Rites of Spring

66

The atmosphere is still a little strained at the breakfast table, but at least it’s better than yesterday.

David is making an effort not to check his phone every thirty seconds, and Thea is doing her best to show an interest in the preview dinner.

‘Two days to go until Walpurgis Night,’ she says. ‘How many of us will there be?’

‘About fifty.’

‘So many?’

‘Yes, I’ve got people coming from the restaurant industry, a few journalists, then others it’s useful to have on side – wedding and party planners, influencers and so on. It’s important that we get off to a good start.’

He’s attempting to sound relaxed, but he can’t fool Thea.

‘Fantastic,’ she says, trying to shut out the sound of her father’s voice.

One well-aimed Facebook post is all it would take.

She thinks about the conversation with Sebastian. Wonders whether to leave it, or whether it’s better to tackle the issue now.

‘Sebastian came to see me yesterday. He and Nettan are worried about the finances.’

David stiffens. ‘He’s spoken to you?’

‘Yes, but with the best of intentions,’ she adds unnecessarily.

David shakes his head, and Thea already regrets bringing up the subject.

‘Those two have no fucking clue about anything. Never have, never will.’

He knocks back the rest of his coffee and stands up.

‘Don’t worry, Thea. I’ve got everything under control. It’s going to be a fantastic evening, and afterwards nobody will be whining about money anymore.’

He manages a rigid smile, kisses her and heads out of the door.

Thea takes Emee for a walk. She looks for Hubert, but his car isn’t in its usual place, so she assumes he isn’t home.

She crosses the bridge to the forest. It’s rained overnight, everything is wet. The birds are singing for all they’re worth. From time to time the sun peeps out from between the clouds, and she should be full of the joys of spring, but there’s too much going on in her head. She has to forget about Elita Svart and about whoever is watching her and concentrate on a more pressing problem, one that threatens not only her, but also David and their entire future.

It’s only a matter of time before her father contacts her again, threatens her again. She even gave him her phone number.

After all these years, she’s on the point of being sucked back into his universe. Is she really going to write a petition for his reprieve? After all, there is a reason why he’s in jail. The people who’ve fallen victim to his crimes, not to mention Ronny and herself. What would have happened if she hadn’t taken Mum’s money and run? She would probably have been dead, sitting in that car with Jocke when he tried to get away from the police. Or behind bars, because she’d already been involved in her father’s ‘business affairs’ back then.

He must have been terrified when she disappeared. Wondered if she’d gone to the police. If she was intending to tell them everything she knew, as Lasse had done with Leo.

She has reached the Gallows Oak. The lightning strike doesn’t seem to have killed it; the leaves have unfurled beautifully, but the face looks even more alarming, with the fresh scar running down the trunk. It is staring almost accusingly at her, as if the strike was somehow her fault.

She keeps going, follows the path all the way to the point where the canal separates the forest from the marsh. She stops from time to time to make sure she really is alone.

In spite of her efforts, the thoughts come crowding in. It’s all such a mess, but she can’t let go of Elita’s fate now; she’s come too far.

Suddenly she realises that she’s made a rookie error. She’s been in too much of a hurry, allowed herself to be distracted by the sheer number of pieces in the puzzle instead of starting at one corner and methodically working her way forward.

So, what are her corners? What does she know for certain? Somehow she suspects that the key is the child Elita was carrying, so she ought to start there. Try to find out who altered the autopsy report, and why it was so important to hide Elita’s pregnancy.

Lennartson, the chief of police, is a prime candidate. He led the investigation, and must have had the opportunity to appropriate the autopsy report, and to make sure there was no further contact between the forensic pathologist and the other officers on the case.

But why would Lennartson have done that? On whose instructions?

Lennartson is dead, so there’s really only one person who can help her with that line of inquiry.

The same man who threatened to beat up Kurt Bexell if he didn’t stop asking awkward questions.

Uncle Arne.

Thea pushes the case file into her bag, settles Emee in the car, then drives to Tornaby and on to Ljungslöv. Once again she passes the effigy of the Green Man on the bonfire on the common.

References to the Green Man recur throughout the investigation. The Green Man took her – that’s what Lola said in her interview. The children saw him ride into the glade.

Elita had packed her suitcase. The time for her metamorphosis had arrived. The Green Man was supposed to collect her, and frighten the children away at the same time. The stories fit together up to that point – but what went wrong?

If Leo wasn’t the Green Man, then who was?

She switches on the car radio, finds a station playing Eighties hits. Duran Duran, ‘A View to a Kill’. She thinks of the poster in Elita’s room, imagines her miming to this very song in front of the mirror, and she realises that something else doesn’t make sense. Something to do with music, Svartgården, and the children’s testimony.

She pulls over by a bus stop and takes out her phone. Scrolls through the photographs she took in Elita’s room. Her clothes, the contents of her desk, the biology textbook, the cassettes labelled in someone else’s handwriting. Cassettes, but no tape player. She consults the case file, turning first to the interviews with the children, then to the list of items held as evidence.

The children say that they’d recorded drumming and a rhyme on Elita’s tape machine, and that the same machine was there in the stone circle.

But no tape player was found at the scene of the crime. Nor were the animal masks from the Polaroid. The children said they dropped the masks in the forest as they ran away, but no masks are listed among the evidence from the scene.

Why not? Maybe Arne can help to answer those questions too.

The police station in Ljungslöv is housed in a red-brick building opposite the bus and train station. Reception is open only one day a week, and the door is locked. Thea presses the intercom button.

‘Police,’ says a female voice.

‘Hi, my name is Thea Lind. I’d like to speak to Arne Backe.’

A brief silence, then a buzzing sound as the door is unlocked.

Thea hesitates for a second. Is this a good idea? But Ingrid told her to speak to Arne if she had any more questions, which she does. And surely she’ll be safe inside the police station?

A female officer meets her in the foyer. She can’t be more than twenty-five, yet she already has the slightly weary look of someone who has seen too much of the worst aspects of humanity.

‘Arne’s not on duty today,’ she says rather brusquely.

‘Oh, that’s a shame.’ Thea realises she should have called first to check.

‘Is that your car?’ The officer nods in the direction of the easily recognisable vehicle, with the name of the local car dealer emblazoned on the side.

‘Yes.’

‘Oh, so you’re the one who lives at Bokelund castle. You’re married to Arne’s nephew. You’re opening a restaurant – Arne talks about it all the time.’

‘That’s right.’ This information surprises Thea.

‘He only lives around the corner, if it was something important you wanted?’

‘Does he?’

‘Algatan 14. It’s no more than five minutes’ drive. I’ll show you.’