The Ice Child

Chapter Seven

Lasse whistled softly as he walked down the road. His sense of satisfaction from yesterday’s church meeting was still with him. Feeling that he belonged was almost like a sober intoxication, and it was so liberating to leave behind all his past travails and realize that the answer to all his questions could be found in the pages of the Bible.

That was also the reason he knew he was doing God’s will. Why else would God have given him the opportunity, putting him in the right place at the right time, precisely when a sinner needed to be punished? On that very day he had prayed to God for help to find a way out of his increasingly difficult situation. He had thought the answer to his prayer would come in the form of a job, but instead another path had opened before him. And the person in question was a sinner of the worst kind, a sinner who deserved justice of biblical proportions.

Terese had started asking Lasse about their finances. He was the one who paid the bills, but she was wondering how they could possibly live on the income from her job at the Konsum supermarket, since he wasn’t making any money. He had muttered something about tax exemptions, but he could see she was sceptical. Well, it would all work out. She’d get her answer soon enough.

Right now he was on his way to the beach in Sälvik. He’d chosen this particular meeting place because it was usually deserted at this time of year. In the summertime the shore was swarming with people because it was close to the camping area in Fjällbacka, but now the place was empty and the closest house was a good distance away. It was the perfect spot to meet, and he had suggested it every time.

The ground was slippery, so he walked cautiously as he headed towards the beach. There was a thick blanket of snow, and he could see that the water was frozen a long way out from shore. At the end of the dock, near the bathing ladder, a hole had been cut in the ice for anyone crazy enough to insist on jumping in during the winter. Personally, he was a firm believer that the Swedish climate was not suitable for swimming at any time of the year, not even in the summer.

He was the first to arrive. The cold was seeping under his clothes, and he regretted not putting on heavier clothing. But he had told Terese that he was going to another meeting at the church, and he hadn’t wanted to arouse her suspicion by bundling up in too many layers.

Impatiently he walked along the dock. Not a sound came from under his feet, since the water was frozen solid. He glanced at his watch and frowned in annoyance. Then he went out to the far end and leaned against the railing to look down. Those mad winter bathers must have been here very recently because no new ice had formed over the hole. He shivered. The water had to be freezing cold.

When he heard footsteps approaching, he turned around.

‘You’re late.’ He pointed at his watch. ‘Give me the money so we can get out of here. I don’t want to be seen, and I’m about to freeze to death.’

He held out his hand, anticipation flooding through his body. God was good to find this solution for him. He despised the sinner who stood before him so much that his cheeks burned.

But suddenly Lasse’s feeling of contempt turned to surprise. And then fear.

Thoughts of her book left her no peace. When Patrik explained that he had to go to work, Erica was at first annoyed, since she’d planned to pay another visit to the prison. But then she came to her senses. Of course he had to go to the station even though it was Saturday. The investigation of Victoria’s disappearance had entered a new, intense stage, and she realized that Patrik would never give up until the case was solved.

Thank goodness Anna had been able to come over and babysit. Now Erica was once again sitting in the visitor’s room at the prison. She had been uncertain how to start the conversation, but the silence didn’t seem to bother Laila, who was pensively staring out of the window.

‘I went over to the house a few days ago,’ Erica said at last. She studied Laila to see how she would react, but her icy blue eyes gave no sign of a response. ‘I should have done it much earlier, but I think that subconsciously I was reluctant to go there.’

‘It’s just a house.’ Laila shrugged. Her whole body radiated indifference, and Erica wanted to lean forward and shake her. Laila had lived in that house and allowed her child to be locked up and chained like an animal in the dark cellar. How could she be indifferent to such cruelty, no matter what horrors Vladek had subjected her to or how much he had crushed her spirit?

‘How often did he beat you?’ Erica asked, trying to remain calm.

Laila frowned. ‘Who?’

‘Vladek,’ said Erica, wondering whether Laila was playing dumb. She had seen the medical reports from Uddevalla and read about her injuries.

‘It’s so easy to judge someone,’ said Laila, staring down at the table. ‘But Vladek was not an evil man.’

‘How can you say that after what he did to you and Louise?’

Even though she knew about the psychology of victims, Erica couldn’t understand how Laila could persist in defending Vladek. She had killed him, after all, either in self-defence or as revenge for the violence that she and her child had suffered.

‘Did you help him put the chains on Louise? Did he force you to do it? Is that why you won’t talk? Is that why you feel guilty?’ Erica was pressuring Laila in a way she hadn’t done before. Maybe it was because of her talk yesterday with Nettan, and seeing that woman’s despair about her missing daughter. Maybe that’s what made her angry now. It wasn’t normal for a parent to be so indifferent about the unimaginable suffering her child had endured.

Erica couldn’t help herself. She opened the bag she always brought along and took out the folder with the photographs.

‘Have a look at these pictures. Have you forgotten what the place looked like when the police arrived? Take a look!’ Erica slid a photo across the table towards Laila, who reluctantly fixed her eyes on the image. Erica pushed another photo over to her. ‘And this one. Here’s what the cellar looks like today. See the chain and the bowls for food and water? Just like for an animal! But it was a little girl who was kept there. Your daughter. And you let Vladek keep her imprisoned in a dark basement. I understand why you killed him. I would have too if someone treated my child like that. So why do you keep defending him?’

Erica stopped to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding hard, and she realized that the guard outside was peering at her through the window in the door. She lowered her voice.

‘Forgive me, Laila. I… I didn’t mean to hurt you. But there was something about that house that really upset me.’

‘I’ve heard they call it the House of Horrors,’ said Laila, pushing the photographs back across the table towards Erica. ‘That’s a fitting name for the place. It definitely was a house of horrors. But not in the way you think.’ Then she got up and knocked on the door to signal she wanted to leave.

Erica cursed herself as she remained sitting at the table. Laila probably wouldn’t want to talk to her again. Then she wouldn’t be able to finish writing her book.

But what did Laila mean by her last remark? Hadn’t things happened the way everyone believed? Muttering to herself, Erica gathered up the photos and put them back in the folder.

She felt someone place their hand on her shoulder, interrupting her angry thoughts.

It was the guard who had been posted outside the door. ‘Come with me,’ the guard said. ‘There’s something I want to show you.’

‘What is it?’ asked Erica, getting up.

‘You’ll see. It’s in Laila’s room.’

‘But isn’t she in her room?’

‘No. She went out into the yard. She usually takes a walk when she gets upset. She’ll be out there for a while, but let’s hurry in case I’m wrong.’

Erica glanced at the name badge on the guard’s shirt. Tina. Then she followed her, thinking that this was the first opportunity she would have to see the room where Laila spent most of her time.

At the far end of the corridor Tina opened a door, and Erica went in. She had no clue how a prisoner’s room would look, and she’d probably seen too many American TV programmes, since she was expecting a cell with a bare mattress. What she saw instead was a pleasant room with everything nice and tidy. A neatly made bed, a nightstand with an alarm clock and a little pink ceramic elephant sleeping sweetly, a table with a TV. There was a small window, set close to the ceiling, but it let in a good deal of light, and it was framed by yellow curtains.

‘Laila doesn’t think we know about this.’ Tina went over to the bed and knelt down.

‘Are you allowed to do this?’ asked Erica, glancing towards the door. She didn’t know which made her more nervous: the thought of Laila turning up, or the prospect of some supervisor claiming that the prisoner’s rights had been violated.

‘We’re allowed to look at everything inside this room,’ said Tina, reaching her hand under the bed.

‘Yes, but I’m not a staff member here,’ said Erica, trying to restrain her curiosity.

Tina pulled out a small box, stood up, and held it out to Erica. ‘Do you want to see it or not?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘Okay. I’ll keep watch. I already know what’s inside.’ Tina went over to the door, opened it slightly and peered out into the corridor.

After casting a nervous glance at Tina, Erica sat down on the bed and set the little box on her lap. If Laila came in now, any small amount of trust she might have established would be instantly gone. But how could she resist looking inside the box? Tina seemed to think she would find it interesting.

Holding her breath Erica opened the lid. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but the contents certainly surprised her. One by one she took out the newspaper clippings while thoughts raced through her head. Why had Laila saved all these reports about the missing girls? Why was she so interested in them? Erica quickly looked through the articles, concluding that Laila must have cut out nearly everything that had been written about the disappearances in the local press and evening papers.

‘She may be back any minute now,’ said Tina, keeping her eyes on the corridor. ‘But don’t you think it’s strange? She grabs the newspapers as soon as they arrive, and then she asks if she can keep them after everyone else has read them. I didn’t know why until I saw what’s in the box.’

‘Thank you,’ said Erica, carefully putting the clippings back inside. ‘Where should I put it?’

‘Next to the leg of the bed, in the far corner,’ said Tina, still keeping an eye out for Laila.

Erica knelt down and carefully pushed the box back into place. She didn’t know how to make use of what she’d just learned. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Maybe Laila was just interested in cases of missing girls. People could get obsessed with the strangest things. Yet she didn’t really believe that was true when it came to Laila. There had to be some connection between Laila’s life and these girls that she could never have met. And Erica was determined to find out what it was.

‘There are a few things we need to discuss,’ said Patrik.

Everyone nodded. Annika was ready with her notepad and pen, and Ernst was lying under the table waiting for any crumbs that might land on the floor. Everything was the same as always. Only the tense atmosphere in the kitchen made it clear that this was not an ordinary morning coffee break.

‘As you know, Martin and I went to Göteborg yesterday. We met with Minna Wahlberg’s mother Anette. We also had a talk with Gerhard Struwer, who gave us his views on the case, based on the materials we’d sent him.’

‘Nothing but humbug,’ muttered Mellberg, as if on cue. ‘A waste of valuable resources.’

Patrik ignored him and went on.

‘Martin has typed up his notes from yesterday, and you’ll all get a copy.’

Annika picked up the stack of papers lying on the table and began handing them out to her colleagues.

‘I’d like to focus on the most important points, and then you can read through the full report later, just in case I may have missed something.’

Trying to be as brief as possible, Patrik then gave a recap of both conversations.

‘Based on what Struwer said, there are two things I’d like to talk about. First, he underscored that Minna is different from the other girls, both in terms of her background and the way in which she disappeared. The question is whether there’s a reason for this. I think Struwer was right when he said that we should take a closer look at her disappearance. That’s also one reason I wanted to meet with Minna’s mother. Maybe the perpetrator had some personal connection to the girl, and if so, that might move us closer to solving Victoria’s case. Of course we’ll need to cooperate with the Göteborg police on this matter.’

‘Exactly,’ said Mellberg. ‘These kinds of things can be rather sensitive, and-’

‘Don’t worry. We’re not going to step on anyone’s toes,’ Patrik quickly added. He was amazed that Mellberg always had to insist on saying everything at least twice. ‘And I’m hoping we’ll have the opportunity to meet with them in person. Struwer also advised us to gather representatives from all the relevant police districts in order to go over the cases together. That won’t be easy to arrange, but I think we should try to set up the meeting.’

‘That’s going to cost a fortune, with travel expenses and lodging for everybody. Management will never agree to it,’ said Mellberg as he slipped a piece of cinnamon bun to Ernst.

Patrik restrained himself from sighing out loud. Working with Mellberg was often like pulling teeth. Nothing was ever easy or painless.

‘We’ll solve that problem when the time comes. These cases are such a high priority that resources should be readily available on a national level.’

‘I think it’s a good idea to get everyone together. Why don’t we suggest meeting in Göteborg?’ said Martin, leaning forward.

‘That’s an excellent suggestion,’ replied Patrik. ‘Annika, could you make the arrangements? I know it’s the weekend and it might be hard to get hold of everyone, but I’d like to schedule the meeting as soon as possible.’

‘Sure.’ Annika jotted down a note to herself, adding a big exclamation mark.

‘I hear you also met your wife in Göteborg yesterday,’ Gösta said.

Patrik rolled his eyes. ‘Why is it so difficult to keep anything secret in this place?’

‘What? Was Erica in Göteborg? What was she doing there? Is she sticking her nose into police business again?’ Mellberg was so indignant that his comb-over slipped down over his ear. ‘You need to learn to control that woman. It’s not right for her to go running around and getting involved in our work.’

‘I’ve talked to her, and it won’t happen again,’ said Patrik calmly, but he could feel his annoyance from yesterday still simmering. He couldn’t understand why Erica never took into consideration the possible repercussions of her meddling. She might even be obstructing the investigation.

Mellberg glared at him. ‘She doesn’t usually listen to you.’

‘I know that, but I promise it won’t happen again.’ Patrik could hear how weak his words sounded, so he hurried to change the subject. ‘Gösta, would you mind going over again what you told me on the phone yesterday?’

‘Which part?’ asked Gösta.

‘About both visits. But the second one is especially interesting.’

Gösta nodded. Slowly and methodically he told them about his visit to Jonas and their talk about the ketamine that had been stolen shortly before Victoria went missing. Then he told his colleagues about the connection between Victoria and Katarina’s report to the police. Finally, he described finding the cigarette butt in her garden.

‘Good job,’ said Martin. ‘So there’s a clear view of Victoria’s bedroom from that woman’s property?’

Gösta was feeling quite proud of himself. It was rare for him to receive praise for taking the initiative. ‘Yes, you can see right in her window, and I think that’s what the person did as he stood there smoking. I found the cigarette butt exactly where Katarina saw the man standing.’

‘And the butt has been sent to the lab for analysis?’ Patrik added.

Gösta nodded. ‘Of course. Torbjörn has it now, and if there’s any DNA on it, we’ll be able to look for a match with a potential suspect.’

‘We shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but it could well have been the perp standing out there, keeping watch. Probably trying to find out about Victoria’s routines, so later on he could kidnap her.’ With a pleased expression, Mellberg clasped his hands over his stomach. ‘Why don’t we do what they did in that village in England? Test all the inhabitants in Fjällbacka and then compare the results with the DNA on the cigarette butt. And just like that, we’ll have the guy. Brilliantly simple.’

‘First of all, we don’t know whether the perpetrator is a man or a woman,’ said Patrik, making an effort to be patient. ‘Second, we can’t be sure the perpetrator is from around here, given that girls have disappeared from other areas. At the moment it seems likely that there’s a connection with Göteborg, at least in Minna Wahlberg’s case.’

‘You’re always so negative,’ said Mellberg, unhappy to have his brilliant plan shot down.

‘Maybe I’m just being realistic,’ Patrik retorted, though he instantly regretted his remark. Letting Mellberg get under his skin was counter-productive. ‘I heard that Paula was over here yesterday,’ he said instead, and Mellberg nodded.

‘That’s right. I was talking to her about the case. When she heard that Victoria’s tongue had been cut out, it reminded her of some previous report. The problem is, she couldn’t remember which one, or when. She says nursing the baby has turned her brain to mush.’

Mellberg twirled his finger at his temple, but when Annika snorted, he quickly put down his hand. If there was one person that Mellberg didn’t want to aggravate, it was the station’s secretary. And possibly Rita as well.

‘Paula spent a couple of hours in the archives,’ said Gösta. ‘But I don’t think she found what she was looking for.’

‘No. She’s going to come back today.’ Mellberg smiled at Annika, who was still glaring at him.

‘I hope she realizes it’s on her own time,’ said Patrik.

‘Sure, she knows that. To be honest, I think she needs to get away from home for a while,’ Mellberg added, revealing a rare moment of insight.

Martin smiled. ‘She must be climbing the walls at home if she prefers hanging out in the archives.’

The smile made his whole face light up, and Patrik realized how seldom he saw that happen these days. He really needed to keep a close eye on Martin. It couldn’t be easy for him right now, as he grieved for Pia, tended to his duties as a single father, and also took part in such an onerous investigation.

Patrik smiled at his colleague. ‘Well, for her sake, let’s hope she finds out something. For our sake, too.’

Gösta raised his hand.

‘Yes?’ said Patrik.

‘I keep thinking about that break-in at Jonas’s clinic. Maybe it would be worth asking the stable girls about it. One of them might have seen something.’

‘Good idea. You might try asking around after the memorial service this afternoon, but tread carefully. They’re all bound to be very upset.’

‘Okay. I’ll take Martin along. It’ll go faster if there are two of us.’

Patrik cast a glance at Martin. ‘Hmm… I don’t think it’s necessary to-’

‘It’s fine. I’ll go,’ Martin said.

Patrik hesitated for a moment before saying, ‘All right.’ Then he turned to Gösta. ‘And keep in touch with Torbjörn about the DNA results, okay?’

Gösta nodded.

‘Good. We need to start knocking on doors in Katarina’s neighbourhood to find out if anyone saw somebody sneaking around. And we have to check with Victoria’s family, in case they noticed anyone watching them.’

Gösta ran his hand through his grey hair, making it stand straight up.

‘I’m sure they would have told us by now if they’d seen anything like that. I think we did ask them if they’d noticed anyone hanging about their house, but I’ll take a look at the interview transcript.’

‘Have another talk with them in any case. I’ll go out there and talk to the neighbours. And Bertil, could you stand by here at the station and help Annika make arrangements for the big meeting?’

‘Of course. Who else could do it? They’ll all be wanting to meet with the chief of police here, since I’m heading the investigation.’

‘Okay, then. Let’s be careful out there,’ said Patrik, though his word choice made him instantly feel a bit foolish, as if they were all playing roles in an episode of Hill Street Blues. But it was worth it when he saw Martin smiling.

‘Next week there’s another jump-racing competition. Forget about the one you’re missing and look forward to that instead.’ Jonas stroked Molly’s hair. He never ceased to be amazed by how much she resembled her mother.

‘You sound like Dr Phil,’ muttered Molly, her face buried in a pillow. Her joy over the promised car had quickly passed, and now she was again brooding over not being allowed to compete.

‘You’re going to regret it if you don’t train properly. It won’t even be worth competing then. And you’ll be the one who’s most disappointed if you don’t win. Not me or your mother.’

‘Marta could care less,’ Molly grumbled.

Jonas pulled back his hand.

‘Are you saying that all the kilometres we’ve driven and all the hours we’ve put in don’t count? Your mother… Marta has invested a ton of money and time in preparing you for competitions, and you’re being incredibly ungrateful when you say things like that.’ He could hear how sharp his voice sounded, but it was time for his daughter to grow up.

Molly slowly sat up. She looked surprised that he had spoken to her in that tone, and she seemed about to protest. But then she lowered her eyes.

‘Sorry,’ she said quietly.

‘Excuse me, but what did you say?’

‘I’m sorry!’ She was on the verge of tears as Jonas put his arms around her. He knew that he had always spoiled her, for better or worse. But right now she had reacted as she should. She needed to learn that life sometimes demanded that she give in.

‘It’s okay, sweetie, it’s okay. Why don’t we go over to the stable? You need to train if you’re going to beat Linda Bergvall. She shouldn’t think that she’s guaranteed to win.’

‘All right,’ said Molly, wiping her tears on her sleeve.

‘Come on. I don’t have to work today, so I was thinking I could help you train. Mamma’s already over there with Scirocco.’

Molly swung her legs over the side of the bed, and he saw the competitive instinct gleaming in her eyes. They were so alike in that regard. Both of them hated to lose.

When they got to the riding school, Marta was waiting for them, and Scirocco was already saddled. She made a point of looking at her watch.

‘So the young lady decided to make an appearance after all. You were supposed to be here half an hour ago.’

Jonas gave his wife a warning look. One wrong word and Molly would run straight back to bed and start sulking again. He could see that Marta was debating with herself. She detested having to bow to her daughter’s whims. And even though it was her own choice, Marta also detested the fact that she didn’t share in the close relationship that he had with Molly. But she too liked to win, even if she did so through a daughter she had never wanted or understood.

‘I’ve got him ready for you,’ she said, handing the horse over to Molly.

With ease Molly swung herself up into the saddle and took the reins. Using her thighs and heels, she put Scirocco through his paces, and he willingly obeyed. As soon as Molly was on horseback, the truculent teenager disappeared. Up there she was a strong young woman, confident, calm, and sure of herself. Jonas loved to see the transformation.

He took a ringside seat to watch Marta work. Skilfully she instructed her daughter. She knew exactly how to make both the rider and the horse do their best. Molly had a natural gift for all aspects of horseback riding, but it was Marta who refined her talent. She was amazing as she stood there in the riding hall and with curt directives got the horse and rider to fly over the hurdles. It was going to be a great competition. The three of them were a wonderful team: Marta, Molly, and Jonas. Slowly he felt the familiar anticipation and tension beginning to build inside his body.

Erica was in her study, going through the long list of things she needed to get done. Anna had said that she and the kids could stay all day, if necessary, and Erica had swiftly seized upon the offer. There were so many people she ought to talk to, and so much material she should read, and she wished that she’d made more progress. Then maybe she’d understand why Laila had collected all those newspaper articles. For a moment she had considered going to Laila and asking her directly, but she realized that would be fruitless. Instead she had left the prison and driven home to do more research on her own.

‘Maaammaaa! The twins are fighting!’ Maja’s voice made her jump. According to Anna, the children had behaved perfectly while Erica was gone, but now it sounded as if they were about to kill each other down in the living room.

She ran downstairs and rushed into the room. There stood Maja, glaring at her little brothers as they tussled on the sofa.

‘They’re bothering me, Mamma, and I want to watch TV. They keep taking the remote control and changing the channel.’

‘Stop that,’ cried Erica, sounding a bit more cross than she’d intended. ‘If that’s how it is, then neither of you gets to watch TV.’

She went over to the sofa and grabbed the remote. The boys stared up at her in surprise and then both started crying. She silently counted to ten, but she could feel her anger surging as sweat ran down her sides. She had never imagined it would take so much patience to be a parent. And she was ashamed that she’d once punished Maja for something she hadn’t done.

Anna was in the kitchen with Emma and Adrian, but now she came into the living room. When she saw Erica’s expression, she couldn’t hide a wry smile.

‘Looks like it’d be good for you to get out of the house more often. Isn’t there someplace else you need to go, now that I’m already here?’

Erica was about to say she was grateful just to have peace and quiet to work when a thought occurred to her. There was in fact something else she needed to do. One item on her list, in particular, had sparked her interest.

‘Mamma has to go out and work for a while,’ she said to the kids. ‘But Anna is here. And if you’re nice, I think she’ll fix you a snack.’

The boys instantly stopped crying. The word ‘snack’ seemed to have a magical effect on them.

Erica gave her sister a warm hug. She went into the kitchen to make a phone call to make sure the person she wanted to see would be home. Fifteen minutes later she was on her way. By that time the children were all sitting at the kitchen table drinking juice and eating buns and biscuits. No doubt consuming way too much sugar, but she’d worry about that later.

It wasn’t difficult to locate the small terraced house just outside of Uddevalla where Wilhelm Mosander lived. He had sounded intrigued when she phoned, and he opened the door even before she rang the bell.

‘Come in,’ said the elderly man. She carefully kicked the snow off her boots and went inside.

She had never met Mosander before, but she knew quite a lot about him. In his day he was a legendary journalist at Bohusläningen, and he was most famous for his reports about the murder of Vladek Kowalski.

‘I take it you’re writing a new book,’ he said as he led her into the kitchen. Erica saw that the room was small but clean and well-kept. There was no sign of a woman’s presence, so she guessed that Wilhelm must be a bachelor.

As if he’d read her mind, he said, ‘My wife died ten years ago so I sold our big monstrosity of a house and moved here. It’s much easier to take care of, but it can seem a little spartan since I don’t know much about curtains and things like that.’

‘It’s very cosy.’ Erica sat down at the table, and Mosander served the obligatory coffee. ‘And yes, I’m writing a book. It’s about the House of Horrors.’

‘What else do you think I might be able to tell you? I assume that you’ve already read most of the articles I wrote.’

‘Yes, Kjell Ringholm at Bohusläningen helped me find all the newspaper articles. And of course I’ve gathered a lot of facts about the course of events and the trial. But what I need now is to talk to someone who was there. I’d like to hear your impressions. I’m thinking that you probably made observations and noticed things that you couldn’t write about. Maybe you even have your own theories about the case. According to what I’ve heard, you’ve never been able to let the matter go.’

Erica sipped her coffee as she studied Wilhelm.

‘Well, there’s certainly a lot to write about.’ Wilhelm’s eyes glinted as he returned her gaze. ‘I’ve never come across a case, either before or since, as interesting as that one. Anyone who knew about it couldn’t help being affected.’

‘I know. It’s one of the most horrifying cases I’ve ever encountered. And I’d really like to find out exactly what happened that day.’

‘That makes two of us,’ said Wilhelm. ‘Even though Laila confessed to the murder, I could never shake off the feeling that something didn’t fit. I don’t have any theory of my own, but I think the truth was more complicated than anyone realized.’

‘Precisely,’ said Erica eagerly. ‘The problem is that Laila refuses to talk about it.’

‘But she agreed to see you?’ Wilhelm leaned forward. ‘I never thought she’d do that.’

‘Yes, we’ve met a few times now. I tried to make contact for a long time, sending letters and making phone calls, and I’d just about given up when she suddenly said yes.’

‘Well, I’ll be damned. She’s kept silent all these years, and then she agrees to meet with you?’ He shook his head, looking as if he could hardly believe his ears. ‘I tried to get an interview with her so many times in the past, but without success.’

‘She’s not telling me anything though. So far I’ve got nothing of interest out of her.’ Erica could hear how discouraged she sounded.

‘So tell me, how is she? How is she doing?’

Erica felt the conversation was going off at a tangent, but she resisted the urge to steer it back on track by resorting to the questions she’d come there to ask. A little give and take was necessary.

‘She’s very composed. Very calm. Yet she seems anxious about something.’

‘Does she strike you as feeling guilty? About the murder? About what was done to her daughter?’

Erica paused to consider. ‘Yes and no. She doesn’t seem exactly remorseful, but she does take responsibility for what happened. It’s hard to explain. Getting her to say anything about it is so difficult, I’ve had to read between the lines, so to speak. And it’s possible that I’m misinterpreting because of my own reaction to what she did.’

‘Yes, it was horrific.’ Wilhelm nodded. ‘Have you been inside the house?’

‘Yes, just the other day. It’s practically derelict now, after standing empty for so long. But it felt like something was still there, in the walls… And in the cellar.’ Erica shuddered at the memory.

‘I know what you mean. It’s a mystery how anyone could treat a child the way Vladek did. Or that Laila could let it happen. Personally, I think in that sense she’s just as guilty as he was, even though she was terrified of what he might do. She could have made other choices, and you’d think her maternal instinct would have been stronger than it was.’

‘They didn’t treat their son in the same way. Why do you think Peter got off so much easier?’

‘I never could make any sense of that. I’m sure you read the article in which I interviewed several psychologists about it.’

‘Yes. In their opinion Vladek’s hatred for women meant that he was abusive only to the females in the family. But that doesn’t seem entirely true. According to the medical records, Peter also suffered injuries. He once had his arm pulled out of the socket, and he also suffered a deep stab wound.’

‘That’s right, but it’s nothing compared to what Louise endured.’

‘Do you have any idea what happened to Peter? I haven’t been able to track him down. Not yet, anyway.’

‘No. I never did either. If you do find him, please let me know.’

‘But aren’t you retired now?’ asked Erica, though she realized that was a stupid question. The Kowalski case had long ago ceased to be merely a news story for Wilhelm. Maybe it had always been something more. She could see in his eyes that over the years it had become an obsession for him. He didn’t bother to answer her question, but continued to talk about Peter.

‘It’s a bit of a mystery. As you no doubt know, he was sent to live with his maternal grandmother after the murder, and he seemed to be doing well. But when he was fifteen his grandmother was murdered when someone broke into their house. Peter was away at a football camp on Gotland when it happened, and after that he seems to have disappeared into thin air.’

‘Do you think he might have killed himself?’ Erica speculated out loud. ‘Maybe he did it in such a way that his body was never found.’

‘Maybe. Who knows? And there was another tragedy in that family.’

‘Are you thinking about Louise’s death?’

‘Yes. She drowned while she was living with a foster family. She wasn’t placed with her grandmother but with a foster family. It was thought they could provide her with better support after the trauma she’d been through.’

‘It was an unexplained accident, wasn’t it?’ Erica tried to recall the details she’d read.

‘Yes. Both Louise and the couple’s other foster daughter, who was the same age, were apparently caught in the undertow and their bodies were never found. A tragic end to a tragic life.’

‘So the only relative still alive is Laila’s sister, who lives in Spain, right?’

‘Yes, but they didn’t have much contact with each other, even before the murder. I tried to talk to her a few times, but she didn’t want anything to do with Laila. And Vladek left his own family and his old life behind when he decided to stay in Sweden with Laila.’

‘Such a strange combination of love and… evil,’ said Erica, unable to find a better word to describe what she meant.

Wilhelm suddenly looked very tired. ‘What I saw in that living room and in that cellar was the closest to evil I’ve ever come.’

‘You were at the crime scene?’

He nodded. ‘Back then it was a little easier to get into places where I didn’t belong. I had good contacts on the police force, and they allowed me to go in and have a look. There was blood everywhere in the living room. And apparently Laila was sitting there in the middle of it when the police arrived. She didn’t offer the slightest resistance, just went with them quietly.’

‘And Louise was chained up when they found her?’ said Erica.

‘Yes. She was down in the cellar, emaciated and wretched.’

Erica swallowed hard as she imagined the scene.

‘Did you ever meet the children?’

‘No. Peter was so young when it happened. All the journalists were smart enough to leave the children in peace. Both the grandmother and the foster family shielded them from publicity.’

‘Why do you think Laila confessed so quickly?’

‘I don’t suppose she had any other option. As I said, when the police arrived she was sitting next to Vladek’s body and holding the knife in her hand. And she was the one who notified the police. On the phone she had already said: “I’ve killed my husband.” And by the way, that was all anyone ever got out of her. She repeated her statement during the trial, but apart from that no one was able to get her to break her silence.’

‘So why do you think she agreed to talk to me?’ asked Erica.

‘Hmm… That does seem odd.’ Wilhelm gave her a searching look. ‘She was forced to meet with the police and the psychologists, but meeting with you is completely voluntary on her part.’

‘Maybe she just wants company. Maybe she’s tired of seeing the same faces everyday,’ said Erica, even though she wasn’t convinced by her own explanation.

‘Not Laila. There must be some other reason. Has she said anything that especially caught your interest or surprised you? Has there been any clue that something has happened or changed?’ He leaned forward even more, sitting on the edge of his chair.

‘There is one thing…’ Erica hesitated. Then she took a deep breath and told him about the articles that Laila had hidden in her room. She knew it was a long shot. The clippings probably had nothing to do with her meetings with Laila. But Wilhelm listened intently, and she saw a keen intelligence in his eyes.

‘Have you thought about the date?’ he said then.

‘What date?’

‘The date when Laila finally agreed to meet with you.’

Erica frantically searched her memory. It was about four months ago, but she couldn’t recall the exact date. Then she remembered. It was the day after Kristina’s birthday. She mentioned the date to Wilhelm, who gave her a crooked smile as he leaned down and picked up from the floor a thick stack of old copies of Bohusläningen. He began looking through them, then paused and with a pleased expression handed Erica a newspaper open to an inside page. She cursed her stupidity. Of course. That had to be the connection. The question was, what did it mean?

The air inside the barn was stifling, and an icy vapour issued from her lips as she breathed. Helga drew her coat closer around her. She knew that Jonas and Marta viewed the Friday dinners as an obligation. That was obvious from their long-suffering expressions. But the dinners were the anchor of Helga’s existence, the only time when she could see all of them as members of a real family.

Yesterday it had been more difficult than usual to keep up the illusion. Because that was precisely what it was: an illusion, a dream. She’d had so many dreams. When she met Einar he had taken over and filled her whole world with his broad shoulders, his blond hair, and a smile that she’d interpreted as warm, though she later learned it meant something else entirely.

She stopped next to the car that Molly had talked about. She knew exactly which one it was, and if she had been Molly’s age, she would have chosen it too. Helga looked about at the other cars in the barn. All of them abandoned and falling apart from rust.

She could remember where every single car had come from, every trip that Einar had made to buy suitable vehicles to restore. Each car had required many hours of work before it could be sold. The business hadn’t brought in a huge income, but it had been enough for them to live comfortably. She’d never had to worry about money. That was one part of the bargain Einar had managed to keep: he had provided for her and Jonas financially.

Slowly she moved away from Molly’s car, as she was now calling it, and went over to an old black Volvo that had big rust patches and broken windows. It would have been a wonderful vehicle if Einar had fixed it up. If she closed her eyes, she could picture his face whenever he brought home a new car. She could tell at once if the trip had been successful. Sometimes he was gone only a day, but sometimes he would head to distant regions of Sweden and be away for a week. When he drove into the yard with a feverish look in his eyes and flushed cheeks, she knew that he’d found what he’d wanted. For several days, sometimes even several weeks afterwards, he would be totally immersed in his work. That was when she could devote herself to Jonas and her housework. For a while she could escape his outbursts, the cold hatred in his eyes, and the pain. Those were her happiest days.

She put her hand on the car and shivered at the icy touch of the metal. The light inside the barn had slowly shifted as she wandered about. The sun was now shining through the gaps in the walls and reflecting off the black paint. Helga pulled back her hand. This car would never have a new life. It was a dead object, something that belonged to the past. And she intended to see that it stayed that way.

Erica leaned back in the visitor’s chair. She had driven directly from Wilhelm’s house to the prison. She needed to speak to Laila again. Fortunately, Laila seemed to have calmed down since the morning and agreed to meet with her. Maybe she hadn’t been as upset as Erica thought.

They’d been sitting in silence for a while now, a hint of concern in Laila’s eyes as she studied Erica.

‘Why did you want to see me again today?’

Erica was debating with herself. She wasn’t sure what to say, but she could tell that Laila would close up like a clam if she mentioned the newspaper clippings and revealed her suspicions about a connection.

‘I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said earlier,’ she replied at last. ‘You said it was a house of horrors, but not in the way everybody thought. What did you mean by that?’

Laila turned to look out of the window.

‘Why would I want to talk about that? It’s not something I want to remember.’

‘I can understand that. But seeing as you’ve agreed to meet with me, I have a feeling you do want to talk about it. And maybe it would be a relief to share it with someone.’

‘Talking is overrated. People go to therapists and psychologists and discuss things over and over with friends. They have to analyse every little detail. But certain things are best left alone.’

‘Are you talking about yourself now, or about what happened?’ said Erica gently.

Laila turned back from the window and looked at her with those strange icy blue eyes of hers.

‘Maybe both,’ she said. Her cropped hair looked even shorter than usual. She must have just had it cut.

Erica decided to change tack.

‘We haven’t talked much about the rest of your family. Could we do that now?’ she asked in an attempt to find a crack in the wall of silence that Laila had built around herself.

Laila shrugged. ‘I suppose so.’

‘Your father died when you were very young, but were you close to your mother?’

‘Yes. Mamma was my best friend.’ A smile appeared on Laila’s face, making her look several years younger.

‘What about your older sister?’

Laila paused before replying. ‘She’s lived in Spain for many years,’ she then said. ‘We’ve never had much contact, and she cut off all ties with me when… it happened.’

‘Does she have a family?’

‘Yes. She’s married to a Spaniard, and they have a son and a daughter.’

‘Your mother stepped in to take care of Peter. Why Peter but not Louise?’

Laila uttered a harsh laugh. ‘Mamma could never have handled the Girl. But things were different with Peter. He and Mamma were very close.’

‘The Girl?’ Erica gave Laila an enquiring look.

‘Yes. That’s what we called her,’ Laila said quietly. ‘It was Vladek who started it, and the name stuck.’

Poor child, thought Erica. She tried to restrain her anger and focus on the questions she wanted to ask.

‘So why couldn’t Louise, or the Girl, live with your mother?’

Laila stared at her defiantly. ‘Because she was a very demanding child. That’s all I’m going to say about the matter.’

Erica was forced to accept that she wasn’t going to get any further, so she changed tack again.

‘What do you think happened to Peter after your mother… died?’

A touch of sadness appeared on Laila’s face. ‘I don’t know. He just disappeared. I think…’ She swallowed hard and seemed to have difficulty finding the right words. ‘I think maybe he just couldn’t go on any more. He was never that strong. He was such a sensitive boy.’

‘Are you saying that you think he may have committed suicide?’ Erica tried to formulate the question as cautiously as possible.

At first Laila didn’t react, but then she nodded, her eyes lowered.

‘But he was never found?’ Erica persisted.

‘No.’

‘You must be incredibly strong to have endured so many losses in your life.’

‘People can survive more than they think. If they have to,’ said Laila. ‘I’m not a particularly religious person, but it’s said that God never puts a greater burden on your shoulders than He knows you can bear. And He must know that I can handle a lot.’

‘There’s going to be a memorial service in Fjällbacka church today,’ said Erica, watching Laila closely. It was risky for her to turn the conversation to Victoria.

‘Oh, really?’ Laila gave her an inquisitive look, but Erica could tell she already knew about the service.

‘It’s for the girl who disappeared and then died. I’m sure you’ve heard about it. Her name was Victoria Hallberg. It must be so hard for her parents right now. And for the parents of the other girls who are still missing.’

‘I suppose so.’ Laila seemed to be struggling to keep her composure.

‘Just imagine, their daughters have disappeared. And now that they know what happened to Victoria, they must be going through hell thinking that their girls may have been subjected to the same treatment.’

‘I only know what I’ve read in the newspapers,’ said Laila, swallowing hard. ‘But it must be awful.’

Erica nodded. ‘Have you been following the case?’

Laila gave her an evasive look. ‘Well, we read the papers every day here. So I’ve followed the case just like everybody else.’

‘Of course,’ said Erica, thinking about the box containing the carefully cut out articles hidden under the bed in Laila’s room.

‘You know, I’m really tired. I don’t feel like talking any more. You’ll have to come back some other day.’ Laila abruptly stood up.

For a moment Erica considered confronting Laila, telling her that she knew about the clippings and was convinced that Laila had a personal connection to the case, though she wasn’t sure what it was. But she stopped herself. Laila’s face was stony, and her hands were gripping the back of the chair so hard that her knuckles were white. Whatever it was she wanted to say, she clearly couldn’t make herself do it.

Impulsively Erica stood up and stepped forward to pat Laila’s cheek. It was the first time she’d ever touched her, and her skin was surprisingly soft.

‘We’ll talk more later,’ Erica said gently. As she headed for the door, she could feel Laila’s eyes steadily watching her.

Tyra could hear her mother humming out in the kitchen. She was always much happier when Lasse wasn’t home. And she wasn’t upset any more about yesterday. She had accepted Tyra’s explanation that she’d simply forgotten her mother was coming and had gone home with a friend. It was better not to tell her anything. There would just be trouble if she heard the truth. Tyra wandered into the kitchen.

‘What are you baking?’

Her mother stood at the kitchen table, her hands covered with flour. There were even specks of flour on her face. Neatness had never been her strong suit, and whenever she made dinner Lasse would always complain that the kitchen looked like a battlefield.

‘Cinnamon buns. I thought we could have a little snack this afternoon after the memorial service. Plus I wanted to refill the freezer.’

‘Is Lasse in Kville?’

‘Yes, as usual.’ Terese reached up to push back a lock of hair, making her face even whiter with flour.

‘Pretty soon you’re going to look like the Joker,’ said Tyra, and she felt a warm fluttering in her stomach at the sight of her mother smiling. That happened so rarely these days. She mostly looked tired and unhappy. But the feeling vanished as quickly as it had come. Tyra’s grief for Victoria was always present, extinguishing any cheerful feelings that might arise. And the thought of the memorial service made her stomach turn over. She didn’t want to say goodbye.

She watched her mother in silence for a moment.

‘So what was Jonas like as a boyfriend?’ she wondered out loud.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘I don’t know. I was just thinking about the two of you together.’

‘I have to admit that he wasn’t an easy person to understand. Always a bit closed off and withdrawn. And kind of a chicken-heart too. I remember having to fight to get him to even put his hand under my shirt.’

‘Mamma!’ Tyra covered her ears with her hands and glared at Terese. That wasn’t the sort of thing she wanted to hear from her mother. She preferred to think of Terese as a Barbie doll, completely sexless.

‘But it’s true. He really was a chicken. His father was so domineering, and sometimes it seemed like Jonas and his mother were both afraid of the man.’

Terese rolled out the dough on the kitchen table and smeared on butter so it covered the entire surface.

‘Do you think he was abusive towards them?’

‘Who? Einar? Hmm… I never saw anything like that. I mostly heard him griping and grumbling. He’s probably one of those guys whose bark is worse than his bite. I really didn’t see him that often. He was either out on one of his buying trips, or else he was working on the cars in the barn.’

‘How did Jonas and Marta meet?’ Tyra pinched off a piece of dough and stuffed it in her mouth.

Terese stopped what she was doing and paused a few seconds before answering.

‘You know, I’ve never actually heard how they met. One day she was just there. And it all happened so fast. I was young and naive, and I thought Jonas and I would be together for ever. But suddenly he broke up with me. And I’ve never been one to make a fuss, so I just went my own way. I was sad for a while, of course, but I got over it.’ She began sprinkling cinnamon on the buttered dough, then rolled it up.

‘Has there ever been any talk about Jonas and Marta since then? Any gossip?’

‘You know what I think about gossip, Tyra,’ said Terese sternly as she cut the rolled dough into thick slices. ‘But to answer your question: no, I’ve never heard anything other than that they’re very happy. And then I met your father. Jonas and I just weren’t meant to be together. We were so young. You’ll see, you’re probably going to have a teenage love of your own.’

‘Oh, stop it,’ said Tyra, feeling herself blush. She hated it when her mother talked to her about boys and things like that. Terese didn’t have a clue.

Now Terese gave her a searching glance. ‘But why are you asking me all these questions about Jonas? And about Marta?’

‘No special reason. I was just wondering.’ Tyra shrugged and tried to look nonchalant. Then she swiftly changed the subject. ‘Molly is going to get one of the cars out in the barn when she learns to drive. A Volkswagen Beetle. Jonas promised to fix it up for her.’

She couldn’t keep a trace of envy from creeping into her voice, and she saw that her mother noticed.

‘I’m sorry I can’t give you everything I’d like to. We… I… Well, life doesn’t always turn out the way you’d thought it would.’ Terese took a deep breath and scattered sugar over the buns, which she’d placed on a baking sheet.

‘I know. It doesn’t matter,’ Tyra hastened to say.

She didn’t mean to be ungrateful. She knew that her mother was doing the best she could. And she was ashamed even to be thinking about a car right now. Victoria would never have a car.

‘How’s it going with Lasse’s job-hunting?’ she asked.

Terese snorted. ‘God doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to deliver a job for him.’

‘Maybe God has other things to think about than finding a job for Lasse.’

Terese finished what she was doing and looked at her daughter.

‘Tyra…’ She seemed to be searching for the right words. ‘Do you think we could manage on our own? Without Lasse, I mean?’

For a moment there was utter silence in the kitchen. The only sound in the flat was the noise the boys were making in the next room.

Then Tyra said quietly, ‘It would be fine. I think we’d manage just fine.’

She stepped forward and kissed her mother’s floury cheek. Then she went to her bedroom to change her clothes. All the girls from the stable would be at Victoria’s memorial service. They seemed to think of it as something exciting. She’d heard them eagerly whispering to each other, even discussing what they should wear. What idiots. Superficial, brainless idiots. None of them had known Victoria the way she had. Or at least not the way she thought she’d known her. With great reluctance Tyra took her favourite dress out of the wardrobe. It was time to say goodbye.

It had been a delightful break for her to babysit for the twins and Maja. Anna hadn’t been lying when she told Erica that they had behaved perfectly all day, as children so often do. It was only with their parents that they displayed their worst behaviour. No doubt it had helped that she’d brought Emma and Adrian along. The two of them were idolized by their young cousins, since they were ‘big kids’, after all.

She smiled to herself as she wiped off the worktop. It felt strange to be smiling; she hadn’t done it in so long. Yesterday, when she and Dan had talked here in the kitchen, she had felt a spark of hope return. She knew it might quickly fade, because afterwards Dan had again withdrawn into silence. But maybe they had taken a small step closer to each other.

She had been serious when she told him she was ready to move out if that was what he wanted. A couple of times she had even gone on the web to look for a suitable flat for herself and the children. But that wasn’t what she wanted. She loved Dan.

In spite of everything, over the past few months they had taken several small steps towards bridging the chasm between them. On one anxious occasion, after they’d both had a few too many glasses of wine, he’d reached out to touch her body, and she had clung to him as if she were drowning. They had made love, but afterwards he’d looked so tormented that all she wanted to do was run away. They hadn’t touched each other since. Except for the hug yesterday.

Anna looked out of the kitchen window. The kids were playing in the snow. Even though her children were too old for such games, they both still thought it was fun to build snowmen and have snowball fights. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and cautiously pressed her palms to her stomach. She tried to remember what it had felt like when she was pregnant with Dan’s child. She couldn’t blame her grief for what she’d done. That was not the sort of thing to blame on an innocent child. But sometimes her sorrow was mixed with guilt, and she couldn’t help thinking that everything would have been different if their little son had lived. Then he would be playing out there in the snow with his older siblings, bundled up and looking like a little Michelin man, the way kids always looked in the winter when they were toddlers.

Anna knew that sometimes Erica worried that the twins reminded her of the son she had lost. And in the beginning they had. She had been jealous and harboured bad thoughts about how unfair it was, the way things had turned out. But that feeling had passed. Sometimes life was unfair, and there was no logic to it, no reasonable explanation for why she and Dan had lost their beloved baby. Now she could only hope that they’d find a way back to sharing a life together.

A snowball struck the windowpane, and she saw Adrian’s alarmed expression as he reached up his mittened hand to cover his mouth. At the sight of him, she made up her mind. Quickly she ran out to the hall, threw on her winter coat, and then tore open the front door. Doing her best imitation of a scary monster, she growled, ‘Hey, you two, time for a snowball fight!’

The children stared at her in surprise. Then they shouted their joy to the winter sky.

Gösta and Martin were sitting in the last pew of the church. Gösta had decided to attend Victoria’s memorial service the minute he heard it was going to be held. Her terrible fate had stirred up anxiety and fear in Fjällbacka, and now her family and friends had gathered for her funeral. They needed to talk about Victoria, to share memories and work through all the emotions prompted by the news of how terribly she had suffered. It was only reasonable that he and Martin should be there, representing the police station.

It was hard for Gösta to push aside his own memories as he sat there on the hard pew. He had been here before for two other funerals: first his son’s, and many years later, his wife’s. Gösta twisted his wedding band on his finger. He had never felt right about taking it off. Maj-Britt had been the great love of his life, his beloved companion, and he’d never even thought about replacing her.

Life’s paths were indeed inscrutable, he thought. Sometimes he wondered whether there might actually be some higher power guiding and steering human beings. In the past he’d never believed in anything like that. Back then he would have called himself an atheist, but the older he got, the more he felt Maj-Britt’s presence. It was as if she were still at his side. And it was almost a miracle that after so many years Ebba had resumed such a natural place in his life and heart.

He looked around the church. It was beautiful. Built of the granite the Bohuslän area was known for, it had lovely tall windows that let in a flood of light. A blue-painted pulpit was on the left, and the altar was up front behind the carved altar rail. For once the church was packed to bursting point, and the congregation included close family members, distant relatives, and many of Victoria’s peers. Some of them were probably classmates, but Gösta recognized quite a few girls from the stable. They sat together in two of the middle rows, and many of them were audibly sobbing.

Gösta cast a surreptitious glance at Martin and realized that maybe he shouldn’t have suggested that his colleague come along. It wasn’t long ago that Pia had been laid to rest in her coffin, and he saw from the pallor of Martin’s face that he was thinking the same thing.

‘I can handle this on my own, if you like,’ Gösta whispered to him. ‘You don’t need to stay.’

‘I’m fine,’ replied Martin with a strained smile, but he kept his eyes fixed straight ahead throughout the entire service.

It was a moving ceremony, and as the last hymns faded, Gösta hoped it had provided some solace to the family. With noticeable effort, Victoria’s parents got up from their seats in the front pew. Helena leaned on Markus for support as they walked along the centre aisle towards the door of the church, then everyone else slowly followed.

Outside family and friends gathered in small groups. It was a bitterly cold day, but beautiful, with sunlight glinting off the snow. Subdued and freezing, their eyes red from crying, everyone stood there talking about how much Victoria would be missed and what unimaginable suffering she must have endured. Gösta could see the fear in the young girls’ faces. Were they next? Was the person who had kidnapped Victoria still in the area? He decided to give it a while before talking to them. He would wait until the group had dispersed and they began heading for home.

With blank expressions Markus and Helena moved among the mourners to exchange a few words with everyone. Ricky stayed a short distance away, wanting to keep to himself. Some of Victoria’s friends went over to him, but they seemed to get only one-syllable responses and eventually they left him in peace.

Suddenly Ricky looked up and met Gösta’s eye. He hesitated for a moment but then came over to the two officers.

‘I need to talk to you,’ he said in a low voice to Gösta. ‘Someplace where no one can hear us.’

‘Of course,’ said Gösta. ‘Is it okay if my colleague Martin comes too?’

Ricky nodded and led the way to the far corner of the cemetery.

‘There’s something I have to tell you,’ he began, kicking at the ground with his shoe. The powdery snow whirled up around them and then settled back down like glitter. ‘It’s something I should have told you long ago.’

Gösta and Martin exchanged glances.

‘Victoria and I never had any secrets from each other. Never ever. It’s hard to explain, because we always stuck together, but all of a sudden I had a feeling she was keeping something from me. She was pulling away, and that made me worried. I tried to talk to her, but she was avoiding me more and more. Then… then I worked out what it was all about.’

‘And what was it?’ asked Gösta.

‘Victoria and Jonas.’ Ricky swallowed hard. He had tears in his eyes, and it looked as if it was causing him physical pain to say the words.

‘What do you mean, Victoria and Jonas?’

‘They were together,’ said Ricky.

‘Are you sure?’

‘No, not a hundred per cent. But all the signs were there. And yesterday I met Victoria’s best friend Tyra, and she told me she suspected something too.’

‘Okay, but if that’s true, then why do you think she didn’t tell you about Jonas?’

‘I don’t know. Or rather, yes, I do. I think she was embarrassed. She knew I would think it was wrong, but she shouldn’t have been ashamed for my sake. Nothing she did would ever have changed how I thought of her.’

‘How long do you think the relationship had been going on?’ asked Martin.

Ricky shook his head. He wasn’t wearing a hat, and his ears were red from the cold.

‘I don’t know. But it was sometime before summer that I started feeling like she was a little… different.’

‘In what way was she different?’ Gösta wiggled his toes inside his shoes. They were starting to go numb from the cold.

Ricky paused to think. ‘There was something secretive about her that I’d never noticed before. Sometimes she’d be gone for a couple of hours, and if I asked her where she’d been, she’d tell me it was none of my business. She’d never done that before. And she seemed both happy and… I don’t know how to describe it, but happy and depressed at the same time. Her mood could change in an instant, shifting up and down. Maybe because she was a teenager, but I think there was some other reason too.’ When he said that, he sounded so sensible that Gösta had to remind himself Ricky was only eighteen.

‘So you suspected she was having a relationship with someone?’ queried Martin.

‘Yes, I did. But it never occurred to me it might be Jonas. Good Lord, he’s… ancient! Plus he’s married.’

Gösta felt a smile tugging at his lips. If Jonas, who was in his forties, was considered ancient, then he must be practically a fossil in Ricky’s eyes.

Ricky wiped away a tear that had spilled down his cheek.

‘I was so angry when I found out about it. He’s almost a… paedophile.’

Gösta shook his head. ‘In principle I agree with you, but the legal age is fifteen. How it should be regarded from a moral point of view is another story.’ He mulled over what Ricky had just told them. ‘So how did you find out they were having a relationship?’

‘Like I said, I had a feeling that Victoria was with someone, and she didn’t think my parents and I would approve.’ Ricky hesitated. ‘But I didn’t know who it was, and she refused to tell me when I asked. That was so unlike her, because we always shared everything. Then one day I went over to the riding school to fetch her, and I saw them having a quarrel. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I understood at once. I ran over and yelled to her that finally I understood everything and I thought it was disgusting. But she yelled back that I didn’t understand a thing, and I was an idiot. Then she rushed off. Jonas just stood there, looking like a fool, and I was so furious that I really let him have it.’

‘Did anyone hear you?’

‘No, I don’t think so. The older girls had gone out riding with the younger ones, and Marta was giving Molly a lesson out in the paddock.’

‘Did Jonas admit to anything?’ Gösta could feel anger surging inside of him too.

‘No, not a thing. He just tried to calm me down, and he kept on saying that it wasn’t true, that he’d never touched Victoria, that I was simply imagining things. What bullshit! Then his mobile rang and he said he had to leave. But I’m sure it was just an excuse because he didn’t want to talk to me any more.’

‘So you didn’t believe him?’ Gösta’s toes were now completely frozen. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Markus looking their way, no doubt wondering why they were talking to his son.

‘Of course not!’ Ricky spat out the words. ‘He was totally calm, but I could tell from the way they’d been arguing that it was about something personal. And Victoria’s reaction confirmed it.’

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

‘I don’t know. Everything was so chaotic. Victoria never came home that night, and when we realized that she’d disappeared on her way home from the stable, we phoned the police. The worst thing was that I knew it was my fault! If I hadn’t yelled at her and started quarrelling with Jonas, if I’d driven her home as planned, she wouldn’t have been picked up by some fucking psychopath. Besides, I didn’t want my parents to find out about her relationship with Jonas. They were already so worried, and I didn’t want them to be subjected to a bunch of scandalous articles. Especially since I’d convinced myself that Victoria would eventually come back home. And since I hadn’t told you about this right from the start, it got harder to do it later on. I’ve had such a guilty conscience and…’ Tears poured out, and Gösta instinctively stepped forward to put his arm around Ricky.

‘Hush. It’s okay. And it’s not your fault. Don’t think it is. Nobody is blaming you. You wanted to protect your family, and we understand that. It’s not your fault.’ After a moment the tension seeped out of the boy’s body, and he stopped crying.

Ricky looked up at Gösta.

‘Somebody else knew about this,’ he said quietly.

‘Who?’

‘I don’t know. But I found some strange letters in Victoria’s room. A bunch of drivel about God and sinners and burning in hell.’

‘Do you still have the letters?’ asked Gösta, holding his breath.

Ricky shook his head.

‘No, I threw them out. I… I thought they were so awful, and I was afraid my parents would find them. They would have been really upset. So I threw the letters in the rubbish. Was that a stupid thing to do?’

Gösta patted his shoulder. ‘What’s done is done. But where in her room did you find them? And can you try to recall the exact wording?’

‘I went through all her things after she disappeared. Before you came over to search her room. I thought I might find something about Jonas. The letters were in the back of one of the desk drawers. I don’t remember everything they said. Just a few lines that sounded like Bible quotes. With words like “sinners” and “harlots” and things like that.’

‘And you assumed they were referring to Victoria’s relationship with Jonas?’ asked Martin.

‘Yes. That seemed the most likely. Someone who knew about it and wanted to… scare her.’

‘And you have no idea who might have sent those letters?’

‘No, I’m afraid not.’

‘Okay. Thank you for telling us about this. That was the right thing to do,’ said Gösta. ‘You’d better go and join your parents now. They’re probably wondering what we’ve been talking about all this time.’

Ricky didn’t reply. He merely bowed his head and with heavy steps headed back towards the church.

By the time Patrik came home, it had already been dark for hours. As soon as he stepped in the door, he noticed a delicious aroma coming from the kitchen. It smelled as if Erica had made something extra special for Saturday dinner. He was guessing it was her pork casserole with blue cheese and potato wedges, which was one of his favourite dishes. He hurried into the kitchen.

‘I hope you’re hungry,’ said Erica, putting her arms around her husband.

They hugged each other for a few moments, and then he went over to the cooker and lifted the lid of the turquoise Le Creuset pot, which she only used on special occasions. He’d guessed right. Slices of pork were simmering in a wonderful cream sauce, and in the oven the potatoes were turning a crispy golden brown. He saw also that she’d made a salad in a big bowl, a special blend of spinach, tomatoes, parmesan cheese, and pine nuts, mixed with the herb dressing he loved.

‘I’m absolutely starving,’ Patrik said, and it was true. His stomach was growling loudly, and he realized that he hadn’t eaten anything all day. ‘What about the kids?’

He nodded towards the table, which was set for two, with their best china and candles. A bottle of Amarone had already been opened. He realized this was going to be a great Saturday night after several exhausting days at work.

‘They’ve already eaten. They’re in the living room watching Cars. I thought for once you and I could have dinner together in peace and quiet. Unless you insist they sit at the table with us,’ said Erica, giving him a wink.

‘No, no. Let’s keep the kids as far away from the kitchen as possible. Threats, bribes, I don’t care what it takes. Tonight I want to have dinner with my beautiful wife.’

He leaned forward to kiss her on the lips.

‘I’ll just go in and say hi to them. Then I’ll be right back. You can put me to work, if there’s anything you need help with.’

‘Everything’s under control,’ said Erica. ‘Go in and give them all a kiss, and then the two of us will sit down and eat.’

Smiling, Patrik went into the living room. The lights were turned off, but in the glow from the TV he saw that the kids were mesmerized by Flash McQueen racing around the track.

‘Look how fast he is,’ said Noel. He was hugging his special blanket, as he always did when they sat on the sofa.

‘But not as fast as Pappa!’ shouted Patrik, throwing himself on the sofa and tickling the kids until they howled.

‘Stopppp! Stopppp!’ they all cried, even though their body language and expressions pleaded ‘More, more!’

He kept on tussling with them a little longer. Their energy never seemed to run out. He felt their warm breath on his cheek as their laughter and shouts rose to the ceiling. At that instant he forgot about everything else. The only thing that existed was this moment with his children. Then he heard the sound of someone clearing her throat.

‘Sweetheart, the food is ready.’

Patrik stopped at once. ‘Okay, kids. Pappa has to go and have dinner with Mamma. Snuggle down on the sofa again. We’ll come to put you to bed later.’

After tucking the blankets around them, he followed Erica back to the kitchen where the food was now on the table, and the wine was poured.

‘Wow, everything looks great.’ He began filling his plate. Then he raised his glass towards Erica.

‘Skål, my dear.’

‘Skål,’ she said, and they both took several sips in silence. He closed his eyes to savour the taste.

They chatted for a while, and Patrik gave her a brief report on the day’s developments. He told her that none of the neighbours had noticed anyone watching the Hallberg house. He also said that after the memorial service Gösta and Martin had talked to some of the stable girls, but none of them had anything to say about the break-in at Jonas’s clinic. On the other hand, his colleagues had learned something far more interesting.

‘You have to promise not to say anything to anybody about this,’ Patrik said. ‘Not even Anna.’

‘Sure. I promise.’

‘Okay. Well, according to Victoria’s brother Ricky, she was having an affair with Jonas Persson.’

‘You’re joking,’ said Erica.

‘I know. It sounds strange. He and Marta have always seemed like the perfect couple. Apparently he denies the whole thing, but if it’s true, then we have to wonder if it had anything to do with her disappearance.’

‘Maybe Ricky misinterpreted the situation. It could be she was having an affair with someone else, someone she was going to see when she disappeared. Or maybe it was that person who kidnapped her.’

Patrik didn’t speak as he pondered what she’d just said. Could Erica be right?

After a moment he saw that she had something else on her mind.

‘I’ve been wanting to discuss something with you,’ she said. ‘It’s a long shot and still very hazy, and maybe I’m way off base here, but I want to hear your opinion, anyway.’

‘Okay. I’m listening,’ said Patrik, putting down his knife and fork. The urgency in Erica’s voice made him curious.

She began by telling him about the work she’d done on her book, about her conversations with Laila, about her visit to the house, and about her research so far. As she talked, Patrik realized that he’d paid little attention to her latest project. His only excuse was that Victoria’s disappearance had demanded so much of him that he’d had no energy or time for anything else.

When Erica began telling him about the box containing the newspaper clippings, he was intrigued but still didn’t think it was especially significant. It wasn’t unusual for people to get fixated on certain cases and collect related materials. But then Erica recounted the other visit she’d made that day, to Wilhelm Mosander.

‘Wilhelm took a great interest in the case back when he was covering it for Bohusläningen, and over the years he has tried to get in touch with Laila. He’s not the only one, and I know it was a big deal when she suddenly agreed to see me. But it wasn’t just a coincidence.’ Erica paused to take a sip of her wine.

‘What do you mean it wasn’t a coincidence?’ asked Patrik.

His wife fixed her gaze on him.

‘Laila agreed to meet with me on the same day that the first report about Victoria’s disappearance was published in the papers.’

At that second Patrik’s mobile rang. With the instinct of an experienced police officer, he knew the phone call was not going to be good news.

Einar was sitting alone in the dark. A few lights illuminated the yard and the buildings outside his window. A short distance away he could hear some of the horses neighing in their stalls. They were uneasy tonight. Einar smiled. He had always felt most alive when things were not in harmony. He’d inherited that trait from his father.

Sometimes he actually missed him. His father was a strange man, but they had understood each other, just as he and Jonas did. Helga, on the other hand, would never be a part of what they shared. She was too stupid and naive.

He had always thought that women were silly creatures, but he had to admit that Marta was different. Over the years he’d even come to admire her. She was nothing like that frightened mouse named Terese who had started shaking if he so much as looked at her. He had detested her, but for a time there had been talk of an engagement between her and Jonas. Helga had always loved Terese, of course. She was exactly the sort of girl she would have taken under her wing. Helga had probably pictured herself having some nice girl to talk with, sharing household tips and wiping the snot off the faces of a bunch of snivelling grandchildren.

Thank God nothing ever came of it. One day Terese was gone, and in her place Jonas had brought home Marta. He had explained that she was going to live with them, that they were going to stay together for ever, and Einar had believed him. He and Marta had exchanged a glance and immediately understood each other. With a curt nod Einar had given them his blessing. For several nights Helga had wept quietly into her pillow, though she realized it would do no good to say anything. The decision had already been made.

He had never talked to Helga about their differing views of Marta. They didn’t discuss those sorts of things. For a brief period, when he was courting Helga before their wedding, he had made a genuine effort and chatted about life, since he knew that was expected of him. But that ended as soon as their wedding night was over and he’d taken her by force, which was what he’d been looking forward to doing. After that there was no reason to continue with the ridiculous playacting.

As he sat in the wheelchair he could feel his stomach getting damp. He looked down. The colostomy bag, which he’d loosened a while ago, was now leaking badly. With a pleased expression he filled his lungs with air and bellowed:

‘Helgaaa!’