The Ice Child

Chapter Six

The big barn was quiet and cold. A little snow had blown through the crevices in the walls, mixing together with the dust and dirt. The hayloft had been empty for years, and the ladder leading up to it had been terribly rickety for as long as Molly could remember. Aside from their horse van, only old and forgotten vehicles were stored in the barn. A rusty combine-harvester, an unusable Grålle tractor, but mostly lots of cars.

In the distance Molly heard the sound of voices from the stable on the hill, but today she didn’t want to go riding. It seemed so pointless since she wasn’t going to compete tomorrow. Some of the other girls would no doubt be overjoyed to have a chance to ride Scirocco.

Slowly she wandered among the old cars. They were left over from her paternal grandfather’s former business. When she was growing up she’d heard him constantly talking about it, boasting about all the finds he’d made all over Sweden. For a pittance he’d bought up cars that were considered scrap metal and then restored them and sold them for significantly higher sums. But after he fell ill, the barn had been transformed into a car junkyard. The space was filled with partially restored vehicles, and no one could be bothered to get rid of them.

She ran her hand over an old Volkswagen Beetle rusting away over in the corner. It wouldn’t be long before she could start taking driving lessons. Maybe she could persuade Jonas to fix up this car for her.

She tried the handle, and the door opened. The car needed a lot of work inside too. The interior was rusty and dirty, and stuffing was coming out of the seats, but she could tell the car had the potential to be really great. She got into the driver’s seat and cautiously placed her hands on the steering wheel. She would love having this little Beetle for her own. The other girls would be green with envy.

She pictured herself driving around Fjällbacka, magnanimously offering her friends rides. It would be a few years yet before she could drive on her own, but she decided to talk to Jonas about it soon. She would get him to fix up the car for her, whether he wanted to or not. She knew he could do it. Her grandfather had told her that Jonas used to help him restore the cars, and he’d shown a lot of talent for the work. It was the only time she’d ever heard her grandfather say anything nice about Jonas. Otherwise he mostly complained.

‘So this is where you’re hiding?’

She gave a start at the sound of Jonas’s voice right next to the car window.

‘Do you like it?’ He grinned, and with some embarrassment she opened the door. She wasn’t happy about being caught sitting in the car and pretending to drive.

‘It’s great,’ she said. ‘I was thinking of driving it once I have a licence.’

‘It’s not exactly in drivable shape.’

‘No, but…’

‘But you thought I might fix it up for you? Hmm… Well, why not? We’ve got plenty of time. I should be able to do it if I work on it every once in a while.’

‘Really?’ she said, her eyes shining, and she threw her arms around her father’s neck.

‘Yes, really,’ he said, giving her a hug. Then he gently pushed her away and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘But you have to agree to stop sulking. I know how important the competition was to you. We already talked about that. But it won’t be long until the next one.’

‘I know. You’re right.’

Molly could feel her mood lifting. She started walking among the cars again. There were several others that might also be cool to drive, but she still liked the Beetle the best.

‘Why don’t you fix up these cars? Or else sell them for scrap?’ She was standing next to a big black Buick.

‘Your grandfather doesn’t want me to. So they’ll just stay here until they fall apart, or until Grandpa is gone.’

‘Well, I think it’s a shame.’ She went over to a green camper van that looked like the Scooby Doo minibus. Jonas pulled her away.

‘Come on. I don’t like you to be in here. There’s a lot of broken glass and rust. And not long ago I saw some rats.’

‘Rats!’ exclaimed Molly, taking a quick step back and looking about.

Jonas laughed. ‘Come on. Let’s go in and have a snack. It’s cold out here. And I promise that our house is rat-free.’

He put his arm around her, and they headed for the door. Molly shivered. Her father was right. It was freezing cold in here, and she would die if she saw a rat. But she was still overjoyed about the car. She couldn’t wait to tell the other stable girls all about it.

Tyra was secretly pleased that Liv had been reprimanded today. She was even more spoiled than Molly, if that was possible, and the look on Liv’s face when Ida was given permission to ride Scirocco was priceless. She had sulked for the rest of the riding lesson, and Blackie could clearly sense it. He refused to settle down, which had made Liv even more cross.

Tyra was sweating under her heavy clothing. It was so hard to plod through all the snow and her legs ached. She longed for springtime when she’d be able to bicycle back and forth to the stable. Life would be so much simpler then.

The sledding hill was crowded with children. She had gone sledding over there many times, and she remembered the giddy feeling when she’d whooshed down the steep slope. Nowadays it didn’t seem nearly as high or steep as it had when she was a child, but it was still more exciting than Doktorn hill. That one was only for the very young. She recalled going skiing near Doktorn hill, which had led to her first and only skiing holiday. To the surprise of the ski instructor, she had claimed to have learned to ski on Doktorn hill. Then she had set off down the ski slope, which turned out to be quite a bit higher and steeper, and that was putting it mildly. But she had managed fine, and her mother always told the story with such pride, amazed at how bold her little girl had been.

Tyra didn’t know what had happened to that bold spirit of hers. It still existed when she interacted with the horses, but the rest of the time she felt like a coward. Ever since the car accident that had killed her father, Tyra had expected disaster to be lurking around every corner. She knew that everything could seem perfectly normal, only to be changed for ever in a matter of seconds.

With Victoria she had felt braver. It was as if she became somebody else, someone better, whenever they were together. They had always met at Victoria’s home, never at hers. She said it was too noisy because of her little brothers, but the truth was that she was ashamed of her stepfather Lasse, at first because he had so often been drunk, and later because of his religious babbling. She was also ashamed of her mother for allowing herself to be cowed, tiptoeing about the house like a frightened mouse. They were not like Victoria’s darling parents who were so completely normal.

Tyra kicked at the snow. Sweat was running down her back. It was a long walk, but earlier in the day she’d made up her mind to do this, and she had no intention of turning back now. There were things she should have asked Victoria about, answers she should have demanded. She felt heartsick at the thought that she would never know what happened. She had done everything for Victoria, and that’s what she intended to keep doing.

The nondescript corridor inside the Institute for Sociology at Göteborg University was practically deserted. Having stopped to ask for directions they had been told they would find the criminologist here. Now they stood outside the door to his office. The nameplate said: Gerhard Struwer. Patrik knocked softly.

‘Come in!’ said a voice, so they opened the door and went in.

Patrik wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but the man looked as if he’d stepped out of an advert for a Dressmann clothing shop.

‘Welcome.’ Gerhard stood up and shook hands with both Patrik and Martin. Then he turned to Erica, who had stayed in the background. ‘Oh my, what an honour it is to meet Erica Falck.’

Gerhard sounded a bit too enthusiastic for Patrik’s taste. But the way this day was going, it didn’t surprise him that Struwer turned out to be a ladies’ man. Good thing Erica wasn’t susceptible to guys like him.

‘The honour is all mine. I’ve seen the insightful analyses you’ve presented on TV,’ replied Erica.

Patrik stared at her. Why was she speaking in such a flirtatious manner?

‘Gerhard appears regularly on the programme Missing,’ Erica explained to her husband with a smile. ‘I especially liked your portrait of Juha Valjakkala,’ she said to Struwer. ‘You certainly put your finger on something that no one else had seen, and I think that-’

Patrik cleared his throat. This was not going the way he had planned. He studied Gerhard, noting that the man not only had perfect teeth, he had precisely the right amount of grey at his temples. And nicely polished shoes. Who the hell kept their shoes polished in the middle of winter? Patrik cast a gloomy look at his own winter boots, which looked like they needed to be sent through the car wash if they were ever going to get clean again.

‘We have a few questions we’d like to ask you,’ he said, sitting down on one of the visitor’s chairs. He forced himself to keep a neutral expression. He refused to give Erica the satisfaction of seeing that he was jealous. Because he wasn’t. He just thought it was unnecessary to waste valuable time on chit-chat about matters that had nothing to do with why they were here.

‘Certainly. I’ve read with interest the material that you sent over.’ Gerhard sat down behind his desk. ‘Both regarding Victoria and regarding the other girls. Naturally I won’t be able to do a proper analysis on such short notice and with so little background information, but there are a few things that strike me about the case.’ He crossed his legs and steepled his hands, assuming a posture that Patrik found extremely irritating.

‘Shall I take notes?’ said Martin, giving Patrik a poke in the side.

He flinched, then nodded.

‘Yes, by all means,’ he said. Martin got out a notepad and pen and waited for Gerhard to continue.

‘I think we’re dealing with a very organized and rational individual. He or she – though for the sake of simplicity, let’s just say “he” – has been too successful at erasing all traces to be considered either psychotic or demented.’

‘How can you call it rational for someone to kidnap another person? Or to subject someone to what Victoria endured?’ Patrik could hear that his tone was a bit sharp.

‘When I use the word “rational”, I’m referring to an individual who is capable of advance planning, foreseeing the consequences of what he’s going to do, and acting accordingly. Someone who can quickly alter his plans if conditions change.’

‘That seems crystal clear to me,’ said Erica.

Patrik gritted his teeth and let Struwer go on.

‘Presumably the perpetrator is also relatively mature. A teenager or someone in their twenties wouldn’t have the necessary self-control or ability to plan so carefully. But in view of the physical strength required to control his victims, it has to be someone who is still strong and in good shape.’

‘Or we could be talking about more than one perpetrator,’ Martin interjected.

Gerhard nodded. ‘Yes, we can’t rule out the possibility that several individuals are involved. There have even been cases where an entire group has colluded in committing heinous crimes. Often some sort of religious motive is involved, as with Charles Manson and his cult of followers.’

‘What do you think about the time sequence? The first three girls disappeared at regular intervals, with about six months in between. But then it was only five months later that Minna went missing. And Victoria disappeared about three months after that,’ said Erica. Patrik had to admit that this was an excellent point.

‘If we look at serial murderers in the United States, such as Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, and Jeffrey Dahmer – and I’m sure you’ve heard these names numerous times – they often needed time to build up their energy, a sort of inner pressure. Criminals usually begin by imagining the crime, then they follow the victim that they’ve chosen, keeping watch for a while before they strike. Or it could be a matter of coincidence. The murderer fantasizes about a certain type of victim and then he happens to run into someone who fits the profile.’

‘This may be a stupid question, but are there any female serial killers?’ asked Martin. ‘I’ve only heard of men.’

‘It’s more common for men to commit serial murders, but there have been some women too. Aileen Wuornos, for example. And there are others.’

Struwer again pressed his fingertips together.

‘But getting back to the time aspect, it could be that the perpetrator keeps the victim prisoner for a lengthy period of time. After the victim has fulfilled her purpose, so to speak, or simply dies from exhaustion and injuries, then sooner or later he has to find a new victim to satisfy his needs. The pressure grows and grows until the perpetrator has to find some means of release. And that’s when he strikes. In interviews many serial killers have said that it’s no longer a matter of free will; they feel forced to take action.’

‘Do you think that’s the sort of behaviour we’re dealing with in this case?’ asked Patrik. Despite himself, he was fascinated.

‘The time sequence seems to indicate something along those lines. And maybe his need has grown increasingly urgent. The perpetrator can no longer wait as long before seeking out a new victim. If you are in fact looking for a serial killer, that is. From what I understand, you haven’t found any other bodies, and Victoria Hallberg was still alive when she reappeared.’

‘That’s right. Although it seems unlikely the perp intended to let her live. Don’t you think it seems more plausible that she somehow managed to escape?’

‘I agree. But even if we’re only dealing with kidnappings, the perpetrator may follow the same behaviour pattern. It could also be someone who kills out of sexual desire. A psychopathic perpetrator who murders for enjoyment. And for sexual gratification. The autopsy on Victoria showed that she had not been subjected to sexual assault, but this kind of case often has a sexual motive. So far we don’t know enough to determine if that’s the situation here.’

‘Did you know that research shows that half a per cent of the population can be labelled as psychopaths?’ Erica said eagerly.

‘Yeah, I know,’ said Martin. ‘I seem to remember reading about that in Café. Something about upper-level bosses.’

‘I’m not sure we should trust the scientific findings reported in a publication like Café. But in principle, you’re right, Erica.’ Gerhard smiled at her, flashing his white teeth. ‘A percentage of the general population meets the criteria for psychopathy. We tend to associate the term psychopath with murderers, or at least with criminals, but that’s far from the truth. Outwardly, most of them appear to lead completely ordinary, well-functioning lives. They learn how to behave in order to fit in with society, and they may even be high achievers. But inside they may never be like other people. They lack the ability to feel empathy and understand anyone else’s feelings. Their whole world and all their thoughts revolve around themselves. Whether psychopaths can become integrated into their community depends on how well they can imitate the feelings that are expected of them in various contexts. But they will never be totally successful. There’s always something that doesn’t ring true about them, and they have a difficult time establishing long-lasting and close relationships. Frequently they exploit people for their own purposes, and when they can no longer get away with it, they move on to the next victim, without feeling regret, remorse, or guilt.

‘So, getting back to your comment, Martin: there is research showing that the number of psychopaths in the top echelons of business is higher than among the general population. Many of the traits I just described can be of benefit in certain positions of power, when ruthlessness and lack of empathy have their uses.’

‘Are you saying that sometimes you can’t tell if someone is a psychopath?’ asked Martin.

‘Yes. At least, not immediately. Psychopaths can be quite charming. But if someone, over a period of time, has a relationship with a psychopath, sooner or later it will become clear that things are not as they should be.’

Patrik had begun to fidget. His chair was uncomfortable, and he could feel his back starting to ache. He cast a glance at Martin, who was busily taking notes. Then he turned to Struwer.

‘Why do you think these particular girls were chosen?’

‘It’s probably a question of the perpetrator’s sexual preference. Innocent young girls who’ve yet to have any sexual experience. A young girl is also easier to control and frighten than an adult. I’d guess it’s a combination of those two factors.’

‘Do you think it’s significant that they’re similar in appearance? They all have, or had, brown hair and blue eyes. Is that something the perp is intentionally looking for?’

‘It’s possible. In fact, I’d say it’s probable that the resemblance is significant. The victims may remind the perpetrator of someone, and so his actions have to do with that person. Ted Bundy was an example of this. Most of his victims looked alike and reminded him of a former girlfriend who had rejected him. He took his revenge on her through his victims.’

Martin had been listening attentively. Now he leaned forward to say, ‘What do you think was the purpose behind the injuries that Victoria suffered? Why would the perpetrator do something like that?’

‘As I said, it’s probable that the victims resemble someone who is important to the perpetrator. And in view of the type of injuries, I would say the purpose was to give him a feeling of control. By robbing the victim of all her primary senses, he totally controls her.’

‘If that’s the case, wouldn’t it have been enough to keep her prisoner?’ asked Martin.

‘For most perpetrators who want to control their victims, I would say yes. But this individual has gone one step further. Just picture it: Victoria was robbed of her ability to see, hear, and taste. She was trapped in a dark, silent room and unable to communicate. Basically the perpetrator created a living doll.’

Patrik shuddered. What this man was saying was so bizarre and repulsive that it seemed like something straight out of a horror film. But it was real. However, interesting as Struwer’s theories were, he’d yet to hear anything that seemed likely to take their investigation forward.

‘Based on what we’ve been talking about here,’ he said, ‘do you have any idea how we should go about finding this person?’

Struwer paused as if formulating his response.

‘I may be sticking my neck out here, but I would say the victim from Göteborg, Minna Wahlberg, is especially interesting. She has a different background from the other girls, and she’s also the only one with whom the perpetrator was careless enough to be seen.’

‘We don’t know for sure that it was the perp driving the white car,’ Patrik pointed out.

‘No, that’s true. But if we assume it was him, then it’s interesting that she would willingly get into the car. We don’t know how the other girls were taken, but the fact that Minna got into the car indicates that the driver was either someone who seemed harmless, or else she recognized him and was not afraid of him.’

‘Are you saying that Minna may have known the perpetrator? That he has some link to her or to the town?’

What Struwer said matched what Patrik had also been thinking. Minna was different from the others.

‘He doesn’t necessarily have to have been acquainted with her personally, but she may have known who he is. The fact that he was seen picking her up, but he wasn’t seen in any of the other instances, may mean that he was on familiar turf and felt a bit more secure.’

‘If that’s the case, shouldn’t he have been even more careful? There was a greater risk that he would be recognized,’ Erica objected. Patrik gave her an appreciative look.

‘Logically speaking, that may be true,’ Struwer replied. ‘But we humans are usually not entirely logical, and patterns and habits are hard to break. He would feel more relaxed in his own environment, and that means there’s a greater risk of making a mistake. And he did make a mistake.’

‘I agree that Minna seems to stand out from the others,’ said Patrik. ‘We just had a talk with her mother, but we didn’t find out anything new.’ Out of the corner of his eye he saw Erica nodding in agreement.

‘Well, if I were you, I’d keep following this aspect of the case. Focus on the differences – that’s the general rule of thumb when we do profiles of criminals. Why was the pattern broken? What makes a specific victim so special that the perpetrator changes his behaviour?’

‘So we should look at any deviations rather than at common denominators?’ said Patrik, realizing that Struwer was right.

‘Yes. That’s my recommendation. Even though your main goal is to solve Victoria’s disappearance, Minna’s case may help you do that.’ Gerhard paused. ‘By the way, have all of you got together?’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Patrik.

‘All the police districts – have you sat down together and gone over the information you have so far?’

‘We keep in contact and share materials.’

‘That’s good, but I think it would be beneficial for all of you to meet in person. Sometimes a new lead can be triggered by something that’s not written down, something that’s between the lines in the investigative material. I’m sure you have personal experience of a gut feeling that points you in a certain direction. In many investigations it’s that indefinable something which eventually leads to the capture of the perpetrator. And there’s nothing strange about that. Our subconscious plays a much bigger role than many people think. It’s often said that we use a very small portion of our brain’s capacity, and I think that’s true. So get together with the other investigative teams and listen to each other.’

Patrik nodded. ‘All right. We should have done that already. We just haven’t got around to it.’

‘I’d say it’ll be worth the effort,’ replied Gerhard.

For a moment no one spoke. They had no more questions as they sat and pondered what Struwer had told them. Patrik had some doubt that it would move the investigation forward, but he was ready to consider anything and everything. Better to do that than to realize in hindsight that Struwer had been right, but they hadn’t taken his remarks seriously.

‘Well, thank you for your time,’ said Patrik, standing up.

‘The pleasure was all mine.’ Gerhard fixed his blue eyes on Erica, and Patrik took a deep breath. He had an urge to put together a profile of Struwer. It shouldn’t be too hard. The world was full of guys like him.

Terese always found it a bit odd to come to the stable. The farm was so familiar to her, because she and Jonas had been together for two years. But back then they were terribly young, or at least that was how it felt to her now, and so much had happened since then. Yet it was still strange to be here, especially because Marta was the reason they had split up.

One day, out of the blue, Jonas had started talking about how he’d met someone else and she was his soul mate. That was exactly how he’d put it. Terese had thought his choice of words seemed a bit pretentious. Later, when she met her own soul mate, she had understood what he meant. Because that was precisely how she felt when Henrik, Tyra’s father, stepped forward to ask her to dance at a celebration on Ingrid Bergman Square. It was clear at once that the two of them belonged together. But then everything had changed in an instant. All their plans, all their dreams were shattered on a dark night when his car hydroplaned on the road, and he was killed. Then she and Tyra were left on their own.

It had never felt the same with Lasse. Their relationship was merely a way of escaping the loneliness and once again sharing her daily life with someone else. And it had turned out to be a complete disaster. She didn’t know which was worse: all those years when he was drinking and they were constantly worrying about what he might do next; or his new sobriety, which she had initially welcomed, but it had led to other problems.

She didn’t believe for an instant in Lasse’s newly discovered religious faith, but she understood all too well what he found so enticing about the church and its congregation. It had given him a chance to leave behind all the bad decisions he’d ever made, as well as his old faults, without having to take any responsibility. As soon as he became a member of the church and was forgiven by God – and that happened unreasonably fast in her opinion – he had split himself in two parts. He ascribed everything that she and the children had endured to the old Lasse, who had lived a sinful and selfish life. The new Lasse, on the other hand, was a good and righteous person who couldn’t possibly be blamed for anything the old Lasse had done. If she ever mentioned all the times he had hurt them, he reacted with suppressed anger at her ‘harping on old wounds’. He told her how disappointed he was that she kept focusing on negative things instead of turning to God, as he had, to become a person who spread ‘light and love’.

Terese snorted. Lasse had no clue what light and love were. He had never even apologized for the way he had treated his family. According to his logic, she was a petty person because she wasn’t as forgiving as God, and every night she continued to turn her back on Lasse as they lay in bed.

Frustrated, she gripped the steering wheel hard as she turned into the stable yard. The situation was becoming unbearable. She could hardly stand the sight of him any more or the sound of him mumbling Bible verses, a sound that had become a constant backdrop in their flat. But she had to take care of practical matters first. They had two children together, and she was so exhausted that she didn’t know whether she even had the energy at the moment to cope with a divorce.

‘Okay, kids, stay here and behave yourselves while I go in and fetch Tyra.’ She turned around and cast a stern glance at the two little boys sitting in the back seat. They giggled, and she knew that a battle would undoubtedly break out as soon as she got out of the car. ‘I’ll be right back,’ she warned them. More giggles. She sighed, although she couldn’t help smiling as she closed the car door behind her.

Shivering in the cold she went inside the stable, which hadn’t existed when she frequented the farm. Marta and Jonas had built it together.

‘Hello?’ She looked around for Tyra but didn’t see her with the other girls.

‘Is Tyra here?’

Marta came out of one of the stalls.

‘No, she left about an hour ago.’

‘Oh.’ Terese frowned. This morning she had promised that for once she would come and fetch Tyra. It seemed strange her daughter had forgotten about it, because she had been so happy that she wouldn’t have to trudge home through the snow.

‘Tyra is a very talented rider,’ said Marta, coming over to Terese.

As always, Terese was struck by how beautiful Marta was. When she saw her for the first time, Terese had immediately realized she would never be able to compete. She felt big and clumsy next to Marta, who was slender and petite.

‘That’s nice,’ she said, looking at the ground.

‘She has such a natural way with horses. She ought to compete. I think she’d do well. Have you ever considered that?’

‘Oh, er, I don’t…’ Terese stumbled over her words and felt even more uncomfortable. They couldn’t afford it, but how could she say that? ‘We’ve had other things to think about, with the boys and all. And Lasse is looking for work… But I’ll give it some thought. It’s nice to hear that you think she’s talented. She’s… well, I’m very proud of her.’

‘And you should be,’ said Marta, studying her. ‘From what I understand, she’s extremely upset about what happened to Victoria. We all are.’

‘Yes, it’s been hard for her. It will take time for her to get over it.’

Terese tried to think of some way to put an end to the conversation. She had no desire to stand here and chat. And she was starting to feel anxious. Where had Tyra gone?

‘The boys are waiting out in the car, so I’d better get back to them before they kill each other.’

‘Of course. And don’t worry about Tyra. She probably just forgot that you were going to fetch her. You know how teenagers are.’

Marta went back to the stall, and Terese hurried across the yard towards the car. She wanted to get home. Hopefully Tyra was already there.

Anna sat at the kitchen table talking to Dan’s back. Through his T-shirt she could see his muscles tensing, but he didn’t say a word as he continued to wash the dishes.

‘What should we do? We can’t go on like this.’ The mere thought of separation made her panic-stricken, but they needed to talk about the future. Even before the events of the past summer, their life together had been troubled. For a brief period she had livened up but for the wrong reasons, and now their marriage was nothing but chaos, a mass of broken dreams. And it was all her fault. There was no way she could dump part of the blame on Dan or make him shoulder any of the responsibility.

‘You know how deeply I regret what I did, and I wish so much that I could go back and make it not happen, but I can’t. So if you want me to move out, I will. Emma and Adrian and I can find a flat for ourselves. I’m sure there’s one available in the block of flats nearby that we could lease on short notice. Because we can’t live like this. It’s just not going to work. It’s tearing us apart. Both of us, and the kids too. Can’t you see that? They don’t dare make any noise, in fact they hardly dare talk because they’re afraid of saying something wrong and making the situation worse than it already is. I can’t stand it any more. I’d rather move out. Please, Dan, say something!’ And with that Anna began to sob. It felt like somebody else was crying, like she was listening to somebody else talking. As if she were hovering overhead, looking down at the fragments of what had once been her life, watching her husband who was her great love, and yet she had hurt him so badly.

Slowly Dan turned around. He leaned against the worktop and stared at his feet. She felt a stab in her heart when she noticed the deep furrows on his face, which was pale with hopelessness. She had fundamentally changed him, and she couldn’t forgive herself for that. He had believed in the goodness of others, assuming that everyone was as honest as he was. She had shown him otherwise, shaking his faith in her and in the world.

‘I don’t know, Anna. I don’t know what I want. The months just keep slipping by, and we take care of all the practical things while we tiptoe around each other.’

‘But we need to try to solve this problem. Or else split up. I can’t stand living in this limbo any more. And the children deserve better. We need to decide.’

She could feel her nose running as the tears continued to stream down her cheeks. She wiped her face on the sleeve of her shirt. She didn’t feel like getting up to find a tissue, and the kitchen roll was on the worktop behind Dan. She needed to keep a safe distance from him in order to have this conversation. Getting close enough to breathe in his scent and feel the warmth of his body would make everything fall apart. They hadn’t even slept in the same room since the summer. He slept on a mattress in the den while she slept in their double bed. She had offered to change places with him, realizing she was the one who ought to be sleeping on the uncomfortable thin mattress and wake up with an aching back. But he merely shook his head at the idea, and every night he lay down to sleep on the mattress.

‘I want to try.’ She was whispering now. ‘But only if you do. Only if you think there’s even a small possibility. Otherwise the kids and I might as well move out. I can ring the Tanum estate agent this afternoon and see what’s available. We don’t need a big place to start with. We’ve lived in cramped quarters before. We’ll be fine.’

Dan grimaced. Then he covered his face with his hands and his shoulders began to shake. Ever since summer he had worn a mask of bitter disappointment and anger, but now the tears poured out, falling from his chin and soaking his grey T-shirt. Anna couldn’t just sit there. She went over to put her arms around him. She noticed that he flinched, but he didn’t pull away. She felt the warmth of his body and the way he was trembling as he sobbed even harder. She pulled him closer, as if trying to keep him from falling to pieces.

When the tears finally stopped, he reached out and put his arms around her.

Lasse felt rage smouldering inside of him as he turned left past the mill and headed towards Kville. Why couldn’t Terese ever come with him? Was it too much to ask that they should spend some time together, that she should show some interest in what had totally changed his life and made him a new person? Both he and the church had so much to teach her, but she chose to live in darkness instead of allowing God’s love to shine upon her, as it shone upon him.

He stomped on the accelerator. He had wasted so much time pleading with her that he was going to be late for the leadership meeting. He’d also been forced to explain to her why he didn’t want her to go to that stable, or be anywhere near Jonas. She had sinned with Jonas, she’d had sex with him even though they weren’t married, and it made no difference that it had happened years ago. God wanted human beings to live a pure and true life, without any wicked deeds from the past sullying their soul. For his part, he had confessed and purged all such things from his life, cleansing his own soul.

It hadn’t always been easy. Sin was all around him. There were so many shameless women offering themselves and not respecting God’s will and commandments, women who tried to lead all men astray. Such sinners deserved to be punished, and he was convinced he was meant to carry out this task. God had spoken to him, and no one should doubt that he had become a new person.

At the church they saw and understood this. They showered him with love, affirming that God had forgiven him and that he was now a blank slate. He thought about how close he had come to falling back into old habits. But God had miraculously saved him from the weakness of the flesh and made him a strong and brave disciple. Yet Terese refused to see that he had changed.

He was still feeling annoyed when he arrived. Then he was filled with peace, as always, when he stepped through the doors of the modern church building which had been financed by generous members. Despite the church’s remote location, the congregation was surprisingly large, thanks to the leader, Jan-Fred, who had taken over ten years ago after an internal struggle for control. Back then it was called the Kville Pentecostal Church, but he had re-christened it the Christian Faith, or simply the Faith, as it was commonly known.

‘Hi, Lasse. Great to see you.’ Jan-Fred’s wife Leonora came to greet him. She was a gorgeous blonde in her forties who co-chaired the leadership group along with her husband.

‘It’s always wonderful to be here,’ he said, kissing her on the cheek. He breathed in the scent of her shampoo, and with it a whiff of sin. But it lasted only a moment, and he knew that with God’s help he would eventually succeed in driving out all the old demons. He had conquered his weakness for alcohol, but his weakness for women had turned out to be a much bigger trial.

‘Jan-Fred and I were talking about you this morning.’ Leonora linked her arm in his and ushered him towards one of the conference rooms where the leadership course was being held.

‘Really?’ he said, eager to hear what she would say next.

‘We were talking about what amazing work you’ve done. We’re all so proud of you. You are a true and worthy disciple, and we see great potential in you.’

‘I’m merely doing what God has enjoined me to do. Everything is done in His service. He was the one who gave me the strength and courage to see my sins and cleanse them away.’

She patted his arm. ‘Yes, God is good to us, weak and sinful as we are. His patience and love are infinite.’

They had reached the room, and he saw that the others had already taken their seats.

‘What about your family? They weren’t able to come today either?’ Leonora gave him a sympathetic look. Lasse grimaced and shook his head.

‘The family is important to God. What God has joined shall not be torn asunder. A wife should share her husband’s life, and his faith in God. But you’ll see – sooner or later she’ll discover what a beautiful soul God has found in you. And she’ll see that He has made you whole.’

‘I’m sure she will. She just needs a little time,’ Lasse murmured. He noticed the metallic taste of anger in his mouth, but he forced himself to push aside any negative thoughts. Instead, he silently repeated his mantra: light and love. That was what he was: light and love. He just needed to make Terese understand.

‘Do we have to?’ Marta was putting on clean clothes after taking a shower to wash off the stink of the stable. ‘Couldn’t we just stay home and do what other people do on a Friday night? Sit in front of the TV and eat tacos?’

‘We have no choice, and you know it,’ said Jonas.

‘But why do we always have to eat dinner with them on Friday? Have you ever stopped to think about it? Why can’t we have Sunday dinner together instead, like other people who visit their parents and parents-in-law?’ She buttoned her blouse and combed her hair as she stood in front of the full-length mirror in their bedroom.

‘How many times have we had this conversation? You know that on the weekends we’re gone so often attending competitions, so Friday night is the only time that works. Why do you keep asking questions when you already know the answers?’

Marta heard the shrill tone creep into Jonas’s voice. That always happened whenever he was annoyed. Of course she already knew the answers. She just didn’t understand why they always had to think of Helga and Einar.

‘But none of us finds it pleasant. I think we’d all feel relieved if we put an end to these dinners. It’s just that no one dares say anything,’ she went on as she sat down to pull on an extra pair of tights. It was always so cold in Einar and Helga’s house. Jonas’s father was stingy and always tried to save on electricity. She put on a jumper over her blouse. Otherwise she’d freeze to death before dessert was served.

‘Molly doesn’t like having dinner there either. How long do you think we can force her to go before she rebels?’

‘No teenager enjoys family dinners. But she’s just going to have to come with us. That’s not asking too much, is it?’

Marta paused to study him in the mirror. He was even more handsome than when they first met. Back then he was shy and lanky, with acne marring his face. But she had seen something else beneath his insecure demeanour, something that she recognized. And with time, and her help, his insecurity had vanished. Now he was a self-confident, strong, and muscular man. And after all these years he could still make her tremble with longing.

Everything they shared kept their desire alive, and now she felt it awaken as it had so many times before. Quickly she removed her tights and knickers but kept on her blouse and jumper. She went over to him and unbuttoned the jeans he had just put on. Without a word he let her take them off, and she saw that he was already aroused. Firmly she pressed him down on to the bed and swiftly mounted him. He came, fast and hard, his back arched. She wiped several drops of sweat from his brow and slipped off him. Their eyes met in the mirror as she turned her back to put her knickers and tights back on.

Fifteen minutes later they were standing in the front hall of Helga and Einar’s home. Molly stood behind them, grumbling to herself. Just as they had predicted, she had protested loudly about spending yet another Friday night with her grandparents. Her friends had evidently planned something much more fun for the evening, and her life would be ruined if she didn’t get to join them. But Jonas had refused to budge, and Marta had stayed out of it entirely.

‘Welcome,’ said Helga. Enticing aromas came from the kitchen, and Marta noticed her stomach growling. That was the only good thing about having Friday dinner with her parents-in-law: Helga’s fabulous food.

‘We’re having roast pork.’ Helga stood on tiptoe to kiss her son on the cheek. Marta gave her an awkward hug.

‘Would you go and get your father?’ said Helga to Jonas.

‘Sure,’ said Jonas and headed upstairs.

Marta could hear the murmur of voices above, and then the sound of something heavy being moved towards the stairs. They had been given funding to build a wheelchair ramp, but it required a certain strength to manoeuvre Einar. By this time the sound of the wheelchair coming down the ramp was familiar to all of them. Marta could hardly remember how Einar had looked before his legs were amputated. In the past she’d always thought of him as a big, angry bull. Now he looked more like a fat toad sliding down the stairs.

‘Everybody’s here, as usual,’ he said, squinting his eyes. ‘Come and give your grandfather a kiss.’

Molly reluctantly went over to kiss him on the cheek.

‘Okay, time to eat or the food will get cold,’ said Helga, motioning for them to come into the kitchen where dinner was served.

Jonas pushed his father’s wheelchair over to the table, and then they all sat down without saying a word.

‘So, no jump racing tomorrow, is that right?’ said Einar after a while.

Marta noticed a nasty glint in his eyes and knew he had mentioned the topic out of sheer spite. Molly sighed loudly, and Jonas gave his father a warning look.

‘After everything that’s happened, we didn’t think it would be right for her to go,’ he said, reaching for the bowl of potatoes.’

‘No, I can see you’d think that.’ Einar glared at his son, who served his father some potatoes before helping himself.

‘So how’s it going? Have the police made any progress?’ asked Helga. She served everyone slices of pork from a big platter before she took her place at the table.

‘Gösta came to see me today, and he asked about the break-in,’ said Jonas.

Marta stared at him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about that?’

Jonas shrugged. ‘It was no big deal. But they found traces of ketamine when they did the autopsy on Victoria, and Gösta wanted to know what sort of things were stolen from the clinic.’

‘Good thing you reported it to the police.’ Marta lowered her gaze. She hated not being in full control of everything that went on. The fact that Jonas hadn’t told her about Gösta’s visit filled her with silent rage. They would have to talk about this later when they were alone.

‘Too bad about the girl,’ said Einar, sticking a big piece of pork in his mouth. Gravy trickled down his chin. ‘She was pretty, what little I saw of her. You keep me imprisoned upstairs, and I have nothing to look at. This old lady is the only person I get to see nowadays.’ He laughed, pointing to Helga.

‘Do we have to talk about Victoria?’ Molly was poking at her food, and Marta tried to remember when she’d last seen her daughter eat a proper meal. But that was probably all due to the usual teenage worries about weight. No doubt it would pass.

‘Molly found the old Volkswagen Beetle out in the barn,’ said Jonas, wanting to change the subject. ‘She’d like to have it. I was thinking of fixing it up so it’ll be ready when she gets her driver’s licence.’ He winked at Molly, who was pushing the green beans around on her plate.

‘Should she be allowed out there? She might hurt herself,’ said Einar, shoving another bite into his mouth. The trail of gravy was still visible on his chin.

‘You should really clean up that barn.’ Helga got up to refill the platter. ‘Get rid of all that old junk and rubbish.’

‘I want it to stay the way it is,’ said Einar. ‘That place has lots of memories for me. Good memories. And you can hear for yourself, Helga, that Jonas is going to create new memories.’

‘But why would Molly want an old Beetle like that?’ Helga placed the platter back on the table and sat down again.

‘It’s going to be great. Super cool! Nobody else will have a car like that.’ Molly’s eyes shone.

‘I agree. It could be great,’ said Jonas, helping himself to a third portion. Marta knew that he loved his mother’s cooking, and maybe that was the main reason they had to drag themselves over here every Friday.

‘So do you remember how to do it? How to work on cars?’ asked Einar.

Marta could almost picture the memories tumbling around in his head. Memories from a time when he’d been a bull and not a toad.

‘I’m sure it’s still all in my fingertips. I worked on enough cars with you that I think I can remember how to do it.’ Jonas exchanged a glance with his father.

‘Right. I suppose there’s something to be said for handing down knowledge and interests from father to son.’ Einar raised his wine glass. ‘Let’s drink a toast to Persson senior and son, and to our shared interests. And congratulations, little lady. You’re about to get yourself a new car.’

Molly raised her glass of Coke to join in the toast. She was beaming with joy at the thought of the car.

‘Just be careful,’ said Helga. ‘Accidents can happen so easily. You should be glad you’ve had such good fortune so far, but don’t tempt fate.’

‘Why do you always have to be such a prophet of doom.’ Einar’s cheeks were flushed from the wine. He turned to look at the others. ‘It’s always been like this. I have all the ideas and visions, while my dear wife just moans and groans and sees nothing but problems. I don’t think you’ve ever dared live life to the fullest, even for an instant. Have you, Helga? Have you ever lived? Or have you always been so bloody scared that you’ve merely steeled yourself and tried to drag the rest of us down with your fears?’

He was slurring his words, and Marta suspected that he’d already had a few drinks before coming downstairs. That too was par for the course at Friday dinner with her parents-in-law.

‘I’ve done the best I could. And it hasn’t always been easy,’ said Helga. She got up and began to clear the table. Marta saw that her hands were shaking. Helga had always been the nervous type.

‘You’ve had nothing but good fortune. You got a much better husband than you deserved. And I should get a medal for putting up with you all these years. I don’t know what I was thinking. There were plenty of girls chasing me, but I suppose I thought you had nice big hips that would be good for birthing children. And then you barely managed to do it even once. Skål!’ Einar again raised his glass in a toast.

Marta studied her nails. She wasn’t really bothered by his speech. She’d witnessed this drama too many times before. Even Helga usually paid no attention to Einar’s drunken tirades, but tonight something was different. Suddenly she picked up a saucepan and flung it with all her might into the sink, making the water splash over the side. Then Helga slowly turned around. She kept her voice low, almost a whisper. But as they sat there in shocked silence, they couldn’t help hearing the words she spoke.

‘I. Can’t. Stand. This. Any. More.’

‘Hello?’ Patrik stepped into the front hall. He was still in a bad mood after the trip to Göteborg, and nothing on the drive home had been able to divert his thoughts. The fact that Erica had mentioned his mother might have brought along a male friend didn’t make the situation any better.

‘Hello!’ Kristina called cheerfully from the kitchen. Patrik glanced around suspiciously. For a moment he thought he must have entered the wrong house. Everything looked so neat and clean.

‘Whoa,’ said Erica, her eyes wide as she too stood in the doorway. She didn’t sound entirely happy with the transformation.

‘Did we hire a cleaning service?’ asked Patrik. He hadn’t realized the hall floor could look so clean, without a trace of dirt or clutter. It practically gleamed, and all the shoes were nicely lined up in the shoe rack, which was usually never used. Normally the shoes were tossed in a big pile on the floor.

‘No. Just the firm of Hedström and Zetterlund,’ said Kristina in the same cheerful voice as she appeared from the kitchen.

‘Zetterlund?’ said Patrik, though he already suspected who it might be.

‘Hi! My name’s Gunnar.’ A man emerged from the living room, holding out his hand. As Patrik studied him, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Erica was giving him an amused look. He shook hands with the man, who seemed a bit too enthusiastic, pumping his hand up and down.

‘What a pleasant home you have, and such amazing children! That little lady of yours isn’t easily fooled. She has a good head on her shoulders. And I can see that you have your hands full with those two little rascals, but they’re so charming that they probably get away with anything. Am I right?’ He continued to shake hands with Patrik, who managed a strained smile.

‘Yes, they’re great,’ he said, attempting to pull his hand away. After another few seconds Gunnar finally released his grip.

‘I assumed you’d be hungry, so I’ve made dinner,’ said Kristina, going back into the kitchen. ‘I’ve also done a couple of loads of laundry, and I asked Gunnar to bring along his toolbox. He has fixed a few things you didn’t have time for, Patrik.’

Only now did Patrik notice that the bathroom door, which had been hanging crooked on its hinges for a while – getting on for two years in fact – was now properly screwed into place. He wondered what other things in his house Mr Fix-it had worked on. He had to admit he felt a bit annoyed. He had planned on fixing the door. It was on his To-do list. He just hadn’t got around to it yet.

‘It was no trouble,’ said Gunnar. ‘I used to own a construction company, so it took me no time at all. The trick is to deal with things at once so they don’t start piling up.’

Patrik gave him another strained smile. ‘Hmm… Thanks. I really appreciate it.’

‘I know it’s not easy for young people to find time for everything. What with taking care of the children, going to work, and all the daily chores, as well as maintaining the house. And there’s always a lot to do with older homes. But this is a fine house, it certainly is. In those days, they knew how to build things right. Not like the houses today that are thrown together in a couple of weeks, and then people wonder why they have mould and water damage. The old building techniques have been forgotten.’ Gunnar shook his head, and Patrik seized the opportunity to retreat to the kitchen where Kristina was standing by the cooker, having an intense conversation with Erica. Feeling a hint of spiteful glee, Patrik noticed that his beloved wife was also looking a bit strained as she tried to smile.

‘I know that you and Patrik have a lot on your minds,’ said Kristina. ‘It’s not easy to combine a career with raising children, and your generation has managed to persuade yourselves that you can do it all. But the most important thing for a woman – and don’t take this the wrong way, Erica, I’m telling you this with the best of intentions – is to prioritize your children and your home. You may laugh at those of us who were housewives, but it was very satisfying to let the children stay home instead of shoving them off to some day-care centre. And they grew up in a clean and orderly setting. I’m not a believer in the idea that it’s okay to ignore the dirt in the corners. I’m sure that’s why children today have so many strange allergies, because people don’t clean their homes any more. And you can’t underestimate the importance of giving children home-cooked, nutritious meals. And when your husband comes home – and Patrik has a very responsible job – it’s only right that he should come home to a clean and peaceful place and be served a proper meal. Not those awful ready-meals loaded with additives and preservatives that I found in your freezer. And I must say…’

Patrik listened with interest, wondering how his mother even managed to take a breath as she rattled off this speech. He saw Erica gritting her teeth, and his glee changed to sympathy.

‘We just do things a little differently, Mamma,’ he interrupted her. ‘And that doesn’t mean it’s worse. You did an amazing job with our family, but Erica and I have chosen to share the responsibility for our children and home, and her career is just as important as mine. Although I admit that sometimes I get lazy and let her take on a bigger burden, but I’m trying to be better about that. So if there’s anyone you want to criticize, it should be me, because Erica works really hard to make everything function. And we’re doing just fine. There may be a little dirt in the corners, and occasionally the laundry basket overflows, and yes, we do eat frozen fish sticks, blood pudding, and Scans meatballs, but nobody has died from that yet.’ He went over and kissed Erica on the cheek. ‘But we’re incredibly grateful for your help, and for serving us home-cooked meals once in a while. That’s something we appreciate even more after eating frozen foods.’

He gave his mother a kiss on the cheek too. The last thing he wanted was to make her unhappy. They wouldn’t be able to get by without her help, and he loved his mother. But this was their home, his and Erica’s, and it was important for Kristina to understand that.

‘Well, it wasn’t my intention to criticize. I just wanted to give you some good advice that might help,’ she said, and she didn’t seem particularly upset.

‘So tell us about your boyfriend,’ said Patrik, amused to see his mother blush. At the same time he found it a little strange. Or rather, to be honest, very strange.

‘Well, you see…’ Kristina began. Patrik took a deep breath and steeled himself. His mother had a boyfriend. He glanced over at Erica, who silently blew him a kiss.

Terese could hardly sit still. The boys were making such a row that she almost jumped up to yell at them, but she restrained herself. It wasn’t their fault that she was going mad with worry.

Where the hell could Tyra be? As so often before, her worry was mixed with anger, and fear was making it hard for her to breathe. How could Tyra do this after what had happened to Victoria? Every parent in Fjällbacka had been a nervous wreck after Victoria disappeared. What if the perpetrator was still in the area? What if their child was in danger?

Her worry and anger were made worse because of the guilt she felt. Maybe it wasn’t so strange that Tyra had forgotten her mother was going to pick her up today. She usually had to come home on her own, and several times before when Terese had promised to fetch her, something had come up to prevent her from doing so.

Should she ring the police? When Terese came home and Tyra wasn’t there, she had tried to convince herself that her daughter was on her way, that maybe she’d stopped to visit a friend. She’d even prepared herself for the sullen comments that Tyra often made upon stepping into the front hall after a long, cold walk from the stable. Terese had been looking forward to pampering her daughter a bit, serving her O’Boy chocolate drink and sandwiches with Gouda cheese and lots of butter.

But Tyra hadn’t turned up. She hadn’t opened the front door and stomped the snow off her boots, muttering to herself as she took off her jacket. As Terese sat at the kitchen table, she realized how Victoria’s parents must have felt on that day when their daughter didn’t come home. She had met them on only a few occasions, which was actually rather strange. The two girls had been inseparable since they were little kids, but when Terese thought about it, she realized she hadn’t met Victoria that often either. The girls had always gone to Victoria’s house. For the first time, she wondered why, but then she painfully had to acknowledge the reason. She hadn’t created the home she had dreamed of for her children, the secure setting that they needed. Tears welled up in her eyes. If only Tyra would come home, she would do everything in her power to change things.

She glanced at her mobile, as if a text from Tyra might magically appear on the display. As soon as she left the stable, Terese had phoned her daughter, but there was no answer. When she tried again after coming home, she heard the ring tone in Tyra’s room. Like so many times before, Tyra had forgotten to take her mobile.

Suddenly a sound out in the hall startled her. But maybe it was just wishful thinking. It was almost impossible to hear anything over the shrieking and shouting of the boys. But then she heard a key turning in the lock. She leapt up and dashed to the front hall, throwing open the door. The next second she was holding her daughter in her arms and crying the tears that she’d held back for the past few hours.

‘My sweet, sweet girl,’ she whispered against her daughter’s hair. She’d ask questions later. Right now the only thing of importance was that Tyra was here, safe at home.