The song, and the cigarette, cast Faye backward through a thirty-year journey. Back to her childhood, to Fj?llbacka, to the house where they lived. Her, Sebastian, Mom, and Dad.

She had put the day’s mail on the small table in front of her. At the top of the pile was another letter from her father. All the people she used to know were gone now. Only Dad was left. He had recognized her when the papers started writing about Revenge. And the letters had started up again, after so many years of silence. First one a week. Then two. Then three. Faye never opened them.

She had asked her lawyer to look into the legal situation. He mustn’t be allowed to get out now. She knew how things were in Sweden; in reality there was no such thing as a life sentence. Not even for her dad. Sooner or later he would be released. But not now. Absolutely not now. First she had to finish what she had set out to do.

She picked the letter up and held the cigarette against it. The relief when it started to burn was indescribable.

FJ?LLBACKA—THEN

THE ROAR OF THE SEA outside my bedroom window couldn’t drown out the sounds from the kitchen. The voices getting louder and louder. Dad’s full of rage, Mom’s full of pleading. Still hoping that she might be able to fend off the inevitable. It was my fault they were fighting. I’d forgotten to clear up after the snack I made when I got home from school. How could I have done that? I knew Dad didn’t like anything to be left out. Except when he had got himself something to eat. He never cleared up after himself, but the rest of us had to make sure that everything was kept clean, tidy, clinical. Me, Mom, and Sebastian.

Mom always took the blame. I loved her for that. And more than anything, I wished that I could grow big and tall and strong, so she didn’t have to take the punishment for something I’d done. But as long as I was so small, he didn’t dare punish me. He might clench his fists when I did something wrong, but he was afraid he’d break my brittle bones, hit me so hard that no one could save me. So he had to make do with Mom. She could bear more.

The first time I realized everyone was afraid of Dad was when I went to the supermarket with him when I was five years old. He had bought the usual things: a couple of packs of cigarettes, a large bar of chocolate, and a copy of Expressen. Sebastian and I rarely got to taste any of the chocolate.

As we approached the checkout a man jumped in front of Dad in the line. Just as Dad was about to put his things on the belt the man threw his shopping onto it. It was obvious from his clothes that he was one of the summer visitors. I was struck by the look of horror on the cashier’s face. Her fear of Dad’s anger.

Dad wasn’t about to accept some bastard tourist bastard, as he called them, pushing in front of him. I found out later that the man ended up in Uddevalla Hospital with two broken ribs. I was only five when it happened, but the story lived on, and I heard it many times over the years, along with plenty of others.

My math books had been open at the same page in front of me ever since the first blows were dealt down in the kitchen. Division. Easy, really. I found math perfectly straightforward. But when the blows started I dropped my pen and covered my ears with my hands.

A hand on my shoulder made me start. I ignored Sebastian. Kept my hands over my ears. From the corner of my eye I saw him sit down on my bed. He leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed, trying, like me, to shut it all out.

I stayed inside my bubble. There was no room for anyone else in there.

Faye met up with Chris at the Grand H?tel for dinner and a few drinks. She didn’t feel like it—all she wanted was for the weekend to be over so she could find out if Julienne had succeeded. But she realized that it was a better idea to spend time with Chris, get drunk, maybe flirt a bit, rather than stay at home climbing the walls. The ma?tre d” had prepared a table out on the veranda, with a view of the water and the Royal Palace. The noise level was slowly rising. At the piano bar at the far side of the room a beautiful woman was singing “Heal the World.”

Chris ordered a hamburger while Faye made do with a Caesar salad. Just as their mojitos arrived two young women in their mid-twenties came over and asked if they could have a selfie with her.

“We love you!” they squealed excitedly before they disappeared. “You’re such an awesome role model.”

“Next time I’m going to have to book a private room so I can get a chance to talk to you,” Chris said, highly amused, stirring her mojito.

“It’s not like you’re exactly unknown either,” Faye said.

Chris gave her a wry smile.

“How are your tits?”

“Different,” Faye said curtly.

She had been perfectly happy with her old ones, but had done what needed doing. Her body was a tool, something to help her reach her goal.

“Have you tried them out yet?”

Faye raised her eyebrows.

“With a guy, I mean.”

“No, not yet.”

“You need a good seeing to. It’s food for the soul.” Chris scanned the room. “That’s going to be tricky here, though. Most of the men in this place haven’t had an erection without pharmaceutical assistance since the fall of the Berlin Wall.”

Faye laughed and looked at the clientele. Chris was right. Plenty of money, not much hair, and regular consumers of little blue pills—that pretty much summed things up.

Chris leaned forward.

“Where are we with Jack? It’s not long until the IPO.”

“There was a temporary problem, but we should be back on course now,” she said, and told Chris what a key logger was. “Enough about me, though. What’s going on in your life?”

Chris took a sip of her mojito, then smacked her lips softly.

“A couple of months ago I was seriously considering retiring and moving somewhere sunny. The whole Queen organization runs itself, and I don’t exactly need any more money. But I’ve thought better of it now.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Chris said without meeting her gaze.

“Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to shake it out of you?”

“I am, embarrassingly enough, in love. Completely, hopelessly, fucking in love.”

Faye almost choked on a mint leaf. She started coughing.

“In love?” she repeated lamely. “Who with?”

“You’re not going to believe this, but his name is Johan and he’s a high school Swedish teacher.”

“That sounds very . . . normal,” Faye said, who had been expecting a tattooed participant in Paradise Hotel with bulging biceps who was eligible for a student discount on flights.

“That’s what’s so weird about it,” Chris said.

“How did you meet?”

“He came into our salon in Sturegallerian with his niece. He was wearing one of those ridiculous jackets with patches over the elbows. When his niece sat in the chair she said she wanted a Mohawk. That made me curious. How was he going to react? But he just nodded and said: ‘I always wanted one of those, they’re pretty cool.’ ”

Chris fell silent and looked out of the window.

“Shame he’s already taken, I thought, because I assumed she was his daughter. But I stayed in the salon to talk to him. And when he was about to pay she asked when her dad was going to pick her up. My mood sank even lower then—I assumed he was gay.”

“But?”

“She got picked up outside the salon by a bald guy whose face turned bright red when he saw his daughter’s hair. They parted and I . . . fuck it, I might as admit it—I cancelled all my meetings and started to follow him.”

“You stalked him?”

Faye was staring at her friend in amusement. This was crazy, even for Chris.

“Yes, just a bit, I guess.”

“How much is just a bit?”

“To Farsta.”

“You haven’t ventured outside the city center since . . .”

“Since the Year of Our Lord 2006. I know. So, when we got to Farsta he finally turned around. I’m not exactly James Bond, so he’d noticed I’d been following him all the way from Stureplan.”

“What did he say?”

“That he was very flattered, then he said I must be thirsty after all that stalking. I said I was, so he asked if he could buy me coffee.”

“Bloody hell, Chris! I’m so happy for you.”

Chris couldn’t help smiling. “So am I.”

“Then what?”

“He got me a coffee and I fell hopelessly in love. We went back to his place and I spent the next two days there.”

She laughed and Faye felt a warm glow spread through her.

“And now?”

“He’s the one, Faye, the man I’ve been waiting for all my life.”

For a fraction of a second her smile flickered into a grimace. Anyone who hadn’t known Chris as long as Faye had wouldn’t have noticed a thing.

Something was wrong.

“Chris, what is it?”

“What do you mean?” she said nonchalantly.

“I know you. What is it?”

Chris raised her glass and took a sip. Then she put it down.

“I’ve got cancer,” she said in a thick voice.

Time stopped, the noises around them vanished, shapes blurred, sharp edges lost their focus.