Dead of Winter

60

Peter has settled Elsa in the back seat of the car, switched on the heater and wrapped her in the blanket Laura brought with her from the castle.

Meanwhile, Laura is standing a few metres away with Sandberg. The ambulance took Tomas away a few minutes ago, blue lights flashing; his injuries are serious. On the ground where he lay are several empty plastic bags that contained needles, electrodes and intubation tubes.

‘You’re like some kind of reverse moth,’ Sandberg says. ‘Flames are drawn to you instead of the other way round.’ He laughs at his own joke. ‘Anyway, let’s hope that’s the last of the fires. Poor bastard.’

The final two words sound surprisingly sympathetic.

‘What was Larsson’s girl doing out here?’

‘Riding her motocross bike.’

‘In the middle of the night?’

The calmness Laura felt earlier is still with her.

‘Apparently, she goes out when Peter isn’t home.’

‘Why here?’

‘Plenty of space, no nosy neighbours to call the police or tell her dad.’

Sandberg seems to accept the explanation.

‘We’ll need to talk to her, of course, but it can wait until tomorrow. Tomas Rask is going nowhere. Did he say anything to you?’

‘He wasn’t making much sense, but he mumbled that someone had asked him to start the fire.’

‘Who?’ Sandberg leans forward, interested.

‘The nymph.’

‘The nymph?’

His eyes narrow.

‘That’s what he said.’

‘And what do you think he meant by that?’

‘I’ve no idea.’ She shrugs. ‘As soon as I’ve worked it out, I promise I’ll be in touch.’

She meets his gaze, and for a few moments they stand there in the semi-darkness, glaring at each other. Then Sandberg lets out a snort, turns on his heel and marches towards his car, muttering something she can’t quite hear.

Peter winds down the window. Elsa’s head is resting on his shoulder; she seems to have fallen asleep.

‘What did Sandberg say?’

‘That the interview with Elsa could wait – Tomas isn’t going anywhere.’

‘OK, good. In that case we’ll go home. You’re very welcome to stay the night with us if you like. In the guest room,’ he adds unnecessarily.

Laura thinks about the castle, the smell of smoke. She looks at Elsa.

‘Yes please,’ she says.

She follows them in her own car. One of the scene-of-crime officers, or maybe it was Peter, has kindly washed off the blood, but the usual feeling of safety the car gives her is no longer there. She can still see poor George, and Tomas’s badly burned body. How did he manage to drag himself all the way to Gärdsnäset? And why?

She thinks she knows the answer to the second question. He was frightened and hurt, so he made for a place that he associated with security.

Peter carries Elsa up to her room, giving Laura the chance to speak to Steph, who has called several times, and explain what’s happened.

‘I’m so sorry you’ve been dragged into all this, Steph.’

‘No problem – I’ll survive.’

She sounds composed, but it’s clear that even Steph has been affected by tonight’s events.

‘How are things at the castle?’

‘The fire is out, but there are still plenty of firefighters running around. Not quite as hunky as in the movies, unfortunately.’

Laura can’t help smiling. ‘And how are Erica and Pontus bearing up?’

‘Pontus is in shock. He was on oxygen for a while, which sent Erica into hysterics. She kept screaming that he was going to die and all kinds of other crap, but Heinz managed to calm her down. Most of the guests have either gone back to their rooms, or are helping me polish off Pontus’s second-best whisky in the drawing room.’

‘I’m spending the night here. Peter has a spare room.’

‘Good call – things are crazy around here. Sleep well and I’ll speak to you tomorrow. Say hi to Peter from me – I kind of liked him.’

The guest room is in the basement. There is plenty of space for a double bed and a giant TV, and it has its own bathroom. Everything is so well designed that it feels like a hotel.

‘There are towels, a toothbrush and toothpaste in the bathroom cabinet,’ Peter informs her. He has taken off his jacket, undone his bow tie and unbuttoned his shirt. He is lean and fit, with an impressive six-pack. She finds this unexpectedly attractive.

‘By the way,’ he goes on, ‘I meant to tell you earlier – I ran a search on Milla and called a guy I know in social services, who checked their archive. Apparently, she never showed up at her new placement in Värmland.’

‘That doesn’t really surprise me – she really didn’t want to go there. So what happened?’

‘She was listed as missing for a month or so, but as soon as she turned eighteen that no longer applied. I’ve searched every database, but she doesn’t appear anywhere after that. The tax office transferred her to the “non-existent” register at the beginning of the 1990s, and that’s that.’

‘She did talk about moving overseas,’ Laura says. ‘She had her passport ready, and she’d been putting some money aside.’ She considers telling him how Milla acquired her savings, but decides it can wait until tomorrow.

They stand there for a few seconds, as if each is waiting for a signal from the other, then the moment is gone.

‘Goodnight,’ Peter says.

‘Goodnight.’