The Ice Child

Chapter Fourteen

Mellberg was beaming as he came into the station kitchen.

‘Why does everybody look so tired?’

Patrik glared at him. ‘We’ve been working all night.’

He blinked his eyes, which felt gritty with fatigue. He could barely keep them open any more after a whole night with no sleep. Briefly he recounted what they’d found at the farm. Mellberg sat down on one of the hard kitchen chairs.

‘It sounds like you’ve solved the case. Wrapped up everything nice and tidy.’

‘Not quite. This isn’t the resolution we were hoping for.’ Patrik fidgeted with his coffee cup. ‘So much is still up in the air. Marta and Molly are missing, Helga seems to have disappeared, and God only knows where Jonas has gone. Even though we’re almost certain Jonas was the one who kidnapped four of the girls who disappeared over the past two years, he was only a child when Ingela was murdered. And then we have the murder of Lasse Hansson. If Victoria was having an affair with Marta, was it Marta who killed him? And if so, how did she do it? Or did she tell Jonas about the blackmail, and then he took matters into his own hands?’

Mellberg kept trying to say something, but Patrik refused to let him speak. Now the chief cleared his throat and said with a pleased expression, ‘I think I’ve found a link between the Ingela Eriksson case and Victoria’s disappearance, something besides their injuries. And Jonas is not the guilty party. Or rather, he might be partially guilty.’

‘What do you mean?’ Patrik sat up straight, suddenly wide awake. Was it possible that Mellberg had actually managed to discover something relevant?

‘Last night I read through all the investigative materials again. Do you recall Ingela Eriksson’s husband saying that on the day she vanished they’d had a visit from someone in reply to an advert?’

‘I think so,’ said Patrik, wanting to lean forward and drag the words out of Mellberg.

‘Well, it was an advert for a car. The man was interested in buying an old car so he could restore it. You know who I’m thinking about, don’t you?’

In his mind Patrik pictured the barn where they’d spent several hours last night.

‘Einar?’ he said in disbelief.

He felt the gears slowly begin to turn as a theory started to take shape. A horrifying theory, but not entirely improbable. He stood up.

‘I’m going to tell the others. We need to drive out to the farm ASAP.’ He was no longer the least bit tired.

Erica drove along the road that hadn’t yet been ploughed after the night time snowfall. She was undoubtedly going too fast, but she was having a hard time focusing on her driving. All she could think about was what Laila had told her. And the fact that Louise was alive.

She had tried to ring Patrik to tell him what she’d found out, but he wasn’t answering his phone. Frustrated, she tried to sort through her impressions, but one thought kept taking precedence over all the others. Molly was in danger if she was with Louise, or Marta as she called herself now. Erica wondered how she’d happened to choose that name and how she had met Jonas. What were the odds that two such dysfunctional people would cross paths? There were several historical examples of fateful duos: Myra Hindley and Ian Brady, Fred and Rosemary West, Karla Homolka and Paul Bernardo. But that didn’t make the whole situation any less terrifying.

It occurred to Erica that Patrik and his colleagues might have already found Molly and Marta, but she thought it was unlikely. If they had, he would have phoned to give her at least a brief report. She was certain of that. But where could they be?

She passed the north entrance to Fjällbacka via Mörhult and braked as she entered the sharp curve where the road headed down towards the row of newly built boathouses. It would be asking for trouble to drive this section at full speed. Again and again her thoughts returned to Laila’s account of that horrifying day and what took place in that house in its remote location. It had been a House of Horrors even before people began calling it that, before anyone knew the truth.

Erica stomped on the brakes. Her car skidded and her heart pounded as she fought to keep control. Then she slapped her hand on the steering wheel. How could she be so stupid? She accelerated past the Richter Hotel and the restaurant in the old tinned goods factory. She had to restrain herself from racing like a madwoman through Fjällbacka’s narrow streets. Only when she reached the other side of town did she dare to increase her speed, but only as fast as the icy conditions would permit.

Keeping her eyes fixed on the road, she again tried to ring Patrik. No answer. She tried both Gösta and Martin, but without success. They were probably busy with something, and she wished she knew what it was. After a moment of hesitation, she again tapped in Patrik’s number and then left a message on his voicemail, telling him as briefly as she could what she’d found out and where she was headed. He would probably be cross, but she had no choice. If she was right but failed to do anything, the consequences might be disastrous. And she would be very careful. She’d learned a few things over the years, after all. She had her children to think of, so she wasn’t about to take any risks.

She parked a short distance away so the car engine wouldn’t be heard and then sneaked over to the house. It looked completely abandoned, but there were fresh tyre tracks in the snow, so someone must have been here recently. As quietly as she could, she opened the front door, all her senses on alert. At first she heard nothing, but then she became aware of a faint sound. It seemed to be coming from below, and it sounded like someone was calling for help.

All thoughts of proceeding cautiously instantly vanished. She dashed towards the cellar door and tore it open.

‘Hello? Who’s there?’ Erica heard the panic in what sounded like an elderly woman’s voice. Frantically she tried to recall where the light switch was located.

‘It’s Erica Falck,’ she called. ‘Who’s down there?’

‘It’s me,’ she heard, and assumed it had to be Molly. ‘Me and my grandmother.’

‘Stay calm. I’m just trying to find a light switch,’ Erica told her, silently cursing until she finally found it. As she touched the switch, she prayed that the electricity was still working. Then she automatically squinted her eyes in the glare. Down below she could see two figures huddled next to the wall, both of them holding up their hands to shade their eyes.

‘Good Lord,’ said Erica, racing down the steep stairs. She went straight over to Molly, who sobbed as she clung to her. Erica let the girl cry on her shoulder for a moment before she gently pulled away.

‘What’s going on here? Where are your parents?’

‘I don’t know. Everything is so strange,’ Molly said, her teeth chattering.

Erica looked at the shackles fastened to the rough chain. She felt the same horror she’d felt the first time she was in this basement. It was the same chain from so many years ago, the chain used to fetter Louise. Erica turned to the elderly woman and gave her a kind look. Her face was dirty, making all the wrinkles look even deeper.

‘Do you know if there are any keys so I can get you loose?’

‘My key is over there.’ Helga pointed to a bench standing next to the opposite wall. ‘If you unchain me, I can help you look for Molly’s key. It’s not the same as mine, and I didn’t see what happened to it.’

Erica was impressed that the old woman was so calm. She got up to get the key. Behind her Molly was sobbing uncontrollably, muttering things she couldn’t understand. With the key in her hand, Erica came back to kneel beside Helga.

‘What happened? Where are Jonas and Marta? Are they the ones who chained you up? Good Lord, how could anyone do that to their own child?’

She chattered nervously as she fumbled with the lock. But then she stopped herself from saying anything more. She was talking about Molly’s mother and father. No matter what they’d done, they were still her parents.

‘Don’t worry. The police will catch them,’ she said quietly. ‘What your son has done to you and Molly is terrible, but I promise you he’ll be caught and put in prison. I know enough to guarantee that he and his wife will never be released.’

The lock opened, and Erica stood up to brush off her knees. Then she reached out her hand to help the elderly woman to her feet.

‘Let’s try to find the other key,’ she said.

Molly’s grandmother looked at her with an expression that she couldn’t read. Suddenly Erica felt uneasiness churn in her stomach. After a moment of eerie silence, Helga tilted her head to one side and said calmly:

‘Jonas is my son. I’m afraid I can’t allow you to destroy his life.’

With unexpected swiftness, she bent down to pick up a shovel that lay on the floor. She raised it overhead, and the last thing Erica heard was Molly’s shrill scream echoing off the walls. Then everything went black.

It was a strange feeling to return to the farm after all the hours they’d spent there last night in the glare of the spotlights, which had revealed things that no human being should have to see. A quiet calm had descended over the property. The horses had all been caught, but instead of coming back here, they were being cared for by neighbours on nearby farms. Since the owners were missing, the police had had no other choice.

‘In light of what we now know, maybe we should have stationed someone here to keep watch,’ said Gösta as they crossed the deserted yard.

‘My view exactly,’ said Mellberg.

Patrik nodded. In hindsight it was always easy to see the obvious, and Gösta was right. Fresh tyre tracks led to Einar and Helga’s house and then away. But there were no tyre tracks or footprints outside Jonas and Marta’s house. Maybe they’d thought someone was still there, watching their house. Patrik felt his uneasiness growing. The theory unfolding before them was so inconceivable that it was impossible to know what might happen next.

Martin opened the front door and went in.

They didn’t say a word as they cautiously took a look around. The whole house had an empty air to it, telling Patrik that everyone who could had left. That would be their next problem: trying to locate the four people who had disappeared, some of them voluntarily, some of them not. Hopefully they were all still alive, but he had his doubts.

‘Okay. Martin and I will go upstairs,’ he said. ‘Bertil, you and Gösta stay here, just in case somebody turns up.’

With every step he took, Patrik became more convinced that something was terribly wrong. His whole psyche seemed to be warning him of what they would encounter upstairs. But his feet kept going.

‘Shhh,’ he said, holding out his arm to stop Martin from moving past him. ‘Better to be safe than sorry.’

He got out his service weapon and took off the safety. Martin did the same. With guns raised, they crept the rest of the way up the stairs. The first rooms along the hall were empty, so they headed for the bedroom at the far end.

‘Oh, my God.’ Patrik lowered his gun. His brain registered what he was seeing, but he still couldn’t take it in.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Martin from behind him. Then he backed away, and Patrik could hear him throwing up in the hall.

‘We won’t go in,’ said Patrik. He had stopped on the threshold and was now surveying the macabre scene in front of him. Einar was partially reclining in bed. The stumps of his legs lay on top of the covers, and his arms lay limply at his sides. A syringe lay next to his left arm, and Patrik guessed that it contained ketamine. His eye sockets were empty and bloody. It looked as if the procedure had been done in haste, since the acid had spilled out and etched furrows on his cheeks and chest. Blood had run out of his ears, and his mouth was a sticky red grimace.

To the left of the bed, the TV was on, and only now did Patrik notice what was on the screen. Mutely he pointed at the images, hearing Martin swallow hard behind him.

‘What the hell is that?’ he whispered.

‘I think we’ve found some of the videos that were missing from the barn.’