The Lost Boy
Camilla Lackberg
No. 1 international bestseller and Swedish crime sensation Camilla Lackberg’s new psychological thriller – irresistible for fans of Stieg Larsson and Jo Nesbo.Detective Patrik Hedstrom is no stranger to tragedy. A murder case concerning Fjallbacka’s dead financial director, Mats Sverin, is a grim but useful distraction from his recent family misfortunes.It seems Mats was a man who everybody liked yet nobody really knew – a man with something to hide…His high school sweetheart, Nathalie, has just returned to the area with her five-year-old son – could she shed light on who Mats really was?However, Nathalie has her own secret. If it’s discovered, she will lose her only child. As the investigation stalls, the police have many questions. But there is only one that matters.Is there anything a mother would not do to protect her child?
CAMILLA LACKBERG
The Lost Boy
Translated from the Swedish by Tiina Nunnally
Copyright (#ulink_8052b33b-3f11-5ca8-9543-ea17f7f07f1a)
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2013
Copyright © Camilla Lackberg 2009
Published by agreement with Nordin Agency, Sweden
Translation copyright © Tiina Nunnally 2013
Jacket layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2012; Jacket photographs © Clayton Bastiani/Trevillion Images (boy, beach and sea); Chad Ehlers/Getty Images (lighthouse and rocks); Shutterstock.com (sky).
First published in Swedish as Fyrvaktaren
Camilla Lackberg asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Source ISBN: 9780007473212
Ebook Edition © 2013 ISBN: 9780007419562
Version: 2017-05-19
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
For Charlie
Table of Contents
Title Page (#u8f5d5feb-eb07-5d64-91d3-400e4c1cf6d1)
Copyright (#u0e2586f3-a6f1-53ec-bf79-a49b7e7a345b)
Dedication (#u2e32610a-0cb6-52de-8793-7eb29e403b0f)
Chapter 1 (#u8f1e5743-c029-5fbb-ae5d-015ebf1060ff)
Fjällbacka 1870 (#u269041fb-7ec5-5036-9e24-2329f57e6a71)
Chapter 2 (#uf45a292e-4abb-59e2-ba6a-dc5803de6195)
Fjällbacka 1870 (#ud28b171a-9040-5977-ab71-0a9a4bccc783)
Chapter 3 (#u9cbedef3-20eb-5874-a253-760864d64b79)
Chapter 4 (#u6d8801a9-0be3-52d2-b802-984754e04556)
Chapter 5 (#u8043650f-ca3f-5669-b5b6-b437847a0d7f)
Fjällbacka 1870 (#ub4e9e29e-2847-589d-8ada-1dd8910d2c66)
Chapter 6 (#ufd816098-c6ef-5a7a-ae6d-a23737bee335)
Fjällbacka 1870 (#u3c7b793b-ee23-545f-8d6b-a39c75b6e114)
Chapter 7 (#ucde019c1-b080-5bdb-9be7-65cf1d64661e)
Fjällbacka 1870 (#udbe408b7-0928-5289-adc8-3f466c363d2a)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Fjällbacka 1871 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Fjällbacka 1871 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Fjällbacka 1871 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Fjällbacka 1871 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Fjällbacka 1871 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Fjällbacka 1871 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Fjällbacka 1871 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Fjällbacka 1871 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Fjällbacka 1871 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Fjällbacka 1871 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Fjällbacka 1873 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Fjällbacka 1875 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Fjällbacka 1875 (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Camilla Lackberg (#litres_trial_promo)
By the same author (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
1 (#ulink_41592b40-384d-5327-9c37-b9ffd8f7fb8c)
It was only when she placed her hands on the steering wheel that she saw they were bloody. Her palms felt sticky against the leather. But she ignored the blood as she shifted into reverse and a bit too hastily backed out of the driveway. She heard the gravel spray out from under the tyres.
They had a long drive ahead of them. She cast a glance at the back seat. Sam was asleep, wrapped up in a blanket. He really ought to be strapped in with a seat belt, but she didn’t have the heart to wake him. She would just have to drive as carefully as possible. Immediately she let up on the accelerator.
The summer night had already started to brighten. At this time of year the hours of darkness were practically over before they even began. And yet this night seemed endless. Everything had changed. Fredrik’s brown eyes had stared rigidly up at the ceiling, and she realized that there was nothing she could do. She had to save herself and Sam. She couldn’t think about the blood. She couldn’t think about Fredrik.
There was only one place she could go.
Six hours later, they reached their destination. Fjällbacka was just starting to wake up. She parked the car near the Coast Guard building, taking a moment to work out how she could manage to carry everything. Sam was still sound asleep. She took out a package of tissues from the glove compartment and wiped her hands as best she could. It was hard to get all the blood off. Then she took the suitcases out of the boot of the car and quickly dragged them over to Badholmen, the island with the diving platform, where the boat was docked. She was worried that Sam might wake up, but she had locked the car so he wouldn’t be able to get out and tumble into the water. With an effort she stowed the luggage on board the boat and unlocked the chain, which was meant to keep the vessel from being stolen. Then she ran back to the car, relieved to see that Sam was sleeping as calmly as when she’d left him. Picking him up, she carried him, still wrapped in the blanket, over to the boat. She kept her eyes fixed on her feet as she stepped on board so she wouldn’t slip. Carefully she placed Sam on the deck and then turned the key in the ignition. The motor coughed but started up on the first try. Though she hadn’t driven a motorboat in a long time, she was certain she could manage. She backed out of the mooring berth and then headed out of the harbour.
The sun was shining but hadn’t yet had time to warm the air. She felt the tension slowly seeping away, and the horror of the night lost some of its grip on her. As she looked at Sam she wondered if what had happened would scar him for life. A five-year-old was fragile. Who knew what might have been destroyed inside him? She would do everything in her power to make him whole again. She would take away the evil with a kiss, just as she did when he fell off his bike and scraped his knee.
The route across the water was a familiar one. She knew every island, every skerry. She steered towards Väderöbad, heading further and further out along the coast. The waves were getting bigger, and the hull of the boat slammed against the surface after each swell. She enjoyed the feeling of the salty spray on her face, allowing herself to close her eyes for a few seconds. When she opened them again, she could see Gråskär in the distance. Her heart leaped. That always happened when the island came into view and she saw the small cottage and the lighthouse rising up white and proud against the blue sky. She was still too far off to see the colour of the cottage, but in her mind she pictured the light grey of the façade with the white trim. She also thought about the pink hollyhocks that grew along the wall, most sheltered from the wind. This was her refuge, her paradise. Her island called Gråskär.
Every single pew in Fjäallbacka church was taken, and the chancel was overflowing with flowers. Wreaths, bouquets, and beautiful silk ribbons inscribed with words of farewell.
Patrik could hardly make himself look at the white coffin that stood in the midst of the sea of flowers. It was eerily quiet inside the large stone church. At the funerals for old people, a hum of voices was almost always audible. Comments were exchanged, such as ‘she was in so much pain that it was a blessing’ and the like. And everyone looked forward to the coffee served afterwards in the church. Today those sorts of conversations were absent. Everyone sat in silence with heavy hearts and an unexpressed feeling of injustice. This should not have happened.
Patrik cleared his throat and glanced up at the ceiling, trying to blink away his tears. He squeezed Erica’s hand. His suit was scratchy and itchy, and he tugged at his shirt collar to get more air. He felt as though he was suffocating.
The bells in the tower began to chime, the sound echoing between the walls. Many of those present in the church gave a start and glanced towards the coffin. Pastor Lena came out from the sacristy and walked over to the altar. It was Lena who had married them in this very church. That seemed like another time, another reality. Back then the mood had been elated, joyful, and bright. Now the pastor looked sombre. Patrik tried to interpret her expression. Was she too thinking that this was all wrong? Or was she secure in her conviction that there was some meaning behind what had happened?
The tears welled up again, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand. Erica discreetly slipped him a handkerchief. The last chords of the organ faded away, followed by a few seconds of silence before Lena began to speak. Her voice quavered slightly, but then grew steadier.
‘Life can change in an instant. But God is with us. Today as always.’
Patrik saw her lips moving, but he soon stopped listening. He didn’t want to hear what she said. The tenuous religious faith that had followed him through life ever since he was a child had now departed for good. There was no meaning to be found in what had happened. Again he squeezed Erica’s hand.
‘I can proudly report that we’re right on schedule. In a little over two weeks the Badhotel will be splendidly reopened in Fjällbacka.’
Erling W. Larson beamed as he looked from one board member to the next, as if expecting applause. He had to settle for a number of approving nods.
‘This is a real triumph for the region,’ he clarified. ‘A complete renovation of something that we might well consider a priceless historic icon. At the same time we can now offer people a modern and competitive wellness centre. Or spa, which is perhaps a better word for it.’ He sketched quotation marks in the air around the word ‘spa’, which was foreign to many Swedes. ‘All that remains is to take care of the finishing touches, invite several companies to try out the services in advance, and of course make preparations for the grand opening celebration.’
‘That sounds great. I just have a few questions.’ Mats Sverin, who had assumed the position of town finance officer a couple of months back, waved his pen to attract Erling’s attention.
Erling, who detested anything to do with administrative work and financial reports, pretended not to notice. Hastily declaring the meeting adjourned, he withdrew to his spacious office.
After the fiasco of the Sodding Tanum reality show, no one had expected Erling to recover, yet here he was promoting an even bigger project which was on the brink of success. Personally, he’d never had any doubts, not even when the negative criticism had been at its worst. He was a born winner.
Of course it had taken a toll on him, which was why he had gone to the Ljuset wellness centre in the Dalecarlian region of Sweden to recuperate. That had been a fortuitous turn of events, because if he hadn’t gone there, he never would have met Vivianne. Meeting her had heralded a turning point for him, both professionally and personally. She had won him over as no other woman had ever done before, and it was her vision that he was now turning into reality.
He couldn’t resist the temptation to pick up the phone and call her. It was the fourth time he’d done so today, but the sound of her voice always made him tingle all over. He held his breath as he listened to the ringtone.
‘Hi, darling,’ he said when she answered. ‘I just wanted to hear how you’re doing.’
‘Erling,’ she said, using that special tone of voice that made him feel like a lovesick schoolboy, ‘I’m as fine as I was when you called an hour ago.’
‘Good,’ he said, grinning sheepishly. ‘I wanted to make sure everything was all right.’
‘I know that, and I love you for it. But we still have so much to do before the opening, and you don’t want me to have to work evenings, do you?’
‘Absolutely not, my darling.’
He resolved not to call and disturb her any more. Their evenings were sacred.
‘Okay. Get back to work, and I’ll do the same.’ He made a few kissing noises into the receiver before he replaced the receiver. Then he leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands behind his head, and allowed himself a few minutes to daydream about the impending delights of the evening.
It smelled stuffy inside the cottage. Nathalie opened all the doors and windows to let the brisk wind blow through the rooms. A vase was nearly knocked over by the draught, but she grabbed it at the last second.
Sam lay in the small room next to the kitchen. They had always called it the guest room, even though it had been her bedroom when she was a child. Her parents had slept upstairs. She looked in on him, tucking a shawl around his shoulders. Then she took down the big, rusty key that always hung on a nail just inside the front door and went out on to the rocks. The wind cut through her clothes as she stood there, her back to the house, gazing towards the horizon. The only other building on the island was the lighthouse. The little boathouse down by the dock was so small that it didn’t really count.
She walked over to the lighthouse. Gunnar must have oiled the lock, because the key turned with surprising ease. The door creaked as she pulled it open. Nathalie only had to take a few steps inside before starting up the narrow, steep stairs, holding on to the railing as she climbed.
The view was so beautiful that it left her breathless. It had always had that effect on her. In one direction all she saw was the sea and the distant horizon; in the other direction the archipelago spread out below her, with all the islands, rocks, and skerries. It had been years since the lighthouse was in use. Nowadays it stood as a monument to bygone times. The lamp had been extinguished, and the metal plates and bolts were slowly rusting away from exposure to saltwater and wind. As a child she had loved playing up here. It was so small, like a playroom elevated high above the ground. The only furniture that would fit into the confined space was a bed where the lighthouse keepers could rest during their long shifts, and a chair where they could sit and peer out across the waters.
She lay down on the bed. A musty smell rose up from the bedspread, but the sounds all around her were the same as when she was a child: the shrieking of the gulls, the waves crashing against the rocks, and the groaning sound of the lighthouse itself. Everything had been so simple back then. Her parents had been concerned that she would be bored on the island, since she had no siblings. They needn’t have worried. She loved being here. And she had not been alone. But that was something that she couldn’t have explained to them.
Mats Sverin sighed and shuffled the papers piled on the desk in front of him. Today was one of those days when he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Couldn’t stop wondering. On such days, he got very little done, but they happened less frequently now. He had begun to let go; at least he wanted to think so. He could still see her face so clearly in his mind, and in a sense he was grateful for that. At the same time, he wished the image would start to blur and fade.
He tried to refocus his attention on his work. On good days he quite enjoyed his job. It was a challenge to immerse himself in the town finances, with the constant need to find a balance between political considerations and what was reasonable in terms of the marketplace. During the months that he’d worked here so far, much of his time had naturally been spent on Project Badis. He was pleased that the old hotel building was finally being restored. Like the majority of Fjällbacka residents, both those who still lived in the area and those who had moved away, every time he passed the beautiful structure he had bemoaned the fact that it had been allowed to fall into disrepair. Now it had been returned to its former grandeur.
Mats hoped that Erling’s bombastic promises about the tremendous success this enterprise would enjoy were more than hot air, but he was sceptical. The project had already run up huge expenses for the restoration itself, and the proposed business plan was based on calculations that were far too optimistic. He had tried on a number of occasions to present his view of the situation, without success. And though he had gone over the figures time and time again without finding anything amiss – aside from the massive expenses accrued – nevertheless he had an uneasy feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
He glanced at his watch and saw that it was lunchtime. It had been ages since he’d had any real appetite, but he knew that he needed to eat. Today was Thursday, which meant pancakes and pea soup at the Källaren restaurant. He should be able to get a few bites down, at the very least.
Only the closest friends and family members were to be present at the actual burial. The others silently disappeared in the opposite direction, headed towards town. Erica held on tightly to Patrik’s hand. They walked behind the coffin, and it felt as if every step sent a stab of pain into her heart. She had tried to persuade Anna not to put herself through this ordeal, but her sister had insisted on having a proper funeral. Her desire to see it done right had temporarily roused her from her apathetic state, so Erica had given up trying to convince Anna to change her mind. Instead, she had helped make all the necessary arrangements so that Anna and Dan could bury their son.
On one issue she had refused to relent, however. Anna wanted all the children to attend the funeral, but Erica decided that the youngest should stay at home. Only the two oldest, Dan’s daughters Belinda and Malin, were present. Patrik’s mother Kristina was babysitting for Lisen, Adrian, Emma, and Maja. And the twins, of course. Erica had been a little concerned that this might prove too much for her mother-in-law, but Kristina had calmly assured her that she would have no problem keeping the youngsters under control for the two hours that the funeral would last.
Erica’s heart ached when she looked at Anna’s almost bald head in front of her. The doctors had been forced to shave off nearly all her hair in order to bore through her skull to relieve the pressure that had built up and might cause permanent brain damage if not dealt with at once. A downy layer of hair had started to grow back, but it was a darker colour than before.
Unlike Anna and the driver of the other car, who had died immediately after the accident, Erica had come through with miraculously minor injuries. She had suffered only a bad concussion and several broken ribs. The twins were a bit underweight when they were born by emergency caesarean, but they were strong and healthy and after two months they were allowed to go home from the hospital.
Erica almost burst into tears when she shifted her gaze from her sister’s downy head to the tiny white coffin. Anna had not only incurred serious head injuries, she had also broken her pelvis. An emergency caesarean had been performed on her, too, but the injuries to the child were so extensive that the doctors gave Anna and Dan little hope. Only a week old, the baby boy had breathed his last.
The funeral had been delayed because Anna was unable to leave the hospital. Only yesterday had she finally been allowed to go home. And today they were burying her son, who would have had a life filled with so much love. Erica saw Dan place his hand on Anna’s shoulder as he carefully parked her wheelchair next to the graveside. Anna shook off his hand. That was how she had reacted ever since the accident. It was as if her pain was so great that she couldn’t share it with anyone else. Dan, on the other hand, needed to share what he was feeling, but not with just anybody. Both Patrik and Erica had tried to talk to him, and all of his friends had done what they could. But he didn’t want to share his grief with anyone except Anna. And she was unable to respond.
Erica found Anna’s reaction perfectly understandable. She knew her sister so well, and was fully aware of everything that she’d already been through. Life had not been kind to Anna, and this threatened to be the event that would finally prove too much for her. For all that Erica understood, she couldn’t help wishing it wasn’t so. Anna needed Dan more than ever, and Dan needed Anna. Now they stood there, side by side, like two strangers as the little coffin was slowly lowered into the ground.
Erica reached out and put her hand on her sister’s shoulder. Anna didn’t brush it away.
Filled with a restless energy, Nathalie began cleaning the house. It had helped to air out the place, but the stuffy smell still clung to the curtains and bed linens. She threw them all into a big laundry basket, which she lugged down to the dock. Equipped with some laundry detergent and the old scrubbing-board that had been in the house for as long as she could remember, she rolled up her sleeves and began the hard work of doing the wash by hand. Every once in a while she would glance up towards the cottage to make sure that Sam hadn’t awakened and come running outside. He’d been asleep for an unusually long time. Maybe it was in response to the shock. In that case, it was probably best to let him sleep. One more hour, she decided, and then she’d wake him up and see to it that he got something to eat.
Suddenly Nathalie realized that there actually wasn’t much food in the house. She hung the laundry on the clothesline outside and then went in to have a look at the pantry. All she found was a tin of Campbell’s tomato soup and a tin of Bullen’s pilsner sausages. She didn’t dare look at the expiry dates. Surely that sort of tinned food would last for ever? Regardless, she and Sam would have to settle for that today.
There was no temptation to go into town. She felt safe here. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She wanted to be left in peace. Nathalie paused to consider the situation as she held the soup tin in her hand. There was only one solution. She would have to call Gunnar. He had looked after the house for her after her parents died, and she could undoubtedly ask him for help. The landline no longer worked, but she was able to get good reception on her mobile, so she tapped in his number.
‘SVERIN.’
The name stirred up so many memories that Nathalie gave a start. It took a few seconds before she composed herself enough to speak.
‘Hello? Is anyone there?’
‘Yes. Hi. It’s Nathalie.’
‘Nathalie!’ exclaimed Signe Sverin.
Nathalie smiled. She had always loved Signe and Gunnar, and the feeling was mutual.
‘Sweetie, is that really you? Are you calling from Stockholm?’
‘No, I’m here on the island.’ To her surprise she felt the words catch in her throat. She’d slept only a few hours, and fatigue must be making her overly sensitive. She cleared her throat. ‘I got here yesterday.’
‘But, my dear, you should have warned us so we could go out there and do some cleaning. The place must look terrible, and—’
‘Don’t worry about the cleaning.’ Nathalie interrupted Signe’s torrent. She’d forgotten how much she talked, and how fast. ‘You’ve kept everything so nice out here. And it did me good to clean up a bit and do the laundry.’
Signe snorted. ‘Well, you could have at least asked for help. We’ve got nothing to occupy ourselves these days, Gunnar and I. Not even any grandchildren to look after. But Matte has moved home from Göteborg. He’s got a job working for Tanum council.’
‘That’s nice for you. Why did he decide to do that?’ She pictured Matte. Blond, tanned, and always cheerful.
‘I don’t really know. It all happened rather fast. He was involved in an accident, and afterwards I had the impression that … No, it’s nothing. Don’t pay any attention to an old woman who talks too much. So what’s on your mind, Nathalie? Is there something we can do for you? And do you have the little guy with you? It would be so nice to see him.’
‘Yes, of course, Sam is here. Only he’s not feeling very well.’
Nathalie fell silent. Nothing would make her happier than to introduce Signe to her son. But not until they were settled on the island; not until she saw what effect the recent events might have had on him.
‘That’s why I thought I’d ask for your help. We don’t have much food out here, and I don’t want to make Sam get up so we could go into—’
Before she could finish her sentence, Signe interrupted.
‘But of course we’d love to help. Gunnar is taking the boat out this afternoon anyway, and I can do your grocery shopping for you. Just tell me what you need.’
‘I can pay Gunnar back in cash, if you wouldn’t mind buying the food for me.’
‘Absolutely. That’s no problem, dear. So, what should I add to my shopping list?’
Nathalie could picture Signe putting on her reading glasses, sliding them down to the very tip of her nose as she reached for pen and paper. Gratefully Nathalie rattled off everything she could imagine they might need. Including a bag of sweets for Sam. Otherwise things could get difficult when Saturday arrived. He always kept track of the weekdays, and on Sunday he was already counting down to the next bag of Saturday sweets.
When she finished the phone conversation, Nathalie considered waking Sam. But something told her that she should let him sleep another hour.
Nobody was doing any work at the police station. Displaying a sensitivity that was unusual for him, Bertil Mellberg had asked Patrik whether he wanted his colleagues to attend the funeral. Patrik had merely shaken his head. He’d only been back on the job a few days, and everyone was tiptoeing around him. Even Mellberg.
Paula and Mellberg had been the first officers to arrive at the scene of the accident. When they caught sight of the two cars, crumpled beyond recognition, they didn’t think that anyone could have survived the crash. They peered in one of the windows and immediately recognized Erica. Only half an hour earlier an ambulance had come to the station to take Patrik to the hospital, and now his wife was dead, or at least seriously injured. The medics were unable to specify what the extent of her injuries might be, and it seemed to take an unbearably long time for the fire brigade to cut open the car.
Martin and Gösta were busy with another case and only heard about the accident and Patrik’s collapse several hours later. They drove to the hospital in Uddevalla and spent the whole evening pacing the corridors. Patrik was in Intensive Care, and both Erica and her sister Anna, who had been seated next to her in the car, underwent emergency surgery.
But now Patrik was back on the job. Thankfully he hadn’t had a heart attack, as was first thought; instead, he’d suffered a vascular spasm. After nearly three months on sick leave, the doctors had given him permission to return to work, although with strict orders to avoid stress. As if that’s going to be possible, thought Gösta. With newborn twins at home, and considering what happened to Erica’s sister. The devil himself would be stressed in that situation.
‘Do you think we should have gone anyway?’ asked Martin, stirring his coffee. ‘Maybe Patrik said no but he really wanted us to attend the funeral.’
‘No, I think Patrik meant what he said.’ Gösta scratched Ernst, the station’s dog, behind one ear. ‘I’m sure there are plenty of people at the church. We can do more good here.’
‘How can you say that? We haven’t heard a peep from anyone all day.’
‘It’s the calm before the storm. By July you’ll be longing for a day without any drunks, burglaries, or other sorts of trouble.’
‘That’s true,’ said Martin. He’d always been the newbie at the station, but he no longer felt like such a beginner. By now he’d had a few years of experience on the police force, and he’d participated in several investigations that had been very difficult, which was putting it mildly. He had also become a father, and he felt as if he’d grown several inches the minute that Pia gave birth to their daughter.
‘Did you see the invitation we received?’ Gösta reached for a Ballerina biscuit and began his usual routine of meticulously separating the vanilla top from the chocolate bottom.
‘What invitation?’
‘Apparently we’re going to have the honour of acting as guinea pigs at that new place they’re building in Fjällbacka.’
‘You mean at the Badis Hotel?’ Martin woke up a bit.
‘That’s right. Erling’s new project. Let’s just hope that it goes better than all that Sodding Tanum nonsense.’
‘I think it sounds great. Lots of guys laugh at the idea of having a facial, but I had one in Göteborg and it was bloody marvellous. My skin was as smooth as a baby’s bottom for weeks afterward.’
Gösta gave his colleague a disgusted look. A facial? Over his dead body. Nobody was going to smear a load of muck all over his face. ‘Well, we’ll have to see what they’re offering. I’m hoping for at least some fancy grub. Maybe a dessert buffet.’
‘I doubt it,’ laughed Martin. ‘Places like that are usually more concerned with getting people to stay in shape than stuffing themselves with food.’
Gösta looked offended. His weight was exactly the same as when he finished secondary school. With a snort, he helped himself to another biscuit.
Chaos reigned when they arrived home. Maja and Lisen were jumping on the sofa, Emma and Adrian were fighting over a DVD, and the twins were crying at the top of their lungs. Patrik’s mother looked as if she might jump off a cliff at any second.
‘Thank God you’re home,’ she exclaimed as she handed Patrik and Erica each a screaming baby. ‘I don’t know what got into these kids. They’ve been crazy. And I tried to feed the babies, but every time I fed one of them, the other would start crying, and then the first one would get distracted and couldn’t eat and would start crying too …’ She fell silent, trying to catch her breath.
‘Sit down, Mamma,’ said Patrik. He went to get a bottle for Anton, whom he was holding in his arms. The boy’s face was beet-red, and he was crying as loudly as his tiny body would allow.
‘Could you bring a bottle for Noel too?’ asked Erica as she tried to comfort her shrieking son.
Anton and Noel were still so small. Not like Maja, who had been big and robust right from the start. Yet the boys were actually enormous in comparison to their size at birth. Like tiny birds, they had lain in separate incubators, their thin arms hooked up to various tubes. They were fighters, according to the nurses at the hospital. And they had quickly gained weight, for the most part exhibiting a good appetite. But Erica and Patrik couldn’t help worrying about them.
‘Thanks.’ Erica took the bottle that her husband handed to her and sat down in an armchair, holding Noel. He greedily began drinking the formula. Patrik sat down in the other armchair with Anton, who stopped crying as swiftly as his brother. Erica thought that there were definite advantages to the fact that she hadn’t been able to breastfeed. This way she and Patrik were able to share responsibility for the babies. That hadn’t been possible with Maja, and it had felt as if her daughter were glued to her breast 24/7.
‘How did it go?’ asked Kristina. She lifted Maja and Lisen down from the sofa and told them to go upstairs to play in Maja’s room. Emma and Adrian had already disappeared upstairs, so the two girls didn’t need any further persuasion.
‘It was fine. I don’t know what else to say,’ Erica told her. ‘But I’m worried about Anna.’
‘Me too.’ Patrik cautiously changed position so he was sitting more comfortably. ‘It’s as if she’s shut Dan out. She’s keeping him at a distance.’
‘I know. I’ve tried talking to her. But after all she’s been through …’ Erica shook her head. It was so terribly unfair. For years Anna had lived a life that could only be described as hell, but lately it seemed as if she’d finally found some peace of mind. And she’d been so happy about the baby that she and Dan were expecting. What had happened was unbelievably cruel.
‘Emma and Adrian seem to be handling it relatively well.’ Kristina cast a glance upstairs, where the children could be heard laughing merrily.
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ said Erica. ‘Right now they’re probably just so happy to have their mother back home. I’m not sure that they’ve fully taken in what happened yet.’
‘You’re probably right,’ said Kristina, and then looked at her son. ‘And what about you? Shouldn’t you stay home from work a while longer until you’re properly rested? No one’s going to thank you for working yourself to death over at the station. What happened to you was a wake-up call.’
‘At the moment things are actually calmer over there than here,’ said Erica, nodding at the twins. ‘But I told him the same thing.’
‘It feels good to be working again, but I’ll stay home if you really want me to,’ said Patrik. He set the empty bottle on the coffee table and placed Anton against his shoulder to burp him.
‘No, that’s okay. We’re doing just fine now.’
Erica meant what she said. After Maja was born, she’d felt as if she were walking around in a thick fog, but this time everything was different. Maybe the circumstances surrounding the birth of the twins left no room for her to be depressed. It also helped that they had developed a set routine while in the hospital. They slept and ate at specific hours, and always together. Erica wasn’t the least bit concerned about being able to take care of the babies. She was happy for every second that she had with them, since she had come so close to losing both of them.
She closed her eyes, leaned forward, and pressed her nose against the top of Noel’s head. For a moment his downy skin made her think of Anna, and she closed her eyes even tighter. She hoped she’d be able to find a way to help her sister, because right now she felt so powerless. She took a deep breath, drawing in Noel’s comforting scent.
‘My sweet baby,’ she murmured. ‘My sweet little baby.’
‘So how’s it going with your job?’ Signe tried to strike a light tone as she piled meatloaf, peas, mashed potatoes, and cream gravy on to a plate. A huge serving.
Ever since Matte had moved back to the area, he’d hardly touched his food, even though she’d made his favourite meals every time he had dinner with them. The question was whether he ate anything at all when he was alone in his flat. He was as thin as a rail. Thank goodness he at least looked better now that all traces of the assault had disappeared. When they went to see him at Sahlgrenska Hospital, she hadn’t been able to hold back a cry of dismay. He had been beaten to a pulp. His face was so swollen that she could hardly tell whether it was really Matte lying in that hospital bed.
‘It’s fine.’
Signe jumped at the sound of his voice. The answer to her question came after such a delay that she’d forgotten she asked it. Matte ploughed his fork through the mashed potatoes and then stabbed a bite of meatloaf. She realized she was holding her breath as she watched him raise the fork to his mouth.
‘Stop staring at the boy while he’s eating,’ muttered Gunnar. He was already helping himself to seconds.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘It’s just that I’m … I’m so glad to see you eating something.’
‘I’m not about to starve to death, Mamma. See? I’m eating.’ As if in defiance, he loaded his fork and quickly stuffed the food into his mouth before it toppled off.
‘They’re not working you too hard at the office, are they?’
Signe received yet another annoyed look from Gunnar. She knew that he thought she was being over-protective, that she ought to leave their son in peace for a while. But she couldn’t help it. Matte was her only child, and ever since that December day when he was born, which was almost forty years ago, she’d regularly woken up in the middle of the night, her nightgown soaked with sweat and her head filled with nightmares about the terrible things that might have happened to him. Nothing in life was more important to her than seeing him happy. She had always felt that way. And she knew that Gunnar was every bit as devoted to their son as she was. But he was better equipped to shut out the ominous thoughts that love for a child always entails.
She, on the other hand, was constantly aware that she might lose everything in a matter of seconds. When Matte was a baby, she’d dreamt that he had a heart defect, and so she had persuaded the doctors to do a thorough examination, which showed that her son was perfectly healthy. During his first year she slept no more than an hour at a time, because she kept getting up to make sure he was still breathing. As he got bigger, up until he started school, she would cut his food into small pieces so they wouldn’t get stuck in his throat and cause him to choke. And she had nightmares about cars driving right over his soft little body.
By the time he was a teenager, her dreams had become even worse, filled with alcoholic comas, drunken driving, and fist-fights. Sometimes she tossed and turned so much in bed that she woke Gunnar. One feverish nightmare after another until she forced herself to sit up and wait for Matte to come home, her gaze fixed first on the window, then on the telephone. Her heart gave a leap every time she heard someone outside, approaching the house.
The nights were a bit calmer after he moved away from home. Which was rather odd, because it seemed as if her fears should have grown when she was no longer able to keep watch over him. But she knew that he wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks. He was a cautious person – that much she’d managed to teach him. He was also considerate and would never think of hurting anyone. In her mind, this meant that no one, in turn, would ever try to harm him either.
She smiled at the memory of all the animals he had brought home over the years. Injured, abandoned, or generally in a bad way. Three cats, two hedgehogs that had been hit by a car, and a sparrow with an injured wing. Not to mention the snake that she happened to find when she was just about to put his newly laundered underwear in his drawer. After that episode, he had to swear to her that he’d leave all reptiles to their fate, no matter how injured or abandoned they might be. He had reluctantly agreed.
It had surprised Signe that he hadn’t become a veterinarian or a doctor. But he seemed to enjoy his studies at the business school, and from what she understood, he definitely had a head for numbers. He also seemed to like his job at the council. Yet there was something about him that worried her. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was, but the bad dreams had started up again. Every night she awoke, bathed in sweat, with fragments of images in her head. Something was amiss, but her tactful queries were merely met with silence. That was why she had decided to focus her efforts on getting him to eat. If only he would put on a few pounds, everything would probably be fine.
‘Wouldn’t you like some more?’ she ventured as Matte put down his fork. Half of the huge portion of food was still left on his plate.
‘That’s enough, Signe,’ said Gunnar. ‘Leave the boy alone.’
‘It’s okay,’ said Matte, giving them a wan smile.
Mamma’s boy. He didn’t want her to suffer a scolding for his sake, even though after forty years with her husband, she knew that Gunnar’s bark was worse than his bite. In fact, it would be hard to find a kinder man. She knew that the problem was hers, that she worried too much.
‘I’m sorry, Matte. Of course you don’t have to eat any more.’
She called him by the nickname that he’d had since he first learned to talk but couldn’t say his name properly. He’d called himself Matte, and everybody else had done the same.
‘Guess who’s home for a visit,’ she went on, cheerfully, reaching for the plates so she could clear the table.
‘I have no idea.’
‘Nathalie.’
Matte gave a start and looked at her.
‘Nathalie? My Nathalie?’
Gunnar chuckled. ‘I knew that would wake you up. You’ve always had a bit of a crush on her.’
‘Hey, knock it off.’
Signe suddenly pictured in her mind the teenage boy, a lock of hair falling into his eyes, as he told her with a stammer that he had a girlfriend.
‘I took some groceries over to her today,’ said Gunnar. ‘She’s over on Ghost Isle.’
‘Oh, don’t call it that.’ Signe shuddered. ‘Its name is Gråskär.’
‘When did she arrive?’ asked Matte.
‘Yesterday, I think. And she has the boy with her.’
‘How long is she staying?’
‘She said she doesn’t know.’ Gunnar stuck a wad of snuff under his upper lip and contentedly leaned back in his chair.
‘Was she … was she the same?’
Gunnar nodded. ‘Sure, of course she was just the same, our little Nathalie. Exactly the same. Although I thought she had a slightly sad look in her eyes, but maybe that’s my imagination. Maybe they had a quarrel back home. What do I know?’
‘Don’t go speculating about such matters,’ Signe scolded him. ‘Did you see the boy?’
‘No. Nathalie met me down at the dock, and I didn’t stay long. Why don’t you go out there and say hello?’ Gunnar said, turning to Matte. ‘I’m sure she’d be happy to have a visitor out there on Ghost Isle. Sorry. I mean, Gråskär,’ he added, giving his wife an annoyed look.
‘That’s all a bunch of nonsense and old superstitions. I don’t think we should be encouraging that sort of thing,’ said Signe, a deep furrow appearing between her brows.
‘Nathalie believes it,’ said Matte quietly. ‘She always said that she knew they were there.’
‘What do you mean by “they”?’ Much as Signe would have preferred to change the subject, she was curious to hear what Matte would say.
‘The dead. Nathalie said that she sometimes she saw them and heard them, but they didn’t mean any harm. They just ended up staying there.’
‘That’s awful. Now I think it’s time for dessert. I’ve made rhubarb pudding.’ Signe stood up abruptly. ‘Pappa’s right about one thing, though, even if he does talk a lot of drivel. It would make her happy to have you visit.’
Matte didn’t reply. He looked as if he were far away in his thoughts.
FJÄLLBACKA 1870 (#ulink_0902d7b6-b5e6-5d6f-aec8-d51b8e681173)
Emelie was terrified. She had never even seen the sea, let alone sailed on it in what seemed to be a very unstable boat. She had a tight grip on the railing. It felt as if she was being tossed forward and backward by the waves, with no chance of putting up any resistance or governing her own body. She sought Karl’s eye, but he was standing there with a resolute expression, staring out at what awaited them far ahead.
The words were still ringing in her ears. They were probably nothing more than the superstitious ramblings of an old woman, but she couldn’t help thinking about them. The woman had asked where they were headed when they loaded their belongings on to the small sailboat down at the Fjällbacka harbour.
‘Gråskär,’ Emelie had answered happily. ‘My husband Karl is the new lighthouse keeper on the island.’
The woman didn’t seem impressed. Instead, she had snorted and with a strange little smile she said, ‘Gråskär? Oh, I see. In these parts nobody calls it Gråskär.’
‘Is that right?’ Emelie had the feeling that she really shouldn’t ask, but her curiosity got the better of her. ‘So what do you call it then?’
At first the old woman didn’t reply. Then she lowered her voice and said, ‘In these parts we call it Ghost Isle.’
‘Ghost Isle?’ Emelie’s nervous laughter had carried over the water in the early morning haze. ‘How strange. Why?’
The old woman’s eyes glittered when she spoke. ‘Because it’s said that those who die out there never leave the island.’ Then she turned on her heel and left Emelie standing there among all the bags and suitcases, with an awful lump in her stomach instead of the joy and anticipation that had filled her only a few moments ago.
And now it felt as if she might meet death at any second. The sea was so vast, so untamed, and it seemed to be drawing her towards it. She couldn’t swim. If any of the waves, which looked so big even though Karl said they were only small swells, should capsize the boat, she was convinced that she would be pulled down into the deep. She gripped the railing harder, fixing her eyes on the floor, or the deck as Karl claimed it was called.
‘Over there is Gråskär.’
Karl’s voice demanded that she look, so she took a deep breath and raised her eyes to stare in the direction he was pointing. Her first thought was that the island was so beautiful. The cottage, though small, seemed to sparkle in the sunlight, and the grey rocks gleamed. She saw hollyhocks growing at one end of the house, and she was amazed that they could thrive in such a barren setting. To the west the island shoreline was very steep, as if the cliffs had been sheared in half. But in the other directions the rocks sloped gradually towards the water.
Suddenly the waves didn’t seem so rough. She still longed to feel solid ground under her feet, but Gråskär had already enchanted her. And she pushed the old woman’s words about Ghost Isle to the very back of her mind. Something that was so beautiful couldn’t possibly conceal anything bad.
2 (#ulink_3b63fcef-7d81-5153-9706-38ff17cd6084)
She had heard them in the night. The same whispering, the same voices that she recalled from when she was a child. Her watch told her that it was three a.m. when she awoke. At first she didn’t know what had caused her to wake up. Then she heard them. They were talking downstairs. A chair scraped. What did the dead talk about with each other? About things that had happened before they died? Or about what was taking place now, many years later?
Nathalie had been aware of their presence on the island for as long as she could remember. Her mother had said that, even as a baby, Nathalie would suddenly start laughing and waving her arms, as if she saw things that no one else could see. As she grew older, she became more and more conscious of them. A voice, something flitting past, the feeling that somebody else was in the room. But they didn’t mean her any harm. She knew that back then, and she knew that now. For a long time she lay awake, listening to them until the voices finally lulled her back to sleep.
When morning arrived, she remembered the sounds as nothing more than a far-away dream. She made breakfast for herself and Sam, but he refused to eat his favourite cereal.
‘Please, sweetie. Just one spoonful. Just a teeny bit?’ she coaxed him but was unable to get him to take a single bite. With a sigh she put down the spoon. ‘You have to eat, you know.’ She stroked his cheek.
He hadn’t uttered a word since everything happened. But Nathalie pushed her concern to a far corner of her mind. She needed to allow him time and not try to pressure him; she simply had to be available to him as he processed the memories, putting them away and replacing them with others. And there was no better place to do that than here on Gråskär, far away from everything else, near the cliffs, the sun, and the salty sea.
‘You know what, let’s skip breakfast and go out for a swim instead.’ When she received no answer, she simply picked him up and carried him outside into the sun. Tenderly she took off his clothes and carried him down to the water, as if he were only a year old and not a big boy of five. The water wasn’t very warm, but he offered no objections as she sank down, immersing both of them while pressing his head protectively to her chest. This was the best medicine. They would stay here until the storm subsided. Until everything was back to normal.
‘I didn’t think you’d come in until Monday,’ said Annika, peering over the tops of her computer glasses to look at Patrik. He had stopped in the doorway to her office, which was also the station’s reception area.
‘Erica threw me out. She claimed she was sick and tired of seeing my ugly mug at home.’ He attempted a laugh, but thoughts of the previous day were still with him, so the laugh didn’t reach his eyes.
‘I know exactly what she means,’ said Annika, but her expression was as melancholy as Patrik’s. The death of a child affected everyone. Since Annika and her husband Lennart had learned that they would soon be able to bring home their long-awaited adoptive child from China, she was even more sensitive when it came to children who were hurt or harmed in some way.
‘Is there anything going on?’ asked Patrik.
‘No, I wouldn’t say that. Just the usual. Old Mrs Strömberg has called for the third time this week to say that her son-in-law is trying to kill her. And a few kids were picked up for shoplifting at Hedemyr’s.’
‘Super busy, in other words.’
‘Right. The big topic of conversation at the moment is that we’ve received an invitation to come and sample all the wonders on offer at that new place – Badis.’
‘That sounds tempting. I reckon I should volunteer for that particular job.’
‘At any rate, it’s good to see the transformation Badis has undergone,’ said Annika. ‘The building used to look as if it might fall apart at any moment.’
‘Yes, it’s great. But I doubt it’s going to be profitable. It must have cost a fortune to restore the place. And do you think people will really want to go to a spa there?’
‘If not, Erling’s going to be in hot water. I have a friend who works for the local council, and she told me that they’ve invested a large part of their budget in the project.’
‘I can well imagine. And there’s a lot of buzz in Fjällbacka about the opening festivities that they’re planning. That’s not going to be cheap either.’
‘The whole police force is invited, in case you hadn’t heard. So we’re all going to have to put on our best clothes.’
‘Is everyone out?’ asked Patrik, changing the subject. He wasn’t particularly keen on getting dressed up for a fancy party.
‘Yes, except Mellberg. He’s probably in his office, as usual. Nothing has changed, even though he claims that he came back to work before his leave was over because the station was on the verge of falling apart without him. From what Paula told me, they were forced to find another childcare solution before Leo started on a career as a sumo wrestler. Apparently the last straw was when Rita came home early one day and found Bertil stuffing a load of hamburger into the blender for Leo. She went straight back to her job and asked her boss to let her work part-time for the next few months.’
‘You’re joking.’
‘No, it’s the gospel truth. So now we’re going to have to deal with him on a full-time basis. At least Ernst is happy about it. Mellberg left him here at the station while he was home with Leo, and the poor dog looked like he was pining away. He just lay in his basket and whined.’
‘Well, I suppose it’s good to know that nothing has changed,’ said Patrik. He headed for his office, taking a deep breath before he stepped inside. Maybe work would make him forget the sad events of the previous day.
She was never going to get up again. She would just lie here in bed and stare out of the window at the sky, which was sometimes blue, sometimes grey. For a moment she even wished that she was back in the hospital. Things had been so much simpler there. So calm and peaceful. Everyone had been so caring and considerate, speaking in low voices and helping her to eat and wash. Here at home there were too many noises disturbing her. She could hear the children playing, and their shouts reverberated through the house. Every once in a while they would come in to peer at her, their eyes big. It felt as if they were demanding something from her, as if they wanted something that she couldn’t give.
‘Anna, are you asleep?’
Dan’s voice. She would have liked to pretend that she was sleeping, but she knew he wouldn’t be fooled.
‘No.’
‘I’ve made you some food. Tomato soup with toast and goat’s cheese. I thought you might want to come downstairs to eat with us. The kids are asking for you.’
‘No.’
‘No, you don’t want to eat? Or no, you won’t come downstairs?’
Anna could hear the frustration in his voice, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything any more. There was nothing but a huge empty space inside of her. No tears, no sorrow, no anger.
‘No.’
‘You have to eat. You have to …’ His voice broke, and he set the tray down on her bedside table with a bang, making some of the tomato soup slosh over the side of the bowl.
‘No.’
‘I lost a child too, Anna. And the kids lost a brother. We need you. We …’
She heard him searching for words. But in her head, there was room for only one word. A single word that had lodged inside of the emptiness. She looked away.
‘No.’
After a moment she heard Dan leave the room. She turned to look out of the window again.
It worried her that he seemed so distant.
‘My dear Sam.’ She cradled him in her arms, stroking his hair. He still hadn’t made a sound. It occurred to her that maybe she should have taken him to a doctor, but she quickly dismissed the idea. She wasn’t ready to let anyone else into their world yet. If he just had some peace and quiet, he would soon be himself again.
‘Do you want to take a little afternoon nap, sweetie?’
He didn’t answer, but she carried him to his bed and tucked him in. Then she made herself a pot of coffee, poured some into a cup along with some milk and went outside to sit on the dock, savouring the warmth of the sun on her face. Fredrik had loved the sun; in fact, he had worshipped it. He was always complaining about how cold it was in Sweden and how seldom the sun shone.
Why was she suddenly thinking about him? She had pushed all such thoughts to the back of her mind. He no longer had any place in their lives. Fredrik, with his constant demands and his need to have control over everything and everyone. Mostly over her – and Sam.
Out here on Gråskär there was no trace of him. He’d never been to the island; it was all hers. He had never wanted to come here. ‘I’ll be damned if I’m going to park myself on some fucking rock,’ he’d said the few times that she’d asked him. She was glad that he’d refused to come. The island hadn’t been sullied by his presence. It was a pure place that belonged only to her and Sam.
She wrapped her hands tightly around the coffee cup. The years had passed so swiftly. Time had flown by so fast, and in the end she was stuck. There was no escape, no possibility of fleeing. She had no one other than Fredrik and Sam. Where was she supposed to have gone?
At least now they were finally free. She felt the salt breeze brush her face. They had done it. She and Sam. After he recovered, they could live their own life.
Nathalie was home. He had thought about her all evening after having dinner with his parents. Nathalie with the long blond hair and the freckles on her nose and arms. Nathalie who smelled of the sea and summer. After all these years he could still feel her warmth in his embrace. It was true what they said: you never forget your first love. And those three summers on Gråskär could only be described as magical. He had gone over to see her as often as he could, and together they had made the small island their own.
But occasionally she had scared him. Her clear laughter would suddenly come to an abrupt halt, and then she seemed to disappear into a darkness where he couldn’t reach her. She was never able to put words to the feeling that came over her, and eventually he learned to leave her alone whenever it happened. During that last summer the darkness had come more and more often, and she had slowly slipped away from him. In August, when he waved goodbye to her as she boarded the train for Stockholm with her luggage, he knew that it was over.
Since then, they hadn’t been in touch at all. The following year he had tried to phone her when her parents passed away, one dying very soon after the other, but he got through only to her voicemail. She never called him back. And the cottage on Gråskär stood empty. He knew that his mother and father went out there once in a while to look after the place, and that Nathalie occasionally sent money to pay them for their efforts. But she had never come back, and over time his memories of her had faded.
Now Nathalie had returned. Matte stared into space as he sat at his desk. His suspicions about the spa project funding were getting stronger, and there were things he needed to tend to. But thoughts of Nathalie kept intruding. When the afternoon sun began sinking over the Tanumshede council building, he gathered up all the documents lying in front of him. He had to see Nathalie. With resolute steps he left his office, pausing to exchange a few words with Erling before he headed out to his car. His hand was shaking as he put the key in the ignition and started up the engine.
‘You’re home so early, darling!’
Vivianne came to greet Erling, giving him a light kiss on the cheek. He couldn’t resist catching hold of her, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her close.
‘Now, now, take it easy. We need to save our energy for later.’ She placed her hands against his chest to hold him off.
‘Are you sure about that? Lately I’ve been so tired in the evenings.’ Again he drew her close. To his great disappointment, she slipped away and turned to head for her home office.
‘You’ll just have to wait. I’ve got so much to do that I couldn’t possibly relax right now. And you know how things go when I’m not relaxed.’
‘Okay. All right.’
Crestfallen, Erling watched her walk away. Of course they could wait until later, but he’d fallen asleep on the sofa for over a week now. Every morning he awoke to find himself lying under a blanket that Vivianne had tenderly spread over him, with one of the sofa pillows under his head. He couldn’t understand it. It must be because he was working too hard. He really ought to get better at delegating tasks to others.
‘I’ve brought home a treat, at any rate,’ he called after her.
‘That’s nice of you. What is it?’
‘Shrimp from Olsson Brothers’, and an excellent bottle of Chablis.’
‘Sounds wonderful. I’ll be done around eight o’clock, so it would be lovely if you had everything ready by then.’
‘Of course, sweetheart,’ murmured Erling.
He picked up the carrier bags and took them out to the kitchen. It still felt a bit strange to him. When he was married to Viveca, she had always taken care of the cooking. But since Vivianne had moved in, she had somehow shifted the responsibility to his shoulders. For the life of him, he couldn’t comprehend how that had happened.
He sighed heavily as he put the groceries in the refrigerator. Then he thought about what was in store for him later in the evening and his mood lifted. He would make sure that she was properly relaxed. It would certainly make up for the time he had to spend in the kitchen.
Erica was breathing hard as she walked through Fjällbacka. Being pregnant with twins and then undergoing a caesarean hadn’t exactly helped either her weight or her physical condition. But that sort of thing now seemed terribly unimportant. Both of her sons were healthy. They had survived, and the gratitude she felt every morning when they started crying at six thirty was so overwhelming that it still brought tears to her eyes.
Anna had suffered a much worse fate, and for the first time Erica had no idea how to approach her sister. Their relationship had never been easy, but since the time they were kids, Erica had been the one to take care of Anna, blowing on her bruises and cuts, wiping away her tears. This time things were different. The pain wasn’t some minor scrape but a deep hole in Anna’s soul. Erica felt as if she were standing off to the side, watching as her sister’s life force seeped out of her. How was she going to help her heal? Anna’s son had died, and no matter how sad Erica felt, she couldn’t conceal her joy that her own children had lived. After the accident, Anna couldn’t bear to look at her. Erica had gone to the hospital to sit next to her sister’s bed. But not once had Anna met her eye.
After Anna came home, Erica couldn’t bring herself to visit her. She had merely phoned Dan a few times. He sounded both depressed and resigned. So now Erica couldn’t put it off any longer. She had asked Kristina to come over to babysit for the twins and Maja. Anna was her sister. She was Erica’s responsibility.
Her hand felt like lead as she knocked on the door. She heard the children making a commotion inside, and after a moment Emma opened the door.
‘Aunt Erica!’ she cried happily. ‘Where are the babies?’
‘They’re home with Maja and their grandmother.’ Erica patted Emma’s cheek. She looked so much like Anna when she was a child.
‘Mamma is sad,’ said Emma, glancing up at Erica. ‘All she does is sleep, and Pappa says that it’s because she’s so sad. She’s sad because the baby in her stomach decided to go to heaven instead of coming to live here with us. And I can understand why, because Adrian is always so noisy and Lisen keeps teasing me. But I would have been really nice to the baby. Really nice.’
‘I know you would, sweetie. But just think how much fun the baby must be having bouncing around up there on all the clouds.’
‘Like on lots and lots of gigantic trampolines?’ Emma’s face lit up.
‘That’s right. Exactly like lots of trampolines.’
‘Oh, I wish I had lots of big trampolines,’ said Emma. ‘All we have is a tiny one out in the garden. There’s only room for one of us, and Lisen always gets to go first, and I never get a turn to jump on it.’ She turned on her heel and headed for the living room, still muttering to herself.
Only then did Erica realize what Emma had said. She had called Dan ‘Pappa’. Erica smiled. It actually didn’t surprise her, because Dan loved Anna’s children, and they had loved him right from the start. The child that Dan and Anna were expecting together would have bound the family even closer. Erica swallowed hard as she followed Emma into the living room. It looked as if a bomb had gone off in there.
‘Sorry about the mess,’ said Dan with embarrassment. ‘I just can’t seem to keep up. It feels like there aren’t enough hours in the day.’
‘I know what you mean. You should see what our house looks like.’ Erica paused in the doorway, casting a glance upstairs. ‘Is it okay if I go up?’
‘Sure, go ahead.’ Dan rubbed his hand over his face. He looked totally exhausted and sad.
‘I’ll go with you,’ said Emma. But Dan squatted down to talk to her quietly, persuading her to allow Erica to look in on Anna alone.
Dan and Anna’s bedroom was just to the right at the top of the stairs. Erica raised her hand but then stopped herself from knocking. Cautiously she pushed open the door. Anna was lying with her face turned towards the window. The late afternoon sun shone on her head, making it gleam under the downy new hair. Erica felt a pang in her heart. She had always been more like a mother for Anna, but that had changed over the past few years and their relationship had become that of two sisters. Yet with one blow they were back in their old roles. Anna young and vulnerable; Erica concerned and protective.
Anna’s breathing was calm and regular. She gave a little whimper, and Erica realized that she was asleep. She tiptoed over to the bed and carefully sat down on the edge so as not to wake Anna. Gently she placed her hand on her sister’s hip. Whether Anna liked it or not, she intended to stay by her side. They were sisters. And friends.
‘Pappa’s home!’ Patrik shouted loudly and then listened for the expected response. He heard two little feet pattering along the floor, and the next second he saw Maja come around the corner at top speed, heading straight towards him.
‘Pappaaaa!’ She kissed his face over and over, as if he had returned from a voyage around the world and not just from a day at work.
‘Hi, sweetie. Pappa’s little girl.’ He gave her a big hug, burrowing his nose against her neck and breathing in that special Maja-scent that always made his heart leap.
‘I thought you were working only half-days.’ His mother wiped her hands on a dishcloth as she gave him the same look he remembered from when he was a teenager and came home later than he’d promised.
‘It felt so good to be back on the job that I stayed a bit longer. But I’ll take it easy. We don’t have anything urgent at the moment.’
‘Well, you know best. But you need to listen to your body. What happened to you should be taken seriously.’
‘Okay, okay.’ Patrik hoped his mother would drop the subject. She didn’t really need to worry. He couldn’t shake off the terror that had come over him in the ambulance on the way to Uddevalla Hospital. He thought he was going to die; he’d been totally convinced of it. Images of Maja and Erica and the two babies that he would never get to see kept whirling through his mind, round and round, merging with the pain in his chest.
Not until he woke up in Intensive Care did he realize that he had survived, that it had been his body’s way of telling him to take things easier. But then he was told about the car accident, and a new pain had descended on him. When they took him in a wheelchair to see the twins, his first impulse had been to turn around in the door. They were so tiny and defenceless. Their thin chests rose and fell with such effort, and every once in a while a spasm would pass through their bodies. He couldn’t believe that anything so small could survive; he didn’t want to go any closer, didn’t want to touch them. If he did, he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to say goodbye.
‘Where are your brothers?’ Patrik asked Maja. He was still holding her, and she had her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.
‘They’re sleeping. But they made a mess in their nappies. A big mess. Grandma wiped it up. It smelled yucky.’ She wrinkled her nose.
‘They’ve been little angels,’ said Kristina, her face lighting up. ‘They each drank nearly two bottles of formula, and then they fell asleep without any fuss at all. Well, after dirtying their nappies, as Maja said.’
‘I’ll go upstairs and look in on them for a minute,’ said Patrik. Ever since the twins had come home from the hospital, he’d gotten used to having them always within sight. While he was at work, he’d felt a terrible longing to see them.
He went upstairs to the bedroom. They hadn’t wanted to separate the two boys, so they slept in the same cot. Right now they were so close that their noses touched. Noel’s arm was draped over Anton, as if protecting him. Patrik wondered what their roles would be. Noel seemed a little more demanding, a little louder than Anton, who could best be described as content. As long as he got enough food and was allowed to sleep when he was tired, they never heard anything but delighted prattle from him. Noel, on the other hand, would utter loud protests if he wasn’t happy about something. He didn’t like being dressed or having his nappy changed. Worst of all was being bathed. Judging by his screams, he seemed to think that water was life-threatening.
Patrik stood for a long time leaning over their cot. Noel and Anton were both sound asleep, their eyelids fluttering faintly. He wondered if they were dreaming the same thing.
Nathalie sat on the steps in the fading sunlight as she watched the boat approach. Sam had already fallen asleep. Slowly she stood up and walked down to the dock.
‘Permission to come ashore!’
His voice sounded familiar, and yet different. She could tell that he’d been through plenty since they’d last met. At first she wanted to shout: ‘No, don’t come ashore! You don’t belong here any more.’ Instead, she caught the line he tossed her and out of habit tied a double half-hitch to moor the boat. The next second he was standing on the dock. Nathalie had forgotten how tall he was. She was used to being about the same height as most men, but she’d always been able to press her head against his chest. That was one of the things that Fredrik had teased her about – the fact that she was at least an inch taller than he was. She had always been forced to wear flats whenever they went anywhere together.
Don’t think about Fredrik right now. Don’t think about …
She found herself in his arms. She didn’t quite know how that happened, or who took the first step. All of a sudden his arms were around her, and his rough sweater was scratchy against her cheek. Drawn into his embrace she felt safe, and she breathed in his familiar scent, which she hadn’t smelled for so many years. Matte’s scent.
‘Hi, Nathalie.’ He hugged her even harder, as if trying to keep her from falling, and he succeeded. She wanted to stay there for ever, touching everything that had been hers so long ago but that had vanished in all the confusion of darkness and desperation. Finally he released her, holding her away as he studied her face, as if seeing it for the very first time.
‘You look just the same,’ he said. But Nathalie could see in his eyes that it wasn’t true. She wasn’t the same; she was someone else. It was evident in her face, in the lines etched around her eyes and mouth, and she knew that he could tell. She loved him for pretending otherwise. He’d always been so good at that – at pretending bad things would go away if only you closed your eyes tight enough.
‘Come on,’ she said, holding out her hand to him. He took it, and then they walked up to the house.
‘The island looks the same as always.’ The wind snatched at his voice, carrying it out over the cliffs.
‘Yes. Here, nothing has changed.’ She wanted to say more, but Matte stepped inside. He had to duck as he went in the door, and then the moment was gone. That was how things had always been with Matte. She could remember words that she’d carried inside her and wanted to say to him, but they had refused to come out, rendering her mute. And making him sad. She knew that. Sad that she shut him out whenever the darkness descended.
She couldn’t let him in now either, but she could allow him to sit here in the house with her. At least for a while. She needed his warm presence. She had been frozen for so long.
‘Would you like some tea?’ She took out a saucepan without waiting for him to reply. She needed to keep busy in order not to reveal that she was shaking.
‘Sure, that would be nice. Where have you put that little man of yours? How old is he now?’
She gave him an enquiring look.
‘Mamma and Pappa have kept me up-to-date,’ he said with a smile.
‘He’s five. And he’s already asleep.’
‘Ah.’ He sounded disappointed, and that warmed her heart. It was important to her. She had often wondered what things would have been like if she’d had Sam with Matte instead of with Fredrik. Only in that case, he wouldn’t have been Sam but some other child. And that was impossible to imagine.
She was glad that Sam was asleep. She didn’t want Matte to see him the way he was now. But as soon as he was feeling better, she would introduce Matte to her little boy, whose brown eyes were always so filled with mischief. If only the mischief would return, then all three of them could spend time together. She looked forward to that.
They sat in silence for a while, sipping the hot tea. It was odd to feel like strangers, to know that they had let the passing of time bring them to this state. Then they started talking. It wasn’t easy, because they were not the same people they used to be. Slowly they fell into a familiar rhythm that had been theirs alone, and they were able to strip away all that the years had placed between them.
When she took his hand and led him upstairs, it felt as if everything was as it should be. Afterwards, she fell asleep with his arms wrapped around her and his breath in her ear. Outside she could hear the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks.
Vivianne spread a blanket over Erling. The sleeping pill had knocked him out, as usual. He’d started to wonder why he fell asleep on the sofa every evening, and she knew that she had to be careful. But she could no longer stand lying next to him, feeling his body touching hers. She couldn’t do it.
She went into the kitchen and tossed the shrimp shells into the rubbish. Then she rinsed off the plates and put them in the dishwasher. There was a little wine left, so she poured it into a fresh glass and went back to the TV room.
It was so close now, and she was beginning to get nervous. Over the past few days it had seemed as if the fiction they had so carefully constructed might collapse. Only one small part had to shift for the whole thing to come tumbling down. She knew that. When she was younger, she’d found a certain perverse enjoyment in taking risks. She had loved the feeling of teetering on the edge of danger. Not any more. It was as if the older she got, the stronger her yearning for security became, the desire to lean back and not have to think. And she was sure that Anders felt the same way. They were so alike and knew what the other one was thinking without saying a word out loud. It had always been that way.
Vivianne lifted the glass to her lips but paused for a moment when she smelled the wine. The scent brought back memories of events that she had sworn to forget. It was all so long ago. She had been a different person, someone she could never be again, not under any circumstances. She was Vivianne now.
She knew that she needed Anders to keep her from falling again, sliding down into that dark hole of memories that made her feel sullied and small.
Giving one last glance at Erling lying on the sofa, she grabbed her jacket and went out. He was sleeping soundly. He wouldn’t miss her.
FJÄLLBACKA 1870 (#ulink_755b8c03-d2d6-55a2-9a61-fc3d03bb707d)
When Karl proposed to her, Emelie was in seventh heaven. She could never have imagined that such a thing would actually happen, even though she’d dreamed about it. During the five years that she’d worked as a maid on his parents’ farm, she had often fallen asleep with the image of Karl’s face in her thoughts. But he was far beyond her reach, and she knew it. Edith’s sharp rebukes had also chased away the last of her dreams. The farmer’s son was not about to marry the maid, not even if she was in the family way.
Karl had never touched her. He had hardly spoken to her the few times he’d had free from the lightship and had come home to visit. He had merely treated her politely, stepping out of her way if she needed to get past. At the most he had asked after her health but had never given any sign that he felt the same as she did. Edith had called her a fool, telling her to push those thoughts out of her mind and stop being such a dreamer.
But dreams could come true, and prayers could be answered. One day he had appeared and asked to speak with her. She was frightened, thinking that she’d done something stupid and that he was going to tell her to pack up her belongings and leave the farm. Instead, he had stared at the floor. A lock of his dark hair fell over his eyes, and she had to restrain herself from reaching out to brush it back. Stammering, he had asked whether she might consider entering into marriage with him. She couldn’t believe her ears. She found herself looking him up and down to see whether he was joking. But he went on speaking, telling her that he wanted her to be his wife, and they could be married the very next day. His parents and the pastor had already been informed, so if she accepted his proposal, the whole thing could be arranged at once.
She hesitated for a moment but then whispered ‘Yes.’ Karl had bowed and thanked her as he backed out of the room. She sat there for a long time, feeling the warmth spread through her chest. She offered up her thanks to God, who had heard the prayers she had silently repeated every night. Then she rushed out to find Edith.
But Edith hadn’t reacted as she had hoped, with surprise and perhaps a little envy. Instead, she had drawn her dark brows together in a frown as she shook her head and told Emelie that she needed to be careful. Edith had heard strange conversations, voices that rose and fell behind closed doors, ever since Karl had come home from the lightship. He had arrived unexpectedly. At least no one who worked on the farm had been given any forewarning that the youngest son was on his way home. And that was unusual, Edith had said. But Emelie wasn’t listening. Interpreting her friend’s words as a sign that she was jealous of the happiness that awaited her, she had resolutely turned her back on Edith and refused to speak to her again. She didn’t want to hear anything about such stupid talk and gossip. She was going to marry Karl.
A week had passed since then, and they had spent one day and one night in their new house. Emelie found herself walking around humming. It was wonderful to have her own home. Of course it was small, but it was lovely in its simplicity, and she had busily swept and cleaned since the day they arrived. The whole place now sparkled and smelled so of fragrant soap. She and Karl hadn’t spent much time together yet, but there would be plenty of opportunities for that from now on. He had a lot to do, putting everything in order. Julian, who was the assistant lighthouse keeper, had now arrived as well, and on the first night he and Karl had taken turns in the lighthouse.
She wasn’t sure what she thought about sharing the island with this man. Julian had hardly spoken to her since he came ashore on Gråskär. Mostly he just stared at her, giving her a look that she didn’t really care for. But it was probably because he was shy. It couldn’t be easy to be suddenly living in such close quarters with a stranger. As she understood it, he knew Karl from their time together on the lightship, but it was going to take a while for him to get to know her. And if there was one thing they had in abundance out here, it was time. Emelie continued pottering about the kitchen. She wasn’t going to give Karl any reason to regret taking her as his wife.
3 (#ulink_682302df-10dd-53c2-beec-07a8ece9c592)
Nathalie reached out her hand for him, just as she had always done back then. It had felt as if only a day had passed since they last lay together in this bed. But they were grown-ups now. His body was more angular and hairy, with scars that hadn’t existed before, both inside and out. She had lain for a long time with her head resting on his chest, running her finger along the shapes of those scars. She wanted to ask him about them, but in her heart she knew that things were still too fragile to risk enquiring about what had happened during the intervening years.
Now the other side of the bed was empty. Her mouth was dry, and she felt exhausted. Lonely. She ran her hand over the sheet and pillow, but Matte was gone. It felt as if she’d discovered that she’d lost part of her own body during the night. Then she felt a spark of hope. Maybe he was downstairs. She held her breath and listened but didn’t hear a sound. Wrapping the blanket around her, Nathalie set her feet on the worn floorboards. Cautiously she tiptoed over to the window that faced the dock and looked out. His boat was gone. He’d left without saying goodbye. She slid down along the wall and felt the onset of a headache. She needed to drink something.
Slowly she got dressed. It felt as though she hadn’t slept a wink all night, even though she knew that she had. She had fallen asleep in his arms and slept more soundly than she had in a very long time. And yet her head was pounding.
It was quiet downstairs. She looked in on Sam and found him awake but lying in bed and not making a sound. Without a word, she picked him up and carried him to the kitchen table. She stroked his hair before putting water on the stove to make coffee. Then she got herself a drink. She was so thirsty. She downed two big glasses of water before the dry feeling in her throat was gone. Nathalie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The fatigue was greater, more noticeable, now that her thirst was quenched. However Sam needed food, and she did too. She boiled some eggs, made herself an open-face sandwich, and fixed oatmeal for Sam, the whole time moving as if on automatic.
Then she cast a surreptitious glance at the drawer out in the hall. She didn’t have much left. It was important to ration herself. But the exhaustion she felt and the memory of the solitary boat at the dock prompted her to take the few steps into the hall and pull out the bottom drawer of the bureau. Eagerly she thrust her hands underneath the clothing, yet her fingers didn’t find what they were looking for. She searched again, and then pulled all of the clothes out of the drawer. Nothing. Maybe this wasn’t the right drawer. She pulled out the two other drawers and emptied the contents on to the floor. Nothing. Panic washed over her, and suddenly she understood why her hand had found only an empty bed when she woke up. Now she realized why Matte was gone, and why he hadn’t said goodbye.
She collapsed on to the floor and curled up in a foetal position, hugging her knees. In the kitchen she could hear the water boiling over.
‘Leave the boy alone.’ Gunnar didn’t look up from reading Bohusläningen when he repeated the same thing he’d been saying all day.
‘But maybe he’d like to come over for dinner today. Or tomorrow, since it’s Sunday. Don’t you think so?’ Signe insisted.
Gunnar sighed from behind his newspaper. ‘I’m sure he has other things to do at the weekend. He’s a grown man. If he wants to come over, he’ll probably call or drop by. You can’t keep hounding him like this. He was just here for dinner.’
‘I think I’ll give him a quick call anyway. To hear how he’s doing.’ Signe reached for the phone, but Gunnar leaned forward to stop her.
‘Let him be,’ he said sternly.
Signe drew back her hand. Her whole body was aching to ring Matte’s mobile, to hear his voice and make sure that everything was fine. After the beating she had become more concerned than ever. The incident had confirmed what she’d always known – that the world was a dangerous place for Matte.
Logically she knew that she needed to take a step back. But what good was that when everything inside of her screamed that she had to protect him? He was grown up now. She realized that. Still she couldn’t stop worrying.
Signe slipped out to the hall to use the phone there. When she heard Matte’s recorded message on his voicemail, she put down the receiver. Why wasn’t he answering his phone?
‘I don’t know what to do.’
Erica slumped in her chair. They had a rare moment of peace in the midst of the chaos. All three children were asleep, so she and Patrik could sit at the kitchen table together, eating hot sandwiches and talking without being constantly interrupted. But Erica was having a hard time enjoying the moment. She couldn’t stop thinking about Anna.
‘There’s really not much you can do except make yourself available when she needs you. And she does have Dan, after all.’ Patrik reached across the table to put his hand on Erica’s.
‘What if she hates me?’ she said faintly, on the verge of tears.
‘Why would she hate you?’
‘Because I have two babies and she has none.’
‘But that’s not your fault. It’s just … I don’t know really what to call it. Fate, maybe.’ Patrik stroked her hand.
‘Fate?’ Erica gave him a dubious look. ‘Anna has suffered enough at the hands of fate. She was finally starting to be happy, and she and I were getting so close. But now … She’s going to hate me. I know she is.’
‘How did it go yesterday when you went to see her?’
They’d both been so busy that they hadn’t had a chance to talk until now. The candle that Patrik had lit began fluttering so that Erica’s face was alternately illuminated and in shadow.
‘She was asleep. I sat with her for a while. She looked so small.’
‘What about Dan?’
‘He seemed in despair. He’s carrying a heavy load. I can tell, even though he pretends that everything is okay. Emma and Adrian are asking a lot of questions. And he told me that he doesn’t know what to say to them.’
‘She’ll make it through this. She’s demonstrated in the past that she’s a very strong person.’ Patrik let go of Erica’s hand and picked up his knife and fork.
‘I’m not so sure about that. How much can any human being stand before falling apart? I’m afraid that Anna has reached her limit.’ Erica’s voice broke.
‘We’ll just have to wait and see. And help her if she needs us.’ Patrik could hear how hollow his words sounded, hovering in the air. But he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He didn’t know any better than Erica did. How did people defend themselves against fate? How could anyone go on after losing a child?
At that moment two cries from above made them both jump. Together they went upstairs to get the twins. This was their fate. They felt both guilty and grateful.
4 (#ulink_f9cc648c-80b0-5158-954f-135839d5bce1)
‘That was Matte’s office. He didn’t come in yesterday, and he’s not there today either. And he didn’t call in sick.’ Gunnar seemed frozen in place as he held the phone in his hand.
‘And he didn’t pick up all weekend when I rang his number,’ said Signe.
‘I’ll drive over to his place and have a look.’
Gunnar was already on his way to the door, grabbing his jacket as he passed. So this is how Signe feels, he thought. Fear was darting around in his chest like a wild animal. This was how she must have felt all these years.
‘I’m going with you,’ Signe said firmly, and Gunnar knew better than to argue. He nodded briefly and then waited impatiently as she put on her coat.
They drove in silence all the way to Matte’s flat. Gunnar took the back roads, not the route through town. Instead he drove past the Seven Hills, the place where kids went sledding in the winter. Matte had done that too when he was a boy. Gunnar swallowed hard. There had to be a logical explanation. Maybe he was running a fever and hadn’t thought of calling in sick. Or maybe … He couldn’t think of anything else. Matte was always so conscientious about everything. He would have rung the office if he couldn’t make it to work.
Signe’s face was pale as she sat next to him in the passenger seat. She was staring straight ahead, gripping her handbag, which rested on her lap. Gunnar wondered why she was holding on to it so tightly, but he had the feeling that the handbag was her lifeline at the moment.
They parked in front of Matte’s building. Entrance B. Gunnar wanted to run, but for Signe’s sake he tried to act calmly and forced himself to walk at a normal pace.
‘Do you have the keys?’ asked Signe, who had gone striding ahead and already had the front door open.
‘Here.’ Gunnar held out the spare keys that Matte had given them.
‘I’m sure he’s home, so we won’t really need them. He’ll come to the door himself and then …’
He listened to Signe’s incoherent chatter as she ran up the stairs. Matte lived on the top floor, and they were both out of breath by the time they reached the door to his flat. Gunnar had to restrain himself from immediately putting the key in the lock.
‘Let’s ring the bell first. If he’s home, he’ll be cross if we go barging in. Maybe he has company and that’s why he hasn’t gone to work.’
Signe was already pressing the doorbell. They heard it ringing inside. She tried it again. And again. Then they listened for approaching footsteps, Matte’s footsteps coming to the door. But there was only silence.
‘I think you’d better use the key.’ Signe gave her husband an urgent look.
He nodded, stepped in front of her, and began fumbling with the key ring. He found the right key, turned it in the lock, and pushed down on the door handle. The door didn’t budge. In confusion he realized that the door had been open, and he had just locked it. He glanced at Signe. They could see the panic in each other’s eyes. Why would the door be left unlocked if Matte wasn’t home? And if he was home, why hadn’t he come to the door?
Gunnar turned the key again, and heard the click of the lock. With fingers that were now shaking uncontrollably, he pushed open the door.
The moment he looked inside the front hall, he realized that Signe had been right all along.
She was sick. More ill than she’d ever been in her life. The smell of vomit filled her nostrils. She couldn’t really remember, but she thought she’d thrown up in a bucket next to the mattress. She saw everything through a fog. Nathalie cautiously tried to move. Her whole body ached. She squinted. Her eyes hurt as she tried to see what time it was. What day was it? And where was Sam?
The thought of Sam gave her enough strength to sit up. She was lying on a mattress next to his bed. He was asleep. She was finally able to focus her eyes enough to read her watch. It was just after one. Which meant that Sam was taking an afternoon nap. She stroked his head.
Somehow she must have managed to look after him in spite of the fever. Her maternal instincts had proved sufficiently strong. Relief flooded over her, making the pain easier to bear. She looked around. A bottle of water lay on his bed, and scattered on the floor were pieces of fruit, a hunk of cheese, and a packet of biscuits. It looked as if she’d made sure he had food and water.
A bucket stood next to the mattress, and the smell coming from it was disgusting. She must have realized how ill she was and brought the bucket into the room. Her stomach felt empty, so she’d apparently thrown up everything she’d eaten.
Slowly she got to her feet. She didn’t want to wake Sam, so she stopped herself from groaning aloud. Finally she was able to stand though her legs were wobbly. It was important for her to have something to eat and drink. She wasn’t hungry, but her stomach was growling in protest. She picked up the bucket, careful not to look inside as she carried it out of the room. Using her shoulder to push open the front door, she shivered in surprise as she came out into the cold air. The summer heat must have disappeared while she was sick.
Cautiously she sat down on the dock and, averting her eyes, dumped the contents of the bucket into the sea. She picked up a rope and tied it to the handle. Then she lowered the bucket over the side of the dock and rinsed it out in the water.
The wind tore at her hair as she walked back to the house, arms hugging her chest. Her whole body was screaming from the effort, and she could feel the sweat pouring out of her. Disgusted, she peeled off all her clothes and washed up before putting on a clean T-shirt and a jogging suit. With trembling hands she made a sandwich, poured herself a glass of juice, and sat down at the kitchen table. It took several bites before the food began tasting of anything, but after that she quickly ate two more sandwiches. Gradually she could feel life returning to her body.
Nathalie glanced at her watch again, looking at the little window that showed the date. After doing some calculations in her head, she decided it had to be Tuesday. She’d been sick for almost three days. Three lost days, filled with all sorts of dreams. What exactly had she dreamed? She tried to grab hold of the images swirling through her mind. There was one that kept repeating. Nathalie shook her head but the movement made her stomach heave. She took a bite of a fourth sandwich, and her stomach settled down. A woman. There was a woman in her dreams, and there was something about her face. Nathalie frowned. There was something so familiar about that woman. She knew that she’d seen her before, but she couldn’t recall where.
She got up. No doubt she’d remember sooner or later. But a feeling from the dream refused to leave her. The woman had looked so sad. With the same feeling of sadness, Nathalie went into the bedroom to see to Sam.
Patrik hadn’t slept well. Erica’s concern for Anna had infected him, and he had awakened several times during the night with gloomy thoughts about how swiftly life could change. His own recent experience had made him lose his foothold a bit. Maybe it was good that he no longer took life for granted, but at the same time a nagging feeling of uneasiness had settled inside of him. He found himself behaving in a much more protective manner than he’d ever done before. He didn’t like seeing Erica drive off with the children in the car. To be quite honest, he would have preferred her not to drive at all. And he’d feel much more secure if she and the children never stepped outside the house again but remained indoors, far removed from any dangers.
Of course he understood that such thoughts were neither healthy nor rational. But he’d been so close to losing his own life as well as Erica and the twins. Their family had been seconds away from disappearing altogether.
He gripped the edge of his desk, forcing himself to breathe calmly. Sometimes he felt overwhelmed by panic; he thought he might have to learn to live with it. That much he could manage, because in spite of everything, he still had his family.
‘How’s it going?’ asked Paula, suddenly appearing in the doorway.
Patrik took another deep breath. ‘Okay. I’m a little tired, that’s all. Night feedings, you know,’ he said, attempting to smile.
Paula came in and sat down.
‘Oh, right.’ She looked him straight in the eye with an expression that revealed she wasn’t buying his evasive answers and false smiles. ‘I asked you how it’s going.’
‘It’s been up and down,’ Patrik admitted reluctantly. ‘I think it will take a while for me to get back to normal. Even though everything is fine now. Except for Erica’s sister, of course.’
‘How is she?’
‘Not good.’
‘It takes time.’
‘I suppose so. But she’s shut everybody out. She won’t even talk to Erica.’
‘Do you think that’s so strange?’ asked Paula quietly.
Patrik knew that his colleague had the ability to get straight to the heart of a matter. She often said what people needed to hear – not necessarily what they wanted to hear. And she was usually right.
‘You and Erica have two children who survived the accident. Anna lost her baby. I don’t think it’s so strange that she would shut her sister out.’
‘That’s exactly what scares Erica. But what should we do?’
‘Nothing. Not at the moment. Anna has her own family; she has a husband who is the baby’s father. They need to find their way back to each other before Erica is allowed in. No matter how harsh it sounds, Erica needs to stay away for now. That doesn’t mean she’s giving up on Anna. She’s still here if her sister needs her.’
‘I can understand that, but I don’t know how to explain it to Erica.’ Patrik took another deep breath. The pressure in his chest had relaxed a bit as he talked to Paula.
‘I think that—’ Paula began, but she was interrupted by someone knocking on the door.
‘Excuse me,’ said Annika, her face flushed. ‘We just got a call from Fjällbacka. A man has been found shot to death in his flat.’
At first no one said a word. Then Paula and Patrik sprang into action, and a minute later they were headed for the garage. Behind them they heard Annika knocking on the office doors belonging to Gösta and Martin, who would have to take the other police vehicle. They’d follow later.
‘This is fantastic!’ Erling looked around with pleasure at everything inside the new Badis spa before he turned to Vivianne. ‘It certainly wasn’t cheap, but it’s worth every krona as far as the town is concerned. I think it’s going to be a big success. And considering the amount of money that you’ve personally invested, there’s going to be a nice little profit for us once we’ve covered expenses. You’re not paying the employees too much, are you?’ He cast a suspicious glance at a white-clad young woman walking past.
Vivianne linked arms with him to lead him over to one of the tables.
‘Don’t worry. We’re very cost-conscious here. Anders has always been extremely tight-fisted. It’s thanks to him that we made so much at the spa at Ljuset, and that’s the reason we could invest in this project.’
‘Yes, it’s lucky that you have Anders.’ Erling sat down at the table in the dining room to have coffee. ‘Did Matte get hold of you, by the way? He mentioned last week that there were a few things he wanted to check with you and Anders.’
He reached for a bun, but after taking a bite he put it back down on the plate.
‘What are these?’
‘Spelt buns.’
‘Oh,’ said Erling, and settled for sipping his coffee.
‘No, I haven’t heard from Matte, so it probably wasn’t important. I’m sure he’ll drop by or give me a ring when he gets a chance.’
‘It’s rather strange, actually. He never showed up at the office yesterday, even though he didn’t call in sick. And I didn’t see him there this morning before I drove out here.’
‘Probably nothing to worry about,’ said Vivianne, reaching for a bun.
‘May I join you, or do you love-birds want to be alone?’ Anders had appeared without either Erling or Vivianne noticing. Both of them gave a start, but then Vivianne smiled and pulled out a chair so her brother could sit down next to her.
As always, Erling was struck by how alike they looked. Both were blond with blue eyes and similar mouths with bow-shaped lips. But while Vivianne was energetic and extroverted, possessing what Erling would call a magnetic charisma, her brother was introverted and quiet. An accountant type was what he first thought upon meeting Anders during his stay at Ljuset. And he didn’t think that was a bad thing. With so much money at stake, it was reassuring to have such a dull numbers-person looking after the finances.
‘Have you heard from Mats? Erling says he had a few questions,’ said Vivianne, turning to Anders.
‘Yes, he dropped by briefly on Friday afternoon. Why?’
Erling cleared his throat. ‘Well, he mentioned at the end of last week that he was concerned about several issues.’
Anders nodded. ‘As I said, he dropped by, and we were able to clear up a number of questions.’
‘Oh, good. It’s nice to know that everything is in order,’ said Erling, smiling happily.
5 (#ulink_cb5fea78-1c45-5f38-a8fc-2493e680ff8a)
An elderly man and woman stood outside the front entrance, holding on to each other. Patrik assumed that they were the parents of the deceased. They were the ones who had found the body. He and Paula got out of the car and went over to them.
‘Patrik Hedström, Tanum police. Are you the ones who called us?’ he asked, even though he already knew the answer.
‘Yes, we did.’ The man’s cheeks were wet with tears.
His wife kept her face pressed against her husband’s chest.
‘It’s our son,’ she said without looking at them. ‘He’s … up there …’
‘I’ll go up and take a look.’
The man made a move as if to follow, but Patrik stopped him.
‘I think it’s best if you both wait here. The medics will be arriving any minute, and they’ll take care of you. My colleague Paula will stay with you until they get here.’
Patrik gestured to Paula, who gently led the couple aside. Then he entered the building and went up to the third floor, where he found a door standing wide open. He didn’t need to go inside the flat to know that the man lying on his stomach on the hall floor was dead. A big hole was visible in the back of the victim’s head. Blood and brain matter had sprayed out over the floor and walls and then congealed. This was obviously the scene of the crime, and there was no use doing anything until Torbjörn Ruud and his team of technicians examined the flat. Patrik decided that he might as well go back downstairs and have a talk with the victim’s parents.
When he came outside, Patrik hurried over to the couple. They were standing next to Paula and talking to the ambulance medics, who had just arrived. A blanket had been draped over the woman’s shoulders, and she was crying so hard that she shook. Patrik chose to start with the husband, who looked more composed even though he too was crying.
‘Are we needed up there?’ asked one of the medics, nodding towards the building.
Patrik shook his head.
‘No, not for a while, at least. The techs are on their way.’
For a moment no one spoke. The only sound was the heart-wrenching sobs of the elderly woman. Patrik went over to her husband.
‘Could I have a few words with you?’
‘We want to help as much as we can. We just don’t understand who would …’ The man’s voice broke, but after casting a glance at his wife, he followed Patrik over to the police vehicle. The woman didn’t seem aware of what was happening around her.
They sat in the back seat of the car.
‘It says “Mats Sverin” on the door of the flat. Is that your son?’
‘Yes. Although we’ve always called him Matte.’
‘And your name is …?’ Patrik took notes as they talked.
‘Gunnar Sverin. My wife’s name is Signe. But why—’
Patrik placed his hand on the man’s arm to calm him.
‘We’re going to do everything in our power to catch whoever did this. Do you think you could answer a few questions?’
Gunnar nodded.
‘When did you last see your son?’
‘Thursday night. He came over to have dinner with us. He’s been doing that a lot since he moved back to Fjällbacka.’
‘What time did he leave your place on Thursday?’
‘He drove home shortly after nine, I think.’
‘Have you heard from him since then? Have you talked to him on the phone, or had any other sort of contact?’
‘No, nothing. Signe is the worrying kind, and she tried to call Matte all weekend without reaching him, but I … I told her she was being an old worryguts and she should stop bothering the boy.’ Tears welled up in his eyes again. Embarrassed, he wiped them away on the sleeve of his jacket.
‘So no one answered the phone at your son’s flat? And he didn’t answer his mobile either?’
‘No, we just got his voicemail.’
‘Was that unusual?’
‘Yes, I think so. Signe calls him up a little too often, in my opinion, but Matte has the patience of an angel.’ Gunnar again wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
‘Is that why you came over here today?’
‘Yes and no. Signe was getting really upset. I was too, even though I pretended not to be worried. But then I got a call from the council saying that Matte hadn’t turned up for work … And that’s not like him, not at all. He has always been very conscientious about being on time and so on. He gets that from me.’
‘What sort of work did he do for the town?’
‘He’s been the finance officer for the past couple of months. That was after he moved back here. He was lucky to get the job. There aren’t many positions available for economists.’
‘How did he happen to move to Fjällbacka? Where did he live before?’
‘In Göteborg,’ said Gunnar, answering the second question first. ‘We don’t really know why he decided to make the move. But he was involved in a terrible incident not long before he came here. He was assaulted by a gang in the city, and he spent several weeks in hospital. That sort of thing can make a person re-evaluate his life. At any rate, he moved back here, and that made us very happy. Especially Signe, of course. She was overjoyed.’
‘Did they find the gang who assaulted him?’
‘No. The police never caught them. Matte had no idea who they were, and he wouldn’t have been able to identify them afterwards either. He was really badly beaten. When Signe and I went to Sahlgrenska Hospital to see him, we could hardly recognize our son.’
Patrik drew an exclamation mark on the page next to his note on the assault. He needed to find out more about that ASAP. He’d have to contact his colleagues in Göteborg.
‘And you and your wife don’t know of anyone who might want to harm Matte? Any individual or individuals who might have had a score to settle with him?’
Gunnar shook his head emphatically.
‘Matte never quarrelled with anyone. Everybody liked him. And he liked everybody.’
‘So how was his new job going?’
‘I think he enjoyed it. He did seem a bit worried when we saw him on Thursday, but that was just a vague impression I got. Maybe he was feeling overworked. In any case, he never mentioned having fallen out with anyone. His boss Erling can be rather difficult, from what I understand, but Matte said that he was basically harmless, and he knew how to deal with him.’
‘And when he was living in Göteborg? Can you give me any details of his life there? Friends, girlfriends, work colleagues …?’
‘No, I can’t say that we really know anything. He didn’t discuss personal matters much. Signe tried prodding him to tell her what was going on in his life, regarding girls, and that sort of thing, but he never went into details. A few years ago he’d occasionally tell us about some of his friends, but from the time he started at that last job he had in Göteborg he seemed to retreat from socializing and all his time was devoted to his work. Matte could get very immersed in his job.’
‘So what happened when he came back to Fjällbacka? Didn’t he contact any of his old friends?’
Again Gunnar shook his head.
‘No, he didn’t seem at all interested in doing that. Besides, not many of his old friends still live here. Most have moved away. But he seemed to want to keep to himself. And that worried Signe.’
‘He doesn’t have a girlfriend?’
‘I don’t think so. But of course, we wouldn’t always know about such things.’
‘Didn’t he ever bring anyone home to meet you?’ asked Patrik with surprise. He wondered how old Matte was. When Gunnar told him, he realized that Matte was the same age as Erica.
‘No, he never brought anyone home, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything,’ the old man added, as if he’d read Patrik’s thoughts.
‘Okay. But if you happen to think of any other details that might help us, you can call me at this number.’ Patrik handed Gunnar his card. ‘Anything at all. We’re going to want to talk to your wife too. And we’ll need to talk to you again. I hope you understand.’
‘Of course,’ said Gunnar, taking Patrik’s card.
He peered out of the window to look at Signe, who seemed to have stopped crying. Presumably the medics had given her a sedative.
‘I’m very sorry for your loss,’ said Patrik. Then silence settled between them. There really wasn’t much more to say.
As they got out of the car, Torbjörn Ruud and his team of crime techs pulled into the car park. Now the meticulous process of collecting evidence would begin.
With hindsight, it was hard to understand why Nathalie hadn’t seen through Fredrik. But maybe that wouldn’t have been so easy. Outwardly, he seemed very polished, and he had courted her so ardently that at first she had laughed at him. That had merely goaded him on, and he increased his efforts until she eventually gave in. He had pampered her, taken her on trips abroad where they had stayed in five-star hotels, offered her champagne, and sent her so many bouquets of flowers that they practically filled her whole flat. She deserved luxury, he said. And she believed him. It was as if he spoke to something that had always been inside of her. An insecurity and a desire to hear that she was special, that she deserved more than other people. Where had all the money come from? Nathalie couldn’t remember ever asking that question.
The wind had picked up, but she stayed where she was, sitting on the bench on the south side of the house. Though her coffee had grown cold, she carried on sipping at it. Her hands, wrapped around the cup, were shaking. Her legs still felt unsteady, and her stomach was churning. She knew this would go on for a while. It was nothing new.
Slowly she’d been drawn into Fredrik’s world, which was filled with parties, travelling, and beautiful people and things. A lovely home. She had almost immediately moved in with him, all too willing to leave behind her cramped one-room flat in Farsta. How could she possibly go on living there after spending so many nights and days in Fredrik’s enormous house in the wealthy Stockholm suburb of Djursholm, where everything was new and white and expensive?
By the time she fully understood what Fredrik did for a living and how he earned his money, it was too late. Her life was intertwined with his. They had the same friends, she wore his ring on her finger, and she no longer had a job because Fredrik had wanted her to stay home and make sure everything ran smoothly on the domestic front. But the sad truth was that she hadn’t really been very upset when she found out. She had merely shrugged, firmly convinced that he belonged to the upper echelons of a sleazy industry, that he was so high up that he wasn’t touched by the muck far below. There was also a certain excitement about the whole thing. She got a little adrenalin kick from knowing what was going on all around her.
Outwardly, none of this was evident, of course. On paper Fredrik was a wine importer, and that was partially true. His company made a small profit every year, and he loved visiting the vineyard that he’d bought in Tuscany. He planned to launch his own wine label some day. That was the facade he presented to the world, and no one ever questioned it. Sometimes Nathalie would sit at the table, dining with upper-crust guests and important business associates, and she’d muse upon how simple it was to fool them, how readily they swallowed everything Fredrik said. They accepted that the enormous sums of money whirling around them came from his import business. But maybe that was merely what they chose to believe. The same way she had done.
Everything changed when Sam was born. It was Fredrik who insisted they should have a child. He wanted a son. She’d had her doubts. Nathalie was still ashamed to recall her fear that being pregnant would ruin her figure, and that having a child might keep her from having three-hour lunches with her women friends and devoting her days to shopping. Nonetheless, when Fredrik had insisted, she’d reluctantly agreed.
The instant that the midwife placed Sam in her arms, her whole life changed. Nothing else mattered any more. Fredrik finally had his longed-for son, but he found himself pushed to the periphery as she devoted herself to the baby. He wasn’t the sort of man who tolerated being knocked out of first place, and his jealousy of Sam manifested itself in a strange way. Forbidding his wife to breastfeed the baby, against her wishes he brought in a nanny to take care of Sam. Nathalie, adamant that she would not be dismissed in that way, had put Elena in charge of ironing and vacuuming, leaving her to spend more hours in the nursery with Sam. Nothing was allowed to come between them. Previously she had behaved like a pampered and spoiled woman, but now she displayed a new confidence in her role as Sam’s mother.
But the moment she held Sam in her arms, her life also began falling apart. There had been incidents of violence before when Fredrik was drunk or high on drugs. She’d ended up with bruises that had hurt for a few days, or a bloodied nose. Nothing worse than that.
After Sam was born, her life became hell. Now the strong wind, combined with the memories, brought tears to her eyes. Her hands shook so badly that some of the coffee spilled over the side and on to her trousers. She blinked to get rid of both the tears and the images. The blood. There had been so much blood. One remembered image overlapped another, like two negatives merging into one. She felt confused. And scared.
Abruptly Nathalie stood up. She needed to be close to Sam. She needed her son.
‘Yes, this is truly a sad day.’ Erling was standing at the head of the conference table, looking at his colleagues with a sombre expression.
‘How could something like that happen?’ His secretary Gunilla Kjellin blew her nose on a handkerchief. Tears were pouring down her cheeks.
‘The officer who called didn’t tell me much, but I gather Mats was the victim of some sort of crime.’
‘You mean somebody murdered him?’ asked Uno Brorsson, leaning back in his chair. As usual he had rolled up the sleeves of his checked flannel shirt.
‘As I said, I don’t really know any of the details yet, but I trust that the police will keep us informed.’
‘Is this going to affect the project?’ Uno tugged on his moustache, as he always did whenever he was upset.
‘It won’t change a thing. I want to assure you all of that. Matte put so many hours into Project Badis, and he would have been the first to say that we must press on. Everything will proceed exactly according to plan, and I will personally be taking charge of the finances until we can find a replacement for Mats.’
‘How can you already be talking about a replacement?’ said Gunilla, sobbing loudly.
‘Now, now, Gunilla.’ Erling was at a loss faced with such an emotional outburst, which even under the circumstances seemed to him highly inappropriate. ‘We have a responsibility to the town, to the citizens, and to everyone who has put their heart and soul not only into this project but into all that we’re doing to make sure the community thrives.’ He paused, both surprised and satisfied with the way he had managed to formulate his thoughts. Then he continued: ‘As tragic as it is that a young man’s life should be prematurely ended, we cannot simply stop everything. The show must go on, as they say in Hollywood.’
Silence had descended over the others in the conference room, and the last phrase had sounded so good to Erling that he couldn’t help repeating it. He straightened his shoulders, thrust out his chest, and with a strong western Swedish accent, he said in English:
‘The show must go on, people. The show must go on.’
In utter bewilderment they sat at the table across from one another. They had been sitting that way since one of the kindly police officers had given them a ride home. Gunnar would have preferred to drive himself, but they had insisted. So his vehicle was still in the car park, and he’d have to walk over there to retrieve it. But of course then he might have a chance to go up and visit …
Gunnar gasped for breath. How could he have forgotten so quickly? How could he forget even for a second that Matte was dead? They had seen him lying there on his stomach on the striped rag-rug that Signe had woven for him. Lying on his stomach with a hole in the back of his head. How could he forget the sight of all that blood?
‘Shall I put on some coffee?’ Gunnar forced himself to break the silence. The only sound he heard was his own heart, and he’d give anything to stop listening to those steady beats, which made him realize that he was alive and taking one breath after another while his son was dead.
‘I’ll get you a cup.’ He stood up even though Signe hadn’t answered. She was still under the effects of the sedative as she sat there, motionless, with a blank look on her face and her hands clasped on the oilcloth covering the table.
Gunnar moved mechanically, putting in the filter, pouring in the water, opening the coffee container, measuring out the grounds, and then pressing the button. A hissing and bubbling started up at once.
‘Would you like something with your coffee? A piece of sponge-cake, maybe?’ His voice sounded oddly normal. He went over to the refrigerator and took out the sponge-cake that Signe had baked the day before. Carefully he removed the plastic, set the cake on the cutting board, and cut two thick slices. He put them on plates and set one in front of Signe, the other at his own place at the table. She didn’t react, but he didn’t allow himself to worry about that now. He heard only the thudding inside his chest, drowned out briefly by the clattering of the plates and the sputtering of the coffee maker.
When the coffee was ready, he reached up to take down two cups. Their daily habits seemed to have become more entrenched with every passing year, and they each had a favourite cup. Signe always drank her coffee from a delicate white cup with roses adorning the edge, while he preferred a sturdy ceramic cup that they had bought on a coach trip to Gränna. Black coffee with one sugar cube for him; coffee with milk and two sugar cubes for Signe.
‘Here you are,’ he said, setting her cup next to the plate with the piece of cake.
She didn’t move. The coffee burned his throat when he took too big a sip, and he coughed until the stinging sensation subsided. He took a bite of the sponge-cake, but it seemed to swell inside his mouth, forming a big lump of sugar and egg and flour. Then he felt bile rising up in his throat, and he knew that he had to get rid of that lump, which was getting bigger and bigger.
Gunnar dashed past Signe out to the bathroom down the hall, and dropped to his knees to lean over the toilet. He watched as coffee, cake crumbs, and bile poured into the water that was always green from the cleaning fluid that Signe insisted on fastening to the side of the porcelain toilet bowl.
When his stomach was virtually empty, he again heard the sound of his own heart. Thump, thump, thump. Once more he leaned forward and threw up. Out in the kitchen, Signe’s coffee was growing cold in the white cup decorated with roses.
It was evening by the time they finished their work at Mats Sverin’s flat. Though it was still light outside, the hustle and bustle of the day had begun to taper off, and the number of people passing by had diminished.
‘His body just arrived at the forensics lab,’ reported Torbjörn Ruud.
The head of the crime tech team looked tired as he came over to Patrik, holding his mobile in his hand. Patrik had worked with Torbjörn and his team on several homicide investigations, and he had tremendous respect for the grey-bearded man.
‘How soon do you think they’ll get to the post-mortem?’ asked Patrik, massaging the bridge of his nose. He was beginning to feel the effects of what was turning out to be a very long day.
‘I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Pedersen about that.’
‘What’s your preliminary assessment?’ Patrik shivered in the cold wind blowing across the small patch of lawn in front of the building. He pulled his jacket tighter around him.
‘It’s not all that complicated, from what I can see. A gunshot wound in the back of the head. One shot, killing him instantly. The bullet is still inside the skull. The casing we found indicates a nine-millimetre pistol.’
‘Did you find any evidence in the flat?’
‘We’ve taken fingerprints from all the rooms, and also a few fibre samples. That will give us something to go on, once we have a suspect.’
‘Provided that the suspect actually left any prints or fibres,’ said Patrik. Technical evidence was all fine and good, but from experience he knew that a large helping of luck was needed to solve a murder case. People came and went, and it could just as well have been friends or family members who left traces behind in the flat. If the killer was among them, the police would be faced with a whole different set of problems in terms of trying to link the perpetrator to the crime scene.
‘Isn’t it a bit too early to be taking such a pessimistic view?’ said Torbjörn, giving Patrik a poke in the side.
‘Sorry.’ Patrik laughed. ‘I must be getting tired.’
‘You’re taking it easy, aren’t you? I heard that you hit the wall hard, so to speak. It can take a while to recover from something like that.’
‘I don’t really like that phrase “hit the wall”,’ muttered Patrik. ‘But you’re right. It was definitely a warning signal.’
‘Well, I’m glad you’re paying attention. You’re not exactly old and decrepit yet, and we’re hoping you’ll be working with the police for many years to come.’
‘What do you make of the evidence you’ve collected so far?’ asked Patrik, attempting to steer the conversation away from his health.
‘As I said, we’ve collected a few things. Everything will be sent over to the lab now. It’s going to take a while to get the results, but I’m owed a few favours, so with a bit of luck, I’ll be able to speed things along.’
‘We’d be grateful to get the results as fast as possible.’ Patrik was freezing. It was much too cold for June, and the weather continued to be unpredictable. At the moment it felt like early spring, yet during the day it had been so warm that he and Erica had been able to sit in the garden without putting on a sweater or jacket.
‘So what about you? Have you and your colleagues made any progress? Did anyone hear or see anything?’ Torbjörn nodded towards the block of flats.
‘We’ve knocked on every single door, but so far with only limited results. One of the neighbours thinks that he heard a sound in the early hours on Saturday, only he was asleep in bed when it woke him, so he’s not sure what it was. Other than that, nothing. Mats Sverin appears to have kept to himself, at least when he was at home. Because he grew up in Fjällbacka and his parents still live here, most people knew who he was and were aware that he worked for the town, and so on, but no one seems to have really known him. His neighbours were nodding acquaintances, nothing more.’
‘At least the gossip mill is alive and well in Fjällbacka,’ said Torbjörn. ‘With luck, that should give you a few leads.’
‘Perhaps. At this point it seems he lived a hermit’s existence, but we’ll try to drum up some new leads tomorrow.’
‘Go home and get some rest.’ Torbjörn gave Patrik a friendly slap on the back.
‘Thanks, I will,’ Patrik lied. He had already phoned Erica to say that he would be home late. The investigative team needed to devise a strategy tonight. And after a couple of hours’ sleep, he’d be back at the station early in the morning. He knew that he ought to have learned his lesson after what he’d just been through. But his job came first. He couldn’t help it.
Erica stared at the wood burning in the fireplace. She had tried not to sound concerned when Patrik called. Although she kept telling herself he was looking much better, with some colour in his face again, and even though she knew this was one of those times when he needed to stay late at work, it worried her that he seemed to have forgotten his promise to take it easy.
She wondered who the dead man was. Patrik hadn’t wanted to say much on the phone. All he told her was that a man had been found dead in Fjällbacka. She was eager to hear more. As a writer, a keen sense of curiosity was essential. She always wanted to find out the inside story of people and events. In time, she was sure that she’d hear all about it. Even if Patrik declined to tell her, the news would soon spread. That was both the advantage and disadvantage of living in a small town like Fjällbacka.
The thought of all the support they’d received after the car accident still moved her to tears. Everyone had offered help, be they close friends or people they hardly knew. Some had babysat for Maja and kept an eye on the house; others had left food on the doorstep when she and Patrik had finally come home from the hospital. And at the hospital they had practically drowned in all the flowers, boxes of chocolates, and toys for the children. All gifts from people in town. That was the way it was. In Fjällbacka, everyone stuck together.
Tonight, however, Erica was feeling lonely. Her first impulse after talking to Patrik had been to ring Anna. She felt a pang in her heart, as usual, when she realized that she couldn’t do that, and slowly she set the cordless phone back down on the table.
The children were asleep upstairs. The fire was crackling in the fireplace, and outside dusk was gathering. During the past few months she had felt frightened many times, yet never lonely. On the contrary, for she’d been constantly surrounded by other people. But not tonight.
When she heard the babies crying upstairs, she quickly got to her feet. It was going to take a while to feed the twins and get them to fall asleep again, but at least that would keep her from worrying about Patrik.
‘It’s been a long day, but I thought we should spend some time comparing notes and coming up with a plan before we all go home to rest.’
Patrik glanced at the others. Everyone looked tired but focused. They had long ago given up any thought of meeting in any room other than the station’s kitchen. And Gösta had proven to be unusually considerate tonight by making sure that everybody had a cup of hot coffee.
‘Martin, could you summarize what we’ve learned by knocking on doors today?’
‘We went round to all the other flats and actually managed to find most of the tenants at home. There are only a few that we still need to talk to. Obviously our first objective has been to find out whether anyone heard noises coming from Mats Sverin’s flat. Loud voices, shots, or any other sort of commotion. But on that point we pretty much came up empty-handed. The one person who might have heard something was the man in the next-door flat. His name is Leandersson. He was awakened early on Saturday by a sound that could have been a gunshot, but his memory of the sound is very vague. All he can say for sure is that he remembers being awakened by something.’
‘And no one saw anybody arriving or leaving?’ asked Mellberg.
Annika was furiously taking notes as the others talked.
‘Nobody recalls seeing any visitors at Sverin’s flat during the whole time he lived there.’
‘How long is that?’
‘His father said that he had only recently moved here from Göteborg. I’m planning to have another talk with the parents tomorrow, when they’ve calmed down a bit. I’ll ask them for a more precise date then,’ said Patrik.
‘So we didn’t get any useful information from knocking on doors,’ Mellberg concluded, staring at Martin as if holding him responsible.
‘No, not much, at any rate,’ said Martin, staring back at his boss. Although still the youngest person at the station, he had lost the timid respect he’d had for Mellberg when he first joined the force.
‘Let’s move on.’ Patrik once again took charge of the meeting. ‘I talked to the father, but the mother was in such a state of shock that I wasn’t able to interview her. As I mentioned, I plan to drive over to see them tomorrow and conduct a longer interview. I hope to find out a lot more, but according to the father, Gunnar Sverin, he and his wife have no idea who might want to harm their son. Apparently Mats hadn’t acquired many friends since moving back to Fjällbacka, even though he was originally from here. I’d like someone to talk to his work colleagues tomorrow. Paula and Gösta, could you take care of that?’
They glanced at each other and nodded.
‘Martin, you’ll keep chasing down the neighbours that we haven’t yet talked to. Oh, and I forgot to say that Gunnar mentioned his son had been the victim of a serious assault in Göteborg shortly before he moved here. I’ll check up on that myself.’
Then Patrik turned to his boss. It had become routine to make sure that Mellberg’s often damaging interference in an investigation was kept to a minimum.
‘Bertil,’ he now said solemnly. ‘We need you here at the station in your capacity as chief of police. You’re the best person to deal with the media, and there’s no way of knowing when an important lead will turn up.’
Mellberg immediately cheered up.
‘Of course. Absolutely. I have an excellent relationship with the media and a lot of experience in dealing with them.’
‘Great,’ said Patrik, without a trace of sarcasm. ‘So we all have assignments to get started on tomorrow. Annika, we’ll submit our reports to you, since we need someone to collate all the information.’
‘I’ll be here,’ said Annika, closing her notebook.
‘Good. Now let’s all go home to our loved ones and grab a few hours’ sleep.’
As he spoke those words, Patrik felt an intense longing to be home with Erica and the children. It was late, and he felt exhausted. Ten minutes later he was on his way to Fjällbacka.
FJÄLLBACKA 1870 (#ulink_81036b63-ff66-51bc-9c07-ed7aedb739cd)
Karl still hadn’t touched her in that way, and Emelie was feeling confused. She didn’t know much about such matters, but she was aware that certain things went on between a man and a woman that hadn’t yet taken place.
She wished that Edith were here and that they hadn’t parted under strained circumstances when she left the farm. Then she would have been able to talk to Edith about all this, or at least she could have written to her and asked for advice. Because a wife couldn’t very well venture to discuss this type of thing with her husband. It simply wasn’t done. Nevertheless, she did think it was all a bit strange.
Her initial delight with Gråskär had also diminished. The autumn sunshine had been replaced by strong winds that brought the sea crashing against the cliffs. The flowers had withered so that now only bare, sorry-looking stalks filled the flowerbeds. And the sky seemed to be forever hidden behind a thick layer of grey. She spent most of her time indoors. Outdoors she shivered with the cold, no matter how warmly she tried to dress. Indoors, the house was so small that it felt as if the walls were slowly closing in on her.
Sometimes she caught Julian glaring at her, but whenever she met his eye, he would look away. He hadn’t yet spoken a word to her, and she couldn’t understand why he was so antagonistic. Maybe she reminded him of some woman who had treated him badly. But at least he seemed to like the food she cooked. Both he and Karl ate their meals with good appetites, and she had to give herself credit for her ability to put together delicious dishes from limited ingredients, which at the moment was mostly mackerel. Every day Karl and Julian went out in the boat and usually came back with a large number of the silvery fish. She fried up some of them for dinner and served them with potatoes. The rest she salted so that they’d last all winter, since she’d heard that there would be even colder days ahead.
If only Karl would give her a friendly word once in a while – that would make her life on the island seem so much easier. But he never looked her in the eye, never gave her an endearing pat as he passed. It was as if she didn’t exist, as if he hardly realized that he had a wife at all. Nothing had turned out as she’d imagined, and occasionally she would hear Edith’s words of warning echoing in her mind. That she needed to take heed.
Emelie always shook off such thoughts as soon as they came. Life was hard out here, but she had no intention of complaining. This was the lot that she had been dealt, and she had to make the best of it. That was what her mother had taught her before she died, and that was the advice she planned to follow. Nothing ever turned out the way people thought it would.
6 (#ulink_77a91b30-4fe3-5642-a110-726bcc1920c2)
Martin hated knocking on doors. It reminded him too much of when he was a kid and had been forced to go around selling lottery tickets, socks, and other idiotic rubbish in order to make money for school expeditions. Still, it was a necessary part of the job, all this trudging in and out of blocks of flats, going up and down stairs, and knocking on every single door. Thankfully, he’d dealt with most of them the day before. He glanced at the list he’d pulled out of his pocket to see who was left and decided to start with the most promising candidate: the third tenant who lived on the same floor as Mats Sverin.
The nameplate on the door said Grip. Martin checked his watch before he rang the bell. It was only eight o’clock; he was hoping to catch the tenant at home before he or she left for work. When no one opened the door, he sighed and then pressed the bell again. The shrill sound hurt his ears, but there was still no response. He was just about to head downstairs when he heard the sound of a lock turning behind him.
‘Yes?’ The voice was surly.
Martin hurried back to the door of the flat.
‘I’m from the police. Martin Molin.’
The safety chain was on, but he caught a glimpse of a bushy beard in the door opening. And a bright red nose.
‘What do you want?’
Hearing that Martin was from the police didn’t seem to have made Mr Grip any more amenable.
‘A man died in that flat over there.’ Martin pointed towards Mats Sverin’s door, which was now sealed with police tape.
‘Yes, I heard about that.’ The beard bobbed up and down in the doorway. ‘What’s it got to do with me?’
‘Could I come in for a few minutes?’ Martin asked in the pleasantest tone of voice he could muster.
‘Why?’
‘So I can ask you some questions.’
‘I don’t know anything.’
The man started to close the door, but Martin instinctively stuck his foot in the opening.
‘Either we have a brief chat here and now, or both of us will have to waste the whole morning while I take you down to the station and interview you there.’ Martin knew full well that he had no authority to haul Grip off to the station, but he took a chance that the old boy wouldn’t realize that.
‘All right. Come in,’ said Grip, unfastening the safety chain and pulling open the door.
Martin stepped forward to enter, a decision he regretted the moment he smelled the stench.
‘Come back here, you little rascal. You’re not getting out.’
Martin caught a glimpse of something furry and then the man threw himself forward and grabbed the cat by its tail. The creature meowed in protest but then allowed the man to pick it up and carry it into the flat.
With the door closed behind him, Martin tried to breathe through his mouth so as not to throw up. The place was stuffy and reeked of rubbish, but the overpowering smell was cat pee. It didn’t take long to see why. Martin stood in the doorway to the living room and stared. There were cats everywhere – lying down, sitting up, and moving about. He did a quick count and realized there were at least fifteen. In a flat that couldn’t be much more than 400 square feet.
‘Have a seat,’ grunted Grip. He chased a few cats off the sofa.
Martin cautiously sat down on the very edge of the cushion.
‘Okay, what do you want to know? I haven’t got all day. This lot keeps me plenty busy.’
A fat, ginger cat hopped on to the old man’s lap, curled up, and started purring. The cat’s fur was matted, and it had sores on its back legs.
Martin cleared his throat. ‘Your neighbour, Mats Sverin, was found dead in his flat yesterday. So we want to find out whether anyone who lives in the building saw or heard anything unusual over the past few days.’
‘It’s not my job to hear or see anything. I mind my own business and I expect everybody else to do the same.’
‘So you didn’t hear any noises from your neighbour’s flat? Or notice any strangers in the stairwell?’ Martin persisted.
‘As I said: I mind my own business.’ The old man petted the cat’s matted fur.
Martin closed his notebook, deciding to give up. ‘What’s your full name, by the way?’
‘My name is Gottfrid Grip. And I suppose you’d like to know what everyone else is named too, right?’
‘Everyone else?’ said Martin, glancing around. Were there other people living in this flat?
‘This is Marilyn.’ Gottfrid pointed at the cat on his lap. ‘She doesn’t like women. She always hisses at them.’
Martin dutifully opened his notebook again and jotted down word for word what the old man was saying. If nothing else, his report was bound to give his colleagues a good laugh.
‘The grey one over there is named Errol, the white one with the brown paws is Humphrey, and then there’s Cary, Audrey, Bette, Ingrid, Lauren, and James.’ Grip continued rattling off the cats’ names as he pointed to one after the other, and Martin wrote all of them down. He was going to have quite a story to tell when he got back to the station.
On his way out the door, Martin paused for a moment.
‘So neither you nor your cats heard or saw anything?’
‘I never said that the cats didn’t see anything. I just said that I didn’t. But Marilyn here, she saw a car very early on Saturday morning, when she was sitting in the kitchen window. She sat there hissing like crazy.’
‘Marilyn saw a car? What kind of car did she see?’ asked Martin even though it sounded like a strange question.
Grip gave him a scornful look. ‘Do you seriously think cats know about different kinds of cars? Are you out of your mind?’ He tapped his temple and shook his head, laughing. As Martin stepped out into the hall, Grip closed the door behind him and fastened the safety chain.
‘Is Erling in?’ asked Gösta, knocking lightly on the door jamb of the first room in the corridor. He and Paula had arrived at the council offices in Tanumshede.
Gunilla gave a start. She was sitting with her back to the door.
‘Oh, you really scared me,’ she said, fluttering her hands nervously.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that,’ said Gösta. ‘We’re looking for Erling.’
‘Does it have to do with Mats?’ Her lower lip began quivering. ‘It’s just so awful.’ She reached for a packet of tissues and used one to wipe away the tears that had welled up in her eyes.
‘Yes, it does,’ replied Gösta. ‘We want to talk to all of you, but we’d like to start with Erling, if he’s here.’
‘He’s in his office. I’ll show you where it is.’
She got up and, after blowing her nose quite loudly, escorted them to an office further along the corridor.
‘Erling, you have visitors,’ she said, stepping aside.
‘Well, hello. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?’ said Erling heartily as he stood up and shook Gösta’s hand.
Then he looked at Paula and seemed to be feverishly searching his memory.
‘Petronella, right? This brain of mine is like a well-oiled machine. I never forget a thing.’
‘It’s Paula, actually,’ she told him, reaching out to shake his hand.
For a moment Erling looked a bit embarrassed, then he merely shrugged.
‘We’re here to ask you a few questions about Mats Sverin,’ Gösta told him. He sat down in one of the visitor’s chairs in front of Erling’s desk, which prompted Paula and Erling to sit down as well.
‘Yes, it’s awful,’ Erling said with a strange grimace. ‘Everyone in the office is very upset, and naturally we’re all wondering what happened. Is there anything you can tell us?’
‘Not much at this time.’ Gösta shook his head. ‘I can only confirm what you were told yesterday when we rang your office. Sverin was found dead in his flat, and we’re investigating his death.’
‘Was he murdered?’
‘That’s not something we can either confirm or deny.’
Gösta could heard how formal his words sounded, but he knew that he’d catch hell from Hedström if he gave away too much information, which might damage the case.
‘We need your help,’ he went on. ‘From what I understand, Sverin didn’t come to work on Monday, or on Tuesday either. That was when you contacted his parents. Was it usual for him to miss work?’
‘On the contrary. I don’t think he’d taken a single sick day since he started here. As far as I recall, he was never absent for any reason. Not even for a dentist’s appointment. He was punctual, dedicated, and very conscientious. That’s why we got worried when he didn’t turn up or contact us.’
‘How long had he worked here?’ asked Paula.
‘Two months. We were really lucky to find someone like Mats. The job had been advertised for five weeks, and we’d brought in a few candidates for interviews, but none of them had the qualifications we were looking for. When Mats applied, we were concerned that he was over-qualified, but he assured us that the job was exactly what he wanted. He seemed especially keen to move back to Fjällbacka again. And who can blame him? It’s the pearl of the coast.’ Erling threw out his hands.
‘He didn’t give any particular reason for wanting to move back?’ asked Paula, leaning forward.
‘No, except that he wanted to get out of the big-city rat race and have a better quality of life. And that’s precisely what our town has to offer. Peace and quiet and a great quality of life.’ Erling carefully enunciated every syllable as if giving a PR presentation.
‘So he didn’t mention anything about his personal circumstances?’ Gösta was beginning to get impatient.
‘He didn’t talk about his private life. I knew that he was originally from Fjällbacka and that his parents still live there, but other than that I can’t remember him ever saying much about his life outside the office.’
‘Sverin was involved in a very unpleasant incident shortly before he moved here from Göteborg. He was assaulted and beaten so badly that he ended up in hospital. Did he mention that?’ asked Paula.
‘No, never,’ said Erling in surprise. ‘He did have several scars on his face, but he said that he’d got his trouser leg caught in his bicycle wheel and taken a fall.’
Gösta and Paula exchanged looks of astonishment.
‘Who attacked him? Was it the same person who …?’ Erling almost whispered the questions.
‘According to his parents, it was an act of unprovoked violence. We don’t think it has any connection to Sverin’s death, but we can’t rule it out,’ said Gösta.
‘So he never mentioned his years in Göteborg?’ Paula insisted.
Erling shook his head. ‘I can only repeat what I already told you. Mats never talked about himself. It was as if his life started when he took the job here.’
‘Didn’t you find that rather odd?’
‘Not really. I don’t think anyone gave it much thought. He wasn’t anti-social by any means. He laughed and joked and joined in the chat about TV shows and the sorts of topics that come up during a coffee break. I don’t think anyone really noticed that he never discussed anything personal. It’s only now, after the fact, that it’s occurred to me.’
‘Was he doing a good job?’ asked Gösta.
‘Mats was an excellent financial officer. As I said, he was conscientious, methodical, and painstaking with his work. Those are all desirable qualities in someone who’s in charge of financial matters, especially in such a politically sensitive office as ours.’
‘You have no complaints about him?’ asked Paula.
‘None. Mats was extremely talented in his field. And he has been an invaluable resource for Project Badis. He came on the scene late in the game, but he quickly got up to speed and really helped us to move forward.’
Gösta glanced at Paula, who shook her head. They didn’t have any other questions at the moment, but Gösta couldn’t help thinking that Mats Sverin seemed as anonymous and faceless as he had before they began this interview with his boss. And he couldn’t help wondering what they might find when they finally started scratching the surface.
The Sverins’ small house was located down by the water’s edge in Mörhult. It was warmer today – a lovely early summer day, and Patrik left his jacket in the car. He had phoned ahead to say that he would be coming, and when Gunnar opened the door, he looked down the hall to the kitchen and saw that the table had been set for coffee. That was how things were done here on the coast. Coffee and biscuits were always served, no matter whether the occasion was joyous or sorrowful. Over the many years that he’d spent on the police force, Patrik had downed countless gallons of coffee as he visited local citizens.
‘Come in. I’ll just go and see if I can get Signe to …’ Without finishing his sentence, Gunnar turned to go upstairs.
Patrik remained where he was, thinking that he would wait in the front hall. But Gunnar was gone a long time, and finally Patrik moved towards the kitchen. The whole house seemed cloaked in silence, so he took the liberty of stepping inside the living room. It was a pleasant room, nice and tidy with elegant old furniture and doilies everywhere, as was customary in the homes of elderly people. Scattered about were framed photographs of their son. As he looked at them, Patrik was able to follow Mats’s life from infancy to adulthood. He had an agreeable appearance, a likeable face. He looked happy. Judging by the photos, he’d had a good childhood.
‘Signe will be right down.’
Patrik was so immersed in his own thoughts that Gunnar’s voice almost made him drop the framed picture he was holding.
‘You certainly have a lot of nice photos.’ Carefully he set the photograph back on the bureau and followed Gunnar out to the kitchen.
‘I’ve always enjoyed taking pictures, so we’ve accumulated a lot of them over the years. And we’re glad to have them now. As a reminder of him, I mean.’ Embarrassed, Gunnar began fussing with the plates and filling the coffee cups.
‘Do you take sugar or milk? Or both?’
‘Black is fine. Thanks.’ Patrik sat down on one of the white kitchen chairs.
Gunnar set a cup in front of him and then sat down on the other side of the table.
‘We might as well start. I’m sure Signe will be here soon,’ he said, casting a worried glance at the stairs. Not a sound could be heard from overhead.
‘How’s she doing?’
‘She hasn’t said a word since yesterday. The doctor said he’d look in on her later. All she does is lie in bed, but I don’t think she slept a wink all night.’
‘Looks like you’ve received a lot of flowers,’ said Patrik, nodding at the counter where big bouquets had been placed in all sorts of containers serving as vases.
‘Everyone has been so nice. They’ve offered to come over, but I can’t stand the thought of having a bunch of people sitting around the house.’ He dropped a sugar cube in his cup and began stirring. Then he reached for a biscuit and dipped it in his coffee before putting it in his mouth. He seemed to have a hard time swallowing the mouthful and had to wash it down with some coffee.
‘There you are.’ Gunnar turned around to look at Signe as she entered the hall.
They hadn’t heard her come down the stairs. Gunnar stood up and went over to his wife. Gently he put his arm around her and led her to the table, as if she were a very old woman. She seemed to have aged several years just since yesterday.
‘The doctor will be here in a while. Have some coffee and a biscuit. You need to get something in your stomach. Should I make you a sandwich?’
She shook her head. It was the first time she’d reacted, acknowledging that she had heard what he said.
‘I’m terribly sorry,’ said Patrik, and he couldn’t resist placing his hand over hers. She didn’t pull it away, but neither did she respond to the gesture. Her hand felt limp and dead. ‘I wish that I didn’t have to disturb you at a time like this. At least, not so soon after what happened.’
As usual, he was having a hard time finding the words. Since becoming a parent, he found it harder than ever to deal with people who had lost a child, even if that child was grown up. What was he supposed to say to someone whose heart had been ripped out? Because that was how he imagined it must feel.
‘We realize that you have a job to do,’ said Gunnar. ‘And of course we want you to find the person who … did this. If there’s any way that we can help, we want to do that.’
He was sitting next to his wife, and now he protectively drew his chair closer to hers. She hadn’t touched her coffee.
‘Have some,’ he said, lifting the cup to her lips. Reluctantly she took a few sips.
‘We talked about this yesterday, but could you tell me a little more about Mats? Any details you’d like to share with me, no matter how big or small.’
‘He was always so nice, even as a baby,’ said Signe. Her voice sounded dry and raspy, as if she hadn’t spoken in a long time. ‘He slept the whole night through, right from the start, and he was never any trouble. But I worried about him; I always have. I kept thinking that something terrible was going to happen.’
‘And you were right. I should have listened to you,’ said Gunnar, fixing his eyes on the table.
‘No, you were the one who was right,’ said Signe, looking at him. She seemed to have suddenly woken up from her stupor. ‘I wasted so much time and happiness by worrying, while you were always glad and grateful for what we had, and for Matte. It’s impossible to prepare for something like this happening. I’ve spent my whole life worrying about everything between heaven and earth, but I was never able to prepare myself for this. I should have been happier.’ She fell silent. Then she said, ‘What do you want to know?’ And she picked up her cup to drink her coffee without waiting to be coaxed.
‘Did he go to Göteborg when he moved away from home?’
‘Yes, after secondary school he enrolled in the Business College. He received excellent marks,’ said Gunnar, obviously proud of his son.
‘But he often came home on the weekends,’ added Signe. Talking about her son seemed to be having a positive effect on her. She now had a little more colour in her cheeks, and her eyes were clearer.
‘Naturally, in recent years he didn’t come as often. But in those early years he was home almost every weekend,’ said Gunnar, nodding.
‘And things went well with his studies?’ Patrik had decided to stick to subjects that would make Signe and Gunnar feel calm and relaxed.
‘Yes, he got good marks in college too,’ said Gunnar. ‘I never understood how he came to be so good at book learning. He didn’t get it from me, at any rate.’ He smiled and for a moment seemed to forget why they were on this subject. But then it all came back to him, and his smile faded.
‘So what did he do after he finished his degree?’
‘His first job was for that auditing company, wasn’t it?’ Frowning, Signe turned to Gunnar.
‘Yes, I think so, but for the life of me I can’t recall the name of the firm. Something American. He was there only for a few years. It didn’t really suit him. He said the job involved working too much with numbers and not enough with people.’
‘And where did he work after that?’ Patrik’s coffee had grown cold, but he kept on taking small sips.
‘He worked at several different places. I’m sure I can find you the names if you like, but for the last four years he was responsible for the finances of a non-profit organization called the Refuge.’
‘What do they do?’
‘It’s a group that helps women who have fled from domestic violence situations, seeing to it that they can rebuild their lives. Matte loved that job. He hardly talked about anything else.’
‘Why did he quit?’
Gunnar and Signe glanced at each other, and Patrik realized that they had wondered the same thing.
‘Well, we think it had something to do with the assault. He didn’t feel safe living in Göteborg any longer,’ said Gunnar.
‘And he wasn’t safe here, either,’ said Signe.
No, thought Patrik, he certainly wasn’t. No matter what had prompted Mats Sverin to leave Göteborg, the violence had caught up with him.
‘How long was he in hospital after the assault?’
‘Three weeks, I think,’ replied Gunnar. ‘It was a shock when we saw him there.’
‘Show him the pictures,’ said Signe quietly.
Gunnar got up and went into the living room. He came back carrying a small box.
‘I don’t really know why we saved these photographs. They’re not exactly the kind that you’d want to show anyone.’ His calloused fingers reached into the box and gently removed the photos.
‘May I see?’ Patrik held out his hand, and Gunnar gave him the small stack. ‘My God!’ He couldn’t hold back his reaction when he saw the pictures of Mats Sverin lying in the hospital bed. What he saw bore no resemblance to the young man in all the photos in the living room. His face, his entire head was swollen. And his skin was various shades of red, with tinges of blue.
‘I know,’ said Gunnar, looking away.
‘They said he could have died. But he was lucky, in spite of it all.’ Signe blinked away her tears.
‘From what I understand, they never caught the perpetrators. Is that right?’
‘Yes,’ said Signe. ‘Do you think this might have something to do with what happened to Matte? The young thugs who attacked him were complete strangers. It was because he told one of them not to urinate outside the door to his building. He’d never seen them before. Why would they …?’ Her voice now sounded shrill.
Gunnar stroked her arm to calm her down.
‘They don’t know anything yet. The police just want to find out as much as possible,’ he told her.
‘That’s right,’ said Patrik. ‘We don’t have any answers yet. We need to build up as complete a picture of Mats and his life as we can.’ He turned to look at Signe. ‘Your husband said that as far as you’re aware, Mats didn’t have a girlfriend at the moment. Did he?’
‘No, or if he did, he kept that information to himself. To be honest, I’d almost given up hope of ever having a grandchild,’ said Signe. But when she realized what she’d said, and that now there was no hope of such a thing, the tears began to fall again.
Gunnar squeezed her hand.
‘I think there was someone in Göteborg,’ Signe went on, her voice thick with sobs. ‘He never said so, but I had a sense there was a woman. And sometimes I could smell perfume on his clothes when he came home to visit. The same perfume each time.’
‘But he never mentioned a name?’ asked Patrik.
‘No, never, even though Signe couldn’t resist asking him a few times,’ said Gunnar, smiling.
‘Well, I didn’t see why it had to be such a big secret. Why couldn’t he have brought her home one weekend so we could meet her? We can behave ourselves if we make an effort.’
Gunnar shook his head. ‘As you can tell, this was a rather sensitive subject.’
‘Did you have the impression that this woman, whoever she might have been, continued to be part of Mats’s life after he moved back to Fjällbacka?’
‘Hmmm …’ Gunnar looked at Signe.
‘No, she wasn’t,’ she said emphatically. ‘A mother knows such things. And I would almost swear that he no longer had a girlfriend.’
‘I don’t think he could ever forget Nathalie,’ Gunnar interjected.
‘What do you mean? That was ages ago. They were just children.’
‘That doesn’t matter. There was something special about Nathalie. I’ve always thought so, and I think Matte … You saw how he reacted when we told him that she was back, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, but how old were they at the time? Seventeen? Eighteen?’
‘I still think I’m right,’ Gunnar stubbornly insisted. ‘And he was going to go out there to see her.’
‘Excuse me.’ Patrick broke into the conversation. ‘But who is Nathalie?’
‘Nathalie Wester. She and Matte grew up together. As a matter of fact, they were in the same class as your wife. Both Matte and Nathalie.’
Gunnar seemed a bit embarrassed to admit that he knew Erica, but Patrik wasn’t surprised. Almost everybody in Fjällbacka knew everyone else, but they also took a special interest in Erica because her books were so popular.
‘Does Nathalie still live here?’
‘No, she moved away years ago. She went to Stockholm, and she and Matte haven’t been in contact since then. But she owns an island near here. It’s called Gråskär.’
‘And you think that Mats went out there to see her?’
‘He might not have had time to do that,’ said Gunnar. ‘But you can phone Nathalie and ask her.’ He got up to get a note that was stuck on the refrigerator door. ‘Here’s her mobile number. I don’t know how long she’s planning to stay. She’s out there with her little boy.’
‘Does she come here often?’
‘No, in fact we were a bit surprised. She’s hardly been here since she moved to Stockholm. Her last visit was years ago. But the island belongs to her. Her paternal grandfather bought it, and Nathalie is the only descendent left, since she doesn’t have any siblings. We’ve looked after the house for her, but if nothing is done with the lighthouse very soon, it’ll end up beyond saving.’
‘The lighthouse?’
‘Yes, there’s an old lighthouse from the nineteenth century out there on the island. And a cottage. In the past, that’s where the lighthouse keeper used to live with his family.’
‘It sounds like a lonely life.’ Patrik downed the last of his cold coffee, unable to stop himself from grimacing.
‘Lonely, or beautiful and peaceful. It all depends how you look at it,’ said Signe. ‘But I could never spend a single night out there alone.’
‘Weren’t you always the one who said that was just a load of rubbish and old wives’ tales?’ said Gunnar.
‘What do you mean?’ Patrik’s curiosity was instantly sparked.
‘The island is usually called Ghost Isle. According to legend, it was given the name because those who die out there never leave the island,’ said Gunnar.
‘So there are ghosts?’
‘It’s nothing but gossip,’ snorted Signe.
‘Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m going to give Nathalie a call. Thank you so much for the coffee and biscuits, and for taking the time to answer my questions.’ Patrik got up and pushed his chair under the table.
‘It was nice to talk about him,’ said Signe softly.
‘Would you mind if I borrowed these for a while?’ Patrik pointed at the photographs from the hospital. ‘I promise to take good care of them.’
‘Go ahead and take them.’ Gunnar handed him the pictures. ‘We have a digital camera, so I have the pictures on my computer.’
‘Thank you,’ said Patrik, carefully sliding the photos into his briefcase.
Signe and Gunnar both went with him to the door. As he got in the car, he replayed in his mind all those images of Mats Sverin as a boy, a teenager, and an adult. He decided to drive home for lunch. He felt an overwhelming urge to give the twins a kiss.
‘How’s Grandpa’s little sweetie-pie today?’
Mellberg had also gone home for lunch, and as soon as he set foot inside the door, he grabbed Leo from Rita and began lifting him high in the air, making the boy shriek with delight.
‘Typical! When Grandpa comes home, Grandma might as well disappear.’ Rita frowned but then a smile took over, and she gave them each a kiss on the cheek.
A special bond had existed between Bertil and Leo ever since Bertil had been present at the baby’s birth, and no one was more pleased about this than Rita. Nevertheless she was relieved when Bertil had been convinced to return to work full-time. It had seemed like a good idea to have him fill in for Paula at home, but no matter how much she adored this unlikely hero of hers, she had no illusions when it came to his judgement, which at times was questionable, to say the least.
‘What’s for lunch?’ Mellberg carefully set the boy in his highchair and tied a bib around his neck.
‘Chicken and my homemade salsa that you like so much.’
Mellberg hummed with pleasure. All his life he had never eaten anything more exotic than boiled lamb with dill sauce, potatoes and carrots, but Rita had managed to change all that. Her salsa was so strong that it practically burned the enamel off his teeth, but he loved it.
‘You got home late last night.’ She placed a dish on the table with some less spicy food that she’d made for Leo, and Bertil began feeding the boy.
‘Yes, we’re all going at full throttle again. Paula and the boys are out doing the footwork, but Hedström pointed out, quite rightly, that someone needed to be at the station to deal with the media. And no one is better suited than me to take on such a big responsibility.’ He shovelled a little too much food into Leo’s mouth, who fortunately just let half of it slide right out again.
Rita suppressed a smile. Clearly Patrik had once more succeeded in out-manoeuvring his boss. She liked Hedström. He knew how to handle Mellberg: with patience, diplomacy, and a certain degree of flattery that could get Bertil to do exactly what he wanted. She did the same in order to ensure that their life together ran smoothly.
‘You poor thing. It sounds as if you’re really busy.’ She put some chicken on his plate along with a generous serving of salsa.
Leo had finished eating, so Mellberg dug into his own food. A couple of servings later, he leaned back and patted his stomach.
‘Delicious. And I know exactly what would be perfect to follow that. What do you think, Leo my boy?’ He got up and went over to the freezer.
Rita knew that she ought to stop him, but she didn’t have the heart. She let him take out three big Magnum ice-cream bars, which he happily handed out. Leo almost disappeared behind the huge bar. If Bertil kept on like this, the boy would soon be as wide as he was tall. For today, however, she decided not to worry about it.
FJÄLLBACKA 1870 (#ulink_09e0a6c2-6307-571d-b9bd-2fe401eb386e)
She moved a little closer to Karl. He was lying on the side of the bed next to the wall, wearing long underwear and a shirt. In a couple of hours he would have to get up to relieve Julian in the lighthouse. Cautiously she placed her hand on his leg, stroking his thigh with trembling fingers. She wasn’t the one who was supposed to take the lead like this, but something was wrong. Why didn’t he ever touch her? He hardly even spoke to her. Merely mumbled his thanks for the food before leaving the table. And he seemed to be always looking past her, as if she were made of glass and barely noticeable, in fact almost invisible.
For that matter, he spent very little time at home. During most of his waking hours he was in the lighthouse or doing work on the boat. Or he was out at sea. She spent all day utterly alone in the cottage, and her housework was soon finished. After that, she had many hours to fill, and she began to think that she might go mad. If she had a baby, she would have someone to keep her company, and other tasks to occupy her time. Then she wouldn’t mind that Karl worked from early morning until late at night, and it wouldn’t matter that he never talked to her. If only they would have a child.
But after living on the farm, she knew that certain things had to happen between a man and a woman before she could end up in the family way. Things that hadn’t yet occurred. That was why she put her hand on Karl’s leg and ran it along the inside of his thigh. Her heart was pounding with nervousness and excitement as she gently slipped her hand inside the fly of his underwear.
Karl sat up with a jolt.
‘What are you doing?’ His expression was darker than she’d ever seen it before, and she yanked her hand away.
‘I … I just thought that …’ She couldn’t find the right words. How was she supposed to explain the obvious? Even he must realize how strange it was that they’d been married for nearly three months, and yet he’d never come near her. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes.
‘I might as well sleep in the lighthouse. I’m not going to get any peace here.’ Karl pushed past her, threw on his clothes, and stomped down the stairs.
Emelie felt as if he’d slapped her face. Up until now he had simply ignored her; this was the first time he’d spoken to her with that tone of voice. Harsh, cold, and contemptuous. And he’d looked at her as if she were some disgusting creature that had crawled out from under a rock.
With tears running down her cheeks, Emelie crept over to the window and looked out. The wind was blowing hard across the island, and Karl had to fight the gusts as he headed for the lighthouse. He tore open the door and went inside. Then she saw him appear in the window of the tower, where the beam of light transformed him into a shadow.
She went back to bed and wept. The house creaked and groaned, almost as if it might rise up and fly over the islands, out into the grey sky. But that didn’t frighten her. She’d rather fly away, to anywhere at all, than stay here.
She felt something caress her cheek, at the very spot where Karl’s words had left a sting, as if he’d slapped her. Emelie sat up with a start. No one was there. She pulled the covers up to her chin and stared into the dark corners of the room. She saw nothing. She lay down again. It was probably just her imagination. Same as all the other sounds that she’d heard since coming to the island. Not to mention the cupboard doors she sometimes found open, although she was certain that she’d closed them. And the sugar bowl that had somehow moved from the kitchen table to the counter. She must have made up all those things. It had to be her imagination, combined with the island’s isolation, playing tricks on her.
She heard a chair scrape downstairs. Emelie sat up, holding her breath. The old woman’s words rang in her ears, the words that she’d managed to push aside during the past months. She didn’t want to go downstairs, didn’t want to know what she might find there, and what had been here in the room, stroking her cheek.
Shaking, she pulled the covers over her head, hiding like a child from unknown terrors. There she lay, wide awake, until dawn came. But she heard no more sounds.
7 (#ulink_96946551-7f21-5973-a000-9ba75811dca2)
‘What do you make of all this?’ asked Paula. Having bought themselves lunch at the Konsum supermarket, she and Gösta had now sat down to eat in the station’s kitchen.
‘It’s certainly a bit odd,’ said Gösta, taking another bite of his fish gratin. ‘Nobody seems to know anything about Sverin’s personal life. And yet everyone has a high opinion of him, telling us that he was a very open and sociable person. It doesn’t make sense to me.’
‘I feel the same way. How can anyone keep everything except his work so secret? Something was bound to come out over coffee or lunch, don’t you think?’
‘Well, you weren’t exactly forthcoming about your own life in the beginning.’
Paula blushed. ‘I see your point. And I suppose that’s exactly what I’m getting at. I kept silent because there was something I didn’t want people to know. I had no idea how all of you would react if you heard that I was living with a woman. So the question is: What was Mats Sverin trying to hide?’
‘That’s what we have to find out.’
Paula felt something brush against her leg. Ernst had smelled the food and was now sitting at her feet, hoping for a handout.
‘I’m sorry, fella. I’m the wrong person to beg from. All I’ve got here is salad.’
Ernst didn’t budge but sat gazing up at her with a pleading look. Paula realized that she’d have to show him what she was eating. She removed a piece of lettuce from the plastic bowl and held it out to him. His tail thumped eagerly against the floor, but after sniffing at the lettuce he looked up at her with disappointment and turned away. Then he went over to Gösta, who reached for a biscuit and discreetly slipped it to the dog.
‘You’re not doing him any favours, you know,’ said Paula. ‘He’ll get fat, and it might even make him ill if you and Bertil don’t stop feeding him treats like that. If it weren’t for Mamma taking him out for long walks, that dog would have died long ago.’
‘I know. But when he gives me that look, I can’t …’
Paula stared at Gösta with a stern expression.
‘We’ll have to hope that Martin or Patrik have come up with a lead or two,’ said Gösta, quickly changing the subject. ‘Because right now we’re not really any wiser than we were yesterday.’
‘You can say that again.’ Paula paused and then went on, ‘It’s so awful thinking about that scene. To be shot in your own flat. The one place where you’re supposed to feel safe.’
‘My guess is that it must have been someone he knew. The door hadn’t been forced, so he must have let the person in of his own accord.’
‘That makes it worse,’ said Paula. ‘To be shot at home by somebody you know.’
‘It doesn’t necessarily have to be a friend or acquaintance. There’s been a lot in the papers lately about people who ring the bell and ask to use the phone and then steal everything in the place.’ Gösta stuck his fork in the last bite of fish gratin.
‘Yes, but they usually target elderly people. Not someone who’s young and strong like Mats Sverin.’
‘True, but that doesn’t mean we should rule it out.’
‘We’ll have to wait and see what Martin and Patrik come up with.’ Paula put down her knife and fork and got to her feet. ‘Want some coffee?’
‘Yes, please,’ said Gösta. He slipped another biscuit to Ernst and was rewarded by a wet tongue licking his hand.
‘Oh, I needed this,’ Erling groaned loudly as he lay on the narrow massage table.
Vivianne’s fingers expertly kneaded the muscles in his back, and he felt the tension gradually disappearing. It wasn’t easy to handle all the responsibilities that went with his job.
‘Is this the type of service that we’re going to be offering?’ he asked, his face resting in the hole of the table.
‘This is a traditional massage, so it will definitely be one of the services. In addition we have Thai massage, and a treatment with hot stones. Clients can also choose between a partial and a total body rub.’ Vivianne continued working on his back as she spoke in a calm, almost hypnotic voice.
‘Excellent. That’s excellent.’
‘Later we’ll offer other treatments besides the basic spa package. Salt and seaweed scrubs, light therapy, algae facials, and so on. We’re going to have a full line of services. But you already know that because it was in the prospectus.’
‘Yes, but it’s still music to my ears. What about the staff? Is everyone on board?’ He could feel himself getting drowsy from the massage, the muted lighting, and Vivianne’s soothing voice.
‘The staff will soon be fully trained. I’ve taken charge of that part myself. We’ve brought in some fantastic people – young, enthusiastic, and ambitious.’
‘Excellent. That’s excellent,’ Erling repeated and then uttered a deep, contented sigh. ‘It’s going to be a massive success. I can feel it.’ He grimaced as Vivianne pressed a tender spot on his back.
‘You have some real knots right here,’ she told him, as she continued to rub the spot.
‘That really hurts,’ he said, suddenly wide awake.
‘It takes pain to get rid of pain.’ Vivianne pressed even harder, and Erling couldn’t hold back a whimper.
‘Why are you so tense?’ she asked.
‘It must be because of what happened to Mats,’ said Erling, his voice sounding strained. His back hurt so much that he felt tears welling up in his eyes. ‘The police came to the office this morning asking questions. The whole business is absolutely ghastly.’
Vivianne abruptly stopped rubbing. ‘What sort of questions?’
Grateful that the pain had stopped, at least temporarily, Erling drew in a long breath.
‘Mostly stuff about Mats and what he was like at work. What we knew about him, and whether he was good at his job.’
‘What did you tell them?’ Vivianne was again massaging his back. Thankfully she had moved on to a different spot.
‘Well, there wasn’t much to say. Mats was so reserved, we never really got to know him. But this afternoon I went through the accounts, and I have to say that he was certainly meticulous. That’s going to make it easier for me to take control of the finances until we can find a replacement.’
‘I’m sure you’ll do a great job.’ Vivianne was now massaging the back of his neck in a way that gave him goose pimples. ‘So he didn’t leave behind any question marks?’
‘No, from what I could see, everything was in perfect order.’ Erling felt himself dozing off again as Vivianne’s fingers continued their work.
Dan was sitting at the kitchen table and staring out of the window. The house was quiet. The children were in school or at the day-care centre. By now he’d usually be at work, but it was his day off. He’d have preferred to be working. Lately his stomach started to hurt the minute he was on his way home, because the whole house reminded him of what they had lost. Not just their baby, but also the life that they’d shared together. In his heart, he had begun to think that it might be gone for ever, and he didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t like him to feel as utterly helpless as he did right now, and he hated the feeling.
His heart ached for Emma and Adrian. They couldn’t understand why their mother refused to get out of bed, why she wouldn’t talk to them or kiss them or even look up when they brought the drawings they’d made to show her. They knew that Anna had been in a car accident and that their little brother had gone to heaven. But they couldn’t comprehend why that would make their mother lie so still, endlessly staring out of the window. And nothing that Dan did or said could make up for the emptiness they felt. They liked him, but they loved their mother.
With each passing day, Emma was becoming more withdrawn while Adrian got more aggressive. Both were reacting in their own way. Dan had talked with the teachers at the day-care centre about the fact that Adrian had begun hitting and biting the other children. And Emma’s teacher had phoned to discuss the changes in her; she’d gone from a lively, cheerful child to one who sat through classes without saying a word. What was Dan supposed to do? They needed Anna, not him.
At least he was able to comfort his own three daughters. They came to him with their questions and seeking hugs. They were sad and upset, but not in the same way as Emma and Adrian. Besides, his girls went to stay with their mother Pernilla every other week, and there they could escape the sorrow that hovered like a heavy blanket over his whole life.
Pernilla had been a great help. Their divorce had not been without its problems, but since the accident she had been amazing. It was largely due to her that Lisen, Belinda, and Malin were coping so well. Emma and Adrian had no one else. Naturally, Erica had tried to help, but she had her hands full taking care of the twins, and it wasn’t easy for her to make time for her niece and nephew. He realized that, and was grateful for the effort she made.
In the end, he and Emma and Adrian were left alone with their paralysing fear about what was going to happen to Anna. Sometimes he wondered if she would spend the rest of her life staring out of the window. The days would become weeks and then years as Anna simply lay there, slowly getting older. He knew that it was his own dark thoughts making him feel this way. The doctors had said that she would gradually come out of her depression, but that it had to run its course. The problem was that he didn’t believe them. Several months had now passed since the accident, and it seemed as if Anna was drifting further and further away.
Outside, a few titmice were pecking at the balls of suet that the girls had insisted on hanging up for the birds, despite the time of year. He watched them, enviously thinking how carefree their lives must be. Concerned only with the basic needs: eating, sleeping, and reproducing. No emotions, no complicated relationships. No sorrow.
Then he thought about Matte. Erica had phoned to tell him what had happened. Dan knew his parents well. Many times he and Gunnar had gone out in the boat, sitting there telling stories, and Gunnar had always talked of his son with such pride. Dan also knew who Matte was because they’d gone to the same school, although Mats had been in Erica’s class, not his. But they’d never really been friends. Gunnar and Signe must be suffering terribly. That thought cast his own grief in a new light. If it felt this bad to lose a son that he’d never had a chance to know, how much worse it must be for them to lose a son that they had followed through life and watched grow into a man.
The titmice suddenly took off. They didn’t fly off together but instead scattered in all directions. The next second Dan saw what had caused such an abrupt departure. The neighbour’s cat had sauntered into the yard and was now looking up at the tree. This time the cat was out of luck.
Dan stood up. He couldn’t just sit here all day. He had to try talking to Anna again, urge her to rouse herself from the dead and rejoin the living. Slowly he headed upstairs.
‘How’d it go, Martin?’ asked Patrik as he leaned back in his chair. They had once again convened in the kitchen to discuss the investigation.
Martin shook his head. ‘I haven’t got much to report. I contacted most of the people that we missed yesterday, but none of them saw or heard a thing. Except maybe …’
‘What?’ said Patrik. Everyone’s attention was fixed on Martin.
‘I don’t know if this is any use. The old guy isn’t quite right in the head.’
‘Let’s hear it.’
‘Okay. There’s a man named Grip who lives on the same floor as Sverin. As I said, he seems a bit nuts.’ Martin tapped his temple. ‘And he’s got a load of smelly cats living in his flat …’ He took a deep breath. ‘Grip said that one of his cats saw a car early Saturday morning. About the same time that the other neighbour, Leandersson, was awakened by a sound that might have been a gunshot.’
Gösta sniggered. ‘His cat saw a car?’
‘Quiet, Gösta,’ said Patrik. ‘Okay, Martin, go on. What else did he say?’
‘That’s all. I didn’t really take him seriously, since he seemed so out of it.’
‘From the mouths of children and fools we will hear the truth spoken,’ murmured Annika as she continued taking notes.
Martin shrugged dejectedly. ‘That’s all I have to report.’
‘Good job,’ said Patrik, wanting to encourage him. ‘Door-to-door enquiries are never easy. People either exaggerate what they might have heard, or they’ve noticed nothing whatsoever.’
‘Yes, this job would definitely be a lot easier without witnesses,’ muttered Gösta.
‘What about you two?’ Patrik turned to Gösta and Paula, who were sitting next to each other at the kitchen table.
Paula shook her head. ‘We don’t have much to report either. Mats Sverin doesn’t seem to have had much of a life outside work, if we’re to believe his co-workers. At any rate, they couldn’t tell us much. He never mentioned any outside interests, or friends or girlfriends. Yet they describe him as pleasant and outgoing. It doesn’t really add up.’
‘Did he talk to them about his years in Göteborg?’
‘No, not a word.’ Gösta shook his head. ‘As Paula said, he apparently never discussed anything aside from his job and more general, ordinary subjects.’
‘Did they know about the assault?’ asked Patrik as he got up and began pouring coffee for everyone.
‘Not exactly,’ said Paula. ‘Mats told them that he’d had a bicycle accident and was in the hospital for a while. That’s hardly the truth of the matter.’
‘And his work – were there any problems on that front?’ Patrik set the coffee pot back on the counter.
‘He seems to have been very good at his job. They sounded extremely pleased with his performance. Apparently they felt it was quite a coup to hire an experienced economist from Göteborg. Besides, he had ties to the area.’ Gösta raised his cup and took a sip, burning his tongue. ‘Damn, that’s hot!’
‘So there aren’t any leads that we can follow up on?’
‘No, not from what we’ve found out so far,’ said Paula, now looking as dejected as Martin.
‘Well, I suppose that’s it for the time being. No doubt we’ll have occasion to talk to his work colleagues again. I had a talk with Mats’s parents, with pretty much the same results. He evidently wasn’t very open with them either. But I did find out that one of his old girlfriends is living on Gråskär out in the archipelago, and Gunnar thought that Mats had been planning to go and visit her. So I need to contact her.’ Patrik then placed the photographs from Sahlgrenska Hospital on the table. ‘And I got these from his parents.’
The pictures were passed around the table.
‘Jesus,’ said Mellberg. ‘He really took a beating.’
‘Yes. Judging by the photos, we’re talking about a case of aggravated assault. Of course it may not have anything to do with the murder, but I still think we should take a closer look at what happened. We need to request his hospital records and see what it says in the police report. We should also interview the staff at the organization that Mats worked for at the time. It’s interesting that the purpose of the group is to help women who are victims of domestic violence. Maybe we’ll find some sort of motive there. It would be best to go to Göteborg and talk to everyone in person.’
‘Is that really necessary?’ asked Mellberg. ‘There are no indications that he was shot because of what happened in Göteborg. It’s more likely connected to something local.’
‘Considering how little we’ve been able to find out so far, and how secretive Sverin seems to have been about his life, I think it’s certainly justified.’
Mellberg frowned as he pondered this. It took him a while to make up his mind.
‘Well, if you insist,’ he agreed eventually. ‘But I hope you get some results. Because it sounds as though you’ll be gone most of the day tomorrow.’
‘We’ll do our best,’ replied Patrik. ‘I was thinking of taking Paula with me.’
‘What should the rest of us do in the meantime?’ asked Martin.
‘You and Annika need to search the public records for references to Mats Sverin. Was he ever secretly married or divorced? Does he have any children? Does he own any property? Does he have a criminal record? Check for anything and everything.’
‘Okay, we can do that,’ said Annika, casting a glance at Martin.
‘And Gösta …’ Patrik paused. ‘Phone Torbjörn and find out when we can get into Sverin’s flat to take a look around. And try to put some pressure on him to speed things up with the technical report. With so little to go on, we need the results as soon as possible.’
‘Okay,’ said Gösta without much enthusiasm.
‘Bertil, you’ll still be here to hold down the fort, right?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Mellberg, sitting up straight. ‘I’m ready for the onslaught.’
‘Good. Then we’ll all start fresh tomorrow.’ Patrik stood up to signal that the meeting was over. He looked shattered.
Nathalie gave a start. Something had awakened her. She’d fallen asleep on the sofa and was dreaming about Matte. She could still sense the warmth of his body, the feeling of him inside of her. And she could hear his voice, which was so familiar, so reassuring. But apparently he hadn’t felt the same about her, and she could understand why. Matte had loved the Nathalie that she once was. The person she had become had disappointed him.
She was no longer shaking, and her joints had stopped hurting. Yet the restless feeling wouldn’t go away. It made her arms and legs prickle, prompting her to wander around the house as Sam watched her, his eyes wide.
If only she’d managed to explain why everything had gone so wrong. She’d told Matte some of it as they sat at the kitchen table. Confided in him the details that she could bring herself to say out loud. But she couldn’t bear to utter the words that would describe the worst humiliations. The things that she’d been forced to do and that had fundamentally changed her.
She knew that she was no longer the same person. And Matte had noticed. He had seen how ruined and rotten she was inside.
Nathalie sat up. She was having a hard time breathing. She drew her knees to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. It was so quiet, but suddenly she heard a thump against the floor. A ball. Sam’s ball. She watched the ball as it slowly rolled towards her. Sam hadn’t touched any of his toys since they’d come to the island. Had he climbed out of bed and started playing again? Her heart filled with hope until she realized that wasn’t possible. The door to Sam’s room was on her right, and the ball had come from the kitchen, on the left.
Slowly she got up and went into the kitchen. For a moment she was frightened by the shadows moving over the walls and ceiling, but her fear vanished as quickly as it had come. A great sense of calm settled over her. There was no one here who wanted to harm her. She was certain of that, even though she couldn’t have explained why.
Hearing a giggle from a dark corner of the kitchen she glanced in that direction and caught a glimpse of him. A boy. But before she could take a closer look, he moved. He raced towards the front door, and without thinking she followed. She tore open the door and felt the blast of wind in her face, yet she knew that the boy wanted her to follow him.
He was sprinting for the lighthouse. Every once in a while he would look back, as if to make sure that she was behind him. His blond hair was ruffled by the wind, the same gusts that were so strong they nearly took her breath away as she ran.
She had trouble pulling open the heavy door to the lighthouse, but that was where he had gone, so she had to get inside. She dashed up the steep stairs, hearing the boy moving about overhead, hearing him giggling.
But when she reached the top of the lighthouse, she found the round room empty. Whoever the boy was, he had disappeared.
‘How are things at the station?’ Erica moved closer to Patrik as they sat on the sofa.
He’d come home in time for dinner, and now the children were asleep. With a yawn she stretched out her legs and rested them on the coffee table.
‘Tired?’ asked Patrik, without answering her question. He stroked her arm as he kept his eyes fixed on the TV.
‘Exhausted.’
‘Why don’t you go to bed, sweetheart?’ With a distracted expression, he gave her a kiss on the cheek.
‘I should, but I don’t want to.’ She glanced at her husband. ‘I need some grown-up time with you and the news stories on Rapport to counterbalance all the dirty nappies, vomit-covered shirts, and baby prattle.’
Patrik turned to face her. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Of course,’ she told him. ‘It’s nothing like when Maja was born. But sometimes it can feel like too much of a good thing.’
‘In the autumn I’ll take over so you can start writing again.’
‘I know. Besides, we have the summer holiday before then, which is great. It’s been a hectic day, that’s all. And what happened to Matte is so awful. I didn’t really know him very well, but we were at school together. Secondary school too.’ She paused and then said, ‘So how’s the investigation coming along? You didn’t answer my question.’
‘We haven’t made much progress.’ Patrik sighed. ‘We talked to Mats’s parents and several of his co-workers, but he seems to have been a real loner. Nobody can tell us anything about him. Either he was the world’s most boring person, or else …’
‘Or else what?’ asked Erica.
‘Or else there are things that we haven’t yet discovered.’
‘Well, I certainly didn’t think he was boring when we were in school together. He seemed so outgoing and upbeat. And he was very popular. One of those boys who was bound to succeed, no matter what he did.’
‘Didn’t you go to school with his girlfriend too?’ said Patrik.
‘Nathalie? Yes, I did. But she …’ Erica hunted for the right words. ‘It always felt like she thought she was better than the rest of us. She didn’t really fit in. Don’t get me wrong – she was popular too, and she and Matte were the perfect couple. But I always had the feeling that he … How should I put it? He followed her around like a puppy dog. Happily wagging his tail and grateful for the slightest attention. I don’t think anyone was surprised when she decided to move to Stockholm and left Matte behind. He was devastated, from what I could tell, but even he probably saw it coming. Nathalie wasn’t the sort of person you could hold on to. Do you know what I mean? Am I making any sense at all?’
‘Yes, I get what you’re saying.’
‘Why are you asking about Nathalie? She was his girlfriend in secondary school. And though I hate to admit it, that was ages ago.’
‘Nathalie’s here.’
Erica looked at him in amazement. ‘In Fjällbacka? She hasn’t been back here in years.’
‘Well, according to Mats’s parents, she and her son are out there on that island her family owns.’
‘Ghost Isle?’
Patrik nodded. ‘Apparently that’s the nickname for it, but I think they told me it has another name too.’
‘Gråskär,’ said Erica. ‘Although most people around here call it Ghost Isle. It’s said that the dead …’
‘… never leave the island,’ Patrik finished her sentence and smiled. ‘Yes, I’ve heard about that superstition.’
‘What makes you so sure that it’s just superstition? I once spent the night over there with my classmates, and at least half of us came away convinced that there really were ghosts on the island. It had an incredibly spooky atmosphere, and after everything we saw and heard, none of us ever wanted to spend another night out there.’
‘I don’t put much faith in the imaginings of teenagers.’
Erica poked him with her elbow. ‘Don’t be such a spoilsport. A few ghosts always liven things up.’
‘Well, that’s one way to look at it. At any rate, I need to have a talk with Nathalie. Mats’s parents thought that he was planning to go out and see her, but they weren’t sure whether he ever did. Even though it was a long time ago that they were dating, he might have told her more about his life now …’ He seemed to be thinking out loud.
‘I’ll go with you,’ said Erica. ‘Tell me when you want to go, and we can ask your mother to babysit. Nathalie doesn’t know you,’ she added before Patrik could voice any objections. ‘At least she and I went to school together, even if we were never good friends. Maybe if I’m there, she’ll be willing to talk.’
‘Okay,’ Patrik agreed reluctantly. ‘But tomorrow I have to drive to Göteborg, so it won’t be until Friday.’
‘Perfect,’ said Erica with satisfaction, snuggling into Patrik’s arms.
FJÄLLBACKA 1870 (#ulink_e0674b2d-6707-5baf-aac6-a74c1812e53a)
‘How does it taste?’ Emelie asked at every meal, even though she knew that the response would always be the same. A grunt from Karl and a grunt from Julian. The fare was a bit monotonous on the island, but she had no control over that. Most of what she put on the table came from the two men’s fishing expeditions, usually mackerel and plaice. And since she still hadn’t been allowed to accompany them on their trips to Fjällbacka, which occurred a couple of times each month, the grocery purchases hadn’t been entirely satisfactory.
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