Buried Angels

Chapter Sixteen

This time he’d gone out to the granite quarry alone. If Josef was being honest, he didn’t particularly care for the company of other people. What he was seeking was to be found only if he looked inward. It was not something anyone else could give him. Sometimes he wished that he had been different – or rather, more like other people. He wished he was able to feel a sense of belonging, that he was part of something, but he refused to let even his own family get close to him. The knot in his chest was too hard, and he felt like a child pressing his nose against a toy-shop window, staring at all the marvels inside without daring to open the door. Something stopped him from going inside, from reaching out his hand.

He sat down on a block of granite, and his thoughts turned again to his mother and father. Ten years had passed since their death, but he still felt lost without them. And he was ashamed that he’d kept his secret from them. His father had always emphasized the importance of trust, of being honest and speaking the truth, and he had let Josef know that he realized his son was keeping something from him. But how could he have told them? Certain secrets were too big, and his parents had sacrificed so much for his sake.

During the war they had lost everything: relatives, friends, possessions, security, their homeland. Everything except their faith and their hopes for a better life. While they suffered, Albert Speer had walked around here, pointing and shouting and ordering stone to build the foremost city in the empire that was built on blood. Josef didn’t know whether Speer had actually been here in person, but no doubt one of his henchmen had strutted about the quarry outside of Fjällbacka.

The war did not seem like an event from the distant past. Every day of his childhood Josef had heard stories about how the Jews had been hunted down and humiliated, what the smoke smelled like as it poured from the chimneys in the camps, and how the horrified expressions of the liberating soldiers reflected their degradation. Sweden had welcomed them with open arms but at the same time stubbornly refused to acknowledge its own role in the war. Every day his father had talked about this, about how his new country needed to acknowledge the crimes it had committed, until it was imprinted on Josef’s mind as indelibly as the numbers tattooed on his parents’ arms.

Clasping his hands in prayer, he gazed up at the sky. He prayed for the strength to carry on his heritage, to be able to cope with Sebastian and the past that now threatened to destroy what he was planning to accomplish. The years had passed so swiftly, and he’d been good at forgetting. A man could create his own past. He had wanted to erase that particular part of his life, and he wished that Sebastian had done the same.

Josef got up, brushing off the granite dust from his trousers. He hoped that God had heard his prayers, in this place that symbolized both what might have been and what was now about to be built. From this stone he would create knowledge, and from that knowledge would come understanding and peace. He would pay off the debt to his ancestors, to the Jews who had been tormented and oppressed. Later, when his mission was complete, the shame would be erased for good.

Erica’s mobile rang, but she didn’t pick up. It was her publisher, and no matter what the reason for the call, it would require more time than she had at the moment.

For the hundredth time she looked around her work room. She hated the feeling that someone had been in here, snooping amongst things that she considered strictly private. Who could it have been? And what was he or she looking for? She was so lost in her own thoughts that she flinched when she heard the front door open and close.

Quickly she ran out of the room and down the stairs. Patrik and Gösta were standing in the front hall.

‘Hi! What are you doing here?’

Gösta evaded her eye and looked very uncomfortable. Their secret agreement did not seem to be something he could accept with equanimity, and she couldn’t resist teasing him a bit.

‘I haven’t seen you in a while, Gösta. How are things?’ She could hardly conceal her smile as she watched him turn bright red. Even his earlobes were pink.

‘Hmm… fine,’ he muttered, staring at his shoes.

‘Everything okay here?’ asked Patrik.

Erica’s expression instantly turned serious. For a moment she’d managed to forget that someone had probably been inside their house. She realized that she ought to inform Patrik of her suspicions, but so far she had no proof. It was lucky he hadn’t answered his phone when she rang earlier. She knew how upset he got whenever anything affected his family. It was possible that he might send her and the children to stay somewhere else if he thought that somebody had broken into their home. So she decided not to say anything for the time being, despite the sense of unease that was nagging at her. It was all she could do to keep from glancing at the veranda door, as if at any moment someone might step inside again.

She still hadn’t answered Patrik’s question when Kristina came up from the laundry room with the children in tow.

‘What are you doing home, Patrik? Do you know what happened earlier? I practically had a heart attack. I was standing in the kitchen, making pancakes for the children, when I caught sight of Noel tottering towards the street as fast as his little legs could carry him, and I have to tell you that I caught him in the nick of time. He could have come to serious harm if I hadn’t been on hand. You must remember to shut all of the doors properly, because those little ones are fast. Something terrible might happen, and then you’d regret it for the rest of your life…’

Erica was staring at her mother-in-law, waiting to see if she was ever going to pause to draw breath.

‘I forgot to close the veranda door,’ she told Patrik without meeting his eye.

‘Okay, good advice, Mamma. We’ll have to be extra careful now that the twins are starting to get around on their own.’ He gathered up the boys, who had come rushing towards their father, throwing themselves into his arms.

‘Hi, Uncle Gösta,’ said Maja.

Gösta turned beet red again and gave Erica a desperate look. But Patrik seemed not to notice anything because he was busy playing with his sons.

After a moment he glanced up at Erica.

‘We actually dropped by to pick up my mobile. Have you seen it?’

Erica pointed towards the kitchen. ‘You left it on the bench this morning.’

Patrik went to get the phone. ‘I see you tried to call me. Was it anything special?’

‘No, I just wanted to say that I love you,’ she said, hoping he wouldn’t see through her white lie.

‘I love you too, sweetie,’ said Patrik distractedly as he studied the display. ‘I’ve got five missed calls from Annika. I’d better ring her and find out what’s up.’

Erica tried to eavesdrop on his conversation, but Kristina was chattering non-stop with Gösta so she caught only a few words. When Patrik was done with the call his expression told her it was bad news.

‘A shooting on Valö. Someone fired into the house. Anna is out there too. Annika said she was the one who rang the station.’

Erica’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Anna? Is she okay? Was she hurt? Who…?’ She could hear how incoherent she sounded, but the only thing she could think of was that something might have happened to Anna.

‘From what I understand, no one was hurt. That’s the good news.’ He turned to Gösta. ‘The bad news is that Annika was forced to ring Mellberg when she couldn’t reach us.’

‘Mellberg?’ said Gösta, his expression dubious.

‘Yes. So we’d better get out there as fast as we can.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re going out there if somebody’s shooting,’ said Kristina, putting her hands on her hips.

‘Of course we are. That’s my job,’ said Patrik, annoyed.

Kristina gave an offended snort, tossed her head, and went into the living room.

‘I’m coming with you,’ said Erica.

‘Not on your life.’

‘If Anna is there, I’m coming.’

Patrik shook his head. ‘There’s some lunatic shooting at people out there. No way I’m letting you come!’

‘The place will be crawling with police, so what could possibly happen? I’ll be perfectly safe.’ She began tying the laces on her white trainers.

‘And who’ll take care of the kids?’

‘I’m sure Kristina can stay here and mind them.’ She stood up and gave him a look that said it would do no good to protest.

On their way down to the boat, Erica felt her concern for her sister growing with every heartbeat. Patrik could sulk as much as he liked: Anna was her responsibility.

‘Pyttan? Where are you?’ Percy said in surprise as he walked through the flat. She hadn’t told him that she was going anywhere.

They’d come to Stockholm for a few days to attend a friend’s sixtieth birthday celebration, an event they didn’t think they could miss. Countless members of the Swedish aristocracy were bound to turn up for the occasion, along with some VIPs from the business world – although they weren’t necessarily considered VIPs at such gatherings. The hierarchy was firmly established, and being the CEO of one of the biggest corporations in Sweden counted for nothing if the individual in question didn’t have the proper background, the proper surname, and hadn’t attended the proper schools.

Percy met all of the above criteria. Until recently, he’d never given it a second thought. His social standing had been part of his life, something he took for granted. The problem was that he now risked becoming a count without a manor, and that would have dire consquences. He wouldn’t land as far down the social ladder as the nouveau riche, but he would definitely find himself demoted.

In the living room he stopped in front of the drinks cart to pour himself a tumbler of Mackmyra Preludium, which cost almost 5,000 kronor a bottle. If he had to resort to drinking Jim Beam whisky, he might as well take his father’s old Luger and shoot himself in the head.

What weighed on him most was the knowledge that he had failed his father. He was the eldest son and had always received preferential treatment. And the old man had never made any bones about it. In a matter-of-fact tone, without any show of emotion, he had told his two younger children, ‘Percy is special. He’s the one who will take over one day.’ Secretly Percy had felt a certain glee whenever the old man put his siblings in their place. It made up for the knowledge that his father considered him weak, timid, and spoiled rotten. Perhaps it was true that his mother had been overly protective towards him, but he had been born two months premature, so small and frail that he was not expected to survive. For the first and last time in his life, Percy had shown great resilience. Against all odds, he had lived, though his health remained fragile.

He gazed out across Karlaplan. The flat had a beautiful bay window facing the open square with the fountain. Holding his whisky glass, Percy watched the swarms of people below. In the winter, the square was deserted, but now the benches were fully occupied, and scores of children were playing, eating ice cream, and enjoying the sunshine.

He heard footsteps on the stairs and listened intently. Was that Pyttan? She’d probably nipped out to do some shopping; he only hoped that the bank hadn’t put a hold on their credit cards. What sort of society was he living in, anyway? Demanding an entire fortune in taxes. Those bloody communists. Percy tightened his grip on the whisky glass. Mary and Charles would relish his situation if they knew the extent of his financial problems. They were still spreading their lies about how he had evicted them from their home and robbed them of what was rightfully theirs.

Suddenly he found himself thinking about Valö. If only he’d never ended up there. Then none of it would have happened – the things he had decided not to think about, although he couldn’t stop the ghastly images from seeping into his thoughts on occasion.

At first he’d thought it an excellent idea to change schools. The atmosphere at Lundsberg had become unbearable after he’d been singled out as one of the boys who had watched as a couple of bullies forced the school’s scapegoat to drink a big glass of laxative right before the closing ceremonies in the auditorium. The boy’s white summer clothes had been stained brown all the way up his back.

After that incident the headmaster had summoned Percy’s father to Lundsberg. Anxious to avoid a scandal, he hadn’t gone so far as to expel Percy, but he’d made it clear that the boy would have to continue his studies elsewhere. The old man tried to argue that Percy had merely been a spectator, and surely that couldn’t be considered a crime? But in the end he’d admitted defeat, and after discreet enquiries he had decided that Rune Elvander’s boarding school on Valö would be the best option. In truth, Percy’s father would have preferred to send him abroad, but for once his mother had put her foot down. So Percy had been enrolled in Rune’s school, and that was how he’d ended up haunted by dark memories that he struggled to suppress.

Percy took a big swig of the whisky, hoping it would dilute the humiliation that threatened to overwhelm him, and surveyed his surroundings. Pyttan had been given free rein to handle the interior decorating. This sort of rustic, white-painted furniture might not be his taste, but as long as she didn’t touch the rooms in the manor, she could do whatever she liked with the flat. The manor had to remain exactly as it had been during his father’s and grandfather’s and great-grandfather’s time. It was a matter of family honour.

The vague sense of uneasiness grew stronger as he went into the bedroom. Pyttan ought to be home by now. They were due to attend a cocktail party that evening, and she usually started getting ready for social events early in the afternoon.

He set his glass on Pyttan’s night table and then opened the doors to her wardrobe. A few coathangers swayed in the sudden draught; other than that, the wardrobe was empty.

No one would believe that only an hour ago someone was shooting at people out here, thought Patrik as he pulled into dock. The whole place seemed unnaturally quiet and calm.

Before he had even managed to tie the mooring line, Erica jumped out of the boat and began running towards the house. With Gösta following close behind, Patrik took off after her. But she was moving so fast that he couldn’t keep up, and when he entered the house, he found her with her arms around Anna. Tobias and Ebba were huddled together on the sofa, and next to them stood Mellberg and Paula.

Patrik had no idea why she was there, but he was grateful. At least now he could expect to hear a sensible account of what had happened.

‘Is everyone okay?’ he asked, going over to Paula.

‘Everybody’s fine. They’re all a little upset, especially Ebba. Someone fired shots through the kitchen window when she was in there alone. We haven’t seen anything to indicate that the shooter is still in the vicinity.’

‘Have you phoned Torbjörn?’

‘Yes, his team is on the way. But you might say that Mellberg has already begun the forensic examination.’

‘That’s right. I found the bullets,’ said Mellberg, taking out a plastic bag containing two bullets. ‘They weren’t embedded very deep in the wall, and it was easy to prise them out. Whoever did the shooting must have been a good distance away because the bullets had lost so much speed by the time they entered the wall.’

Patrik felt anger surge inside of him, but the last thing he wanted was to create a scene. There would be plenty of time later to have a serious talk with Mellberg about the rules that needed to be followed when investigating a crime scene.

He turned to Anna, who was wriggling out of Erica’s arms. ‘Where were you when this happened?’

‘I was upstairs,’ she replied, pointing. ‘Ebba had gone down to the kitchen to make coffee.’

‘What about you?’ Patrik asked Tobias.

‘I was in the cellar. I’d come back from the mainland and was fetching some more paint. I’d only got as far as the bottom of the cellar stairs when I heard a bang.’ His face was pale under the suntan.

‘When you arrived, did you see an unfamiliar boat at the dock?’ asked Gösta.

Tobias shook his head. ‘No, just Anna’s.’

‘And you haven’t spotted any strangers around?’

‘No, none.’ Ebba was staring straight ahead, as if dazed.

‘Who would do something like this?’ Tobias asked Patrick. ‘Who is after us? Do you think it has anything to do with the card that I gave you?’

‘I’m afraid we don’t know.’

‘What card?’ asked Erica.

Patrik ignored her question, but the piercing look that Erica directed at him made it clear that eventually he would have to tell her.

‘From now on, nobody goes into the kitchen. Consider it off limits.’ He turned to Ebba and Tobias. ‘We’ll need to search the island, so it would be best if you two found somewhere to stay on the mainland until we’re finished.’

‘But we don’t want to do that,’ said Tobias.

‘Yes, we do.’ Ebba suddenly sounded quite determined.

‘And where are we going to find a room at the height of the tourist season?’

‘You can stay with us. We have a guestroom,’ said Erica.

Patrik gave a start. Was she out of her mind? Inviting Ebba and Tobias to be their guests in the middle of an investigation?

‘Really? Are you sure?’ said Ebba, looking up at Erica.

‘Of course. While you’re with us, you can read everything I’ve collected about your family history. I was going through it again yesterday, and it’s really quite fascinating.’

‘I don’t think that…’ Tobias began. Then his shoulders slumped. ‘Here’s what we’ll do: you go to the mainland, and I’ll stay here.’

‘I’d prefer not to have anyone remain here,’ said Patrik.

‘I’m not leaving.’ Tobias cast a glance at Ebba, who offered no objection.

‘Okay, then I suggest that Ebba, Erica and Anna leave now so that we can get started on our work while we wait for Torbjörn. Gösta, you check the path down to the beach to see if anyone could have come that way. Paula, could you take care of the area closest to the house? I’ll search a wide circle around the house. It’ll be easier when we get a metal detector out here, but for the time being we’ll have to make do without it. If we’re lucky, the shooter may have tossed the gun into a shrub somewhere.’

‘And if we’re unlucky, this gun will be at the bottom of the sea, same as the last one,’ said Gösta.

‘That’s possible, but the priority is to carry out a search and see what we can find.’ Patrik turned to Tobias. ‘You need to keep out of our way as best you can. As I said, it’s not a good idea for you to stay here, especially not at night when you’ll be here all by yourself after we leave.’

‘I can work upstairs. I won’t get in your way,’ he said in a flat voice.

Patrik studied him for a moment but decided not to force the issue. If Tobias refused to leave the island, there was nothing anyone could do about it. He went over to Erica, who was standing in the doorway, ready to leave.

‘I’ll see you later,’ he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

‘Okay. Anna, can we go back in your boat?’ she said. Like a sheepdog she herded together the little group that she was going to escort home.

Patrik couldn’t help smiling. He gave them a wave and then turned to the motley group of police officers. It would be a miracle if they managed to find anything at all.

The door opened quietly. John Holm took off his reading glasses and put down his book.

‘What are you reading?’ asked Liv, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

He held up the book so she could see the cover. ‘Race, Evolution and Behaviour by Philippe Ruston.’

‘That’s a good book. I read it a few years ago.’

He took her hand and smiled. ‘It’s too bad that the holiday is almost over.’

‘Yes, if you can call this past week a holiday, considering how many hours we’ve worked each day.’

‘I know.’ He frowned.

‘Are you still worrying about the article in Bohusläningen?’

‘No. You’re right, it doesn’t matter. By next week it’ll be forgotten.’

‘Is it Gimle?’

John gave her a stern look. She knew better than to mention that word out loud. Only those who belonged to the inner circle knew about the project, and he bitterly regretted the fact that he hadn’t immediately burned the piece of paper that he’d scribbled on. It was an unforgivable mistake, even though he wasn’t sure that Erica Falck had taken it. It might have blown away or been lost somewhere in the house, but in his heart he knew the explanation couldn’t be that simple. The note was in the stack of papers before Erica arrived, and when he searched for it after she left, it was gone.

‘It’ll all work out.’ Liv stroked his cheek. ‘I believe in it. We’ve come so far, but there’s a risk that we won’t get any further unless we do something drastic. We need to create more space to manoeuvre. It’s best for everyone.’

‘I love you.’ He could honestly say that to her. Nobody understood him the way Liv did. They had shared ideas and experiences, successes and setbacks, and she was the only one he had ever confided in, the only one who knew what had happened to his family. Of course plenty of people knew about his past, since it had been the subject of gossip for years, but he had never told anyone but Liv about the thoughts he’d had during that time.

‘Can I sleep here tonight?’ Liv asked suddenly.

Seeing the uncertainty in her face, John was filled with conflicting emotions. In his heart he wanted nothing more than to have her warm body near, to fall asleep with his arm around her, breathing in the scent of her hair. At the same time, he knew that it wouldn’t work. Intimacy entailed so many expectations and caused all the disappointments and unfulfilled promises to rise to the surface.

‘Couldn’t we try again?’ she said, caressing his hand. ‘It’s been a while now, and maybe things have… changed.’

Abruptly he turned from her, snatching his hand away. The memory of his impotence nearly suffocated him. He couldn’t bear to go through that again. Doctors’ appointments, little blue pills, artificial pumps, the look in Liv’s eyes every time he couldn’t get it up. It was no good.

‘Leave, please.’ He picked up his book and held it like a shield in front of him.

He stared at the page without seeing a single word as he listened to her feet moving across the floor, and then she gently closed the door behind her. His reading glasses were still lying on the bedside table.

It was late by the time Patrik got home. Erica was sitting alone on the sofa, watching TV. After the children went to bed, she hadn’t felt like tidying up, so Patrik had to pick his way through the toys scattered over the floor.

‘Is Ebba asleep?’ he asked, sitting down next to his wife.

‘Yes. She went to bed around eight. She seemed totally exhausted.’

‘I’m not surprised.’ Patrik propped his feet on the coffee table. ‘What are you watching?’

‘Letterman.’

‘Who’s the guest?’

‘Megan Fox.’

‘Ah…’ said Patrik, sinking deeper into the sofa cushions.

‘Are you planning to sit there and get all excited having fantasies about Megan Fox, which you later try to act out with your poor wife?’

‘You got it,’ he said, nuzzling his face against her neck.

Erica pushed him away. ‘How did it go out on Valö?’

Patrik sighed. ‘Not too well. Reinforcements arrived in the shape of Torbjörn and his boys about half an hour after you left, and we searched as much of the island as we could before it got dark. But we didn’t find anything.’

‘Nothing?’ Erica picked up the remote to turn down the volume.

‘No. No traces whatsoever of the shooter. And it seems most likely that he or she threw the gun into the sea. But maybe the bullets will tell us something. Torbjörn sent them off to the lab for analysis.’

‘What was that card that Tobias mentioned?’

Patrik hesitated. It was always a balancing act. He couldn’t reveal too much to his wife about an ongoing investigation, but at the same time, there had been several instances when the police had benefited from Erica’s ability to dig up information. Having come to a decision, he replied.

‘All her life Ebba has received birthday cards from someone who signed them with the initial “G”. The messages have never been threatening. Until now. Tobias came to the station today to show us one that had just arrived in the post. The message was very different from all the previous cards.’

‘So you suspect that whoever is sending these cards is also behind the events on Valö?’

‘We don’t have any specific theories at the moment, but of course it’s something that we need to consider. I’m thinking of taking Paula with me to Göteborg tomorrow to have a word with Ebba’s adoptive parents. As you know, Gösta isn’t very good at interviewing people. And Paula begged me to let her get back to work. Apparently she’s climbing the walls at home.’

‘Just make sure she doesn’t overdo it. It’s easy for a person to overestimate her own strength.’

‘You’re such a mother hen,’ said Patrik with a smile. ‘I’ve been through two pregnancies now. So I’m not completely ignorant in that regard.’

‘Let’s clarify that. You’re not the one who’s been through two pregnancies. As I recall, you’ve never experienced swollen ankles, leg cramps and heartburn, or gone through twenty-two hours of labour pains and a Caesarean section.’

‘Okay, I get it.’ Patrik held up his hands. ‘And I promise to keep an eye on Paula. Mellberg would never forgive me if anything happened to her. Say what you like about him, but he’d go through hell and high water for the sake of his family.’

The credits for Letterman had started rolling on the screen, and Erica began channel surfing. ‘So what’s Tobias doing out there? Why would he insist on staying?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t want to leave him out there. If you ask me, he’s on the verge of falling apart. He seems calm enough, and he’s handling it all with extraordinary composure, but he reminds me of a duck smoothly gliding over the surface of the water, but all the while its feet are paddling frantically underneath. Do you know what I mean? Or am I babbling?’

‘No, I know exactly what you mean.’

Erica continued pressing the remote. Finally she settled on Deadliest Catch on the Discovery Channel. She gazed absently at the flickering images of a Gore-Tex-clad man in the midst of a horrendous storm, hauling in trap after trap of massive spiderlike king crabs.

‘Are you planning to take Ebba with you tomorrow?’

‘No, I think it’s better if we talk to her parents alone. Paula will be here at nine, so we’ll take the Volvo to Göteborg.’

‘Good. Then I can show Ebba the background material that I’ve collected.’

‘You know, I haven’t seen this research of yours. Is there anything that might be relevant to the investigation?’

Erica thought for a moment but then shook her head. ‘No, I’ve told you the few details that might be useful. What I’ve uncovered about Ebba’s family history goes back further, and I think she’s the only one who would find it interesting.’

‘I’d still like to see it. But not tonight. Right now I’m too comfortable.’ He moved closer to Erica, put his arm around her, and leaned his head on her shoulder. ‘Christ, what a job those guys have. It looks super dangerous. Good thing I’m not a crab fisherman.’

‘You’re right, sweetheart. That’s something that I’m grateful for every day. Thank God you’re not a crab fisherman.’ She laughed and kissed the top of his head.

Since the accident, Leon had occasionally been plagued by a feeling that his joints were pulsating. An aching sensation, mixed with shooting pains, like a premonition that something was about to happen. He felt it now.

Ia was accustomed to reading his moods. Usually she would scold him for brooding, but not this time. Instead they were carefully avoiding one another, each of them moving about the house separately.

He found that a bit annoying. Boredom had always been his worst enemy. When he was a kid, his father would laugh at his inability to sit still and the fact that he was forever searching for new challenges and pushing the limits. His mother had fussed over all the broken bones and scrapes that resulted, but his father had been proud.

After that Easter holiday, he never saw his father again. Leon went abroad without saying goodbye. Then the years passed, and he was busy with his own life. Yet his father had been very generous, sending more funds whenever his bank account was empty. There was no reproaching his son or trying to rein him in. He had allowed Leon to fly free.

In the end, Leon had flown too close to the sun, just as he’d always known he would. His parents had died before that happened. Pappa was spared having to witness how the accident on that winding mountain road had robbed him of his body and his adventurous spirit, how it had left him fettered.

He and Ia had travelled a long road together, but now it was approaching the decisive moment. The only thing required was a little spark to ignite it all. And he didn’t plan on ever allowing someone else to light that spark. That was his job.

Leon listened to the house. Everything was quiet inside. Ia had probably gone to bed. He picked up his mobile from the table and placed it on his lap. Then he rolled his wheelchair out to the balcony and without hesitation began ringing them, one after the other.

When he was done talking, he let his hands rest on his thighs and gazed out over Fjällbacka. In the evening darkness the town was lit by scores of lamps, like a gigantic glittering tavern. Then he turned his gaze towards the water and Valö. In the old summer camp all the lights were out.