Buried Angels

Chapter Eight

Erica felt a twinge of guilt even though she hadn’t actually lied to Patrik, she just hadn’t told him the whole truth. Last night she had wanted to discuss her plans with him, but she couldn’t find the right moment. And besides, he was in such a peculiar mood. When she’d asked about his day, he had avoided telling her anything and they’d ended up spending the evening in silence in front of the TV. So she’d worry about it later when she had to explain where she’d been.

Erica sped up and turned the boat to port. She thought with gratitude of her father, Tore, who had taught his daughters to steer a boat. It was an obligation, he always said, to know how to handle a boat if you lived near the sea. And if Erica was being honest, she was better than Patrik when it came to docking, even though she let him do it, for the sake of peace in the house. Men had such fragile egos.

She waved to one of the Coast Guard boats heading towards Fjällbacka. It seemed to be coming from Valö, and she wondered why it had gone out there. But she quickly dismissed the thought as she focused on docking the boat, elegantly sliding it up to the wharf. To her surprise she was feeling nervous. After devoting so much time to the story, it felt a little strange to be meeting one of the main characters in real life. She picked up her handbag and jumped ashore.

It had been ages since she’d been out to Valö. Like most natives of Fjällbacka, she associated the island with camps and school expeditions. She could almost smell the grilled pigs-in-a-blanket on skewers as she walked among the trees.

As she drew close to the house, she stopped in surprise at the feverish activity going on there. Standing on the steps was a familiar figure, waving his arms about. She started walking towards him, picking up her pace until she was practically jogging.

‘Hi, Torbjörn!’ She waved and finally caught his attention. ‘What are you lot doing out here?’

He stared at her in astonishment. ‘Erica? I could ask you the same question. Does Patrik know you’re here?’

‘I don’t think so. But tell me what you’re doing.’

Torbjörn seemed to be considering how much to tell her.

‘The owners made a discovery inside the house yesterday, when they were working on the renovation,’ he said at last.

‘A discovery? Did they find the family that disappeared? Where?’

Torbjörn shook his head. ‘I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.’

‘Could I come in and have a look?’ She started to climb the steps.

‘No, I’m sorry. I can’t let anyone come in. We can’t have unauthorized people running around while we’re working.’ He smiled. ‘I assume you’ve come to see the couple that lives here. They’re out back, in the yard.’

Erica retreated. ‘Okay,’ she said, unable to hide her disappointment.

She walked along the side of the house, and when she turned the corner, she saw a man and a woman who seemed to be about the same age as herself. They were staring at the house, their expressions grim. They were not talking to each other.

Erica paused for a moment. She’d been so full of enthusiasm and curiosity that she hadn’t given any thought as to how she would explain the purpose of her visit. But her hesitation lasted only a few seconds. It was part of her job, after all, to ask nosy questions and root around in other people’s secrets and tragedies. She had long ago conquered her own doubts, and she knew that afterwards many of the family members had liked her books. Besides, it was always easier when the incident, as in this case, had happened in the distant past. Usually by this time the wounds had healed and the tragedies had begun to be transformed into history.

‘Hi!’ she called, and the couple turned to look at her. Then the woman gave her a smile of recognition.

‘I know you. You’re Erica Falck. I’ve read all your books, and I love them,’ she said. Then she abruptly fell silent, as if embarrassed at being so forward.

‘Hi. You must be Ebba.’ Erica shook her hand. It felt so vulnerable in her grasp, but the calluses on the palm bore witness to how hard she’d been working on the renovation. ‘I’m so glad you like my books.’

Still a bit shy, Ebba introduced her husband, and Erica shook hands with him too.

‘Perfect timing,’ said Ebba as she sat down again and then waited for Erica to take a seat too.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, I assume that you want to write about my family disappearing. So you’ve come on the right day.’

‘I heard that you found something in the house,’ said Erica.

‘Yes, we discovered it when we broke up the floor in the dining room,’ said Tobias. ‘We weren’t sure what it was, but it looked like blood. The police came and had a look, and they decided to investigate closer. That’s why all these people are here.’

Erica began to understand why Patrik had been so evasive when she asked him what had happened. She wondered what he thought about all this, whether he suspected that the family had been killed in the dining room and then their bodies taken away. She wanted to ask the couple whether they’d found anything other than blood, but she restrained herself.

‘It must be terribly upsetting for you. I can’t deny that the case has interested me, but for you, Ebba, it’s so personal.’

Ebba shook her head. ‘I was so young at the time, I don’t remember my family. I can’t grieve for people that I don’t remember. It’s not like…’ She stopped and looked away.

‘I think my husband, Patrik Hedström, was one of the police officers who was out here. And he came to see you on Saturday too. I heard that you were the victims of a nasty incident.’

‘That’s one way to describe it. And it was definitely nasty. I can’t understand why anyone would want to harm us.’ Tobias threw out his hands.

‘Patrik thinks it might have something to do with what happened here in 1974,’ said Erica before she could stop herself. She swore under her breath, knowing how furious Patrik would be if it turned out her revelation could have an impact on the investigation.

‘How could it be related? That happened so long ago.’ Ebba turned to gaze at the house. From where they were sitting, they couldn’t see what was going on, but they could hear the sound of wood splitting as the floor was broken apart.

‘If it’s okay with you, I’d like to ask a few questions about the disappearance,’ said Erica.

Ebba nodded. ‘Sure. As I said to your husband, I don’t think I have much to contribute, but go ahead and ask.’

‘Would it be all right if I record our conversation?’ Erica said as she removed a tape recorder from her handbag.

Tobias cast an enquiring glance at Ebba, who shrugged. ‘I don’t mind.’

As the tape began rolling, Erica felt her stomach tingle with anticipation. She hadn’t sought out Ebba when she lived in Göteborg, even though she’d often thought about it. But now she was right here, and maybe Erica could find out some detail that would move her research forward.

‘Do you have anything left that belonged to your parents? Any items you took with you from here?’

‘No, nothing. My adoptive parents told me that I had only a little suitcase filled with clothes when I came to them. And I don’t think I brought it from here. According to Mamma, some nice people sewed the clothes for me and embroidered my initials on them. I still have those clothes. Mamma saved them for me in case I ever had a daughter of my own.’

‘No letters? No photographs?’ asked Erica.

‘No. I’ve never seen any.’

‘Did your parents have any relatives who might have kept things like that?’

‘No one. I told that to your husband too. From what I understand, my grandparents on both sides were dead, and apparently my parents had no siblings. If there are any distant relatives, they’ve never tried to contact me. And no one wanted to take me in.’

That sounded terribly sad, and Erica gave her a sympathetic look, but Ebba smiled.

‘There’s no need to feel sorry for me. I have a mother and a father who love me, and two wonderful siblings. I’ve never wanted for anything.’

Erica returned her smile. ‘Not many people can say that.’

She could feel herself warming to this petite woman sitting across from her.

‘Do you know much about your biological parents?’

‘No. I suppose I’ve never really been interested in finding out. Of course I’ve always wondered what happened, but I suppose I didn’t want to let any of that into my own life. Maybe I worried that if I showed an interest in my biological parents it might make Mamma and Pappa feel as if they weren’t good enough.’

‘Do you think you’d be more interested in tracking down your roots if the two of you had children of your own?’ asked Erica cautiously. She didn’t know much about Ebba and Tobias, and this might be a sensitive issue.

‘We had a son,’ said Ebba.

Erica flinched as if she’d been slapped. That was not the answer she was expecting. She wanted to ask more, but Ebba’s body language clearly showed that she had no intention of discussing this topic.

‘You might say that moving here was one way for Ebba to seek out her roots,’ said Tobias.

He nervously shifted position on the bench, and Erica noticed that the couple had unconsciously moved away from each other, as if they couldn’t bear to be too close. The mood was suddenly tense, and she felt like an intruder, witnessing something very private.

‘I’ve been doing some research about your family history, and I’ve found out quite a lot. Just let me know if you’re interested in seeing what I discovered. I have all my notes at home,’ she said.

‘That’s nice of you,’ said Ebba without enthusiasm, as if what energy she’d possessed had drained out of her.

Realizing there was no use continuing the conversation, Erica stood up.

‘Thank you for taking the time to talk to me. I’ll get back to you again, or you can always call me.’ She took out her notebook to write down her phone number and email address. Then she tore off the page and handed it to them. She turned off the tape recorder and put it back in her handbag.

‘You know where to find us. All we do is work on the house twenty-four seven,’ said Tobias.

‘That’s what I heard. Can you do all the work yourselves?’

‘That’s what we planned. At least as much as possible.’

‘If you know anyone around with an eye for interior design, let us know,’ Ebba interjected. ‘Tobias and I are hopeless at that sort of thing.’

Erica was about to say she didn’t know of anyone when an idea came to her.

‘I know a great person who I’m sure could help out. Let me get back to you about it.’

She said goodbye and walked around to the front of the house. Torbjörn was standing outside, giving instructions to two members of his team.

‘How’s it going?’ called Erica, trying to be heard over the whine of a chainsaw.

‘None of your business,’ yelled Torbjörn. ‘But I’ll ring your husband and give him my report later on. So you can ask him about it tonight.’

Erica laughed and waved. As she walked down to the dock, her expression turned serious. What had happened to the Elvander family’s belongings? Why did Ebba and Tobias behave so oddly towards each other? What happened to their son? And most important of all: Were they telling the truth when they said they had no idea who had tried to burn down the house? The conversation with Ebba may not have been as productive as she’d hoped, but her mind was a whirl of activity as she started up the boat and headed for home.

Gösta was muttering to himself. Mellberg’s criticism didn’t really bother him, but it seemed so unnecessary to complain about the fact that he’d taken home investigative material. Wasn’t it more important that he’d saved everybody a lot of time? It was difficult to find information that had been gathered in the days before computers were in common use, and he’d spared them the job of wading through the archives in search of the files.

He set pen and paper next to him and opened the first folder. How many hours of his life had he spent studying these photographs, going through the interview transcripts and the reports from the crime scene inspection? Yet if they were to do this properly, he had to be as methodical as possible. Patrik had assigned him the task of making a list and prioritizing who they should re-interview from the original investigation. They couldn’t talk to everybody at once, so it was important that they started with the key witnesses.

Gösta slumped on his chair as he ploughed through the interviews, which said so little. Since he had read them countless times before, he knew there was nothing concrete to be gleaned from them. It was a matter of focusing on the nuances and reading between the lines. But he was having a hard time concentrating. His thoughts kept shifting to the little lass who had grown into a woman. It had been very odd to see her again and to have a flesh-and-blood image to add to the one he had conjured up in his imagination.

He shifted on his chair impatiently. It had been years since he’d shown any interest in his work, and for all that he was keen to do this task right, his brain didn’t want to obey the new instructions he was trying to send. He put the reports aside and instead went slowly through the photographs, which included a picture of the boys who had stayed at the school over the holiday. Gösta closed his eyes and thought back to that sunny but chilly day before Easter Sunday in 1974. He and his now deceased colleague, Henry Ljung, had walked up towards the big white house. Everything was so quiet, almost eerily quiet, or maybe that was just something he imagined after the fact. But he definitely remembered shivering as they made their way along the path. He and Henry had exchanged glances, uncertain what they would encounter after the strange phone call to the station. The police chief at the time had assigned the two of them to check it out. ‘It’s probably some kids playing a joke on us,’ he said and then sent them off – mostly so his back would be covered if, against all odds, it turned out to be something more than a childish prank by some bored rich kids. They’d had a lot of problems at the start of the autumn term when the school opened, but after the police chief gave Rune Elvander a call, the trouble had stopped. Gösta had no idea how the headmaster had managed it, but whatever he’d done, it had worked. Until now.

He and Henry had come to a halt outside the front door. Not a sound could be heard from inside. Then the loud, shrill cries of a child pierced the silence and roused them from the temporary inertia that seemed to have settled over them. They knocked once and then went in. ‘Hello?’ called Gösta. And now, as he sat here at his desk in the station so many years later, he wondered how he was able to remember everything in such detail. Nobody had replied, but the child’s cries got louder. They hurried towards the sound and then stopped abruptly as they entered the dining room. A little girl was tottering about all alone, crying her heart out. Instinctively Gösta rushed over and picked her up.

‘Where’s the rest of the family?’ said Henry, peering around. ‘Hello?’ he shouted and then went back to the hall.

No answer.

‘I’ll check upstairs,’ he said, and Gösta nodded, fully occupied with trying to soothe the little girl.

He’d never held a child before, so he was uncertain what to do to make her stop crying. Awkwardly he rocked her in his arms, stroking her back and humming a tune. To his surprise, it worked. The little girl’s cries subsided to a few sobs, and he could feel her chest rise and fall as she leaned her head on his shoulder. Gösta continued to rock her as he hummed, filled with emotions that he couldn’t put into words.

Henry came back into the dining room shaking his head. ‘There’s nobody up there either.’

‘Where could they have gone? How could they leave such a little girl all alone? Something terrible could have happened to her.’

‘Yes, and who the hell made that phone call?’ Henry took off his cap and scratched his head.

‘Do you think they’ve gone out for a walk around the island?’ Gösta cast a sceptical glance at the table with the half-eaten Easter food. ‘But in the middle of lunch? They must be pretty odd to do something like that.’

‘That’s for sure.’ Henry put his cap back on. ‘And what’s this sweet little girl doing here all alone?’ he cooed, moving towards the child in Gösta’s arms.

She immediately started to cry, clinging so tightly to Gösta’s neck that he could hardly breathe.

‘Leave her alone,’ he said, taking a step back.

A sense of warm contentment filled his chest, and he wondered if this was what it would have been like if their boy had lived – the son that he and Maj-Britt had had. He quickly dismissed the thought. He had made up his mind not to think about what might have been.

‘Was their boat down there?’ he asked after a moment when the child had stopped crying.

Henry frowned. ‘There was a boat tied up at the dock, but don’t they have two? I think they bought Sten-Ivar’s boat last fall, and all I saw was the Fiberglas boat. But would they really set off in the boat and leave the little girl behind? Surely they can’t be that crazy, even if they are city folk.’

‘Inez is from here,’ Gösta automatically corrected him. ‘Her family is from Fjällbacka and goes back generations.’

Henry sighed. ‘Well, it’s definitely strange. I suppose we’ll have to take the child to the mainland with us and then wait for somebody to show up.’ He turned to leave.

‘The table is set for six,’ said Gösta.

‘Yes, but it’s the Easter holiday, so presumably only the family are here.’

‘Should we leave things like this?’ The situation was odd, to say the least, and the departure from routine made Gösta uneasy. He paused to think. ‘Okay, we’ll do as you suggest and take the girl with us. If we don’t hear from anyone, we’ll come out here tomorrow. If they’re not back by that time, we’ll have to assume that something has happened to them. And in that case, this is a crime scene.’

Still not sure that they were doing the right thing, they went outside, closing the front door behind them. They walked down towards the dock, and when they were only a short distance away, they saw a boat approaching on the water.

‘Look, there’s Sten-Ivar’s boat,’ said Henry, pointing.

‘I can see several people in the boat. Maybe that’s the rest of the family.’

‘If it is, I’m going to give them a piece of my mind. How could they leave this little girl here like this? They deserve a good thrashing.’

Henry strode down to the dock. Gösta had to jog to keep up, but he didn’t dare go any faster for fear of stumbling and dropping the child. The boat pulled up to the dock, and a boy who looked about fifteen jumped out. He had raven-black hair and he was glaring at them angrily.

‘What are you doing with Ebba?’ he snarled.

‘And who might you be?’ asked Henry when the boy took up position in front of him, his hands on his hips.

Four more boys climbed out of the boat and came over to Henry and Gösta, who had now joined his colleague.

‘Where are Inez and Rune?’ asked the boy with the black hair. The others stood behind him, silently waiting. It was clear that he was the leader of the group.

‘That’s what we’d like to know too,’ said Gösta. ‘Somebody rang the police station to say that something had happened here, and when we arrived, we found the girl all alone in the house.’

The boy stared at him in surprise. ‘Ebba was all alone?’

So her name is Ebba, thought Gösta. This little girl whose heart was beating fast against his own.

‘Are you Rune’s students?’ Henry now wanted to know, speaking with the voice of authority, but the boy didn’t seem intimidated. He calmly stared at the officer and replied politely:

‘We’re pupils at the school. We’re staying here over the holiday.’

‘Where have you been?’ Gösta gave them a stern glare.

‘We went out in the boat early this morning. The family was going to have Easter lunch, but we weren’t invited. So we went out fishing instead, to “build character”.’

‘Catch anything?’ Henry’s tone of voice showed that he didn’t believe the boy’s story.

‘We caught a whole shitload of fish,’ replied the boy, pointing at the boat.

Gösta looked in that direction and saw the towline tied firmly to the stern.

‘You’ll need to come with us to the station until we work out what’s going on,’ said Henry, leading the way to his own boat.

‘Can’t we wash up first? We’re filthy, and we stink of fish,’ said one of the boys, sounding alarmed.

‘Do as the officer said,’ snapped the boy who seemed to be in charge. ‘Of course we’ll go along. I apologize if we’ve been rude. It made us nervous to see strangers with Ebba. My name is Leon Kreutz.’ He reached out to shake hands with Gösta.

Henry had already gone on board the boat and was waiting for them. Holding Ebba in his arms, Gösta followed the boys. He cast one last glance up at the house. Where on earth was the family? What had happened here?

Gösta returned to the present. His memories were so vivid that he could almost feel the warmth of the little girl in his arms. He sat up straight and pulled a photo from the stack. The picture was taken at the station on that Easter eve. It showed the five boys: Leon Kreutz, Sebastian Månsson, John Holm, Percy von Bahrn, and Josef Meyer. Their hair was dishevelled, their clothes dirty, their expressions sombre. All except Leon. He was smiling cheerfully at the camera, and he looked older than his sixteen years. He was a handsome boy, almost beautiful, Gösta realized as he stared at the old photo. He hadn’t really given it much thought back then. He leafed through the investigative material. Leon Kreutz. I wonder what he’s done with his life? Gösta jotted down a note. Of the five boys, it was Leon who had left the strongest impression on his memory. He’d be a good person to start with.