looked? Do you remember that a young colleague I had with me was beaten up so badly that he’s still in the hospital?”
Jenny nodded glumly. Irene continued, imperturbable. “Do you remember that I told you about the grenade that was thrown into the house where my colleague and I were locked inside? Do you remember?”
“Yeah, yeah, you don’t have to keep talking about it! Of course I remember!”
“If you remember that, what makes you think for an instant that this guy wouldn’t kill you or Katarina? If the circumstances were right—or from your point of view, unlucky—nothing would stop him. He was there when they tried to murder me and Jimmy!”
Finally she couldn’t stop herself. Her final words turned into a shriek. But she got them out. Jenny’s eyes grew big and shiny. She got up and went over to her mamma and threw her arms around her. They didn’t say a word, but they both felt that something was changing between them. It would take time, but it would heal.
They jumped when the telephone rang. Katarina got to it first and picked it up.
“Just a moment. Mamma, it’s for you.”
“Irene Huss.”
“Hi, Irene. It’s Mona Söder. Is this a bad time? No? I just wanted to tell you that Jonas . . . Jonas died early this morning . . . at two o’clock.”
Her voice had been steady, but now it broke. Around two in the morning. That was when Irene thought she had heard somebody crying in the house.
Chapter Nineteen
SUNDAY MORNING WAS ROUGH. Irene woke up with an unpleasant feeling of being hung over. Unjustly, since she hadn’t even had a light beer the night before. Krister was snoring loudly next to her in bed. He had come home around two in the morning. He had worked the extra shift he had traded with Sverker so he could take care of her after the beating out in Billdal. A wave of tenderness rose up inside her and she tiptoed out as quietly as she could so she wouldn’t wake him. It was just after eight o’clock. The twins would sleep at least two more hours. And no doubt their father would too. The important thing was to make the best of these few hours to herself.
She put on her long underwear and jogging suit. Sammie lay playing possum. He was the biggest sleepyhead of the whole family in the morning. He didn’t mind a brief walk to pee, but no running or jumping in the morning, please. She rattled his leash a little. Nature’s call made itself felt, and he meandered out into the hallway. He gave a big yawn and stretched out his body, heavy with sleep.
It was a short walk. Sammie was eager to get home. He was thinking about an empty bed that was still warm.
It was dark and cold, but the air felt clear and crisp. She ran down toward Fiskebäck marina without meeting a soul. The salt-saturated wind blew the scent of seaweed into her wide-open nostrils and swept away the heavy feeling in her head. The flint-gray sea slammed its swells against jetties and wharves. The mooring ropes slapped and the shrouds fluttered on the big sailboats still in the water. The creak of some wooden fenders made her instinctively slow her pace. It was clear that they were protesting being squashed between a huge boat hull and the wharf. Although she had already run almost two kilometers she wasn’t even short of breath. She turned around out by the rocks and ran back a bit, then turned off toward Flundregatorna and jogged the back streets up toward Skärvallsberget. She made it all the way out to the very edge of Hinsholmskilen before she turned back.
IRENE TOOK a long hot shower, followed by a short ice-cold one. A perfect conclusion to a jog of several kilometers. Gone was the earlier disgruntled feeling. She was bursting with energy. Breakfast for the family, including the dog, was fixed in a jiffy. It was harder trying to pry her weary family members out of their warm beds. Including the dog.
Irene had to explain one more time what had happened the day before. Krister apologized for not fully understanding the gravity of the situation. Irene shrugged it off and said that she was equally to blame. She had been too agitated to tell him what was actually going on. Her gracious spouse then tactfully told her what the restaurant owner had said. “Overstressed” and “perhaps a little