Читать книгу The Ice Child - Camilla Lackberg - Страница 10

‘How is Pappa today?’ asked Jonas. He kissed his mother on the cheek and sat down at the kitchen table, trying to muster a smile.

Helga didn’t seem to hear him.

‘It’s so awful what happened to that stable girl,’ she said instead, setting in front of him a plate with several big slices of freshly baked sponge cake. ‘It must be terribly hard for all of you.’

Jonas picked up the piece on top and took a big bite. ‘You spoil me, Mamma. It almost feels like you’re trying to fatten me up.’

‘I know. But you were always such a skinny little boy. So thin we could count your ribs.’

‘Uh-huh. I’ve heard you say that a thousand times, how tiny I was when I was born. But now I’m almost six foot two, and there’s certainly no problem with my appetite.’

‘It’s good for you to eat, considering how busy you are. All that running about. That can’t be healthy.’

‘Right. Exercise is known to be a real health hazard. Didn’t you ever do any vigorous exercising? Not even when you were young?’ Jonas reached for another piece of cake.

‘When I was young? You make it sound like I’m ancient.’ Helga spoke sternly, but she could feel a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Jonas could always make her smile.

‘No, not ancient. I think “antique” is the word I was going for.’

‘Stop that now,’ she said, giving him a swat on the shoulder. ‘If you don’t watch out, there won’t be any more sponge cake, or any home-cooked meals either. Then you’ll have to make do with whatever Marta puts on the table.’

‘Good Lord, then Molly and I would starve to death.’ He took the last piece of cake from the plate.

‘It must be hard for the girls in the stable to hear that one of their friends suffered such a horrible end,’ Helga went on, wiping some invisible crumbs from the table.

The kitchen was always kept in perfect order. Jonas couldn’t recall ever seeing it messy, and his mother never stopped moving as she cleaned, baked, cooked, and took care of his father. Jonas looked about. His parents weren’t keen on modernizing anything, so the room had looked exactly the same all these years. The wallpaper, cupboards, linoleum, and furniture – everything was just as he remembered from his childhood. The refrigerator and worktop were the only things they had reluctantly replaced. But he liked the fact that so little had changed. It gave his life a sense of continuity.

‘It was quite a shock, of course. Marta and I are going to have a talk with the girls this afternoon,’ he said. ‘But don’t worry about it, Mamma.’

‘No. No, I won’t.’ She picked up the plate, which now held only a few crumbs. ‘How did it go with the cow yesterday?’

‘Good. It was rather complicated, but—’

‘JOOONAS!’ His father’s voice thundered from upstairs. ‘Are you there?’

His displeasure ricocheted off the walls, and Jonas noticed how his mother instantly clenched her jaw.

‘Best if you go up,’ she said as she began wiping the table with a wet rag. ‘He’s cross because you didn’t come to see him yesterday.’

Jonas nodded. As he climbed the stairs he could feel his mother’s gaze following him.

Erica was still feeling a bit shaky when she arrived at the day-care centre. It was only two o’clock, and she usually didn’t fetch the children until four. But after her experience in the cellar of the abandoned house she was longing to see them so much that she decided to drive straight to the centre. She needed to see her kids, give them a hug, and hear their bubbly voices, which could make her forget everything else.

‘Mamma!’ Anton came running towards her with his arms outstretched. He was dirty from head to toe, with one ear sticking out from under his cap. He looked so sweet that Erica thought her heart would burst. She squatted down and held out her arms to draw him close. Her clothes were going to get dirty too, but that didn’t matter.

‘Mamma!’ She heard another little voice calling from the playground, and Noel also came running. He had on red overalls instead of the blue ones that Anton wore, but his cap was crooked, just like his brother’s. They were so alike, and yet so different.

Erica set Noel on her lap too, hugging another dirty child who burrowed his face against her neck. Noel’s nose was ice cold, and she shivered as she laughed.

‘Hey, you little ice cube, are you trying to warm up that nose of yours on my neck?’

She pinched his nose, making him laugh. Then he lifted up her jumper and pressed his cold and grubby mittened hands against her stomach, evoking a shrill scream from Erica. Both boys howled with laughter.

‘What a couple of rowdy boys you are! Hot baths for the pair of you as soon as we get home.’ She set them down, stood up, and straightened her jumper. ‘Come on, kids, let’s go and fetch your sister,’ she said, pointing towards Maja’s part of the school. The twins loved to go over there because it gave them a chance to roughhouse with the older children in Maja’s group. And Maja was always delighted to see them. Even though her little brothers could be such pests, she always showered them with love.

When they arrived home, the cleaning-up process began. Usually this was a task that Erica hated, but today she didn’t care how much dirt and debris got scattered over the floor. And she didn’t let it bother her when Noel immediately lay down and began screaming about something only he understood. None of this was of any importance after she’d spent time in the cellar of the Kowalski house and realized the horror that Louise must have experienced as she sat there, chained to the wall in the dark.

Her own children lived in the light. Her children were the light. Noel’s shrieks, which usually made her cringe, had no effect today. She merely reached down to stroke his hair, which surprised him so much that he stopped crying.

‘Come on, let’s go put you in the bathtub. Then we’ll thaw out a whole bunch of Grandma’s cinnamon buns and eat them with hot chocolate while we watch TV. Doesn’t that sound like a good idea?’ Erica smiled at her children as they sat on the wet floor in the front hall. ‘And let’s forget about making dinner tonight. We’ll just eat all the rest of the ice cream in the freezer instead. And you can stay up as long as you want.’

Not a sound came from the children. Maja gave her mother a worried look and then went over to touch her forehead.

‘Are you sick, Mamma?’

Erica couldn’t help laughing.

‘No, sweetheart,’ she said, and then drew all three kids close. ‘Mamma isn’t sick or crazy. I just love you so much.’

She gave them a big hug, wanting to hold them even tighter. But in her mind she saw a different child. A little girl who was sitting all alone in the dark.

Ricky had hidden her secret deep inside, in a special corner of his heart. Ever since Victoria had gone missing, he had turned that secret over and over, studying it from all angles and trying to work out whether it might have had anything to do with her disappearance. He didn’t think so, but there was still a slight doubt in his mind. Think it over again. That phrase kept whirling through his head, especially at night when he lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling. Think it over again. The question was whether he’d done the wrong thing, whether it had been a terrible mistake to keep quiet. It would be so easy to let the secret remain hidden, buried for ever, just as Victoria was now going to be buried in the cemetery.

‘Ricky?’

Gösta’s voice made him flinch as he sat there on the sofa. He had almost forgotten about the police officer and all his questions.

‘Have you thought of something else that might be relevant to the investigation? Now that it turns out Victoria may have been held captive somewhere nearby?’

Gösta’s voice sounded gentle and sorrowful, and Ricky could see how tired he was. He had grown fond of this older policeman who had been their family liaison officer during the past few months. And he knew that Gösta liked him too. Ricky had always got on well with grown-ups. Ever since he was a child, he’d been told that his was an old soul. Maybe that was true. Regardless, he felt as if he’d aged a thousand years since yesterday. All joy and anticipation about the life that lay ahead of him had vanished the moment Victoria died.

He shook his head.

‘No, I’ve already told you everything I know. Victoria was an ordinary girl, with ordinary friends and ordinary interests. And we’re just an ordinary family. Perfectly normal …’ He smiled and glanced at his mother, but she didn’t return his smile. The sense of humour that had always united the family had also died with Victoria.

‘I heard from a neighbour that you’ve asked the public for help in searching the woods,’ said his father. ‘Do you think that will produce any results?’ Markus’s face was ashen with exhaustion, but there was a spark of hope in his eyes as he looked at Gösta.

‘We hope so. Lots of people have volunteered to help, so with luck we might find something. She must have been held somewhere.’

‘What about the other girls? The ones we read about in the newspapers?’ Helena reached for her coffee cup. Her hand was shaking, and Ricky’s heart ached to see how thin his mother had become. She had always been slender and petite, but now she had lost so much weight that her bones were clearly visible under her skin.

‘We’re continuing to work with the other police districts. Everyone is determined to solve this case, and we’re helping each other by exchanging information. We’re going to put all our resources into finding whoever kidnapped Victoria and presumably the other girls too.’

‘I mean …’ Helena hesitated. ‘Do you think the same thing …’ She couldn’t bear to finish the sentence, but Gösta knew what she was asking.

‘We don’t know. But it’s certainly possible that …’ He too couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

Ricky swallowed hard. He didn’t want to think about what Victoria had gone through. But the images from the photographs kept creeping into his mind, and he felt nausea rise into his throat. Her beautiful blue eyes, which had always held such warmth. That was how he wanted to remember them. He couldn’t stand to think about the horror of what had happened to his sister.

‘We’re going to hold a press conference this afternoon,’ said Gösta after a moment. ‘And I’m afraid the reporters will probably show up here too. The disappearance of the girls has been national news for a while, and this will only … Well, I just want you to be prepared.’

‘They’ve already been here and rung the bell a few times. And we’ve stopped answering the phone,’ said Markus.

‘I can’t understand why they won’t leave us in peace.’ Helena shook her head. Her dark hair, cut in a page-boy style, swayed around her face. ‘Don’t they realize …’

‘No, unfortunately they don’t,’ said Gösta, standing up. ‘I need to go back to the station now. But don’t hesitate to call. You can reach me anytime, day or night. And I promise to keep you informed.’

He turned to Ricky and placed his hand on the boy’s arm.

‘Take care of your mother and father.’

‘I’ll do my best.’ He felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. But Gösta was right. As things stood, he was stronger than either of his parents. He was the one who would have to keep everything together.

Molly felt the sting of tears in her eyes. Disappointment filled her body, and she stomped her foot so hard on the stable floor that a cloud of dust rose up.

‘You’re a sodding idiot!’

‘Watch your language, please.’ Marta’s voice was ice cold, and Molly shrank back. But her anger was so great that she couldn’t stop herself.

‘But I want to go! I’m going to talk to Jonas about it too.’

‘I know you want to go,’ said her mother, crossing her arms. ‘But in the circumstances, it’s not a good idea. And your father will agree with me.’

‘What do you mean, “in the circumstances”? It’s not my fault that such awful things happened to Victoria. Why should I have to suffer?’

Tears were now running down Molly’s face, and she wiped them off on the sleeve of her jacket. She peered up at Marta from under her fringe to see if her tears would have any effect, though it seemed unlikely. Her mother merely stared at her with that guarded expression of hers, which Molly hated. Sometimes she wished that Marta would get furious instead, that she would scream and swear and show some emotion. But she never lost her composure. She never gave any sign of yielding.

Molly’s tears poured out, her nose was running, and her jacket sleeve was now soaked.

‘But it’s the first competition of the season! I don’t understand why I can’t participate, just because of what happened to Victoria. I’m not the one who killed her!’

Slap! Marta’s hand struck her cheek before she even saw it coming. Molly touched her face in disbelief. It was the first time her mother had hit her. The first time anyone had ever hit her. Her tears stopped abruptly as she stared at Marta, who was again utterly calm. She stood there motionless, her arms crossed over the green quilted riding vest she wore.

‘That’s enough now,’ she said. ‘You can stop begging like some spoiled brat and behave decently.’ Marta’s words cut just as deep as the slap. Molly had never been called a spoiled brat. Well, the other girls in the stable might have called her that behind her back, but that was only because they were jealous.

Still holding her hand to her cheek, Molly kept on staring at Marta. Then she turned on her heel and ran out of the stable. The other girls began whispering to each other when they saw her crying as she ran across the yard, but she didn’t care. They probably thought she was crying about Victoria, like everyone else had been doing since yesterday.

Molly ran for home, going around back to the door to her father’s veterinary clinic, but it was locked. There were no lights on, and Jonas wasn’t there. Molly wondered where he could be as she stood in the snow for a moment, stomping her feet to stay warm. Then she took off running again.

She tore open the door to her grandparents’ house.

‘Grandma!’

‘Good Lord, where’s the fire?’ Helga came out to the front hall, drying her hands on a dish towel.

‘Is Jonas here? I need to talk to him.’

‘Calm down. You’re crying so hard I can barely understand you. Is this about the girl that Marta found yesterday?’

Molly shook her head. Helga led her into the kitchen and got her to sit down at the table.

‘I … I …’ Molly stammered, but then she had to stop and take several deep breaths. Just being in her grandmother’s kitchen helped her to calm down. In this house, time stood still. Nothing ever changed in here while outside the world continued to rush onward.

‘I need to talk to Jonas. Marta says I can’t take part in the competition on the weekend.’ She hiccupped and then fell silent so her grandmother had time to take in how unfair the situation was.

Helga sat down. ‘Well, Marta likes to make the decisions. You’ll have to wait and see what your father says. Is it an important competition?’

‘Yes, it is. But Marta says it wouldn’t be appropriate to compete after what happened to Victoria. And of course I think it’s sad, but I don’t see why that’s any reason for me to miss the competition. That cow Linda Bergvall is bound to win if I’m not there, and then she’ll be so annoying, even though she knows I could have beat her. I’ll die if I’m not allowed to go!’ With a dramatic expression, she leaned over the kitchen table, rested her face on her arms, and began to sob.

Helga patted her gently on the shoulder. ‘Now, now, it’s not the end of the world, and your parents are the ones who make the decisions. They’d do anything for you, but if they think you shouldn’t compete … well, then there’s not much to be done about it.’

‘But don’t you think Jonas would understand?’ said Molly, giving Helga a pleading look.

‘I’ve known your father since he was this big,’ said Helga, holding her thumb and index finger only a centimetre apart. ‘And I’ve known your mother for a long time too. Believe me when I say that it’s impossible to make them change their minds, once they’ve made a decision. So if I were you, I’d stop complaining and look forward to the next competition instead.’

Molly dried her face on the paper napkin that Helga handed her.

She blew her nose and then got up to toss the napkin in the bin. The worst thing was that her grandmother was right. It was hopeless to try and talk to her parents once they’d decided. But she was still planning to try. Maybe Jonas would take her side, in spite of everything.

It had taken Patrik a whole hour to thaw out, and it was going to take Mellberg even longer. It had been sheer madness to go out in the woods when the temperature was minus seventeen degrees Celsius and he was wearing thin shoes and only a windproof jacket instead of a proper winter coat. Mellberg’s lips were blue as he stood in a corner of the conference room.

‘How’s it going, Bertil? Are you still cold?’ asked Patrik.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Mellberg, slapping his arms against his body. ‘I could use a stiff whisky. That might warm me up from the inside.’

Patrik shuddered at the thought of an intoxicated Bertil Mellberg at the press conference. Although that might actually be an improvement over the sober version.

‘So what approach do you think we should take?’ Patrik asked.

‘I thought I’d take charge, and you can back me up. The reporters like to see a strong leader, someone they can turn to in situations like this.’ Mellberg tried to sound as authoritative as he could with his teeth chattering.

‘Of course,’ said Patrik, sighing to himself so heavily that he thought Mellberg might hear. Always the same story. Getting Mellberg to do anything useful in an investigation was about as easy as trying to catch flies with a pair of chopsticks. But the minute he had the chance to step into the spotlight, or claim credit for work done by the rest of the team, no one could keep Bertil away.

‘How about letting in the hyenas?’ said Mellberg, turning to Annika, who got up and went over to the door. She had made all the arrangements while they were out in the woods. She’d given Mellberg a quick rundown of the most important points and also printed out key words on a piece of paper for him. Now they could only cross their fingers and hope that he didn’t embarrass them any more than necessary.

The journalists shambled into the room, and Patrik greeted several that he knew – some from the local media and some who worked at the national level, reporters that he’d run into on various occasions. As usual there were also a few new faces. The newspapers seemed to have a high turnover rate where journalists were concerned.

They all sat down, exchanging a few murmured remarks, while the photographers good-naturedly jostled for the best positions. Patrik hoped that Mellberg’s lips wouldn’t look quite so blue in the photos; at the moment he looked as though he belonged in the morgue.

‘Everybody here?’ said Mellberg, shivering. The reporters had already started waving their hands in the air, but he motioned for them to stop. ‘We’ll take questions in a moment, but first I want to turn over the floor to Patrik Hedström, who will give you a brief report on what has happened.’

Patrik gave his boss a surprised look. Maybe Mellberg realized after all that he didn’t have a grasp of the big picture, which was what this crowd of reporters needed to hear.

‘Thank you. All right then,’ Patrik replied. He cleared his throat and came over to stand next to Mellberg. He paused to gather his thoughts, trying to work out what he should tell them and what he should withhold. An unguarded word to the media could destroy so much, and yet the journalists were their link to one of the greatest assets any investigation could have: the public. He needed to give the press enough information to trigger a ripple effect that would start tips coming in from ordinary people. There was always someone who had seen or heard something that might turn out to be relevant even though that person might not think so. But handing out the wrong information, or revealing too many details, could give the perpetrator an advantage. If he or she knew what sort of leads the police were following, it would be easier to hide their tracks or simply refrain from making the same mistake next time. And that was everyone’s greatest fear right now, that this horrific crime would be repeated. A serial criminal rarely stopped of his own accord. Most likely not in this instance, at any rate. Patrik had a bad feeling about this one.

‘Yesterday Victoria Hallberg was found near a wooded area east of Fjällbacka. She was then struck by a car, and we are convinced it was an accident. She was taken to Uddevalla hospital, where all possible efforts were made to save her life. Unfortunately, her injuries were too severe and at 11.14 she was pronounced dead.’ He paused and reached for a glass of water that Annika had placed on the table. ‘We have searched the area where she was found, and I’d like to thank all the volunteers from Fjällbacka who turned up to help. There is little more I can tell you. We are continuing to cooperate with other police districts investigating similar cases. We need to find the girls who have gone missing, and we need to catch the person who kidnapped them.’ Patrik took a sip of water. ‘Any questions?’

Everyone instantly stuck their hand in the air, and several reporters began speaking at once. The photographers in the front of the room had started snapping pictures as Patrik spoke, and he had to restrain an urge to smooth down his hair. It was always a strange feeling to see big pictures of his own face printed in the evening papers.

‘Kjell?’ He pointed to Kjell Ringholm from Bohusläningen, which was the local paper with the most subscribers. Kjell had offered the police valuable assistance on previous cases, so Patrik tended to give him preferential treatment.

‘You mentioned that Victoria had suffered severe injuries. What type of injuries? Were they the result of being struck by the car, or was she injured prior to the accident?’

‘I can’t comment on that,’ replied Patrik. ‘I can only say that she was struck by a car and she died from her injuries.’

‘We have information that she had been subjected to some sort of torture,’ Kjell went on.

Patrik swallowed hard, picturing in his mind Victoria’s empty eye sockets and her mouth, with a stump where her tongue had been. But those were details they didn’t want to release. He cursed whoever hadn’t been able to resist talking to the press. Was it really necessary to divulge such information?

‘Given the ongoing police investigation, we can’t comment on any details or the extent of Victoria’s injuries.’

Kjell was about to say something else, but Patrik held up his hand to stop him, and then called on Sven Niklasson, a reporter for Expressen. He had also dealt with this journalist before, and he knew that Niklasson was always sharp. He did his homework and never wrote anything that might damage an investigation.

‘Was there any indication that she had been sexually abused? And have you found any link to the disappearance of the other girls?’

‘We don’t know yet. The autopsy is scheduled for tomorrow. As far as the other missing girls are concerned, at this time I can’t divulge what we know about any possible links. As I said, we are continuing to work with the other police districts, and I’m convinced that this cooperative effort will lead to the arrest of the perpetrator.’

‘Are you sure that we’re talking about only one perpetrator?’ The reporter from Aftonbladet took the floor without being called on. ‘Couldn’t it be several individuals, or even a gang? Have you looked into possible connections with trafficking?’

‘At the present time we are not ruling out anything, and that also applies to the number of perpetrators involved. Of course we’ve discussed the possibility of a link to human trafficking, but Victoria’s case does not seem consistent with that theory.’

‘Why’s that?’ persisted the reporter from Aftonbladet.

‘Due to the nature of her injuries, it seems unlikely that she was going to be sold,’ Kjell interjected, as he scrutinized Patrik’s expression.

Patrik didn’t comment. Kjell’s conclusion was correct and revealed more than the police wanted to say, but as long as he refused to confirm anything, the newspapers could only print speculations.

‘As I said, we are investigating all possible leads. We are not ruling out anything.’

He allowed the reporters to ask questions for another fifteen minutes, but he was unable to answer most of them, either because he didn’t know the answer or because he didn’t want to release more details. Unfortunately, the more questions thrown at him, the clearer it became just how little the police actually knew. It had been four months since Victoria disappeared, and even longer since the girls in the other districts had gone missing. Yet there was so little to go on. Frustrated, Patrik decided the time had come to stop taking questions.

‘Bertil, is there anything you’d like to say in conclusion?’ Patrik adroitly moved aside to make Mellberg feel that he was the one who had been conducting the press conference.

‘Yes, I’d like to take this opportunity to say it was a blessing in disguise that it was in our district that the first of the missing girls was found, given the unique expertise available at our station. Under my leadership, we have solved a number of high-profile murder cases, and my list of previous successes shows that …’

Patrik interrupted him by placing a hand on his shoulder.

‘I wholeheartedly agree. We’d like to thank all of you for your questions, and we’ll stay in touch.’

Mellberg glared at him, angry at missing an opportunity for a little self-promotion, but Patrik steered him out of the room while the journalists and photographers gathered up their things. ‘Sorry about cutting in like that, but I was afraid they would miss their deadline if we kept them here any longer. After that great presentation you gave, we want to be certain they’ll file their reports in time for the morning editions.’

Patrik was ashamed of the drivel he was spouting, but it seemed to work because Mellberg’s face lit up.

‘Of course. Good thinking, Hedström. You do have your useful moments.’

‘Thanks,’ said Patrik wearily. Handling Mellberg took as much effort as running the investigation. If not more.

‘Why are you still unwilling to talk about what happened? It was so many years ago.’ Ulla, the prison therapist, peered at Laila over the rims of her red-framed glasses.

‘Why do you keep asking me about it? After so many years?’ replied Laila.

Back when she started serving her sentence she’d felt pressured by all the demands to describe everything, to open her soul and reveal the details from that day as well as the preceding period. Now it no longer bothered her. No one expected her to answer those questions; they were both just going through the motions. Laila knew that Ulla had to continue to ask about that time, and Ulla knew that Laila would continue to refuse to answer. For ten years Ulla had been the prison therapist. Her predecessors had stayed for varying lengths of time, depending on their ambitions. Tending to the psychological well-being of prisoners wasn’t particularly rewarding monetarily or in terms of career development or satisfaction at receiving good results. Most of the prisoners were beyond saving, and everybody knew it. Yet someone still had to do the job, and Ulla seemed to be the therapist who felt most content with her role. And that in turn made Laila feel calmer about being with her, even though she knew the conversation would never lead anywhere.

‘You seem to look forward to Erica Falck’s visits,’ said Ulla now, startling Laila. This was a new topic. Not one of the usual, familiar subjects that they danced around. She felt her hands start to shake as they lay on her lap. She didn’t like new questions. Ulla was aware of this and she fell silent, waiting for a reply.

Aware that her usual replies, which she could rattle off in her sleep, wouldn’t suffice, Laila couldn’t decide whether to respond or keep quiet.

‘It’s something different,’ she said at last, hoping that would be enough. But Ulla seemed unusually persistent today. Like a dog refusing to let go of a bone.

‘In what way? Do you mean it’s a break from the daily routines here? Or something else?’

Laila clasped her hands to keep them still. She found the questions confusing. She hadn’t a clue what she was hoping to achieve by meeting with Erica. She could have gone on declining Erica’s repeated requests to visit her. She could have gone on living in her own world while the years slowly passed and the only thing that changed was her face in the mirror. But how could she do that now that evil had forced its way in? Now that she realized it wasn’t simply a matter of taking new victims. Now that it was happening so close.

‘I like Erica,’ said Laila. ‘And of course her visits are a break from all the dreariness.’

‘I think there’s more to it than that,’ said Ulla, pressing her chin to her chest as she studied Laila. ‘You know what she wants. She wants to hear about what we’ve tried to talk about so many times. What you don’t want to discuss.’

‘That’s her problem. No one is forcing her to come here.’

‘True,’ said Ulla. ‘But I can’t help wondering whether deep down you’d like to tell Erica everything and in that way lighten the burden. She seems to have somehow reached you, while the rest of us have failed, in spite of all our attempts.’

Laila didn’t answer. They had tried so often, but she wasn’t sure she could have told them even if she had wanted to. It was too overwhelming. And besides, where should she begin? With their first meeting, with the evil that grew, with that last day when it happened? What sort of starting point could she possibly choose so that someone else would understand what even she found inexplicable?

‘Is it possible that you’ve fallen into a pattern with us, that you’ve kept everything inside for so long that you just can’t let it out?’ asked Ulla, tilting her head to one side. Laila wondered whether psychologists were taught to adopt that pose. Every therapist she’d ever met did the same thing.

‘What does it matter now? It was all so long ago.’

‘Yes, but you’re still here. And I think in part that’s your own doing. You don’t seem to have any desire to lead a normal life outside these prison walls.’

If Ulla only knew how right she was. Laila did not want to live outside of the prison; she had no idea how she would manage that. But that wasn’t the whole truth. She didn’t dare. She didn’t dare live in the same world as the evil she had seen close-up. The prison was the only place where she felt safe. Perhaps it wasn’t much of a life, but it was hers, and the only one she knew.

‘I don’t want to talk any more,’ said Laila, standing up.

Ulla’s gaze didn’t waver, seeming to go right through her. Laila hoped not. There were certain things she hoped no one would ever see.

Normally it was Dan who took the girls to the stable, but today he was busy at work, so Anna had driven them there instead. She felt a childish joy that Dan had asked her to step in, that he had asked her anything at all. But she wished she could have avoided the stable. She had a deep-seated dislike of horses. The big animals frightened her. It was a fear stemming from her childhood when she had been forced to take riding lessons. Her mother Elsy had decided that she and Erica should learn to ride, leading to two years’ torment for both sisters. It had been a mystery to Anna why the other girls at the stable were so obsessed with horses. Personally she found them totally unreliable, and her pulse would still race at the memory of how it felt to cling to a rearing animal. No doubt the horses could sense her fear from far away, but that made no difference. Right now she was thinking of simply dropping off Emma and Lisen and then retreating to a safe distance.

‘Tyra!’ Emma jumped out of the car and rushed over to a girl walking across the yard. She threw herself at Tyra, who gathered her up and swung her around.

‘You’ve grown tall since the last time I saw you! Soon you’ll be taller than me,’ said Tyra with a smile. Emma’s face lit up with joy. Tyra was her favourite of the girls who were always hanging about the riding school. She was devoted to her.

Anna went over to them. Lisen had run straight into the stable as soon as she got out of the car. She wouldn’t reappear until it was time to go home.

‘How are you feeling today?’ she asked, patting Tyra on the shoulder.

‘Awful,’ said Tyra. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she looked as though she hadn’t slept.

From the other side of the yard someone approached in the fading afternoon light, and Anna saw that it was Marta Persson.

‘Hi,’ she said as Marta came closer. ‘How’s it going?’

She had always found Marta to be incredibly attractive, with her sharp features, high cheekbones, and dark hair, but today she looked tired and worn out.

‘Things are a bit chaotic,’ replied Marta curtly. ‘Where’s Dan? You don’t usually come here voluntarily.’

‘He had to work overtime. They’re having teacher evaluations this week.’

Dan was at heart a fisherman, but since fishing could not provide him with a living in Fjällbacka, he had taken a teaching job in Tanumshede years ago to supplement his income. The fishing had gradually become a sideline, but he struggled to earn enough so he could at least hold on to his boat.

‘Isn’t it time for the girls’ lesson?’ asked Anna, glancing at her watch. It was almost five.

‘It’s going to be a shorter lesson today. Jonas and I feel it’s important to tell the girls about Victoria. You’re welcome to stay if you like. It might be nice for Emma to have you here.’

Marta headed indoors. They followed her into the conference room and sat down along with the other girls. Lisen was already there, and she gave Anna a sombre look.

Marta and Jonas stood next to each other, waiting for the buzz of voices to die down.

‘I’m sure you’ve all heard about what happened,’ Marta began. Everyone nodded.

‘Victoria is dead,’ said Tyra quietly. Big tears ran down her cheeks, and she wiped them on her shirt sleeve.

Marta didn’t seem to know what else to say, but then she took a deep breath and went on.

‘Yes, that’s right. Victoria died in hospital yesterday. We know that you’ve all been very worried about her, that you’ve missed Victoria. The fact that it should end like this … well, it’s terrible.’

Anna saw Marta turn to her husband for support. Jonas nodded and then spoke.

‘It’s terribly difficult for any of us to understand how something like this could happen. I suggest that we hold a minute’s silence to honour Victoria and her family. It’s worse for them than for anyone else right now, and I want them to know that we’re thinking of them.’ He fell silent and bowed his head.

Everyone followed his example. The clock in the conference room ticked quietly, and when the minute was up, Anna opened her eyes. All the girls were looking scared and anxious.

Marta took the floor again. ‘We don’t know any more than you do about what happened to Victoria. But the police will probably come here to talk with us again. Then we’ll find out more. And I want everyone to be available to answer the officers’ questions.’

‘But we don’t know anything. We’ve already talked to them several times, and nobody knows a thing,’ said Tindra, a tall blonde that Anna had spoken to on one occasion.

‘I know it may seem like that, but maybe there’s something you don’t realize might help. Just answer the questions the police ask.’ Jonas fixed his eyes on the girls, one after the other.

‘Okay,’ they murmured.

‘Good. We all need to do whatever we can to help,’ said Marta. ‘So now it’s time for the riding lesson. We’re all still feeling the shock, but maybe it would be good to think about something else for a while. So let’s get going.’

Anna took Emma and Lisen by the hand and headed for the stable. The two girls seemed surprisingly calm. With a lump in her throat, Anna watched as they got the horses ready. Then the girls led them into the riding hall and mounted them. She didn’t feel nearly as composed. Even though her son had lived only a week, she knew how desperately painful it was to lose a child.

She went over to sit on a bench. Suddenly she heard someone weeping quietly behind her. When she turned around, she saw Tyra sitting further up, with Tindra beside her.

‘What do you think happened to her?’ asked Tyra between sobs.

‘I heard that her eyes were gouged out,’ whispered Tindra.

‘What?’ Tyra practically shrieked. ‘Who told you that? When I talked with the policeman, he didn’t say anything about that.’

‘My uncle was one of the medics in the ambulance that picked her up yesterday. He said both her eyes were gone.’

‘Oh, no,’ moaned Tyra, bending forward. It looked like she was going to vomit.

‘Do you think it’s someone we know?’ said Tindra with ill-concealed excitement.

‘Are you crazy?’ said Tyra, and Anna realized that she needed to put an end to this conversation.

‘That’s enough,’ she said as she went up to the girls and put her arm around Tyra. ‘It’s no good speculating. Can’t you see that Tyra is upset?’

Tindra stood up. ‘Well, I think it has to be the same madman who murdered those other girls.’

‘We don’t know that they’re dead,’ replied Anna.

‘Of course they’re dead,’ said Tindra boldly. ‘And I bet their eyes were gouged out too.’

Anna shuddered with revulsion as she hugged Tyra’s trembling body even closer.

Patrik stepped inside the warmth of the front hall. He was bone tired. It had been a long work day, but the fatigue he felt had more to do with the responsibility that weighed him down on an investigation of this nature. Sometimes he wished he had an ordinary nine-to-five job in an office or a factory, and not a profession where someone’s fate depended on how well he did his job. He felt a great responsibility for so many people. Especially for the family members who placed their trust in the police to deliver the answers they needed if they were ever to come to terms with what had happened. Then there was the victim, who seemed to plead with him to find the person who had prematurely put an end to her life. But his greatest responsibility was to the missing girls who might still be alive, and for those who might be at risk from the kidnapper. As long as the perpetrator was on the loose and unidentified, more girls might disappear. Girls who lived, breathed, and laughed, unaware that their days were numbered because of some sadistic murderer.

‘Pappa!’ A little human projectile threw himself at Patrik, followed instantly by two more, which meant that they all ended up in a heap on the floor. The melted snow on the doormat was seeping into his trousers, but he didn’t care. It was good to have his children so near. For a few seconds everything was perfect, but then the bickering started.

‘Hey!’ Anton screamed. ‘Noel pinched me!’

‘No!’ cried Noel. And as if to show that he hadn’t, he gave his brother a pinch. Anton howled and flailed his arms about.

‘All right now …’ Patrik separated the boys and tried to look stern. Maja stood off to one side, imitating his expression.

‘No pinching!’ she said, wagging her finger at her brothers. ‘If you keep fighting, you’ll get a dime-out.’ Patrik had to stop himself from laughing. When she was much younger, Maja had misunderstood the expression ‘time-out’, and it had been impossible to get her to say it correctly.

‘Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll handle this,’ he said, getting up and holding the twins by the hand.

‘Mamma, the twins are fighting,’ called Maja as she ran to Erica in the kitchen. Patrik followed with his sons.

‘Really?’ said Erica, her eyes wide. ‘They’re fighting? Never!’ She smiled and kissed Patrik on the cheek. ‘Dinner is ready, so let’s stop all the fuss. Maybe pancakes will improve everyone’s mood.’

That did the trick. After the children had finished eating and settled in front of the TV to watch Bolibompa, Erica and Patrik were able to enjoy a rare moment of peace and quiet at the kitchen table.

‘How’s it going?’ asked Erica, sipping her tea.

‘We’ve hardly begun.’ Patrik reached for the sugar bowl and dumped five teaspoonfuls into his cup. Right now he didn’t want to think about any diet rules. Erica had been watching his food intake like a hawk ever since he’d developed heart problems at the same time the twins were born. But tonight she didn’t say a word. He closed his eyes, savouring the first taste of the piping hot and very sweet tea.

‘Half the town was out in the woods today helping us, but we didn’t find anything. And then there was the press conference this afternoon. Have you already seen the news about it online?’

Erica nodded. She hesitated as if debating her next move, then got up and took the last of Kristina’s homemade buns out of the freezer. She put them on a plate and stuck it in the microwave. A minute later the delicious fragrance of butter and cinnamon filled the kitchen.

‘Isn’t there a risk of destroying evidence with half of Fjällbacka tramping through the woods?’

‘Sure. Of course. But we have no idea how far she walked or where she came from, and by this morning the snow had already obliterated any footprints. I thought it was worth the risk.’

‘So how did the press conference go?’ Erica took the plate out of the microwave and set it on the table.

‘There’s not much we can tell the press. Mostly it was reporters asking questions that we couldn’t answer.’ Patrik reached for a bun but swore and quickly dropped it back on the plate.

‘Let them cool off a bit.’

‘Thanks for telling me.’ He blew on his fingers.

‘Was it because of the ongoing investigation that you couldn’t answer?’

‘I wish that was the reason. But the fact is we haven’t got a clue. When Victoria disappeared it was like she went up in smoke. Not a trace left behind. No one saw anything, no one heard anything, and there were no links to the other missing girls. Then all of a sudden she just reappeared.’

Neither of them spoke as Patrik touched the buns again and decided they had cooled off enough to eat.

‘I heard something about her injuries,’ said Erica cautiously.

Patrik paused before saying anything. He wasn’t supposed to discuss the girl’s injuries, but obviously word had already spread, and he needed to talk to someone. Erica was not only his wife, she was also his best friend. Besides, she had a much keener mind than he did.

‘It’s all true. Although I don’t know what you heard.’ He was buying himself a little time by chewing on a cinnamon bun, but suddenly he lost his appetite, and it didn’t taste as good as it should.

‘I heard she had no eyes.’

‘Yes, her eyes were … gone. We don’t know how it was done. Pedersen is doing the autopsy early tomorrow morning.’ He hesitated again. ‘And her tongue had been cut out.’

‘Good Lord,’ said Erica. Now she lost her appetite too. She set a half-eaten bun back on the plate.

‘How long ago did it happen?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Were the injuries new or had they healed?’

‘Good question. But I don’t know. I hope to get all the details from Pedersen tomorrow.’

‘Could it be some religious thing? Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth? Or some horrible expression of hatred for women? She wasn’t supposed to look at him, and she was supposed to keep quiet.’

Erica waved her hands about as she talked, and as always Patrik was impressed with the shrewdness of his wife’s mind. Such thoughts hadn’t occurred to him when he was trying to speculate about a possible motive.

‘What about her ears?’ Erica went on.

‘What about her ears?’ He leaned forward, getting crumbs on his hands.

‘Well, I was just wondering about something … What if the person who did this, the one who took away her ability to see and speak, also damaged her hearing? If so, she would have been in a sort of bubble, without any means to communicate. Think about what power that would give the perpetrator.’

Patrik stared at her. He tried to imagine what Erica had just described, but the mere idea made his blood run cold. What a horrifying fate. If that was true, then it might have been a blessing that Victoria hadn’t survived, even though it seemed cold-hearted to think such a thing.

‘Mamma, they’re fighting again.’ Maja stood in the kitchen doorway. Patrik glanced at the clock on the wall.

‘Oh, it’s time for bed.’ He got up. ‘Shall we do rock, paper, scissors?’

Erica shook her head and got up to kiss him on the cheek.

‘If you put Maja to bed, I’ll take care of the boys tonight.’

‘Thanks,’ he said and took his daughter by the hand. They headed for the stairs as Maja chattered about what she had done during the day. But Patrik wasn’t listening. His thoughts were on the girl inside the bubble.

Jonas slammed the front door so hard that Marta came rushing out of the kitchen, then stood leaning against the doorjamb with her arms folded. He could tell that she’d been expecting this conversation, and her calm demeanour made him even angrier.

‘I just talked to Molly. What the hell were you thinking? Shouldn’t we be making decisions like this together?’

‘Yes, we should. But sometimes you don’t seem to understand what has to be done.’

He forced himself to take a deep breath. Marta knew that a disagreement about Molly was the only thing that could make him lose his temper.

Jonas lowered his voice. ‘She’s been looking forward to this competition. It’s the first one of the season.’

Marta turned around and went back into the kitchen.

‘I’m making dinner. You’ll have to come in here if you want to argue.’

He hung up his jacket, took off his boots, and swore as he set his feet on the floor. His socks were instantly soaked from the snow he’d tracked in. It was never a good thing when Marta decided to cook. The smell coming from the kitchen did not bode well.

‘I’m sorry for yelling.’ He went over to stand behind his wife, placing his hands on her shoulders. She was stirring something in a pot, and he looked down to see what it was. He couldn’t tell what was simmering inside, but whatever it was, it didn’t look appetizing.

‘Sausage stroganoff,’ she said in reply to his unspoken question.

‘Could you just explain to me why?’ he said gently as he continued to massage her shoulders. He knew her so well, knew that it would do no good to shout and scream. So he was trying a different tactic. He had promised Molly that he would at least try. She had been inconsolable when she told him about Marta’s decision, and the front of his shirt was still wet from her tears.

‘It would look insensitive if we went to the competition right now. Molly needs to learn that the world does not revolve around her.’

‘I don’t think anybody would object if she …’ he ventured.

Marta turned around and looked up at him. He had always found it endearing that she was so much shorter than he was. It made him feel strong, like he was her protector. But in his heart he knew that was not the case. She was stronger than him and always had been.

‘But don’t you understand? You know how people talk. It’s obvious we can’t allow Molly to compete after what happened yesterday. The riding school is barely breaking even, and our reputation is our most important asset. We can’t risk it. So we’ll just have to let Molly sulk. You should have heard the way she spoke to me today. It’s not acceptable. You let her get away with far too much.’

Jonas reluctantly had to admit that she was right. But that was not the whole truth, and she knew it. Jonas pulled her close, feeling her body against his own and the current that passed between them, as always. He would always feel it. Nothing was stronger. Not even his love for Molly.

‘I’ll talk to her,’ he said with his lips pressed against Marta’s hair. He inhaled her scent, so familiar yet still so exotic. He felt himself responding, and Marta did too. She moved her hand down to his crotch and began stroking him through his trousers. He groaned and leaned down to kiss her.

The stroganoff on the stove was burning, but they didn’t care.