The Ice Child

Chapter Ten

The streets were deserted as Helga walked through Fjällbacka on this chilly morning. In the summer the small town hummed with life. The shops were open, the restaurants were packed, and out in the harbour scores of boats would be moored close together as crowds of people strolled past. Now in the winter it was utterly quiet. Everything had been shuttered for the season. Fjällbacka seemed to be in a state of hibernation, waiting for another summer. But Helga had always preferred the calmer times of year. That was when her home was also more peaceful. In the summers Einar used to come home drunk more often and in a worse frame of mind.

After he fell ill, things had changed, of course. His words became his only weapon, but they could no longer hurt her. No one could hurt her any more except for Jonas. He knew where she was most vulnerable and fragile. The absurd thing was that she continued to try and protect him. It made no difference that he was now a grown man, tall and strong. He still needed her, and she would defend him against all evil.

She passed Ingrid Bergman Square and went over to look at the frozen water. She loved the archipelago. Her father had been a fisherman, and she would often go out in the boat with him. But all that had ended when she married Einar. He was from inland, and he’d never grown accustomed to the capriciousness of the sea. He would mutter that if people were meant to go out on the water, they would have been born with gills. Jonas had never been keen on boating either, so she hadn’t ventured out since she was seventeen, even though she lived in the most beautiful archipelago region in Sweden.

For the first time in years she felt a desperate longing to go out in a boat. But even if she’d had one, that would have been impossible. The ice was so thick, and the few boats that had not been pulled up on land were now frozen solid in the harbour. In that sense, they were much like her. This was how she’d felt all these years: so close to where she truly belonged and yet unable to free herself from her prison.

It was because of Jonas that she had survived. Her love for him had always been so strong that everything else paled in comparison. All his life she had prepared herself to step forward and block the path of the rapidly advancing train that was now about to crush him. She was ready and had no doubts whatsoever. Everything she did for Jonas she did gladly.

She stopped to look at the bronze bust of Ingrid Bergman. She and Jonas had come to the square when the unveiling ceremony took place. Roses had also been presented, cultivated in honour of the famous actress. Jonas had been so excited. Ingrid’s children were supposed to be there, as well as the son’s girlfriend, Caroline of Monaco. At that time Jonas was at an age when his world was filled with knights and dragons, princes and princesses. He probably would have preferred to see a knight, but a princess would have to do. It was touching to see him looking so eager as they got ready for the big event. He carefully put water on his hair and then combed it smooth. And he picked flowers from their garden, bluebells and bleeding-hearts, which he nearly squeezed to death in his sweaty hand before they even reached the square. Einar teased him mercilessly, of course, but for once Jonas had ignored his father. He was going to see a real princess.

Helga still remembered the look of surprised disappointment on her son’s face when she pointed out Caroline. He had looked up at her with his lip quivering and said, ‘But, Mamma, she looks like a perfectly ordinary person.’

In the afternoon, after they got home, she’d found all his fairy tale books in a big heap behind the house. Tossed out like rubbish. Jonas had never been good at handling disappointment.

Now Helga took a deep breath, turned around, and began walking back home. It was her responsibility to spare him from disappointments. Both big and small.

Detective Inspector Palle Viking, who had been appointed chairman of the meeting, cleared his throat.

‘I want to welcome all of you here on behalf of the Göteborg police. Thank you for your cooperation with these investigations so far. I think we ought to have met earlier, but you all know how difficult and complicated collaboration across districts can be, so maybe it will turn out that this is actually the perfect time for us to meet.’ He looked down and added, ‘The fact that Victoria Hallberg reappeared, and in such a terrible state, is a tragedy of course. Yet it gives us an idea of what may have happened to the other girls, and this information could move our investigations forward.’

‘Does he always talk like this?’ whispered Mellberg.

Patrik nodded. ‘He joined the police force relatively late in life, but he’s had a meteoric career. I’ve heard he’s extremely good at his job. Before becoming a police officer he did research in the field of philosophy.’

Mellberg’s mouth fell open. ‘No kidding? But Palle Viking must be a made-up name.’

‘No, it’s not. But it certainly matches his appearance.’

‘Right. Good Lord. He looks like that guy… what’s his name? The Swede who boxed against Rocky.’

‘Now that you mention it…’ Patrik smiled. Mellberg was right. Palle Viking was a dead ringer for Dolph Lundgren.

When Mellberg leaned forward to whisper something more, Patrik shushed him. ‘I think we’d better listen.’

In the meantime, Palle was continuing with his introductory remarks. ‘I thought we’d each take a turn to report on our respective investigations. We’ve already shared most of the information, but I’ve seen to it that you’ve all received folders with the most current reports from each team. You will also be given copies of the videotaped interviews we’ve done with family members. That was an excellent idea, by the way. Thanks for suggesting it, Tage.’ He nodded to a short, stocky man with a big moustache who was responsible for investigating the disappearance of Sandra Andersson.

When Jennifer Backlin went missing six months after Sandra, the police already suspected there might be a connection between the two cases. Tage had advised the Falsterbo police to follow their example and videotape their interviews with family members. The idea was to allow the families to have peace and quiet to report any observations they’d made in connection with the disappearances. By going to the family’s home, the investigators could also get a better idea of what the missing girl was like. Since then, all of the police departments had followed suit, and now they would get to see each other’s videos.

On the wall hung a big map of Sweden marked with the places where the girls had disappeared. Even though he’d done the same thing back at the station, Patrik squinted his eyes and tried again to see if there was any sort of pattern. But he couldn’t see anything linking the sites, except that they were all either in the southwest or middle of Sweden. There were no pins marking locations in the east, and none north of Västerås.

‘Shall we start with you, Tage?’ Palle motioned to the detective from Strömsholm who stood up to go to the front of the room.

One by one the officers took the floor to report on all aspects of their investigations. Patrik was disappointed that no new insights or leads emerged. They were merely hearing a repeat of the same meagre information available in the investigative materials they’d already shared. He could tell he was not the only one who felt discouraged, and the mood in the room began to sink.

Mellberg was the last to speak, since Victoria was the last of the girls to disappear. Out of the corner of his eye Patrik saw that his boss was bursting with pride at having his moment in the spotlight. He sincerely hoped that Mellberg was up to the task and had at least done a minimum of homework.

‘So, how’s it going everybody!’ said Mellberg, as usual incapable of judging the mood of a situation or dealing with it in an appropriate manner.

His greeting was met with a few murmured remarks. Good Lord, thought Patrik, this does not bode well. But much to his surprise, Mellberg gave a concise presentation of their investigation. He also reported on Gerhard Struwer’s theories about the perpetrator. For a short time Mellberg even came across as a competent detective. Patrik held his breath as his boss approached the topic that would be new material for the other officers.

‘We have a reputation for carrying out highly efficient police work in Tanumshede,’ Mellberg began, and Patrik had to suppress a snort. The others seated at the table were not as restrained, and one person actually sniggered.

‘One of our officers has discovered a connection between Victoria Hallberg and a significantly older homicide case.’ He paused and waited for a reaction, which he got. Everyone fell silent and gave him their full attention. ‘Does anyone recall the murder of Ingela Eriksson? In Hultsfred?’

Several officers nodded, and the detective from Västerås said, ‘Yes, she was found tortured to death in the woods behind her house. Her husband was convicted, even though he denied killing her.’

Mellberg nodded. ‘He later died in prison. The case was built on circumstantial evidence, and there is reason to believe that the husband was in fact innocent. He claimed that he was home alone on the evening when his wife disappeared. She had told him she was going to visit a female friend, but the woman denied that was true. At any rate, he had no alibi and there was no witness to support his claim that his wife had been home earlier in the day. The husband stated that they’d received a visit from a man in response to an advert they’d posted, but the police were unable to locate this person. Since the husband was known to have abused women in the past, including his wife, the police immediately turned their attention to him. They don’t seem to have been especially interested in investigating other avenues.’

‘But how is that case related to the missing girls?’ asked the Västerås officer. ‘That must have been nearly thirty years ago.’

‘Twenty-seven. Well, the thing is…’ said Mellberg, again pausing for dramatic effect. ‘The thing is that Ingela Eriksson had suffered the exact same injuries as Victoria.’

For a few moments no one spoke.

‘Could it be a copycat?’ Tage from Strömshold finally asked.

‘That’s one possibility.’

‘Doesn’t that seem more likely? It would be unusual for the same perpetrator to be at work. Because why would he let so many years go by before striking again?’ Tage looked around at his colleagues. Several murmured their agreement.

‘Right,’ said Palle, turning in his seat so everyone could hear him. ‘Though there may have been some reason why the perpetrator didn’t commit any more crimes during those years. Maybe he was in prison, for example, or maybe he was living abroad. And there could have been other victims that we don’t know about. Every year six thousand people disappear in Sweden, so there could be other missing girls that no one has connected to the case. We need to consider the possibility that it might be the same perpetrator. But,’ and here he raised his finger, ‘we shouldn’t take for granted that there is a connection. Couldn’t it be a coincidence?’

‘The injuries are identical,’ Mellberg objected. ‘Down to the smallest detail. You can read about it in our report. We’ve brought copies for everyone.’

‘Why don’t we take a break so we can read the material?’ Palle suggested.

Everyone stood up and took a copy from the pile on the table in front of Mellberg. They crowded around him to ask questions, and he beamed happily at all the attention.

Patrik raised one eyebrow. Mellberg hadn’t taken credit for the discovery, which was surprising. Even Mellberg had his good moments. But it might not have hurt for him to remind himself why they were all gathered here. Four missing girls. And one of them was dead.

Marta was up early, as usual, since the chores in the stable couldn’t wait. For his part, Jonas had risen even earlier to drive over to a nearby farm where a horse had come down with severe colic. Marta yawned. They’d stayed up late, which meant she’d had far too little sleep.

Her mobile buzzed. She took it out of her pocket and looked at the display. Helga was inviting her and Molly over for coffee. She must have looked out the window and seen that Molly had stayed home from school, and now she wanted to know why. The truth was that Molly had said she had a stomach ache, and for once Marta chose to believe her.

‘Molly, your grandmother wants us to come over for coffee.’

‘Do we have to?’ Molly replied from one of the horse stalls.

‘Yes, we do. Come on.’

‘But I have a stomach ache,’ Molly whined.

Marta sighed. ‘If you can work out here with a stomach ache, then I’m sure you can manage to have coffee with your grandmother too. Come on. Let’s get it over with. Jonas and Helga had an argument yesterday, and I’m sure he’ll be happy if we try to make peace with her.’

‘But I was planning to take Scirocco out for a ride.’ Molly was starting to sulk as she came out of the stall.

‘With a stomach ache?’ said Marta, an angry glint in her eye. ‘You’ll still have time for that later. We’ll have a quick visit with your grandmother, and then you can come back here and train in peace and quiet for the rest of the afternoon. I don’t have any lessons until five o’clock today.’

‘Okay,’ muttered Molly.

As they crossed the yard, Marta clenched her fists in annoyance. Molly had always been handed everything on a platter. She had no idea what it was like to endure a wretched childhood and have to get by on her own. Sometimes Marta had the urge to show her what life was like for someone who wasn’t as pampered as she was.

‘We’re here!’ she called, going inside her mother-in-law’s house without knocking.

‘Come in and sit down. I’ve baked sponge cake, and there’s tea for both of you.’ Helga turned to greet them as they came into the kitchen. She looked like the archetypal grandmother, with a flour-covered apron around her waist and a cloud of grey hair framing her face.

‘Tea?’ said Molly, wrinkling her nose. ‘I’d rather have coffee.’

‘I’d prefer coffee too,’ said Marta, sitting down.

‘I’m afraid we’re all out of coffee. I haven’t had time to do any grocery shopping. Put in a spoonful of honey, and it’ll taste fine.’ She pointed to a tin on the table.

Marta reached for the honey and stirred a big spoonful into her tea.

‘I hear you’re going to compete at the weekend,’ said Helga.

Molly sipped the hot tea. ‘Yes, I didn’t get to go last Saturday, so I’m not about to miss the next one.’

‘Of course not.’ Helga pushed the plate of sponge cake over to Marta and Molly. ‘I’m sure you’ll do great. Are both of your parents going with you?’

‘Yes. They wouldn’t miss it.’

‘I don’t know how you put up with all that driving around,’ Helga said to Marta. ‘But I suppose that’s expected these days. Parents always have to be ready to put in an appearance.’

Marta gave her a suspicious look. Helga wasn’t usually so positive.

‘Yes, you’re right. And the training sessions have gone well. I think we have a good chance of winning.’

Molly couldn’t help smiling. It was so rare for her to receive praise from her mother.

‘You’re so talented. You both are,’ said Helga with a smile. ‘I once dreamed of learning to ride when I was a girl, but I never had the chance. And then I met Einar, of course.’

Her smile faded and her expression closed up. Marta studied her in silence as she stirred her tea. Einar was good at erasing a smile. She knew that from experience.

‘How did you and Grandpa meet?’ asked Molly. Marta was surprised at her sudden interest in someone other than herself.

‘At a dance in Fjällbacka. Your grandfather was so handsome back then.’

‘He was?’ said Molly in surprise. She could hardly remember her grandfather from the time before he was confined to a wheelchair.

‘Yes, he was. And your father looks so much like him. Wait here and I’ll fetch a photo to show you.’ Helga stood up and went into the living room. She came back with an album which she leafed through until she found the right photograph.

‘Look. Here’s your grandfather in his heyday.’ There was an odd bitterness to Helga’s voice.

‘Oh, he’s so cute! And he looks exactly like Pappa. Not that Pappa is cute. I mean, that’s not something you notice about your own father.’ Molly studied the photo. ‘How old was Grandpa in this picture?’

Helga thought for a moment. ‘He must have been about thirty-five.’

‘What kind of car is that? Was it yours?’ said Molly, pointing to the car that Einar was leaning against.

‘No, that was one of the cars he bought and fixed up. An Amazon. He made it look so great. Say what you like about him, but he was a genius when it came to fixing up cars.’ Again that bitter tone crept into Helga’s voice. Marta gave her mother-in-law a surprised look as she took another sip of the sweetened tea.

‘I wish I’d known Grandpa back then,’ said Molly.

Helga nodded. ‘I can understand that. But your mother knew him then, so you can ask her about him.’

‘I guess I never thought about that before. He’s always been the grumpy old man upstairs,’ said Molly with the blunt candour of a teenager.

‘The grumpy old man upstairs. That’s an excellent description.’ Helga laughed.

Marta smiled. Her mother-in-law seemed so unlike herself today. For a number of reasons that were more or less obvious, they had never cared much for each other. But today Helga didn’t seem as superficial as usual, and Marta appreciated that, though it probably wouldn’t last. She took a bite of sponge cake. She was glad this courtesy visit was almost over.

It was very quiet at home. The children were at the day-care centre and Patrik was in Göteborg, which meant that Erica would be able to work undisturbed. She’d brought her files downstairs from her study to spread them out on the floor in the living room. Papers were strewn all about. The latest addition was a copy of the homicide report in the Ingela Eriksson case. It had taken a good deal of persuasion, but eventually Patrik had agreed to give her a copy of one of the printouts he was taking along to Göteborg. She’d read it several times. The similarities with Victoria’s injuries were uncanny.

Erica had already re-read all her notes from her meetings with Laila, as well as from the phone conversation with Laila’s sister and her talks with Louise’s foster parents and some of the prison staff. She’d spent many hours interviewing people in an effort to understand what had happened on the day Vladek Kowalski was murdered. Now she was also trying to find a connection between his murder and the five missing girls.

She surveyed the material in front of her, trying to grasp the big picture. What was it that Laila wanted to tell her? And what was holding her back? According to the staff, in all these years she’d had no contact with anyone outside of the prison. No visitors, no phone calls, no…

Erica sat up straight. She had forgotten to ask whether Laila had ever received any post. How could she have been so stupid? She picked up her mobile and tapped in the number of the prison, which she knew by heart.

‘Hi, this is Erica Falck.’

The guard who answered said, ‘Hi, Erica. This is Tina. Were you planning to come over for a visit?’

‘No, I’m not visiting today. I just wanted to ask about something. Has Laila ever received any post in all these years? And has she ever sent any letters?’

‘Yes, she has received a few postcards. And I think some letters too.’

‘Really?’ said Erica. That was not what she’d expected to hear. ‘Do you know who sent them?’

‘No, but maybe one of my colleagues does. The postcards were completely blank. And she refused to accept them.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘From what I heard, she didn’t even want to touch them. She asked the guard to throw them away. But we saved them in case she changed her mind.’

‘So you still have them?’ Erica could hardly hide her excitement. ‘Could I see them?’

After the guard promised to let her see the postcards, Erica ended the call, stunned at this turn of events. It had to mean something. But she couldn’t for the life of her work out what it could be.

Gösta scratched his head. The station felt deserted. Annika was the only other person there. Patrik and Mellberg were in Göteborg, and Martin had gone over to Sälvik to knock on doors in the neighbourhood near the beach. The divers had not yet found Lasse’s body, but that wasn’t so strange given the difficult circumstances. He had spoken to some of Lasse’s acquaintances, but none of them knew anything about the money. Now he was sitting here wondering whether he should drive to Kville to talk to the head of Lasse’s church.

Gösta was just about to get up when his phone rang, and he picked it up at once. It was Pedersen.

‘That was fast. What did you find out?’

He listened intently.

‘Really?’ Gösta then said. After asking a few more questions, he ended the call and sat in silence for several minutes. Thoughts whirled through his mind as he tried to make sense of what he’d just heard. Slowly a possible theory began to take shape.

He put on his jacket and hurried past Annika who was sitting at her desk in the reception area.

‘I’m going over to Fjällbacka for a while.’

‘What are you going to do there?’ she called after him, but he was already going out the door. He’d explain later.

The drive from Tanumshede to Fjällbacka took only fifteen or twenty minutes, but it seemed endless. He wondered whether he should phone Patrik to tell him about Pedersen’s report, but he decided it wasn’t necessary to interrupt the meeting. It’d be best if he went ahead on his own, and then he might have something new to report when Patrik and Mellberg came home. Right now the important thing was to take the initiative. And he was fully capable of handling this alone.

When he reached Jonas and Marta’s farm, he rang the bell and after a few minutes a sleepy-looking Jonas opened the door.

‘Did I wake you?’ asked Gösta, glancing at his watch. It was one in the afternoon.

‘I was out on an emergency call early this morning, so I was just catching up on my sleep. But come in. I’m awake now.’ He made an attempt to smooth down his hair, which was standing on end.

Gösta followed him out to the kitchen and sat down at the table even though Jonas hadn’t invited him to take a seat. He decided to get right to the point.

‘How well do you know Lasse?’

‘I’d say that I don’t know him at all. I’ve said hello a few times when he came to fetch Tyra at the stable, but that’s about it.’

‘I have reason to believe that you’re not telling the truth,’ said Gösta.

Jonas was still standing, and a look of annoyance appeared on his face.

‘I’m starting to get sick and tired of all this. What exactly do you want?’

‘I think that Lasse knew about your relationship with Victoria. And he was blackmailing you.’

Jonas stared at him. ‘You can’t be serious.’

He looked genuinely surprised, and for a moment Gösta questioned the theory he’d come up with after speaking to Pedersen. But he shook off the doubt. This had to be how everything fit together, and it wouldn’t be very difficult to prove.

‘Don’t you think it would be best if you told me the truth? We’ll be looking at your mobile phone records and your bank account, which will tell us that the two of you have been in contact and that you’ve withdrawn cash to give to Lasse. You can spare us the trouble by telling me about it now.’

‘Get out of here,’ said Jonas, pointing toward the front door. ‘I’ve heard enough.’

‘We’re going to find out anyway. It’s all there in black and white,’ Gösta went on. ‘So what happened? Did he demand more money? Did you get tired of paying him and so you killed him?’

‘I want you to leave.’ Jonas’s voice was ice-cold. He ushered Gösta to the door and practically pushed him out of the house.

‘I know I’m right,’ said Gösta as he stood on the front steps.

‘You’re wrong. First of all, I was not having an affair with Victoria, and secondly, Terese said that Lasse disappeared sometime between Saturday morning and Sunday morning, and I have an alibi for that whole period. So the next time I see you, I’ll expect an apology. And I’ll be happy to tell one of your colleagues what my alibi is. But I’m not talking to you.’

Jonas slammed the door shut, and Gösta again felt a twinge of doubt. What if he was wrong, even though all the puzzle pieces seemed to fit? There was one more visit he needed to make, and then he’d get started on exactly what he’d just told Jonas he would do. He would examine his bank account and mobile phone records, which would reveal the truth. Then Jonas could say whatever he liked about his supposed alibi.

It would soon be time. Laila had a feeling that any day now another postcard would turn up. A couple of years ago the cards had suddenly started arriving. By now she’d received a total of four. Several days after she got each postcard, a letter would arrive containing a newspaper clipping. All the cards were blank, but she had worked out what the message was meant to be.

The postcards scared her, and she’d asked the staff to throw them out. But she had saved the newspaper clippings. Every time she took them out of the hiding place, she hoped to understand more, now that she was not the only target of the threats.

Feeling tired, she lay down on the bed. In a few minutes she would have to endure another pointless therapy session. She had slept badly last night, plagued by nightmares about Vladek and the Girl. It was hard to understand how things had turned out as they had. How did what was abnormal gradually end up seeming normal? They had slowly been changed until they could no longer even recognize themselves.

‘It’s time now, Laila.’ Ulla was knocking on her open door. With an effort Laila got up. The fatigue she felt seemed to get worse every day. The nightmares, the waiting, all the memories of how her life had slowly but surely gone wrong. She had loved him so much. His background had been completely different from her own. She had never imagined that she’d ever meet someone like him, and yet they had been drawn to each other. It had seemed like the most natural thing in the world until the evil took over and destroyed everything.

‘Are you coming, Laila?’ said Ulla.

Laila forced her feet to move. She felt like she was walking through water. Fear had prevented her from speaking for such a long time. It had prevented her from doing anything at all. And she was still afraid. Terrified. But the fate of the missing girls had touched her deeply, and she could no longer keep silent. She was ashamed of her cowardice, the fact that she’d allowed the evil to prey on so many innocent lives. Meeting with Erica was at least a beginning. Maybe it would finally give her the courage to reveal the truth. She thought about something she’d once heard, about how the beating of a butterfly’s wings could cause a storm somewhere else in the world. Maybe that was what would happen now.

‘Laila?’

‘I’m coming,’ she said with a sigh.

Fear gripped her body, and she saw only horrors wherever she looked. On the floor she saw wriggling snakes with glittering eyes, on the walls spiders and cockroaches were swarming. She screamed, and the sound echoed like a dreadful choir. She struggled to flee the creatures, but something was holding her tight, and the more she fought, the more it hurt. From far away she heard someone calling her name, louder and louder, and she tried to move towards the urgent voice, but again she was held back, and the pain only increased her panic.

‘Molly!’ The voice pierced the sound of her own screams, and everything seemed to stand still. She heard her name repeated, now calmer and quieter, and she saw the vermin begin to dissolve and then disappear as if they’d never existed at all.

‘You’re hallucinating,’ said Marta, and her voice now sounded very clear.

Molly squinted her eyes and tried to see where she was. Her head felt fuzzy and she was terribly confused. Where had the snakes and cockroaches gone? They were right here. She’d seen them with her own eyes.

‘Listen to me. Nothing that you’re seeing is real.’

‘Okay,’ she said, her mouth dry. Again she tried to move towards Marta’s voice.

‘I can’t move,’ she said. She kicked her legs, but couldn’t get free. It was pitch-dark all around her, and she realized that Marta was right. Those creatures couldn’t be real because she wouldn’t have been able to see them in the dark. But it felt as if the walls were closing in on her, and she couldn’t get enough oxygen into her lungs. She could hear her own breathing getting fast and shallow.

‘Calm down, Molly,’ said Marta in that stern tone of hers. The voice that always made the girls in the stable pay strict attention. And this time it worked too. Molly forced herself to breathe more calmly, and after a while her panic began to subside and her lungs filled with oxygen again.

‘We need to stay calm. Otherwise we’ll never make it through this.’

‘But what is… Where are we?’ Molly sat up and ran her hand down her leg. A metal ring was fastened around her ankle, and with more fumbling she discovered the crude links of a chain. In vain she tried to tug at it as she howled into the dark.

‘I told you to calm down! You’ll never get free doing that.’

Marta’s tone was insistent and firm, but this time she couldn’t hide her own panic, and Molly finally understood. She abruptly stopped screaming and whispered into the dark:

‘The person who took Victoria has taken us too.’

She waited for Marta to reply, but her mother didn’t say a word. And her silence scared Molly more than anything else.

The detectives had eaten lunch in the cafeteria at the police station, and when they gathered once again in the conference room, they were all feeling drowsy and a bit bloated. Patrik shook himself to wake up. He’d been getting very little sleep lately, and his body felt heavy with fatigue.

‘So, let’s get started again,’ said Palle Viking, pointing at the map. ‘The disappearances all occurred in a relatively limited geographic area, but no one has been able to see any connection between the various sites. As for the girls, there are several similarities in terms of appearance and background, but we haven’t found any other common denominators, such as shared interests, or participation in the same internet forums, or anything like that. There are also some clear differences, especially when it comes to Minna Wahlberg, just as our Tanumshede colleague pointed out earlier this morning. Here in Göteborg we’ve made great efforts to locate anyone else who might have seen the white car, but as you all know, so far the results have been zero.’

‘The question is why the perpetrator was so careless in that particular instance,’ said Patrik, and everyone turned to look at him. ‘He didn’t leave a single scrap of evidence in any of the other kidnappings. And here I’m assuming that it was the driver of the white car who kidnapped Minna, though we don’t know that for sure. But Gerhard Struwer – the profiler we told you about earlier – thinks we should focus on those occasions when the perp deviates from his normal pattern.’

‘I agree. One theory we’ve discussed is that the murderer knew the girl personally. We’ve already interviewed a lot of people who knew Minna, but I think it would be worthwhile to keep digging.’

The others murmured their agreement.

‘I’ve heard rumours that even your wife has had a chance to talk to Minna’s mother,’ said Palle with an amused smile.

The other officers sniggered, and Patrik could feel himself blushing.

‘Yes, well, my colleague Martin Molin and I went to see Minna’s mother, and my wife Erica also… happened to be there.’ He could hear how apologetic he sounded.

Mellberg snorted. ‘That is one nosy woman.’

‘It’s all in our report,’ Patrik hurried to say, trying to drown out Mellberg’s comment. He nodded towards the papers they’d all received. ‘Although there’s no mention of Erica’s visit.’

More sniggering, and he sighed. Patrik loved his wife, but sometimes she put him in very embarrassing situations.

‘I’m sure your report of the conversation will be sufficient,’ said Palle with a smile. Then he turned serious. ‘But we’ve also heard that Erica has a good head on her shoulders, so it’d be wise to find out if she learned anything that the rest of us might have missed.’

‘I’ve already talked to her about it, and I don’t think she learned anything new.’

‘Have another talk with her. We need to find out what makes Minna’s case different.’

‘Okay, I’ll do that,’ Patrik acquiesced.

They devoted the next few hours to discussing the cases from all possible angles. Theories were proposed, suggestions considered, and new investigative angles brainstormed and then divided among the various police districts. Crazy ideas were received with the same open-mindedness as more sensible suggestions. They were eager to find something that might move the investigations forward. They all shared a sense of powerlessness since they’d failed to find the missing girls. Everyone present was thinking about their meetings with family members who were all going through such sorrow, despair, anxiety, and horror because they didn’t know what had happened. And then came the even greater horror when Victoria reappeared, and they realized that their daughters might have met the same awful fate.

By the end of the day the subdued but determined detectives dispersed to drive home and continue their investigations. The fate of five girls rested on their shoulders. One girl was dead. Four were still missing.

The prison was calm and quiet when Erica entered. She greeted the guards and after reporting her arrival and signing in, she was escorted to the staff room, where she sat down on a chair. While she waited, she berated herself again for being so careless. She didn’t like making this sort of mistake.

‘Hi, Erica.’ Tina came in and closed the door behind her. In her hand she held several postcards with a rubber band around them. She placed them on the table in front of Erica. ‘Here they are.’

‘Is it okay if I have a look?’

Tina nodded, and Erica reached out to remove the rubber band from the cards. Then she hesitated, worrying about destroying fingerprints. But she quickly realized that the cards had already been handled by so many people that any fingerprints of interest had vanished long ago.

There were four postcards. Erica spread them out with the front picture showing. They were all scenes from Spain.

‘When did the last one arrive?’

‘Hmm… Let me think. Maybe three or four months ago.’

‘And Laila has never said anything about them? Never mentioned who might have sent them?’

‘Not a word. But she gets very upset when they turn up, and it takes her days to calm down.’

‘She doesn’t want to keep them?’ Erica studied the postcards.

‘No. She always tells us to throw them away.

‘Didn’t you think this was all rather strange?’

‘Well, yes…’ Tina hesitated. ‘Maybe that’s why we decided to save them.’

Erica let her eyes wander around the cold and impersonal room as she thought things over. The only attempt to make the room more pleasant was the addition of a withered yucca in a pot on the windowsill.

‘We don’t spend much time in here,’ said Tina with a smile.

‘I can see why,’ said Erica, turning her attention back to the postcards. She flipped them over. Just as Tina had said, they were all blank except for Laila’s name and the address of the prison, stamped in blue ink. The postmarks were from different places, but none of them had a connection with Laila, as far as Erica knew.

Why pictures from Spain? Was it Laila’s sister who had sent the postcards? If so, why? That didn’t seem likely, given that all the postmarks were Swedish. She wondered if she should ask Patrik to check on Agneta’s visits to Sweden. Maybe the two sisters had kept in touch more often than Laila had claimed. But maybe this had nothing at all to do with Agneta.

‘Would you like to ask Laila about them? I can see if she’d be willing to talk to you,’ said Tina.

Erica paused before replying. She glanced at the withered yucca on the windowsill and then shook her head.

‘Thanks, but first I need to spend some time thinking this over. Maybe I can work out what it’s all about.’

‘Good luck,’ said Tina, and stood up.

Erica gave her a wry smile. Luck was exactly what she needed at this point.

‘Could I take the postcards with me?’ she asked.

Tina hesitated. ‘Okay, but only if you promise to bring them back.’

‘I promise,’ said Erica and put them in her bag. Nothing was impossible. There had to be a connection somewhere, and she refused to give up until she found it.

Gösta wondered if he ought to wait for Patrik to return, but he had a feeling that time was of the essence. He decided to follow his instinct and proceed, based on what he knew.

Annika had phoned to say that she’d gone home early because her daughter was ill. Maybe he should go back to the station and hold down the fort. But Martin would probably be back soon, so he said to hell with it and drove to the neighbourhood known as Sumpan.

Ricky opened the door and silently let him in. Gösta had sent him a text message on the way over to make sure the family was at home. The tension was palpable as he went into the living room.

‘Have you come up with something new?’ asked Markus.

Gösta saw the gleam of hope in their eyes. It was no longer hope that Victoria would be found; instead, it was a desire for some sort of explanation and a sense of closure. Gösta felt bad that he was going to disappoint them.

‘No. Or at least, nothing that we can confidently say has anything to do with Victoria’s death. But there’s a strange circumstance that has a connection to the other case we’re investigating right now.’

‘You mean Lasse?’ said Helena.

Gösta nodded. ‘Yes. We’ve discovered a link between Victoria and Lasse. And it has to do with something else I’ve discovered. I’m afraid it’s a bit sensitive.’

He cleared his throat, not sure how to tell them. All three sat in silence, waiting. He could see the anguish in Ricky’s expression, no doubt a result of his guilty conscience, which would probably haunt him for the rest of his life.

‘We still haven’t found Lasse’s body, but there was blood on the ground near his car, and we sent it to the lab for analysis. The blood turned out to be Lasse’s.’

‘But what does that have to do with Victoria?’ asked Markus.

‘Well, as you know, we suspect that someone had been watching your house. We found a cigarette butt in your neighbour’s garden, and it was sent to the lab,’ said Gösta. He was now approaching the topic he wished he could avoid. ‘On his own initiative, the lab tech compared the blood from the dock with the DNA on the cigarette, and they matched. In other words, it was Lasse who had been watching Victoria, and most likely he was also the one who sent her the unpleasant letters, which Ricky told us about.’

‘He told us too,’ said Helena, casting a glance at Ricky.

‘I’m sorry I threw them out,’ he muttered. ‘But I didn’t want you to see them.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Gösta. ‘What’s done is done. At any rate, we’re now working on the assumption that Lasse was blackmailing someone who got tired of paying the money and killed him. And I have an idea who that person might be.’

‘I’m sorry, but you’ve lost me,’ said Helena. ‘What does this have to do with Victoria?’

‘Yes, why was he watching her?’ asked Markus. ‘And what did she have to do with him blackmailing someone? Please explain.’

Gösta sighed and took a deep breath. ‘I think that Lasse was blackmailing Jonas Persson because he knew that Jonas was having an extramarital affair with a much younger girl. With Victoria.’

He felt his shoulders relax now that he’d finally said it. But he held his breath as he waited for Victoria’s parents to react. Their response was not at all what he’d expected. Helena looked up and fixed her eyes on his. Then she smiled sadly.

‘You’ve got it all wrong, Gösta,’ she said.

Much to Dan’s surprise, Anna had volunteered to drive the girls over to the stable for their riding lesson. She needed to get out of the house and get some fresh air. Not even the proximity of the horses could keep her away. She shivered and pulled her jacket closer around her. On top of everything else, she was feeling more and more ill. She was starting to worry that it was no longer something psychosomatic. She might be coming down with the stomach flu that was raging at the kids’ school. So far she’d warded off the worst of the nausea by eating ten white peppercorns, but she could tell that soon she’d be leaning over a bucket to throw up.

Several girls were standing outside the stable, shivering in the cold. Emma and Lisen ran over to them, and Anna followed.

‘Hi. Why are you standing outside?’

‘Marta hasn’t arrived yet,’ said a tall girl with dark hair. ‘She’s never late.’

‘I’m sure she’ll be here soon.’

‘But Molly is supposed to be here to help out,’ said the girl. The others nodded. She was apparently the leader of the group.

‘Have you gone over to the house to knock on the door?’ asked Anna, looking in that direction. She could see lights on inside, so someone must be home.

‘No, we’d never do that.’ The girl looked horrified.

‘Then I’ll go. Wait here.’

Anna hurried across the yard to Jonas and Marta’s house. Running only made the nausea worse, and she leaned heavily on the railing as she climbed the steps. She had to ring the bell twice before Jonas opened the door. He was drying his hands on a dishcloth, and judging by the cooking smells wafting from inside, he was in the middle of making dinner.

‘Hi,’ he said, giving her an inquisitive look.

Anna cleared her throat.

‘Hi. Is Marta here? And Molly?’

‘No, they must be over at the stable.’ Jonas glanced at his watch. ‘Marta has a lesson right now, and I think Molly was going to help out.’

Anna shook her head. ‘They haven’t turned up. Where do you think they could be?’

‘I have no idea,’ said Jonas. ‘I haven’t seen them since early this morning because I had to go out on an emergency call, and when I got back they weren’t here. Then I took a nap before going over to the clinic. I just assumed that they spent the afternoon at the stable. Molly has an important competition coming up soon, so I thought they were doing some extra training. And the car is here.’ He pointed at the blue Toyota parked in front of the house.

Anna nodded. ‘What should we do? The girls are waiting, and…’

Jonas picked up his mobile from the chest of drawers in the front hall and tapped in a pre-programmed number.

‘Huh. She’s not answering. That’s strange. She always has her mobile with her.’ Jonas was starting to look worried. ‘I’ll check with my mother.’

He rang his mother, and Anna heard him explain the situation. At the same time he assured Helga that there was nothing to be concerned about, everything was fine. It took a moment before he was able to end the conversation.

‘Mothers and phone calls,’ he said with a slight grimace. ‘It’s easier to get pigs to fly than to get mothers off the phone.’

‘Sure. Right,’ said Anna, as if she knew what he was talking about. The truth was that her mother had hardly ever phoned.

‘Apparently they dropped by to visit my mother this morning, but she hasn’t seen them since. Molly stayed home from school today because of a stomach ache, but they were supposed to train this afternoon.’

He put on his jacket. ‘I’ll go with you to look for them,’ he told Anna. ‘They must be somewhere around here.’

They made a big circuit of the grounds, looking inside the old barn and the riding hall and ending up in the common room. But Marta and Molly were nowhere to be seen.

By now the girls had gone inside the stable, and they could be heard talking to the horses and to each other.

‘I suppose we should wait a little longer,’ said Anna. ‘But then we’ll just go home if they don’t turn up. Maybe it was a miscommunication about the schedule.’

‘Maybe so,’ said Jonas, but he sounded doubtful. ‘I’ll take another look around. Don’t give up yet.’

‘Sure,’ said Anna and went inside the stable, keeping a safe distance from the horses.

They were on their way home. Patrik had insisted on driving, claiming it would help him to unwind.

‘Well, that was certainly intense,’ he said. ‘It was good to have a chance to go through everything, but I was hoping we’d get something more concrete out of the meeting. I was hoping for an “aha” sort of moment.’

‘I’m sure it’ll happen eventually,’ said Mellberg, sounding unusually cheerful. Evidently he was still feeling a rush from all the attention he’d garnered after telling the others about Ingela Eriksson.

He’ll be living off that moment for weeks, thought Patrik. But he realized that he too needed to stay positive. It wouldn’t be a good idea to report to his colleagues in the morning and say they’d come to a dead end.

‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe the meeting will lead to something. Palle is going to put extra manpower into reviewing the Ingela Eriksson case, and if all of us focus on Minna Wahlberg’s disappearance, we should be able to find out what makes it different from the other cases.’

He stepped harder on the accelerator. He was impatient to get home so he could digest what they’d heard and possibly discuss it with Erica. She often managed to see patterns in what looked like nothing but chaos to him. And no one was better at helping him when he needed to make sense of all the ideas whirling through his mind.

He was also considering asking her a favour, but he had no intention of telling Mellberg. His boss was the one who always grumbled the most about Erica’s tendency to get involved in police investigations. Even though Patrik could also get angry with her on occasion, she did have an ability to view things from new angles. Palle had asked him to speak to Erica again, and she was already involved in the case since she had discovered a possible link between Laila and the missing girls. He had considered mentioning this at the meeting, but in the end decided not to. First he wanted to find out more. Otherwise there was a risk of distracting everyone’s attention and derailing the investigation instead of moving it forward. So far Erica hadn’t found anything to support her theory, but Patrik knew it was always worthwhile to listen to her whenever she had a gut feeling about something. She was seldom wrong, which could be extremely annoying at times but also a big help. That was why he wanted to ask his wife to watch the videotaped interviews. So far they had failed to find a common denominator among the girls, and maybe Erica would see something everyone else had missed.

‘I was thinking we should all meet at eight o’clock tomorrow morning to discuss everything,’ he said now. ‘And I want to ask Paula to come in too, if she can.’

Mellberg didn’t reply as Patrik focused on his driving. The road was getting a little too slippery for his taste.

‘What do you think, Bertil?’ he said when there was still no reaction from his boss. ‘Could you find out if Paula could come over to the station tomorrow?’

The only reply was a loud snore. He glanced over at Mellberg and saw that he was sound asleep. Probably exhausted after working a whole day. He wasn’t used to that.