The Rabbit Hunter. Ларс Кеплер

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       25

      Saga and Jeanette hurry towards the woman in high heels just as the articulated lorry rumbles out from the lorry park. It turns heavily on its axis and passes so close that they have to press up against another lorry to avoid getting crushed.

      The huge tyres crunch past.

      A hot cloud of exhaust fumes in the air and Jeanette coughs quietly.

      Some distance away a man calls out, then wolf-whistles.

      They walk around the other lorry and catch sight of the woman in platform boots. She’s standing with her hands cupped around a cigarette, the glow of the lighter reflected on her face. It isn’t Tamara. The woman’s eyes are red-rimmed, and she has deep lines running from her nose to the corners of her mouth.

      Her thin hair has been bleached, but the roots are completely grey.

      She’s wearing a low-cut top and a suede skirt.

      The woman is standing next to a Polish lorry and saying something to the men in the cab. She takes a deep drag on the cigarette and suddenly teeters backwards, almost falling between the cab and trailer. Saga and Jeanette hear the men in the lorry explain in English that they aren’t interested in paying for sex. They’re trying to be polite, saying that all they want to do is call their children to say goodnight, then get some sleep.

      The woman waves them aside dismissively and moves on. She’s just knocked on the door of another cab when Saga and Jeanette catch up with her.

      ‘Excuse me, but do you know where Tamara Jensen is?’ Saga asks.

      The woman turns stiffly towards them and brushes her hair from her face.

      ‘Tamara?’ she repeats hoarsely.

      ‘I owe her some money,’ Jeanette says.

      ‘I can give it to her for you,’ the woman says, unable to hold back a smile.

      Saga laughs.

      ‘Is she here?’

      The woman points towards the back of the restaurant.

      ‘I’ll check,’ Saga says.

      Jeanette stays by the lorries and watches Saga walk between the big vehicles, a thin silhouette against the light from the restaurant.

      ‘Can I ask you something?’ she says, turning back towards the prostitute.

      ‘Listen, I’ve already found salvation,’ the woman replies automatically, tottering once more.

      The engine of the lorry beside them roars into life. It wheezes and then slowly starts to move forward, spreading hot diesel fumes. The back tyre rolls straight over a glass bottle. There’s a crash as pieces of glass fly out with considerable force. Jeanette feels her calf sting. She touches her torn tights with her fingers, then looks at them and sees that they’re covered in blood. When she straightens up again the woman has vanished.

      Saga walks past the restaurant and around the public toilets and showers. The glow from the yellow petrol station sign is visible through the trees. The rear of the restaurant is littered with rubbish: old milk cartons, strips of toilet paper, and the remains of scattered food.

      Tamara is sitting on the ground leaning against the wall, holding a freezer-bag over her nose and mouth.

      ‘Tamara?’

      The woman crumples the bag and slowly lowers it. Her eyes roll backwards and a deep sigh emerges from her lips.

      ‘My name is Saga Bauer, and I’d like to talk to you about your best friend, Sofia Stefansson.’

      Tamara looks at Saga as a string of saliva runs down her chin. Her hair is greasy and her face is grey and shut-off, like someone who’s unconscious.

      ‘This is my best friend,’ she says, raising the plastic bag.

      ‘I know you know Sofia.’

      Tamara coughs. She almost topples sideways, but puts her hand down to steady herself and inhales deeply from the bag again.

      ‘Sofia,’ she mumbles, СКАЧАТЬ