The Long Shadow by Liza Marklund Page A

went to close the curtains. She paused at the window to look out at the cluttered view. There was a solitary tennis court below her window. Two of the floodlights were broken,leaving the far end in darkness. On the other side of the motorway, buildings clambered up the valley towards a massive cliff-face. Light from windows, neon signs and streetlamps glowed and shimmered in the darkness. Then the mountains took over. The Sierra Nevada lay in the distance, with twenty peaks of more than three thousand metres, and she could see the foothills standing out like black giants against the starry sky.
    She opened the window. The evening was still mild.
    The children would have eaten by now. They had probably sat down to watch their favourite television programme, but it would be over. Ellen had probably been on the point of falling asleep, and if she had dropped off it would be difficult to get her to sleep again in bed. Then she’d be impossible in the morning.
    She closed the window, took out her phone and dialled Thomas’s number. He answered, sounding abrupt.
    ‘Are you in the middle of eating?’ she asked apologetically.
    ‘Sophia and I are having a glass of wine,’ he said. ‘The children are watching kids’ programmes. Did you want anything in particular?’
    She sat on the bed and pulled her knees up under her chin. ‘I’d like to talk to them,’ she said.
    He sighed theatrically, then shouted, ‘Kalle, Mum’s on the phone,’ and Annika heard her son call back, ‘But the sport’s on.’
    ‘You’ve got stiff competition,’ Thomas said.
    A moment later she heard running footsteps. ‘Hello, Mummy,’ Ellen said.
    Annika’s shoulders relaxed and a smile rose up from her heart. ‘Hello, darling, were you asleep on the sofa?’
    A hesitant pause. ‘Maybe,’ Ellen said. ‘Can we have a dog?’
    ‘A dog? We live in a small flat – we can’t have a dog there.’
    ‘Anna’s got a dog, a brown one, and it’s not big.’
    Annika stifled a sigh. This debate arose every time any of the children at nursery school got a new pet. ‘It’s lovely that you like animals – I do too – but we have to think about what’s best for them. You can play with Zico when we go to see Grandma and Granddad in Vaxholm.’
    ‘Zico’s nice.’
    ‘He’s lovely. What did you do at nursery today?’ The little girl, who had evidently been fast asleep in front of the television, sounded full of energy as she related everything she had done that day. Eventually Kalle came over and joined in with the conversation. No disasters, no crises, no nasty little horrors taking out their own low self-esteem on her kids today.
    She said goodbye with lots of kisses and goodnight hugs, then sat for a minute or two with a warm, sad lump in her chest.
    It was now completely dark outside. An ambulance drove past on the motorway, its siren blaring. She got up and closed the curtains, then turned on the main light and the lamp on the desk and got out her laptop. She felt utterly exhausted.
    How many times had she plugged in this computer? Every time she arrived at work, and every time she got home.
    The base of her spine ached when she sat down. The chair creaked. She logged into the hotel’s network; fifteen euros a day. She leaned her forehead in her hands for a minute or so, then got going. She took out her mobile and called Patrik Nilsson. ‘Annika!’ he cried. ‘Where have you been all day?’
    ‘Oh, just sitting around drinking coffee,’ she said.‘I’m going to send you three articles: the fatal gassing and break-in, the family, and idyll-in-crisis. There are pictures for everything. How much do you want me to write?’
    ‘I don’t know what you’ve got,’ Patrik said.
    ‘How much space have you kept?’
    ‘Three double-page spreads and the centrefold, although Berit’s doing that with sport.’
    ‘I’ll send things through as I finish them so you can start work on them,’ Annika said. ‘You’ll have the first in an