Angel Maker: An Unputdownable Scandinavian Crime Thriller With A Chilling Twist (DI Jamie Johansson Book 1)

14 December 1993

Dear Jamie,

You are so small, and yet bigger than I ever imagined you could be. When I held you in my arms on the day that you were born, I thought that I would break you. I couldn’t conceive that something so little, so fragile, could have come from me.

And now, I look at you, and I see the strong, stubborn, smart girl that you have become. And to think that you have grown from that tiny thing into what I see now – it fills me with pride, and with hope.

You are so many things. But most of all, you are fearless. We sit here now, huddled around a fire that I don’t know will last until morning, with snow piling up outside the doors and windows, the lake frozen solid, the car completely trapped – and yet, you are unphased. Whether you will remember this night in years to come, I don’t know. But let this letter serve as a reminder to you. That I am not sure now whether we will last here. Why have we come at all? My selfishness. Your mother is your mother. And I’m sure you know that we have our differences. But my regret is only that you are trapped between us. And I have brought you here because I did not wish to be alone. Because when I am, I become a different man. A worse man.

With you, though, I want to be better.

If I ever lost you, I don’t know what I would do.

When it is you and I, forgetting work is easy. Forgetting everything is easy. I am never happier than when we are driving away from the city. When we are leaving that life behind.

And every time it is time to leave here, time to go back, I think what would happen if we just stayed. If we just left it all.

The only thing that stops me from saying it out loud – because you, Jamie, you spirited, rambunctious little devil would want to. Would want to live out here like an animal. And hunt and fish and sleep under the stars and gather firewood and explore the world you still believe to be wild and untamed. One free from humans and their goddamn fucking evil – the only thing that stops me is knowing I would be taking you from your mother.

For all her faults, she loves you, Jamie.

As do I.

Remember that always.

You are sitting here now, at my side, with a pencil in hand, drowned in the light of this little fire, in this stinking, damp, frozen cabin in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of a storm that might well kill us, writing a letter to your future self. Telling your future self what you always wanted to be when you grew up.

You have made me write this letter, too. And have made me promise not to show it to you – if I promise not to look at yours. These are secret letters. And while I thought that I would sit here, and pretend to write something, I found that there are many things I want to write. Things I want to say to you that I can’t bring myself to.

Jamie – you are everything to me. And if I have one wish in this terrible world, it is that you grow up to be happy.

I don’t know how to be. And it is because of what I have made of my life.

The decisions I have made. The things that I have done. The people I have hurt.

There are good people, and there are bad people. And then there are people like me, who place themselves between. Who try to convince themselves they are one, when really they are the other.

Do not grow up to be like me, Jamie. Don’t grow up to be unhappy.

I was selfish enough, stupid enough, to delude myself into thinking I could have both. Could be both. Could do what I do and have a normal life as well.

You can’t.

You can’t split yourself.

There is only so much that we can give, and I gave too much to this job. I let it consume me. Like the flames are consuming the little fuel we have left, the flames of this world have consumed any goodness that was within me.

If there is one thing, Jamie, that I will do my best to ensure – as long as there is breath in my body and love in my heart – it is that you do not grow up to be like me.

I fear you do not know the real me.

I have done my best to keep it hidden from you.

If you did, you would think differently of me.

You would be afraid of me, ashamed. I have no doubt.

And one day, you might. And you might feel those things.

Which is why I treasure these moments together.

Because I know, no matter what I do, they may be fleeting.

I love you, Jamie.

And I always will.

No matter what happens.

Dad