Authors: Kristina Ohlsson
Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General, #Crime
‘But it wasn’t them who came spontaneously to mind when I asked.’
‘No, it wasn’t. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love them. Just that I love them in a different way.’
‘Try to explain.’
Peder took a deep breath.
‘I can’t. I just know that’s how it is. If I woke up tomorrow and Ylva wasn’t there, I wouldn’t be able to carry on. I just wouldn’t be able to cope with what Alex is going through at the moment.’
Peder ran out of words. Ylva had given him a fresh chance. Now it was up to him to make the most of it.
BAGHDAD, IRAQ
Farah Hajib had already accepted that the man she loved was dead and would never come back, when a grey-haired, Western-looking man turned up at her front door.
He spoke no Arabic at all, and the English she had learned at school was not enough for her to make out what he was saying. So she signed to him to go with her to the house next door where her cousin lived, because he was good at English and had worked as an interpreter for the American forces.
Guests from the West were still a rarity in Baghdad. Those who did come were nearly all journalists or from one of the diplomatic missions bold enough to maintain a permanent presence in the area. But Farah could see straight away that her guest was of another kind. He had a different sort of physical fitness and his eyes were constantly scouring his surroundings for danger or things worth observing.
Police, she guessed. Or the military. Not American, but perhaps German.
But it was not the man’s behaviour Farah would remember. It was the boundless sorrow and pain she thought she could see in his eyes. A sorrow so deep she could hardly look at him. She decided her guest was too strange to be bringing any sort of good news. It would be a short visit to her cousin.
‘There’s something he wants to give you,’ her cousin said after a few minutes’ conversation with the man.
‘Me?’ she echoed in astonishment.
Her cousin nodded.
‘But I don’t know him.’
‘He says he comes from Sweden and works for the police. But he’s on leave at the moment. He says he investigated your fiancé’s death last spring.’
The words took Farah’s breath away and she looked at the older man’s grief-stricken face.
‘He says he’s afraid he can’t stay long because there’s someone else he has to see before he goes home. Another woman who lost her husband last spring. His name was Ali.’
Just then, her cousin’s wife came out of the kitchen, curious to see who this guest in their house was.
The stranger gave her a cautious nod and said something to Farah’s cousin.
‘He congratulates you on the baby you’re expecting,’ the cousin said to his very pregnant wife. ‘One of his close colleagues had a baby a few months ago and he’s going to be a grandfather by Christmas himself.’
Farah gave a melancholy smile, still at a loss as to why this man had come to see her out of the blue.
Then he quietly put his hand in his pocket and took out a tiny object.
Her fiancé’s engagement ring.
Without even thanking him, she took the ring and looked at it until the memories that it evoked overwhelmed her and her tears began to flow. When she looked up at the man who said he was a Swedish police officer, she saw he was crying, too.
‘It was his wife’s suggestion that he should come here and give you the ring,’ the cousin explained in a mumble, troubled by the guest’s tears.
‘You must thank her and send my greetings,’ Farah said stiffly.
She could almost have sworn that the stranger was smiling through his tears.
AUTHOR’S ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Daring to say thank you is important. At least it is for me. In thanking someone you are acknowledging that they had a hand in your work. That you did not do it all by yourself. And should – in fact – not try to do it all by yourself.
Writing a book is really like baking a very complicated kind of cake. As you struggle with the mixture and the meringue and the icing, you need extra pairs of hands. And you need time and energy, motivation and patience.
I find it easy to write. The words come of their own accord; there’s no need to force or coax them out. But sadly that is no guarantee that they will be perfect. I see it the minute I print the text out from the computer; I can tell where the story isn’t holding together. And I wrestle with all those letters and words, trying to force them to lie in the right way. Sometimes it works. But sometimes it doesn’t work at all.
First of all, a warm thank-you to everyone at my Swedish publishing house, the fantastic Piratförlaget!
Sofi
,
Jenny
,
Cherie
,
Madeleine
,
Ann-Marie
,
Lasse
,
Mattias
,
Lottis
,
Anna Carin
and
Jonna
– where would I be without your energy and constant encouragement? Particular thanks to my publisher
Sofia
, who carries on constructing a framework to keep the way ahead open, and makes me believe I can write any number of books. And to my editor
Anna
who always, always (and that repetition was deliberate,
Anna
) has the stamina to go on even when I don’t, and is the raising agent in the part of the cake mixture that’s called editing.
Many thanks, too, to everyone at the ultra-competent Salomonsson Agency –
Niclas
,
Leyla
,
Tor
,
Catherine
and
Szilvia
– which has secured enormous success abroad since the start of our collaboration in May 2009. I’m proud to be represented by you!
Thanks to all the friends and readers who are following my journey through the book world step by step, almost as if I were a rock star and not a writer. It’s wonderful the way you don’t just read my books but even get me to sign them when you’ve bought them as presents for other people.
Thanks to
Malena
and
Mats
, who provide me with time.
Thanks to
Sven-Åke
who continues to support me when my own knowledge of police work runs dry.
Thanks to the sales staff at Walter Borgs Jaktbutik who helped me select the perfect murder weapon.
Thanks to designer
Nina Leino
who makes my books look so incredibly smart.
Thanks to
Sofia Ekholm
who continues to occupy a special place in my writing. There’s soon going to be a new typescript to read through – I hope you have the time and the appetite!
And thanks to my family, who take such unconditional delight in my successes and travel the length and breadth of the country to be there when I’m talking about my book or kicking my heels behind the signing desk in some bookshop or other.
Thank you
.
Kristina Ohlsson
Baghdad, spring 2010
Table of Contents
Table of Contents