She rolled her eyes and gave Patrik an enquiring look.
    ‘Sure, that’d be great. When and where?’
    ‘I usually take a long walk with Ludde every morning around ten. You’re welcome to join us. We could meet outside the pharmacy, at about ten fifteen. How’s that?’
    ‘Sounds good. By the way, do you know what time it is? I left my mobile at home, and I use it as my clock too.’
    Karin glanced at her watch. ‘Two fifteen.’
    ‘Shit! I should have been home two hours ago!’ He raced off towards the cashier, pushing the cart in front of him. ‘See you tomorrow!’
    ‘Ten fifteen. Outside the pharmacy. And don’t show up fifteen minutes late, like you used to,’ Karin called after him.
    ‘I won’t,’ Patrik shouted back as he began putting his groceries on the check-out belt. He sincerely hoped that Maja was still sleeping.
    There was a thick layer of morning fog outside the window as the plane began its descent towards Göteborg. The landing gear whirred as it was deployed. Axel leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. That was a mistake. The images again appeared, as they had so many times in past years. Wearily he opened his eyes. He hadn’t got much sleep last night. He’d mostly lain awake in bed in his Paris flat, tossing and turning.
    The woman on the phone had told him the news about Erik in a tone of voice that was both sympathetic and distant. He could tell from her manner that this was not the first time she’d notified someone about a death.
    His head swam as he thought how many times such news had been delivered throughout history. Conversations with the police, a pastor standing on the doorstep, an envelope with a military seal. All those millions and millions of people who had died. And each time someone must have conveyed the news.
    Axel tugged at his earlobe. Over the years this had become an unconscious habit. He was practically deaf in his left ear, and touching it seemed to calm the constant rushing sound.
    He shifted his gaze to look out the window but saw only his own reflection. The grey, furrowed face of a man in his eighties, with sorrowful, deep-set eyes. He touched his face. For a moment he imagined that he was looking at Erik instead.
    With a thud the wheels touched down. He had arrived.
    Wary of another ‘accident’ in his office, Mellberg took down the dog lead that he’d hung on a hook and attached it to Ernst’s collar.
    ‘Come on, let’s get this over with,’ he grunted, and Ernst scampered joyfully towards the front door, moving at a speed that forced Bertil to trot after him.
    ‘You’re supposed to be walking the dog, not vice versa,’ remarked Annika with amusement as they rushed past.
    ‘I’d be happy to let you take him out,’ snapped Mellberg, but he continued towards the door.
    Stupid