The Disappeared aka Guardian Angels

4

It was a fantastic spring, Malena Bremberg thought, as she dealt with the flowers that one of the residents in the care home had received from her son. All those hours of sunshine after a long winter.

She returned to the old lady’s room with a vase.

‘Aren’t they lovely?’ she said.

The old lady leaned forward to inspect the flowers.

‘I don’t like the yellow ones,’ she said firmly.

Malena found it difficult to suppress her laughter at the emphasis on the word don’t.

‘Oh, dear,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. What would you like me to do with them?’

‘Chuck the lot.’

‘Oh, no, they’re so pretty! And from such an elegant young man.’

‘Stuff and nonsense, he’s only after my money. Take the flowers away – give them to Egon. He never has any visitors.’

The glass vase was cool against her palms as Malena carried it into the kitchen.

‘Doesn’t she want them today either?’ asked her colleague, who was busy emptying the dishwasher.

They both laughed.

‘She told me to chuck the lot.’

Malena’s colleague shook her head.

‘I don’t know why he keeps on turning up week after week, when she’s so unpleasant.’

‘She says it’s because of his inheritance.’

‘And I say it’s love.’

Malena put down the vase on one of the tables.

‘Do you think she’ll recognise the flowers by dinnertime?’ she asked.

‘No chance. Her memory seems to be getting worse and worse. It’s almost time to see if they’ve got room for her upstairs.’

Upstairs. The abstract paraphrase for the secure unit on the upper floor where those suffering from dementia were cared for. Many residents seemed to end up there sooner or later. The heavy doors of the unit frightened Malena. She hoped to God that she would never be affected by some form of dementia.

The television was on in the kitchen. Malena’s attention was caught by a news item about a woman’s body that had been found in an area of forest in Midsommarkransen. The police hadn’t released many details, but the man who had found the body was happy to be interviewed.

‘It was the dog that found her,’ he said, standing up very straight. ‘Unfortunately, I’m not allowed to tell you any more than that.’

‘But what did she look like?’ the reporter asked.

The man looked confused.

‘I’m not allowed to say.’

‘Can’t you tell us if she was wearing any clothes?’

The man’s earlier self-confidence had completely disappeared.

‘I’ve got to go,’ he said. ‘Come along, Svante.’

He walked away from the cameras, dragging the dog behind him.

Malena’s mobile rang in the pocket of her overalls. The ugly uniform with which the care home provided its employees had just one advantage: the big pockets where you could keep a mobile phone, throat lozenges and other unnecessary items.

She stiffened when she saw who was calling. So long ago, and yet the memory hadn’t faded at all. He just kept on ringing, making his demands. Threatening and saying those foul things.

‘Hello.’

‘Hi, Malena. How are you?’

She left the kitchen and moved down the corridor, hoping her colleague wouldn’t overhear the conversation.

‘What do you want?’

‘The same as before.’

‘We had an agreement.’

‘Yes, and we still do. I can only apologise if you thought otherwise.’

She was breathing heavily; she could feel the panic rising like the bubbles in a bottle of cola.

‘Nobody has been here.’

‘Nobody?’

‘Not a soul.’

‘Good. I’ll be in touch when I need more information.’

She remained standing in the corridor for a long time after the conversation was over. She would never be free. Certain debts could never be paid off, it was that simple.

5

‘Aren’t we meeting in the Lions’ Den?’

Peder stopped dead when he heard Fredrika’s question.

‘We can’t use it at the moment; the air conditioning system broke down and the whole corridor smelled of shit. We’re borrowing the others’ room for the time being.’

The others, Fredrika thought. An interesting way of describing the colleagues who were on the same corridor, but who didn’t belong to Alex’s team.

Peder glanced at her.

‘You came back a bit bloody fast,’ he said. ‘Overnight, in fact.’

When Fredrika didn’t reply immediately he added hurriedly:

‘It’s good to have you here, of course.’

‘Thank you,’ said Fredrika. ‘Things changed at home, so I ended up coming back to work a bit sooner than I’d intended.’

Peder still looked surprised, but Fredrika couldn’t help him. She was confused herself. The step from beginning to miss her job and thinking it might be nice to go back part time to actually starting work had been rather shorter than she had expected. Astonishingly short, in fact. And she wasn’t really back, not properly. She would be working part time for the next three weeks, and then… She would just have to wait and see what felt right.

Alex was waiting for them in the conference room, which looked almost exactly the same as the Den. The memory of her conversation with Margareta Berlin was bothering Fredrika. She had promised to report back if Alex’s leadership seemed unsatisfactory, out of the ordinary in some way. Few things were worse than volunteering to be a spy for the head of HR. But it wasn’t entirely voluntary.

It’s because I care about you, Alex.

Fredrika had heard about his trip to Iraq, and wept when she was told why he had gone. There were no words to describe how she felt when she thought about the kindness of what Alex had done, travelling halfway around the world to return an engagement ring to a woman who had lost the man she loved without knowing how or why.

I nearly lost you, Spencer.

They sat down around the table: Fredrika, Alex, Peder, and a number of faces Fredrika didn’t recognise. These were additional colleagues on loan to the team because of the dismembered body in the plastic bags.

Rebecca Trolle. Initial tests using DNA from a body in an advanced state of decay had proven her identity. The process had been speeded up because of the unusual circumstances, given priority at SKL, the National Forensics Laboratory in Linköping, and everywhere else as necessary.

Alex, who had never been in any doubt about the identity of the corpse, was keen to get started.

‘We heard from SKL less than an hour ago, and we won’t be releasing any information to the media until Rebecca’s mother has been informed.’

‘Are we telling her that her daughter’s dead?’ Peder asked.

Is that the right term when you’re informing someone that a person who has been missing for two years has been found dead? Fredrika wondered. She decided it probably was. Even if death was the only logical assumption, there was no reason to give up hope. Not if you really loved the person who was missing, not if you needed that hope. If Saga disappeared, how many years would it be before Fredrika gave up? A hundred? A thousand?

‘We will be informing her that her daughter has been found dead,’ Alex said. ‘I’m going to do it myself when the meeting is over. Fredrika can come with me.’

‘But there’s something I wanted to ask her,’ Peder objected. ‘The mother, I mean.’

‘There will be plenty of opportunities to speak to her, Peder. I’ve kept in touch with her since Rebecca disappeared, and I think this news will bring her peace of mind. She already suspects that her daughter is dead, but she wants that confirmation. And of course she’ll want to know what happened.’

Alex took a deep breath.

‘It’s difficult to establish the exact cause of death because the body has been lying there for such a long time. There is nothing to indicate bullet wounds or other physical trauma – broken ribs as a result of a struggle, for example. She might have been strangled, but we can’t be sure.’

He opened a folder and took out a number of photographs.

‘However, the pathologist was able to establish that she was pregnant at the time of her death.’

Fredrika looked up in surprise.

‘Did we know that?’

‘No, it didn’t come to light in any of the interviews during the course of the original investigation. And we spoke to every single person Rebecca knew. We went through everyone she’d been in touch with on the telephone, we checked out every friend listed as a contact in her email address book, but nobody mentioned the fact that she was pregnant.’

‘So no one knew?’ Fredrika said.

‘It looks that way,’ Alex replied. ‘In which case we have to ask why. Why doesn’t a young girl tell anyone she’s four months pregnant?’

‘Four months,’ Peder echoed. ‘Wouldn’t it have shown?’

‘If it had, somebody would have told us,’ Alex said.

‘She must have confided in someone,’ Fredrika insisted.

‘The father, perhaps?’ said Peder. ‘Who wasn’t very pleased to hear the news, and killed her?’

‘Then chopped up the body,’ said Alex.

He pointed to the photographs.

‘There are two main reasons why a perpetrator dismembers the body of his victim. One: to make identification more difficult. Two: because he’s a sick bastard who enjoys sadistic activities. But in that case he would probably bury the whole lot in one place.’

‘Perhaps both reasons apply,’ Fredrika suggested.

Alex looked at her.

‘Maybe. In which case we’re in real trouble. Because Rebecca might not be the only victim.’

‘But if we bring the pregnancy into our hypothesis, that makes it personal,’ Peder said.

‘Absolutely, which is why we’re going to start from there,’ Alex said. ‘Who was the child’s father, and why did nobody know she was pregnant?’

‘What happened in the original investigation?’ Fredrika asked. ‘Did you manage to narrow down a list of suspects?’

‘There was talk of a new boyfriend, and we threw everything into looking for him, but we never found him. It was a peculiar story from start to finish. We couldn’t find any trace of him – not in phone calls or in her emails. Nobody knew his name, but several people claimed they had “heard about him”. He hovered over the entire investigation like an evil spirit, but we never saw him. We didn’t find any other credible suspects.’

Peder frowned.

‘There was also an ex-girlfriend.’

‘Daniella.’

‘Exactly, so how come Rebecca suddenly had a boyfriend?’

Alex looked weary.

‘How the hell should I know? Her mother described her as a seeker. She’d had several boyfriends, but only one girlfriend.’

‘Was this Daniella ever a suspect?’ Fredrika asked.

‘We considered that as a working hypothesis for a while,’ Alex replied. ‘But she had an alibi, and we couldn’t really come up with a motive.’

‘And what about Håkan Nilsson?’ Peder wondered.

A smile flitted across Alex’s face, got lost among the lines and disappeared. That short-lived smile had become the characteristic sign of his grief.

‘We looked very carefully at Håkan. Not at first, but later on when we had no other leads to follow. His eagerness to help, his campaign to make sure she was found at any price – it all seemed to indicate rather more than friendship. It was almost manic. When her other friends just couldn’t go on any longer, Håkan was still there all on his own, still searching.’

‘The person who has the most to hide…’

‘… is the most keen to show he cares. I know. But in Håkan’s case, I don’t think that was true.’

When Alex paused, Peder spoke up.

‘He lives in Midsommarkransen, Alex. We need to take another look at him.’

Alex straightened up. That was something he hadn’t been aware of.

‘Absolutely,’ he said. ‘We have to look at everyone again, but particularly Håkan. Put him under surveillance and see where he goes.’

Alex glanced at Fredrika.

‘And you and I will go and see Diana Trolle, Rebecca’s mother.’

They hardly spoke on the way to Diana Trolle’s house. Alex could feel Fredrika’s questions hanging in the air – how were things, was he lonely, how did it feel to be back at work? He had questions of his own – how was Saga? Did she sleep through the night, or did she keep her parents awake? Was she eating well, was she teething? But he couldn’t get a word out. It was as if he had been transformed into a mussel that was impossible to prise open. The kind of mussel that was easily disposed of.

It wasn’t far to Spånga, where Diana lived. He had often been there in the past, but it was a long time ago. He remembered that he had liked her, found her attractive. An artistic soul, lost in a boring job at County Hall.

To begin with, she had been optimistic as they searched for Rebecca. Alex had been honest with her: the first few days were critical. If her daughter was not found at that point, the prospect of finding her alive at a later stage was minimal. She had accepted his words calmly, not because her daughter was an insignificant part of her life, but because she had decided not to meet trouble halfway. She had stuck to that point of view for a long time.

‘As long as she’s not dead, she’s alive,’ she had said, giving Alex a phrase he could use in similar situations.

But now there was no avoiding the truth. Rebecca was dead, desecrated and buried. The piece of jewellery from her navel was in his jacket pocket. There was nothing merciful about the news Alex and Fredrika must now deliver. Perhaps there might be a chance of closure, but only if they could also explain what had led to Rebecca’s death. And they weren’t there yet.

Diana opened the door before they had time to ring the bell. It was Alex who told her when they sitting in the living room. Diana wept as she sat alone in a big armchair.

‘How did she die?’

‘We don’t know, Diana. But I promise you we’ll find out.’

Alex looked around. Rebecca lived on in this room, in photographs with her brother and in a picture her mother had painted when she was confirmed.

‘I knew as soon as I saw you getting out of the car. But I still hoped you might have come to tell me something else.’

Fredrika got to her feet.

‘I could make us all a drink, as long as you don’t mind me rummaging around in your kitchen?’

Diana nodded silently, and Alex caught himself wondering if he had ever heard Fredrika offer to do something like that. He didn’t think so.

They could hear the sound of the kettle and the clatter of cups being set out on a tray. Alex chose his words with care.

‘We’ll be giving this investigation top priority from now on; I hope you don’t think otherwise.’

Diana smiled through her tears, the droplets shining on her high cheekbones. Dark eyes, hair slightly too long. Had the sorrow over her missing daughter aged her? He didn’t think so.

‘You didn’t find the person who did it,’ she reminded him.

‘No, we didn’t,’ Alex said. ‘But the situation is different now.’

‘In what way?’

‘We have a crime scene, a geographical location to which we can link the perpetrator. We’re hoping to be able to secure evidence of the person who did this, but…’

‘But it’s been such a long time,’ Diana supplied.

‘We can still do it.’

His voice was tense with fury and conviction. It was always painful to abandon the hope that preceded despair; nobody knew that better than Alex.

We can still do it. Because anything else is unacceptable.

He had said those words to Lena more times than she wanted to hear them. In the end he had spent so much time trying to find a way of saving her that he could no longer see that she was getting worse.

‘Mum is dying,’ his daughter said. ‘And you’re missing the end, Dad.’

The memories were so painful. So agonisingly painful.

His vision was clouded by tears. Fredrika came back with a tray of coffee, rescuing him without realising it.

‘Here we are,’ she said. ‘Milk?’

They drank in silence, allowing the absence of words to bring peace.

So far, Alex had not commented on the circumstances surrounding the discovery of Rebecca’s body; he had not told Diana that it had been dismembered and buried in two plastic bags. He hesitated before he spoke; he hated this part of his job.

Diana listened, wide-eyed.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Nor do we, but we’re doing everything we can to find out what happened.’

‘Who would be sick enough to…?’

‘Don’t think about that.’

Alex swallowed.

‘There’s one more thing I need to tell you. Well, two in fact. I don’t want you to hear this through the press.’

He told her about the missing head and hands, calmly and in plain words. Then he gave her the piece of jewellery. Diana took it without speaking, then after a moment she said:

‘You said there were two things?’

Her voice was hoarse with tension, the tears pouring down her face.

‘She was pregnant.’

‘What?’

‘You didn’t know?’

She shook her head, her whole body trembling.

‘We’re very keen to identify the child’s father,’ Fredrika said. ‘I know you weren’t aware of a specific boyfriend, but had Rebecca ever said she wanted a child?’

‘Of course she did, but not until she was older. We spoke openly about that kind of thing. She was on the pill; she was very careful about contraception.’

‘How long had she been on the pill?’

‘Let me think; how old was she when the subject first came up? Seventeen, I think. I drove her to the clinic.’

A model parent, in Fredrika’s eyes.

Alex took over, not wanting the first meeting with Diana since the discovery of Rebecca’s body to go on for too long.

‘It’s quite a while since Rebecca disappeared,’ he said. ‘Has anything new occurred to you during that time?’

How long was two years? Two years was the difference between being single and having a family, between having a family and losing it.

Diana cleared her throat.

‘A friend of mine said something horrible a while ago, but I didn’t really attach any importance to it. It was just too stupid.’

Fredrika and Alex waited.

‘My friend has a daughter who was on the same course as Rebecca, and she hinted that the person who took her could have been someone she met on the internet.’

‘That doesn’t sound too unlikely,’ Fredrika said tentatively. ‘These days a lot of people meet their partners that way.’

‘Not like that,’ Diana said. ‘She meant… Her daughter had said that my Rebecca was selling certain things on the Internet.’

‘Things?’ Alex said.

‘Herself.’

Alex stiffened.

‘Where the hell did she get that from?’

‘She said there was a rumour going around after Rebecca disappeared. But in my wildest imagination I can’t believe…’

Her voice died away.

‘Was Rebecca insecure?’ Fredrika asked.

‘God, no.’

‘Lonely?’

‘She had loads of friends.’

‘Was she short of money?’

‘She would have come to me. She always did.’

Not always. That was something Alex had learned over the years. ‘Always’ was a word construed by parents when ‘usually’ was more accurate.

‘We’d really like to speak to your friend and her daughter,’ Fredrika said.

Diana nodded.

‘I must ring Rebecca’s brother,’ she said.

‘Of course,’ Alex replied. ‘And if you like we can arrange some counselling for you.’

‘That won’t be necessary.’

They headed for the door, passing several photographs of Rebecca on the walls. Don’t take them down, Alex thought. You would bitterly regret it.

‘What happened to her things?’ Fredrika asked.

‘It’s all in storage,’ Diana said. ‘Her brother and I emptied her room in the student hostel once the investigators had taken what they wanted, and we put it all in my sister’s garage. If you want to have a look I can give you directions.’

‘That would be kind,’ Fredrika said.

‘Just one more thing,’ Alex said.

They stopped.

‘Do you remember Håkan Nilsson?’

‘Of course. We’re still in touch; he was very fond of Rebecca.’

‘They’d been friends since school, hadn’t they?’

‘That’s right. And Rebecca helped him when his father died; that was in their last year at school.’

As the front door opened, the spring sunshine flooded the hallway.

‘Did Rebecca ever say anything to indicate that he might be a problem?’ Fredrika asked.

Diana looked past her, out into the street. A whole world was waiting on the other side of the door. She would have to think about when she might be ready to face it again.

‘I remember her telling me that he was upset when she decided to study in France. I suppose he had expected her to stay in Stockholm.’

‘Did he have any reason to expect that? Were they a couple.’

‘Definitely not. He wasn’t her type at all.’

Alex thought for a moment.

‘But they became friends again when she came home?’

‘I know they got back in touch, but it was only afterwards I realised they were close friends.’

‘What made you realise that?’

‘It was the only logical explanation. Why else would he have got so involved after her disappearance?’

6

The news that Rebecca Trolle had been found in Midsommarkransen eclipsed every other news story that afternoon. In his role as the officer in charge of the investigation, Alex Recht held a brief press conference. He chose to omit the macabre details – the fact that the body had been dismembered and that certain parts were missing.

There were plenty of questions from the journalists, but his answers were limited.

No, he couldn’t say what progress the investigation had made; it was much too early.

No, he did not wish to comment on whether they had any suspects.

No, he did not wish to explain how they had been able to identify the body so quickly, in spite of the fact that Rebecca had been lying in the ground for so long that there was no possibility of recognising her.

He brought the press conference to an end and went back to his office. His daughter Viktoria called him on his mobile.

‘Are you coming over for something to eat tonight, Dad? It would be really nice to see you.’

‘I don’t know; I’m in the middle of a new investigation and…’

‘I saw you on TV; your jumper looked great!’

The jumper he had been given for Christmas. The worst Christmas in living memory.

‘Are you coming?’

‘Mmm, if I can fit it in. You know how it is, these cases take time, and…’

‘Dad.’

‘Yes?’

‘Just come over. OK?’

She was so much like her mother. The same voice, the same drive, the same stubbornness. She would do well in life.

He ambled past Fredrika’s office; she was absorbed in the documents from the investigation into Rebecca’s disappearance. When she heard his footsteps, she looked up with a smile.

‘I thought you were supposed to be working part time,’ Alex said.

Half joking, half serious.

Don’t be like the rest of us – don’t forget your family as soon as you come back to work after your maternity leave.

‘I am,’ Fredrika replied. ‘I just wanted to read for a while before I go home. What an active person she must have been.’

‘Rebecca? Indeed she was, to say the least. The investigation was a mass of dead ends. Part time jobs, student life, the church choir, friends, the world and his wife.’

‘We need to speak to that friend of Diana’s, and her daughter, about the rumour that Rebecca was selling herself on the internet.’

‘We do.’ Alex smiled. ‘But not you, Fredrika. It’s time you went home.’

She returned his smile.

‘In a minute. One question before I go: What was she studying when she disappeared?’

‘The history of literature, as far as I remember.’

‘What level? How far had she got?’

‘I’m not really sure. I think she was writing her dissertation. We spoke to her supervisor; he was a bit odd, but hardly her new boyfriend, and definitely not a murderer.’

‘Alibi?’

‘Just like everyone else we spoke to.’

Fredrika leafed through the papers in front of her.

‘I wonder who he was, this new boyfriend. I mean, it could be someone she met on the internet.’

Alex nodded in agreement.

‘You’re right. But in that case, why didn’t one single person tell us she was meeting men online? Girls talk about that kind of thing, don’t they?’

‘They do.’

Fredrika looked pensive.

‘The child,’ she said. ‘Someone must have know she was expecting. She must have contacted a pregnancy advisory centre.’

‘Must she? By the fourth month?’

Fredrika rummaged through the piles of paper.

‘I’ve looked very carefully at the list of items the police took away,’ she said. ‘You turned her student room upside down, made a note of which fluoride tablets she used, her preferred brand of tampons. There’s nothing about contraceptive pills.’

Alex came into the room, walked behind Fredrika and read over her shoulder.

‘They made a note of every item of medication found in Rebecca’s room.’

‘Cough medicine, Alvedon, Panodil,’ Fredrika read. ‘Believe me, none of them work as a contraceptive.’

‘Perhaps she’d run out?’ Alex suggested. ‘And because she wasn’t in a relationship, she didn’t renew the prescription?’

‘And when she did have sex after all, they didn’t use any protection. That sounds odd to me, given how careful she had been in the past.’

Fredrika turned to face Alex.

‘I’d like to speak to Diana Trolle again. Ask if she knew where her daughter got her prescription for the pill.’

‘OK. Hopefully, that will enable us to find out when she stopped taking it.’

‘Exactly. And it should give us more information about her pregnancy, at least if she usually had her prescription filled at a clinic. There’s no reason to think that she would go somewhere completely different to discuss her pregnancy.’

‘If she did actually discuss it with anyone.’

Fredrika gathered up the documents on her desk and handed them to Alex.

‘I’ll ring Diana straight away. Then I’m going home. Have you heard anything about Håkan Nilsson from the surveillance team?’

Alex clutched the folders to his chest.

‘Nothing so far. He’s still at work. Peder and I will probably bring him in for a chat this evening.’

Fredrika nodding, trying to remember what Håkan Nilsson had looked like in the pictures she had seen in the files. Pale, thin, a lost look in his eyes. His expression seemed angry in some of the photographs. How angry do you have to be to kill someone, then dismember their body? Put the pieces in plastic bags and bury them? She shuddered. Death was never pretty, but sometimes it was so ugly that it was completely incomprehensible.

Diana Trolle knew exactly where her daughter got her contraceptive pills from: first of all from the youth clinic in Spånga, then later on – when she was too old to go there any more – from the Serafen clinic opposite City Hall.

‘She said a lot of positive things about that place,’ Diana recalled. ‘But I’ve never been there myself.’

Fredrika decided to call in at the clinic on her way home, partly because she felt like a walk, and partly because she was curious.

She tried to phone Spencer as she was leaving work. They had already spoken twice during the day. She could hear from his voice that he was tense, and she wondered if he had taken on too much. If that was the case, she would have to stay at home for a while longer, that was all there was to it. At the same time, she was frightened by the direction her thoughts were taking.

What would happen to Saga if Fredrika died, and Spencer was unable to look after his daughter? Would she go and live with Fredrika’s brother?

No chance. Spencer would never abandon his only daughter, Fredrika was sure of that.

Spencer interrupted her brooding when he finally answered his mobile. Saga was asleep, he informed Fredrika. It was fine if she came home a bit later than they had agreed.

The walk from police headquarters in Kronoberg to the clinic opposite City Hall was short but invigorating. Fredrika decided to go via Hantverkargatan, and enjoyed breathing in the fresh spring air. It always seemed lighter and cleaner than the air at any other time of year. Good for the soul.

The clinic was located on the first floor of the magnificent building that resembled a British stately home; it was right by the water. Fredrika gazed at all the mothers-to-be, sitting in the waiting room with their big bellies, several of them with older children in buggies. How could people cope with more than one child? She just didn’t get it. Neither she nor Spencer wanted any more children; at least that was how they felt at the moment.

‘One is more than enough,’ Spencer had muttered one night when Saga had a cold and kept on waking up over and over again.

Fredrika showed her ID to the nurse on reception and explained why she was there. The nurse hesitated when she asked to see any notes they might have on Rebecca.

‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ she said, and returned after a short while with an older colleague.

Fredrika explained the situation again, and the midwife listened attentively. With long fingers she searched through the suspension files in the filing cabinet. She nodded silently to herself as she took one out.

‘I was the one who saw her the last time she was here,’ she said, pointing to a note in the margin. She screwed up her eyes.

‘I see so many women every day, it’s difficult to remember them all.’

You don’t have to remember them all, Fredrika thought. Only this one.

‘But I think I know who you mean,’ the midwife said, much to Fredrika’s relief. ‘She was here to renew her prescription for the pill, but suspected she might be pregnant. She was terribly upset, if I remember rightly.’

‘So what happened?’

‘She was pregnant, of course. I think we worked out she was probably in the third month. She was terrified.’

‘Then what?’

‘She left, saying she was going to get rid of the baby. I have no idea whether she did or not; she never came back.’

Fredrika glanced through the notes.

‘Is there anything else you recall from your meeting with Rebecca?’

‘Only that she seemed anxious. And she asked me whether it was possible to have a termination even if the child’s father might want to keep it.’

Fredrika put down the file.

‘Did she, indeed?’

‘Yes. I thought it was a stupid question. It’s obvious that it’s the woman who decides whether or not she wants to be a mother.’

But it wasn’t obvious, and both Fredrika and the midwife knew it. Fredrika began to feel concerned. Why had Rebecca felt the need to ask the question? Who was the man she suspected would want to keep the child?

‘Håkan Nilsson,’ Alex said when she called him.

‘That’s what I thought.’

‘But?’

‘But that would be too easy.’

‘He’s been in touch with Diana, expressed his condolences and so on. Asked if he could come over.’

‘What did she say?’

‘She said no.’

They ended the call, and Alex carried on going through the previous investigation. There was a wealth of material, but hardly any leads.

A young woman, expected at a party at the university, leaves home and gets on a bus travelling in completely the opposite direction. Secretly four months pregnant, possibly afraid that a termination will antagonise the child’s father. Did that mean she had told him about the baby?

Where were you going that evening, Rebecca?

Peder appeared in the doorway; he came in and sat down. He had spent a considerable amount of time speaking to Rebecca’s closest friends on the phone, and to her father and brother.

‘I’ve given Ellen a list of the people you highlighted in the investigation into Rebecca’s disappearance,’ Peder said. ‘I’ve asked her to check the names against our records to see if they’ve been mixed up in anything suspect since then.’

‘Good,’ Alex said. ‘And what about the interviews you and the other investigators have conducted so far – anything there?’

‘Maybe,’ Peder replied, chewing on a fingernail.

Alex gave him an encouraging look.

‘Not long after Rebecca went missing, there was a rumour that she had been selling sexual services on the Internet.’

‘We heard the same thing from her mother,’ Alex said. ‘A friend had told her.’

‘We’ll have to follow it up, but I don’t believe it.’

‘Me neither.’

‘I also heard something else that sounded more credible. Did you speak to her ex-girlfriend?’

‘Several times. Why?’

‘According to the gossip, she never got over the fact that Rebecca had dumped her, or that Rebecca regarded her as an experiment.’

Alex rubbed his hands together; it was something he often did when he was distracted, or when he was thinking. Scarred hands that had been burned, then healed. A constant memory of a case that ended in chaos, a case that had troubled their consciences for a long time.

‘There were certain indications that the ex wasn’t quite as she should be,’ Alex said. ‘She’d been in a youth psychiatric unit when she was younger; I think she’d been diagnosed as bi-polar.’

‘Any violent tendencies?’

‘Not as far as we know.’

‘We ought to check her out anyway.’

‘I agree,’ Alex said. ‘However, there is one thing I think we can be absolutely sure of.’

Peder waited.

‘She can’t possibly be the father of the child Rebecca was expecting.’

Peder grinned.

‘No, but Håkan Nilsson could have been.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘One of Rebecca’s female friends had some fairly unpleasant things to say about him. Apparently, Rebecca thought he was a real nuisance; he didn’t seem to realise they weren’t such close friends any more.’

‘In that case I think we need to have a chat with him,’ Alex said.

Peder worked late that day. He called home to let Ylva know he would be missing dinner. It was a conversation that would have triggered a huge row two years ago, but now she accepted it calmly. He and Ylva had sorted all that out when they decided not to get a divorce, but to move back in together and try again. Perhaps ‘sorted out’ was putting it too simply; the road back had been long, with many painful upsets along the way. Ylva needed time to forgive, to learn to trust him again. He also needed time to forgive himself. For all the damage he had caused. All the responsibility he had failed to accept.

The counsellor said they had to stop arguing about problems that couldn’t be solved. Peder’s job was never going to change, unless he went and did something else. However, he could try to negotiate with his employer for better terms when it came to time off in lieu, which he had done.

The reconciliation with Ylva had done him good. He had slowly begun to find his way back to the feeling of fulfilment he had enjoyed during the early years with her, when he had just joined the police and everything was going well. The birth of his twin boys had ruined everything, wrecked any attempt at a normal family life, because Ylva had suffered from serious postnatal depression. Her longing for children had turned into despair and insecurity. Peder had been unfaithful to his wife for the first time, and from then on he was caught in a downward spiral with no apparent end.

The fact that the end was not apparent did not mean it didn’t exist. It came the day he was called in to see the head of HR, and was sent on an equality course and for a programme of counselling. He had hated that old witch, punishing him for things he hadn’t done. He had hated her until the news about Alex’s wife and how ill she was became common knowledge at work, and at the same time Fredrika’s lover was involved in a serious car accident. It was as if Peder was able to gain some perspective on his own troubles, and at some point things turned around. And they had got better and better.

Peder and Alex wondered whether to bring in Håkan Nilsson right away, or wait until the following day. The prosecutor made it clear that they would be unable to hold him; the evidence was too weak and mostly circumstantial. However, they could certainly bring him in for questioning.

Peder went with a uniformed patrol to pick him up. It was almost half past five, and he was hungry. They stopped off briefly at a fast food kiosk, then carried on.

Håkan Nilsson opened the door after the second ring. It was obvious that he had been crying, and Peder felt something akin to contempt.

‘Håkan Nilsson? May we come in?’

Peder briefly outlined the reason for their visit. No doubt Håkan had heard that Rebecca’s body had been found; would he mind coming along to the police station for a short interview? Oh, no, he was no more of a suspect than anyone else, but they would like a chat with him, mainly so that they could eliminate him from their inquiries; he had been so helpful in the past.

Håkan wasn’t as easily manipulated as Peder had expected. He asked a number of questions, mainly about what had happened when they found Rebecca. What had she looked like? How had she died? He didn’t get any answers.

Eventually he agreed to accompany them, and they drove back to Kungsholmen. Alex and Peder conducted the interview together.

‘Could you tell us how you and Rebecca knew each other?’

‘You know that already.’

Alex looked amused.

‘I do,’ he said, ‘but Peder doesn’t. He’s not as familiar with Rebecca’s case as I am.’

‘We were at school together, that’s how we became friends.’

‘Were you more than friends?’

Håkan blushed.

‘No.’

‘But you would have liked to have been?’

‘No.’

‘OK,’ Peder said. ‘What did you usually do when you met up?’

Håkan shrugged his narrow shoulders.

‘We just used to hang out. Have a coffee, watch TV.’

‘How often did you see each other?’

‘Now and again.’

‘Could you be more precise?’

‘Once a week, maybe. Sometimes less often.’

Peder glanced down at his notebook.

‘How did you feel when she went off to study in France?’

Håkan looked tired.

‘I was disappointed.’

‘Why?’

‘I thought we were closer friends than that. It wasn’t so much that she went away, but that she didn’t tell me beforehand.’

Alex looked surprised.

‘She left without saying a word?’

‘No, no. Well, almost. She told me a week before she went, something like that.’

Håkan shifted on his chair.

‘But we sorted all that out,’ he went on. ‘There was no animosity between us.’

Alex gazed at him, frowning.

‘You were a great support to the police when she went missing.’

‘It was important to me to help out,’ Håkan said.

‘Did she mean a lot to you?’ Peder asked.

Håkan nodded. ‘I didn’t have all that many friends.’

Peder leaned across the table, his posture more relaxed.

‘She was a pretty girl,’ he said.

‘She was,’ Håkan agreed. ‘She was lovely.’

‘Did you sleep with her?’

Håkan looked dismayed, and Peder held up his hands in a defensive gesture.

‘I don’t mean any harm,’ he assured Håkan. ‘I’m just saying that you were friends, she was pretty, and you might just have fancied her. There’s nothing strange about that, I’m well aware of how these things can happen.’

Alex gave him a sideways glance, but said nothing. He would rather not hear any more about Peder’s lifestyle than Margareta Berlin had already told him.

Håkan picked at a cuticle without speaking.

‘What Peder is trying to say is that perhaps you just got together one night even though you weren’t a couple,’ Alex said. ‘As Peder said, these things happen, and it’s not the end of the world.’

‘It was only the once,’ Håkan said without looking at them.

‘Why didn’t you tell us this before?’ Alex asked.

Håkan looked at him as if he had lost his mind.

‘Because it was nothing to do with you. Why do you think, for fuck’s sake?’

Peder interrupted him.

‘When was this?’

‘A while before she went missing.’

‘How long?’

‘Three or four months.’

‘Did you use protection?’

Håkan squirmed. ‘I didn’t, but she did. She was on the pill.’

‘So she didn’t get pregnant?’ Alex asked.

‘No.’

Håkan refused to meet Alex’s gaze as he answered.

Was he lying?

‘Are you sure?’

A silent nod. Still no eye contact.

‘From a purely hypothetical point of view,’ Alex went on, ‘if she had got pregnant, what would you have done?’

At last, Håkan raised his head.

‘We’d have kept it, of course.’

‘Of course?’ Peder repeated. ‘You were both very young; no one would have blamed you if you’d decided on a termination.’

‘Out of the question,’ Håkan said. ‘It would never have happened. Abortion is murder if the child has been created within a loving relationship. I despise people who think differently.’

‘Did you and Rebecca agree on that?’

‘Of course we did.’

Håkan’s expression darkened and his voice grew hoarse.

‘We would have been excellent parents, if she’d lived.’

INTERVIEW WITH FREDRIKA BERGMAN, 02-05-2009, 15.30 (tape recording)

Present: Urban S, Roger M (interrogators one and two). Fredrika Bergman (witness).

Urban: So at that point you believed Håkan Nilsson to be the guilty party?

Fredrika: There were a number of indications to support that view. He had a motive and the personality traits that led us to believe he was capable of murder.

Roger: Had you discovered the link with the writer Thea Aldrin at that stage?

Fredrika: At that stage we barely knew who Thea Aldrin was; she still hadn’t come up in the investigation.

Urban: So you hadn’t identified the film club?

Fredrika: Absolutely not.

Roger: OK, back to Håkan Nilsson. What about his alibi?

Fredrika: It had been checked during the previous investigation and deemed valid. We reached the same conclusion. He had spent the whole evening at a social event for mentors and students, and witness statements confirmed that he had been there from five o’clock until midnight.

Urban: But you didn’t write him off completely?

Fredrika: No, definitely not. No alibi is one hundred per cent reliable.

Roger: How was Peder Rydh at this point?

Fredrika: I don’t understand the question.

Urban: Was he stable?

Fredrika: Yes. He was feeling better than he had for a long time.

Urban: So you’re saying that there were occasions when Peder Rydh had been feeling under par and had acted injudiciously?

(Silence.)

Roger: You must answer our questions, Fredrika.

Fredrika: Yes, there have been times when he was unstable.

Urban: And acted injudiciously?

Fredrika: And acted injudiciously. But as I said, he was in a good place throughout the investigation, and…

Roger: We’re not there yet. It’s too soon to talk about the investigation as a whole. We’ve only got as far as Håkan Nilsson.

(Silence.)

Urban: What happened next?

Fredrika: Next?

Urban: What happened after that first interview with Håkan Nilsson?

Fredrika: The team who were working on the scene of the crime called Alex. They’d found something else.