Page 130 of The Living and the Dead

“They’ll be there. For now, just hold tight. Killian Persson—you really think it’s him? For real?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus.”

Vidar didn’t put the phone down after they hungup.

“I’ve known Markus since the academy. He’s a good man. If there are officers available, he’ll get them here. I just hope they make it in time.”

“Or what?”

“Or,” Vidar said, “I’ll have to manage on my own.”

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When they came back upstairs, it felt to Sander like he was returning from another world. Felicia stood with her arms crossed, gazing anxiously at the driveway. Outside, the wind was blowing harder.

“I think that went well,” she said, as if to convince herself it was true.

It was so strange to see them together again, Felicia and Killian. Their contours had taken on a faint shimmer; both of them seemed like they might dissolve at any moment. So weird to feel the ache and sting in his throat, his tender skin. Killian had strangled him without an ounce of hesitation, and Sander had experienced the loneliest moment of his life.

“Was that true?”

Sander’s voice was raspy, almost strained. He touched his throat. In the silent house, his question sounded harsher, more demanding than he’d meant itto.

Killian turned his head. “Was what true?”

“What they said. About Filip.”

“What do you mean?”

It’s so simple to love the dead as you remember them; it’s much more difficult when they’re standing in front of you, transformed by all the time they’ve spent underground.

“You should talk to the police, Killian.”

A shadow fell over Killian’s face. Sander had tried to say it in a sensible tone, like he was simply giving his friend some advice, but his voice was stern.

“And what do you want me to tell them?”

“Just tell the truth. They’ll understand.”

“I can’t. They’ll lock me up.”

Sander paused in the silence. “Why?”

“You don’t get it. You never did understand this stuff.”

“Killian. Why do they think you had something to do with Filip’s death?”

Killian glanced at the kitchen table and the two chairs where the officers had sat. He put down his backpack, sat down stiffly, and rested his forearms on the tabletop. He raised his eyes to look at Sander. Felicia stayed by the kitchen window, watching the road.

“He saw me. After the funeral. Filip. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t let him…”

Sander quaked inside. “You couldn’t let him what? What happened?”

“I didn’t quite give you the whole story, before. I didn’t come straight to the funeral.”

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