Echoes From the Dead

36

“There he is!”

Julia had shouted loudly, and Lennart braked so quickly that the car skidded. But it stopped almost immediately, slewed across the road. They were just south of the turning down to Stenvik.

“Where?” said Lennart.

Julia pointed through the windshield. “I can see him. Out there... on the field. He’s lying there!”

Lennart leaned forward. Then he put his foot down and swung the wheel around. “There’s a track here... I’ll drive down.” The car spun around sharply on the wet road.

But when they pulled onto the little gravel track, Julia could see she was wrong. It wasn’t a body. It was...

Lennart slammed the car to a stop and Julia scrabbled for the door. But her crutches made her slow, and he got there first.

He bent down and picked up the object from the little ditch by the track.

“It’s just a coat,” he said, holding it up so she could see it. “A coat someone’s thrown away.”

Julia came forward and looked at it. “It’s Dad’s,” she said.

“Are you sure?” asked Lennart. “It looks like a—”

“Look in the inside pocket.”

Lennart opened the coat and burrowed in the pocket. He took out a wallet and opened it.

“Should have brought a flashlight...” he muttered, trying to hold up the wallet in the car’s headlights.

“It’s Gerlof’s,” said Julia. “I recognize it.”

Lennart pulled out a worn-looking driver’s license and nodded. “Yes. It’s his.”

Then he looked around.

“Gerlof!” he shouted. “Gerlof!”

But the wind and the sound of the car engine drowned out his cry.

“I don’t recognize this track,” he said. “I think it goes down to the shore. We’d better take the car and have a look.”

At the police car, he spoke briefly into the radio mike.

Julia followed him.

“The helicopter knows where we are now,” Lennart told her.

He put the car into first gear and began to crawl forward, peering out through the smeared windshield.

“I’ll turn the lights off,” he said, “then we’ll be able to see better.”

The track in front of them was abruptly, impenetrably dark, but when Julia’s eyes had become accustomed to it, she could see the alvar on both sides. Every new shadow that appeared out there looked like an old man swaying upright in the grass, but each shadow turned out to be only a juniper bush.

Suddenly Lennart pointed up at the sky.

“There it is!” he exclaimed. “Thank God.”

Julia stared up at a pair of rapidly flashing red-and-white lights moving across the sky. She realized it was the helicopter, just as the police radio crackled into life again.

“I think they’ve found something,” Lennart said. “Down by the water.”

He increased his speed, swung around a bend — and a second later the entire car was suddenly illuminated by a dazzling white light. It was another car.

“Shit!” yelled Lennart beside Julia.

He stamped on the brakes, but it was too late. The car racing toward them around the bend did not slow.

“Hang on!”

Julia gritted her teeth and grabbed hold of the dashboard, bracing for the inevitable crash.

The impact flung her forward, but the seat belt held her as she watched the car hood crumple like paper.

The seat belt held, but the blow to her ribs was agonizingly painful.

Silence. A few seconds of silent immobility followed the crash.

Julia could hear Lennart breathing out behind the wheel, and swearing quietly.

Then he switched on the lights again. Only one of them appeared to be working now; it illuminated the shiny car that had slammed into them.

Lennart reached over to the glove compartment. It had flown open, and now he took out his gun holster.

“Are you okay, Julia?”

She blinked. “Yes... yes. I think so.”

“You stay here. I’ll be back soon.”

Lennart opened the driver’s door, letting in the cold. Julia hesitated. Then she opened her own door. But she stayed in the car. Pain raced through her body, bringing tears to her eyes.

Almost simultaneously the door of the other car opened. A tall, broad-shouldered man stumbled out.

“Who are you?” she heard Lennart shout.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” The new voice was even louder than Lennart’s and furious. “Put the fucking headlights on! Why are you driving with no fucking lights on?”

“Calm down,” said Lennart. “Police.”

“Who’s that... is it Henriksson?” demanded the other voice.

Julia swung her legs out and fumbled for her crutches. She managed to get to her feet, although the ground was uneven and she nearly stumbled and fell.

“Have you come from the shore?” Lennart asked the stranger.

In the lights from the tangled cars she suddenly recognized the other driver. He came from Långvik, and he was a hotel owner.

Then she remembered his name too: Gunnar Ljunger.

“Who are you?” he shouted, voice thick with rage.

“Calm down, Gunnar,” Lennart said. He obviously recognized him as well. “Where have you been?”

“Down... down by the shore. I’ve been out for a drive.”

“Have you seen Gerlof Davidsson?”

“No.”

“We’re looking for him.” Lennart pointed. “The helicopter over there is looking for him too.”

“Really?”

Ljunger seemed remarkably uninterested, Julia thought. She took a step forward and called to Lennart:

“Is it far to the shore?”

“I don’t think so,” he replied. “A few hundred yards.”

“I have to get down there,” Julia insisted.

Gripping her crutches firmly, she started hopping along, past Gunnar Ljunger’s car and down the gravel track.

“Gunnar, you’ll have to reverse out of the way,” she heard Lennart say behind her. “I’m driving down to the shore.”

“Henriksson, you can’t possibly...”

“Move the car,” repeated Lennart, more crisply. “Then stay in it, we need to figure out...”

His voice was swiftly lost in the wind. Beyond both cars, Julia could see the lights of the helicopter again; it had landed a couple of hundred yards away.

She hurried along, slipping in muddy puddles on the track, but she kept going.

Getting closer, she could see two men in light gray overalls trapped in the beam of the helicopter’s searchlight; they were bending over something on the shore. A body. They lifted it up out of the sand.

“Dad!”

The men glanced over at her.

The body on the beach was lying in a blanket, unmoving. Not again, Julia thought. I can’t lose you, too. Please... Not again.

The body coughed. A dry, frail sound.

“Dad!” Julia called out.

“Julia...” He slowly turned his head toward her.

He coughed again.

“Careful, now,” warned one of the men. “We’re going to pick you up.”

They lifted Gerlof in the blanket and carried him quickly away.

“Can I come with him?” implored Julia, following clumsily. “I’m his daughter. And I’m a nurse.”

“Not possible,” said the man closest to her, without looking up. “We haven’t got room.”

“Where are you flying?”

“To the emergency department in Kalmar.”

She went with them as far as the helicopter anyway, despite the fact that her crutches kept getting stuck in the grass. She fought to stay close to the body in the blanket.

“I’ll follow you to the hospital, Dad.”

Just before they lifted him into the helicopter, Gerlof raised his head and for the first time she could see his face. It was chalk white. But his eyes were open and feverishly bright, and suddenly they focused on her. He said something, quietly and inaudibly.

“What?” She leaned forward, listening hard.

“Ljunger did it,” whispered Gerlof.

Julia whispered back: “Did what, Dad?”

“Took... our Jens.”

Then he was gone, lifted like a parcel into the helicopter. The door closed behind him.

“You need to get out of the way,” said one of the pilots before slamming his own door.

Julia shuffled back reluctantly, head spinning.

When the blades began to rotate again, she was fifty yards away; she watched them spinning faster and faster. The wonders of technology. A loud clatter in the darkness — and the helicopter carrying her elderly father lifted toward the black sky, climbing higher and higher before speeding off to the southwest.

Implacably the softer sounds of the wind and the waves returned. Julia heard a distant cry, and turned her head.

It was Lennart. Both cars were still tangled on the bend in the road, and although Julia’s arms were aching by now, she gripped her crutches firmly once again and made her way back along the gravel track to the scene of the accident.

“Was it Gerlof?” said Lennart.

Julia nodded. “Yes. They’ve taken him to Kalmar.”

“Good.”

Gunnar Ljunger now sat in his car with the door open, but apparently hadn’t been able to reverse out of the way to let the police car through.

He’d switched the engine off after the crash, and couldn’t get it going again. The only sound was a feeble click when he turned the key.

Ljunger struck the leather-covered steering wheel in a temper.

“Lock the car and leave it here,” said Lennart. “You can come to Marnäs with us.”

Ljunger sighed, but he had no choice. He took a briefcase out of the Jaguar, then got into the passenger seat of the police car next to Lennart. Julia had to sit in the back behind Lennart.

During the drive to Marnäs she leaned forward, watching Ljunger.

What had he done down on the shore? What had he said to Gerlof?

Ljunger sat there with his back straight, apparently unaware of her scrutiny, but the atmosphere in the car was tense.

“Are you going to tell me now?” Lennart asked the hotel owner after a few minutes.

“Tell you what?”

“What you were doing here on the coast road?”

“Enjoying the weather,” said Ljunger tersely. “Is that a crime?”

“Why were you driving so fast?”

“I’ve got a Jag.”

“Did you know Gerlof was lying down on the beach?”

“No.”

Julia sighed. “He’s lying,” she told Lennart.

Ljunger ignored her.

“The helicopter picked up your body heat, Gunnar,” said Lennart. “Gerlof’s body temperature was too low. Lucky for us you were there.”

Ljunger didn’t comment. He was looking out of the windshield with his eyes half closed, either uninterested or just bone tired.

There was a space in front of the Marnäs police station, and Lennart parked the car. He unlocked the door of the station and all three of them went in.

He switched on the light, went over to the desk, and turned on his computer. Ljunger positioned himself in the middle of the floor, like a soldier facing his troops.

“I shall make a short statement, nothing more,” he said, eyes locked on Lennart. “I have no intention of staying here any longer than necessary this evening. I want to get home.”

“We all want to get home, Gunnar,” remarked Lennart. He logged on to his computer. “Coffee?”

“No.” Ljunger looked at Julia and asked: “Is she staying?”

Lennart seemed to stiffen when Julia was referred to as she — but Julia herself merely shook her head. She had other things to worry about.

“She’s going to the hospital to see her father,” she told the men, “to see if he’s going to survive.” She stared at Ljunger. “And to ask him what happened down there on the shore.”

“Good. You do that.”

Ljunger wasn’t even looking at her, but there was a clearly perceptible smile at the corners of his mouth. It was as if he found the whole encounter most amusing.

“Sit down, Gunnar,” said Lennart, pointing to the chair next to his desk.

Then he took a couple of steps over to Julia by the door and lowered his voice. “Will you be okay now?”

She nodded and picked up her crutches. “I’ll see if there’s a bus,” she said. “Otherwise I’ll get a cab.”

“Will you call me?” said Lennart. “I’ll be home as soon as I’m done here.”

Julia smiled and nodded, as if everything were fine this evening. “Of course I’ll call. See you soon.”

She wanted to give Lennart a hug, but not in front of Gunnar Ljunger.

She went down the steps, back out onto the cold, deserted street, and looked over at the bus depot on the far side of the square. There was a bus standing there — but was it heading south?

A cab to Kalmar would cost several hundred kronor, but if worst came to worst, that’s what she would have to do. Even if she had to empty her account, and even if she just ended up sitting around in the emergency room all night, she had to get to the hospital. She wanted to be there when Gerlof came around. Lennart would understand that she had to be with her father right now; besides, he had plenty to do himself this evening.

She set off across the street toward the square.

She suddenly thought about that smile — Gunnar Ljunger’s curious little smile.

He’d smashed up his car and more or less been called a murderer by Gerlof, but as he stood there next to Lennart’s desk in the police station he still had that little smile at the corners of his mouth, as if an escape route was waiting for him in there.

As if he thought...

Julia stopped dead on the sidewalk on the other side of the street, heart thudding. She was halfway to the bus depot, but without even thinking about it she turned back. She began to hop along on her crutches, back to the police station.

It was only a hundred yards or so, but Julia still didn’t get there in time.

She was still out on the sidewalk when she heard the shot. It was just a short, sharp crack with no echo, but it came from inside the station.

She heard a dull thud through the window.

Another shot was fired seconds later.

Julia took three more steps on her crutches, but it was too slow. She threw them down and ran.

She took the steps up to the door of the station in two strides, sending pain stabbing through her foot.

She could smell the gunpowder as she pushed through the door, and only then did she stop.

Everything was quiet. There wasn’t a sound in the police station.

Julia peeped in tentatively, and first of all she could only see Lennart’s legs sticking out beside his desk. Her heart faltered — then she realized he was moving.

He was on his knees by the desk, one hand on the floor and the other firmly pressed against his bleeding forehead.

Lennart’s holster was undone, and he slowly rolled around and looked up at Julia with a hazy, confused expression.

“Where is he?” he asked. “Ljunger?”

Julia saw what had happened.

It wasn’t Lennart who’d been shot — it was Gunnar Ljunger.

Julia could see him now, and she realized the hotel owner had indeed found an escape route.

Ljunger wasn’t smiling any longer. His body was lying on the floor on the other side of the desk, and his shiny leather shoes were twitching. A rivulet of blood had begun to trickle from his head, and the yellow padded jacket was spattered with pink stains. The blood was shining as it caught the light.

Ljunger was staring up at the ceiling, his mouth half open. He looked astonished, as if he didn’t really understand that it was all over.

In his right hand he still gripped Lennart’s service revolver.