Chapter 10

I arranged my bookings at the bike shop to leave Friday and Saturday clear. The Mobsters had a meeting on Wednesday evening, and Adam updated us on how the operations were going that he had now taken over along with a few of the others. I felt distanced from the gang in a way I hadn't before. I had no intention of getting involved with drugs again, and the war with the other gang, the Delincuentas, was long over. Adam even saw Roger, their leader, for a drink now and then, and their wives were friends. I found myself wishing I was home watching TV with Daniel, or having a meal and a few beers instead. By the time I got home at midnight, he had gone to bed.

Friday morning, we set off in the truck at five, with the intention of reaching Malmo before lunch. We made one stop for fuel, coffee, and a bathroom break, and reached Daniel's old apartment a little before noon. I had my gun tucked into the back of my jeans, hidden by my jacket. It was probably unnecessary, but the killer was clearly insane and had made one failed attempt to kill Daniel. Maybe he didn't like being thwarted that way.

Daniel unlocked the apartment door and swung it open. The hallway was in darkness and he stepped in. A number of scenarios ran through my head about what could be waiting in there, and I grabbed him roughly and hauled him back out the door. His back bumped against my chest as he lost his balance, and he yelped in shock.

"Petter, what—?"

"Just wait a minute." I slid my hand down from his shoulder to the middle of his chest and held him against me as I pulled the gun out of the back of my pants. He leaned on me and shivered. I quickly let him go. "Sorry, I just thought he might have done something if he knows where you live." I stepped past him.

"Bloody hell," he muttered.

I didn't really know what I was doing. I crept into the apartment like a special ops agent on dangerous territory, the gun brandished in front of me in case I needed to use it. There was no sign of anything out of place and no sound. I looked at every corner and doorway, the floor and ceiling, checking for wires or suspicious objects, but there didn't seem to be any and there had been no sign that the apartment door had been tampered with.

"I'm sorry if I scared you," I said, lowering the gun.

"No, you were right. If he found out I lived here, he could have set a trap or a bomb. Anything." He went back and closed the door. "I'm glad you're here."

I followed him around while he packed up his belongings. The apartment had been rented furnished, so most of his things were personal items, plus cutlery and crockery, bedding, bathroom stuff and so on. It filled three boxes and a suitcase. Two trips down to the truck had it all stashed in the back seats. Then he locked the door for the last time and I drove him to the agents' to hand in the keys. He still had to pay two months' rent, which he did in full while at the office. Then we grabbed some sandwiches for lunch and headed for the TV studio.

I was able to sit in the "Green Room" while Daniel was interviewed, and watch everything that happened. He looked nervous while he talked about his experiences and contact with the killer known as the Truth Terrorist, including the fake bomb in his car, and the gassing he'd narrowly avoided. He added that he had been terrified entering his apartment to collect his things, in case the killer had found out where it was and done something there. Then he dropped in quickly that he had moved to Gothenburg for the moment, then gasped and asked them to edit that out. I smiled to myself. If the information was leaked, at least anyone looking for him would be on the wrong scent.

When we returned to my truck, even though it was parked in the studio carpark which had entry barriers and cameras everywhere, we opened the doors carefully, checked everything over for suspicious wires, and inspected underneath the truck and in the engine well before I put the key in the ignition, leaving the doors open and Daniel outside, just in case. Finally, I started the engine and nothing happened. Daniel climbed in and closed the door.

"I feel stupid now." He laughed a little, but his hands shook as he put his seatbelt on.

"Don't. We can't be too careful until he's caught."

We left Malmo immediately. I drove for an hour until Daniel relaxed, then we switched and he drove as far as Jonkoping. We were about halfway home, but we were both tired and decided to find somewhere to get a meal and crash for the night. Daniel pulled into the parking area at the back of a hotel which had a "Vacancies" sign out front. They didn't have any single rooms free, but we paid for a twin, checked in, then went down to the restaurant and bar. We ate steak and drank a few beers before retiring to the room.

Nothing disturbed me that night. I fell asleep in my chosen bed and woke to find Daniel snoring softly in the other bed. I got up, took a shower, and put my clothes back on, then made coffee. He didn't wake until I was on my second cup.

We ate a quick breakfast in the restaurant and were back on the road in an hour. Three hours later, we reached my apartment. Daniel threw himself onto the sofa and stretched out. "It's good to be home." Then he laughed. "Well, it's not home for me for much longer."

"Bet you can't wait to have your own place again. Move." I pushed his legs off the couch and sat down.

"I'll miss you," he said. He didn't look at me, and I wondered if there could be anything in what Monica said. Did he like me like that? Maybe it was just as well he wasn't going to be here for much longer. But I knew I'd miss him too.

A couple of days later, Daniel had a call from the paper he'd applied for a job at, inviting him to an interview the next Monday. Everything seemed to be going well for him at last. If only the cops in Malmo would catch the killer.

Monica called the next day and invited us for lunch on Sunday again. "I know you can't really have the boys staying while Daniel's there, but it'd be nice for them to see you for a few hours."

"Of course I'll come," I said at once.

"And Daniel?"

"Fine. I'll bring him if you can manage to not gossip about me with him."

She laughed. "He can be my confidante about Lasse instead."

"You can talk to me. How's it going?"

"Well, so far. I really like him."

"Good." I wasn't going to ask if she'd slept with him yet. There were some things I probably shouldn't pry into, although I doubted she'd think it was a secret anyway. Let her tell Daniel if there was anything to tell.

We all ate lunch together as before. Per showed Daniel his latest piece of writing, then the boys went into Oscar's room to play a game. I switched on the TV and Monica brought the remains of the wine in from the kitchen.

"Here, Daniel, it wants drinking." She passed him a half full glass. "You've had enough, Petter, you're driving."

I shrugged and sat down. The news was on. Daniel took the glass of wine and sipped it. He and Monica were still standing as he told her he would be round for dinner every chance he got when he left my place. I rolled my eyes.

The news reader ended her segment and switched to a reporter in Malmo who announced with obvious relief that the serial killer known as the Truth Terrorist had finally been caught. He was a Danish ex-police officer named Jens Hansen. The reporter continued to recite details of the victims. Daniel's glass hit the floor and broke, splashing wine across my feet. He sank to his knees, thankfully missing the broken glass.

"Daniel!" Monica put her own glass down on a table and touched his shoulder. "Petter—"

I got up quickly and crouched beside him. He was shaking from head to foot and gasping for breath.

"I think it's a panic attack," Monica said.

"Daniel." I gripped his arms. "Look at me."

He didn't seem to hear me and his face had lost all of its colour.

"Hey, come on." I shook him a little. "Take deep breaths. Stand up." I got to my feet and pulled him up with me. "It's over. They got him."

He rested his hands on my chest and clutched my shirt. He didn't seem to be aware of what was going on. Ignoring Monica, I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him.

"It's okay, it's over," I repeated. "It's okay."

He started to breathe more normally and slid his arms around me, too. I ran my hand up and down his back and squeezed his shoulder. He pressed his face into my neck and I felt warm breath on my skin. I held him tighter against me. Monica slipped out of the room and closed the door.

"Come here. Sit down." I loosened my grip and drew him over to the couch to sit down. He leaned against me, eyes closed. I didn't know what to say or do, so I just kept one arm draped around him.

"I'm sorry about the glass," he said at last.

"The hell with the glass. Are you okay?"

"I'm just… in shock, I think. They really caught him?"

"Yes, and he's locked up without bail. He's confessed, they said. He won't be getting out, ever. You want to go home?"

"Yes."

I got up and left the room to get his coat and my jacket.

"Is he okay?" Monica asked worriedly.

"Yeah."

"You care about him," she said softly.

I frowned. "Not now. Okay?"

"Sure. But talk to me when you're ready."

I ignored her and went back into the living room. Daniel got up and put his coat on. He seemed a little better, but he didn't speak as I drove back to the apartment, or when we were inside and I'd taken his coat off him.

I made tea and he nursed the mug, sipping it, until the colour finally returned to his face. "I'm going to bed." He went to the bathroom, then the bedroom that had become his lately, leaving the door open.

I took my turn in the bathroom and stripped down to my tee shirt and underwear. It was early and I wasn't ready to go to bed, but I didn't want to stay up alone either. It occurred to me that Daniel probably wanted company. He didn't usually leave his door open. My heart began to pound and my palms grew sweaty as I hid in the bathroom, wondering whether I should just walk in the room and get in bed with him, or say something first. Or perhaps I should go to the kids' room as usual and wait to see if he asked for my company.

I stared at myself in the mirror and dragged a hand through the long strands of hair on top of my head. The sides needed shaving again, and my face had a couple of days' stubble surrounding my moustache and goatee. I got out my shaving kit and tidied up my face, although I didn't start shaving the sides of my head. Monica or Sara always did that for me. I cleaned my teeth for the second time, needing an excuse to hide in the bathroom for a few more minutes, while I tried to get control of my stupid nervousness. The knot in my stomach threatened to crawl into my throat and choke me. I could hear Monica's voice in my head: "You care about him."

Sure I did. He was my friend. But I knew she didn't mean that. When he collapsed on the floor and I picked him up, I didn't hold him like a friend would.

I stopped wasting time and opened the door, then hovered in the hallway outside the bedroom The room was fairly dark, but I could make out the shape of Daniel's body under the covers. I walked slowly towards the bed.

"You want company?"

"Yes," he said softly.

I slid under the covers and rested on my side facing him. My heart slammed against my ribs and my breathing was ragged. I probably sounded like I'd been running. I stretched my arm out across the mattress until my hand was under his neck. "Come here."

He moved close to me without hesitation, and rested his hand on my chest, right where he would feel my heart pounding. He tilted his head down and tucked his face into my neck. I folded my arms around him and forced myself to calm down. Nothing was going to happen. It was just a cuddle—comfort more than anything else. He didn't try to make it anything else. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths until my pulse gradually slowed and I was able to relax. I doubted I would sleep. It was early and I was still uneasy, but as Daniel's breathing deepened and became soft snores, I found myself drifting away too.