In the papers Faye read that they were working on the theory that “the ex-husband and millionaire,” as they described Jack, barely concealing his identity, had dumped Julienne’s body in Lake V?ttern. Divers had tried to find the body, but the area was far too large. Julienne was never found.

A week later, with all the evidence pointing to Jack, and after the evening tabloids had found out from their police sources about the amount of blood found in the apartment, car and boat, they published Jack’s name. Crowds of reporters gathered outside his and Ylva’s villa on Liding?.

Yvonne Ingvarsson visited Faye and explained that they hadn’t given up hope of finding Julienne alive, but that most of the evidence suggested that she was dead. She was offered psychological support and the services of a priest. But Faye declined all offers of help. She locked herself away in Kerstin’s apartment and watched as the gaggle of journalists outside the building diminished day by day. The cuts and bruises on her face had started to heal, and she tended to them scrupulously. She didn’t want to be left with ugly scars. The charges against Jack also included his assault on Faye.

Jack hadn’t made any kind of confession. But the evidence against him was growing steadily stronger. The detectives had found the most macabre Google searches in his internet history. And threatening texts sent to Faye were traced to Jack’s mobile even though he’d deleted them. All of this was reported in the tabloids.

The findings on his computer tightened the noose around Jack’s neck. He had investigated the depth of various Swedish lakes, downloaded maps of the area where he’d parked on the shore of Lake V?ttern.

A month after Julienne disappeared Faye put the apartment on the market and informed Revenge’s investors that she was planning to leave Sweden as soon as possible. She kept hold of ten percent of her shares, gave Kerstin another five percent on top of what she already had, and invited the existing investors to buy the rest. Yvonne Ingvarsson tried to persuade her to wait at least until Jack’s trial was over before she moved, but Faye told her she couldn’t face it.

“My life’s in ruins, no matter what sentence he gets. I took his business away from him and destroyed his relationship with Ylva. And he responded by killing our only child. There’s nothing left for me here.”

“I do understand,” Yvonne said. “You have to try to be strong. The pain will never disappear, but it will become easier to deal with over time.”

She gave Faye a hug at the front door before buttoning her coat and walking out onto the landing.

“Where are you moving to?”

“I don’t really know. A long way away, anyway. Somewhere nobody knows me.”

When Yvonne texted her to say that the DNA analysis of the blood found in the hall, in the trunk of Jack’s car and on the boat matched the DNA on Julienne’s toothbrush and hairbrush, Faye sent a message consisting of the single word: Thanks. She had nothing more to say.

Seven months had passed since Faye left Sweden. She gazed out across the green hills that rose up in front of the Mediterranean. She had a chilled frappé in front of her. Jack’s trial was over and the verdict was expected any day now. The media and the Swedish public had already passed judgement: Jack Adelheim was the most hated man in Sweden. Naturally, Ylva had spoken out in Expressen, with Jack’s daughter in her arms and a plentiful stock of condemnations. He had evidently subjected her to psychological abuse throughout their relationship. Ylva garnered plenty of sympathy from the public. Faye couldn’t help laughing when she read about it.

Faye had finally had the hated breast implants removed, and had put on twenty pounds. But she was still exercising. She had never felt happier in her own skin.

She looked at the screen again as she dipped a cantucci in a glass of dessert wine. The whole of Sweden had been following the sensational trial, and Faye could almost feel the country holding its breath from the terrace where she was sitting.

She wasn’t worried. She had done her homework properly.

The anchor on Aftonbladet’s website was shuffling some papers as a veteran crime reporter frowned and pronounced somberly that there was no doubt that Jack would be found guilty.

Faye didn’t even bother to smile. She already knew she’d won. The aftermath was merely a formality. She was done.

Julienne called to her from inside the house.

Faye nudged her sunglasses and squinted.

“What is it, darling?”

“Can we go to the beach?”

“In a little while. Mommy just needs to finish looking at this first.”

Julienne appeared in the doorway. Her bare feet echoed on the terrace as she ran over to her. Suntanned and beautiful, her fair hair flying behind her.

JACK ADELHEIM FOUND GUILTY OF MURDERING HIS SEVEN-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER.

Faye quickly closed her laptop as Julienne climbed up onto her.

“What were you looking at?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said. “Shall we go to the beach, then?”

“Do you think Kerstin would like to come?”

“We’d better ask her.”

Faye closed her eyes as Julienne hurried away. Her mind wandered back to those fateful days more than six months ago now.

—

She hadn’t been afraid of the physical pain. It was nothing compared to the pain she had felt when she found the pictures of Julienne in the folder entitled “Household.” Her beloved daughter. Terrified. Confused. Naked.

The initial shock had been replaced by a fury that almost consumed her, but she held it inside her, knowing she would need it later. Her rage would crash upon Jack like an avalanche, there wouldn’t be anything left of him when she was finished.

Lulling Jack into a sense of security had been simple, but doing all the other things she needed to do hadn’t been particularly difficult either. She only had to close her eyes and see Julienne’s naked body in front of her. Exposed. Defiled. By the person who should have been protecting her.

She had taken some painkillers, then drained a liter of her own blood. That was twice the amount taken when you gave blood, but she had read that given the amount of blood a body contained, she could spare a liter of it.

Kerstin had protested at first when she explained what she wanted to do, but after she saw the pictures of Julienne she agreed that no punishment was harsh enough for a man like Jack.

Faye felt giddy, lightheaded, but kept going. She mustn’t pass out now.

Kerstin and Julienne had gone on ahead of her. It had cost a lot to get hold of fake passports and arrange safe passage out of the country, but money can buy you anything. And Faye had plenty of money.

When the doorbell rang Faye took a deep breath, then went to let Jack in. It was time to destroy him. He wondered where Julienne was, he was supposed to be babysitting her, after all, and she said that Julienne was on her way home. Three whiskies later she had managed to entice him into the bedroom with the promise of sex, but, just as she had hoped, he lost consciousness after a bit of clumsy fumbling inside her underpants.

She looked at herself in the big bedroom mirror. She could hear Jack breathing deeply on the bed. She had given him a double dose, so nothing was going to wake him. And when he did, his memory would be hazy.

She took a deep breath. Let the darkness pour forth, past all the barriers she had put in its way for so many years. She saw faces in the water. Heard the screams that rose shrilly toward the sky and made the gulls take off in fright. Saw the blood disperse in saltwater. White fingers clawing for something, anything, anyone.

She saw Julienne again. Her frightened face.

Faye hit her forehead against the steel bedstead as hard as she dared.

Then she inspected her face clinically in the mirror. Would that be enough? She had cut her forehead and blood was gathering under her skin, she’d have a lot of bruises.

Faye fetched the little life-saving dummy she had got hold of and laid it down in the hall. Then she poured the blood Kerstin had helped her to extract over the dummy, so that it spread out around the head and upper part of the torso. She hoped there was enough blood. She couldn’t have given more and still have the energy to do anything. The smell was nauseating and she felt dizzy and weak, but forced herself to carry on. She left the dummy on the floor while she got on with the final preparations, in the hope that it would start to congeal around the outline of the figure.