LATER ON WHEN they dropped the bags off at Kerstin’s flat, she asked Jeanette whether she wanted to stay for a while so that they could talk, drink, eat, or anything else—celebrate, quite simply. But Jeanette declined.

“Don’t do this to me,” Kerstin begged. “Don’t take away my one cause for rejoicing in this life.”

“Your cause for rejoicing?” Jeanette said, dumbfounded.

“I’ve reconciled myself with the thought of what happened. You should too—I’m asking you to. Don’t let an old business card ruin both our lives, now that things are shaping up so nicely.”

Jeanette looked at her for a long time. Her eyes were vacant—the gaze contained nothing that gave away what was going on inside. Jeanette had shut herself off, and Kerstin wasn’t welcome inside.

“How I feel has nothing to do with you,” Jeanette said coolly.

Kerstin, who didn’t want to burden Jeanette with any more guilt, still felt compelled to refer backwards. She had to say something.

“If your mental well-being depends on my name and my picture being on that baggage tag, then surely it’s got something to do with me? I say that what happened four years ago is in the past. I say you’re forgiven, that your actions today have atoned for the bad choices you made then. Don’t you see how lucky you are to know me—you’ve had the chance to explain yourself and apologise and be forgiven?”

Jeanette studied her with her blank gaze and inscrutable expression. Kerstin felt hopelessly excluded from Jeanette’s thoughts, and somewhat desperate for acknowledgment. Not so much for her own sake as for Jeanette’s—she needed to get her to see the person Kerstin. Not the phenomenon—the widow, the heartrending cry from the past. Sisters of misfortune, as it were. Only then could she help her out of the abyss where she seemed to find herself at present.

“Doesn’t that mean something?” Kerstin battled on. “Would you have preferred to carry on being depressed on your own, looking for penance on your side without it ever doing the victim any good?”

Jeanette didn’t drop her eyes from Kerstin, but she didn’t answer either. There was something about her demeanour that made Kerstin think she was on her way out.

“We’ve done something big today, Jen. You and me, together. Stay and we’ll celebrate. We’ve earned it.”

“What are you going to do with the money?” Jeanette asked, seemingly altogether uninterested in everything Kerstin had said.

“Give it to the police,” Kerstin replied.

“Why didn’t we do that out at the hunting cabin then?”

“It would have been taken the wrong way—we would have fallen under suspicion.”

“Oh really,” Jeanette said indifferently.

“You’re pushing me away, Jen. Why can’t we talk?”

No visible reaction—in Jeanette’s world there was only room for Jeanette.