Free The House That Jack Built by Jakob Melander Page B

he didn’t have to, he was waiting for her, just like he had after her first day of school. He remembered his little girl on a rainy day in the suburb of Mørkhøj — Maria standing on the road in a dress and sandals with her hair in braids.
    Just before coming to meet his daughter, he had left Mikkel Rasmussen’s shirt with Toke. Now it was on its way to Forensics. Getting usable DNA wouldn’t be a problem. They had him.
    The crowd parted in front of him. A figure stood out. Then a body pressed against his, a momentary touch of a cheek before she pulled back, stood in front of him, waiting. Her pretty, deep brown eyes shifted toward the billboards, the people passing by — the light in their eyes had long since gone out — the departing train. Everything but him.
    â€œHey,” he ventured.
    Maria mumbled something in reply. He tried stroking her hair.
    â€œAre we just going to stand here?” she said, pulling her head back.
    When he laughed, he could hear how hollow it sounded.
    â€œNo, of course not. Come on, it’s just over there.” He speed-talked as he walked ahead of her toward the stairs leading to street level. On the first landing he stopped so she could catch up to him. She wore cut-off jean shorts, a black peasant top, Converse sneakers, and a backpack. Her hair was still long and dark brown like his. She had a small upturned nose and delicate eyebrows, and her mouth was slightly too big for her slender face. She was just as he remembered her. But had she lost weight? Did her cheeks look a little hollow?
    She was already on her cell, texting. Her thumb passed lightning fast over the keys.
    He glanced at her as they walked along the street under the tracks. She was somewhere else. Not here. Not with him. “Can’t you wait a minute with that?”
    She didn’t answer, continued texting as she followed him down Folmer Bendtsens Plads.
    When they got upstairs, Maria walked straight into the first room. “Is this supposed to be my room?”
    â€œEr, we’re going to paint it of course, but yes, that’s what I was thinking.”
    â€œAnd where am I going to sleep? On that?” she said, pointing to the mattress that was leaning against the wall.
    â€œMom is sending all your things over tomorrow. Everything from your old room. Ulrik’s bought new furniture for you, right?”
    She dropped the backpack in a corner and sprawled in the old wicker chair, the only other furniture in the room apart from the mattress. The wicker creaked.
    â€œAnd you can cut that out.” She pointed an accusatory finger at the cigarettes he had just taken out. “You’re not smoking in here.”
    He fumbled with the pack then put it back in his pocket. It was unbelievable how she could order him around. You could forget a lot in two months.
    She kicked off her shoes and folded her legs under her. “At least it’s not far from Caro’s place.”
    â€œCaroline? Has she moved away from home?” Had it already begun?
    â€œShe’s subletting an apartment on Ørholmgade.” She looked up at him. “Relax. Her mom is so tough, and she knew someone who’d be travelling all summer.” She began texting again.
    So it was just a trial. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing? With Caroline around the corner, the chances of Maria wanting to be here increased considerably.
    â€œWe’re going to a colleague’s for dinner tonight,” he said. “I’m just going out on the balcony to — smoke.”
    â€œFine,” she said and rolled her eyes. Her phone beeped.
    Lars closed the balcony door behind him, exhaled. The cigarette was already in his mouth. He struck a match and drew the smoke deep into his lungs.
    An Audi streaked out of the roundabout, nearly grazing a rattling Opel. There was honking and a finger out the window. Lars looked back into the apartment. His home had just been subjected