The Falling Detective (35 page)

Then I put the book away, lock the door to my office, and take the tube of Halcion from my pocket.

24/12

Despite the country being in hibernation, my footsteps are restless. It's Christmas Eve, and it's half-past six in the evening. I leave Salem, heading for Rönninge railway station. During the day, I've experienced only snippets of the feeling of being part of something bigger, something that everyone in all the other houses and all the other living rooms share. The rest of the time, I've felt remarkably lonely.

staying at mum's tonight
,
Sam writes in a text.

see you tomorrow?
I send back, waiting for the train.

yes
, she replies and then, a few seconds later,
I love you

Those words take my breath away, as I stand there, alone on the platform.

Everything is so quiet.

I travel from Salem to the place where I might actually belong. I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing here, but I know that I'm doing it for my own sake, more than for anyone else's.

I'm met with a smile as I open the door.

‘Merry Christmas, Leo.'

I undo my coat, and sit down on the chair I always sit on, and I don't know what I feel. It might be anger, at the fact that I can't stay away. Perhaps it's relief, at finally being here, not having to pretend to be something that I'm not. I put the mobile phone, his Christmas present, on the table between us.

‘Merry Christmas, Grim.'

Acknowledgements

Thanks to my Swedish publishers, Piratförlaget, for your support, your encouragement, and for believing in me and Leo. If it weren't for you, this story would have remained just an idea. An extra thank you to Sofia, my outstanding publisher, and Anna, my fantastic editor. You always take the story's side, right to the end.

Thank you Marina, Anna, Marc, and all the others at Pontas Agency, who helped my stories reach more readers than I ever dared hope or imagine.

Thank you, Leif, for good company, wise words, and, not least, for taking the time to read
The Falling Detective
when I needed it most, and saying what you thought was good and what needed improving. I (almost) always agreed with you.

My thanks also go to Gösta, Astri, and Christine.

Thanks Mum, Dad, and my little brother, and thanks to Karl, Martin, and Tobias. And thank you, Mela, for being so wise and perceptive about the big things, the small things, and everything in between, for your humour, understanding, warmth, and love. Without you, I would be not only a significantly worse writer,
I would
be a worse person, too. I love you.