Dead of Winter

37 Winter 1987

The house smelled of paint and IKEA furniture. Laura locked the door from the inside then reached for the light switch, but Peter stopped her and handed her a torch.

‘Only use it if you have to.’

Tomas shrugged off his empty backpack and he and Peter started opening the kitchen cupboards, working methodically from right to left. It was obvious that they’d done this many times before.

‘Come with me!’ Milla took Laura by the hand and led her further into the house.

The largest bedroom overlooked the driveway. Two single beds with a bedside cabinet in between.

Milla pulled out the drawers in the dressing table one by one. Laura went over to the beds. There were two books on the cabinet: The Democratic Terrorist by Jan Guillou, and JD Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye. The painting on the wall above was attractive, depicting what she assumed was the view from a ridge, with the bright autumn colours of the forest down below.

‘Check this out!’

Milla was holding up a narrow object that she dug out of the bottom drawer. Laura could just make out black metal with a handle at one end.

‘What is it?’

‘A spring baton. A guy I used to know had one.’

She slashed it through the air and it made a whining noise. The movement made Laura feel ill at ease.

‘This can easily smash someone’s kneecaps. Maybe you’d like to borrow it? Teach Iben a lesson?’

Milla held out the baton. Laura didn’t know what to say. Before she could come up with a response, Milla laughed. ‘Just joking!’

She unzipped her jacket and tucked the weapon inside.

A bright light filled the room, quickly growing stronger. Laura looked out of the window to see a car heading up the drive.

‘Someone’s coming!’ Milla shouted to the others.

Laura was frozen to the spot. She’d seen the car before; it was the same dark blue Saab that had been parked in the yard at Gärdsnäset. It stopped and the lights went out. The doors opened and two men in leather jackets climbed out, one shaven-headed and powerfully built, the other short and broad-shouldered.

‘Cops,’ Milla hissed, grabbing her arms. ‘Let’s go!’

Laura and Milla raced out of the back door heading for the ice, with Tomas and Peter some distance behind them. They’d just reached the end of the jetty when the exterior lights were switched on and the garden was bathed in light.

‘In here!’

Milla dragged Laura into the darkness underneath the jetty. They pressed themselves as far back into the shadows as they could, waiting for Tomas and Peter to join them. The light extended a good way over the ice, but there was no sign of the boys. They must have found another hiding place.

Laura was having difficulty breathing. She could already imagine Hedda’s disappointment, her father’s anger. Her mother would say that Laura had brought shame on the family, she would never be allowed to go to Gärdsnäset again . . .

Milla peered up between the planks.

‘Ssh, they’re coming!’ She huddled close to Laura in the darkest corner. Laura’s mouth was as dry as dust, her bladder so full that she had to clamp her knees and thighs together to prevent an accident.

She heard voices approaching.

‘They’re bound to see our footprints!’ she whispered, utterly panic-stricken. ‘They’ll know we’ve come this way and hidden under here!’

‘It’s too windy,’ Milla hissed.

The voices came closer and closer. Snow began to drift down between the planks as the two men walked out onto the jetty.

‘Nice place your cousin’s got here,’ said the one with the boxer’s nose.

‘Yes, these lakeside properties don’t come onto the market very often. It certainly wasn’t cheap, and Göran’s spent a fortune doing it up.’

‘What does he do?’

‘Fuck knows – something involving stocks and shares.’

The footsteps paused directly above the girls. They could see the soles of the men’s shoes through the gaps. Laura felt as if her bladder was about to burst.

The shorter officer cleared his throat. ‘Shall we make a move, Bengt?’

As the men walked away Laura let go of Milla and fumbled with her jeans and knickers. Just as she squatted down the lights went out. The relief almost made her weep.

After about five minutes they crawled out from under the jetty. Everywhere was dark and silent.

‘What’s happened to the boys?’

The door of the shed opened slowly and Tomas emerged, followed by Peter, who closed the door carefully before joining them.

‘Let’s get out of here.’

Tomas kept going, straight down to the ice. His backpack looked well filled. Milla set off after him, but Laura waited for Peter. His body language had changed. As he drew closer, she became aware of something else. Peter smelled of petrol.

‘What happened in there?’ she said quietly when they reached the ice.

‘Tomas decided to have some fun. Picked up a can of petrol and started splashing it around inside the shed. Said he was going to burn the whole place down if we got caught. I had to tear the lighter out of his hands. Fuck knows what would have happened if I hadn’t.’

Laura looked at Tomas, leading the way with Milla. Saw them talking to each other, just as she and Peter were doing.

‘Tomas isn’t well,’ Peter said. ‘Milla’s playing games with him. If nobody stops this, something terrible is going to happen.’