The Ice Child

Chapter Four

Mellberg awoke to find a little person jumping on him. The only person who was allowed to wake him. Or jump on him, for that matter.

‘Get up, Grandpa. Up!’ Leo urged him, bouncing up and down on Mellberg’s big stomach. So Mellberg did as expected and grabbed the boy, tickling him so he howled with laughter.

‘Good Lord, what a noise you two are making!’ shouted Rita from the kitchen. That was also part of the routine, but he knew that she loved to hear their rowdy playtime in the morning.

‘Hush,’ said Mellberg, holding his finger to his lips and opening his eyes wide. Leo did the same. ‘There’s a wicked witch out in the kitchen. She eats little children, and she has probably already eaten both of your mothers. But there’s one way we can defeat her. Do you know what it is?’

Even though Leo knew full well what Mellberg was going to say, he shook his head.

‘We have to sneak in there and tickle her to death! But witches have extra sharp ears, which means we have to do our best to move quietly so she won’t hear us, or else… or else we’re done for!’ And Mellberg made a motion as if slashing his throat. Again Leo copied him. Then they tiptoed out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where Rita was waiting for them.

‘ATTACK!’ yelled Mellberg, and he and Leo ran over to Rita to tickle her.

‘EEEK!’ cried Rita, laughing. ‘This is what I get for my sins!’ The two dogs, Ernst and Señorita, rushed out from under the table and began dashing back and forth, barking happily.

‘Wow, what a ruckus,’ said Paula. ‘It’s a miracle you haven’t been evicted long ago.’

Everyone fell silent. They hadn’t heard the front door of the flat open.

‘Hi, Leo. Did you sleep well?’ said Paula. ‘I was thinking of coming up here to have breakfast with all of you before going to the day-care centre.’

‘Is Johanna coming too?’ asked Rita.

‘No, she already left for work.’

Slowly Paula went over to the kitchen table and sat down. In her arms she held Lisa, who for once was sound asleep. Leo ran over to give her a hug, studying his little sister a bit anxiously. Ever since Lisa’s birth, Leo had been sleeping at ‘Granny and Grandpa Bertil’s place’. Partly to escape the baby’s colicky crying, but also because he slept so well curled up in Mellberg’s arms. The two of them had been inseparable from the beginning, since Mellberg had been present at Leo’s birth. Now that the boy had a sister and his mothers were so busy with her, he often sought out his grandfather, who conveniently lived in the flat upstairs.

‘Is there any coffee?’ asked Paula. Rita filled a big cup, added a dash of milk, and set the coffee on the table in front of her. Then she kissed both Paula and Lisa on the top of the head.

‘You look upset, love. This must be so hard for you. Why doesn’t the doctor do something?’

‘There’s not much he can do. It will pass in time. Or so he hopes.’ Paula took a big gulp of coffee.

‘But have you been getting any sleep at all?’

‘Not much. But I suppose it’s my turn now. Johanna can’t exactly show up for work after going night after night without any sleep,’ she said, sighing heavily. Then she turned to Mellberg. ‘So, how did it go yesterday?’

Mellberg was holding Leo on his lap and was totally focused on spreading jam on slices of Skogaholm rye bread. When Paula saw what her son was about to have for breakfast, she opened her mouth to say something, but then refrained.

‘That might not be the best for him,’ said Rita when she saw that Paula didn’t have the energy to protest.

‘There’s nothing wrong with Skogaholm rye bread,’ said Mellberg, defiantly taking a big bite. ‘I grew up eating this bread. And jam? It’s just berries. And berries have vitamins. Vitamins and oxidants. All good things for a growing boy.’

‘Anti-oxidants,’ Paula corrected him.

But Mellberg wasn’t listening. What nonsense. Nobody needed to tell him anything about nutrition.

‘Okay, but how did it go yesterday?’ she repeated her question, realizing it was a losing battle to argue about breakfast food.

‘Excellent. I ran the press conference in my usual authoritative and intelligent manner. We need to buy copies of the newspapers today.’ He reached for yet another piece of bread. The first three were just for starters.

‘I’m sure you were amazing. I wouldn’t expect anything less.’

Mellberg cast a suspicious glance at Paula to see if there was any hint of sarcasm, but her face remained impassive.

‘Aside from that, have you made any progress on the case? Are there any leads? Do you know where she came from? Where she was being held captive?’

‘No, nothing yet.’

Lisa started squirming, and Paula’s expression showed how exhausted and frustrated she felt. Mellberg knew she hated to be left out of an investigation. It didn’t come easy to her, being away from work on maternity leave, and this initial period hadn’t exactly been tinged with maternal joy. He placed his hand on her knee and noticed through her pyjamas how thin she’d grown. She’d been practically living in pyjamas for weeks now.

‘I promise to keep you updated. But at the moment we don’t know much, and-’ He was interrupted by a shrill shriek from Lisa. It was astounding that a tiny body could produce such a piercing scream.

‘Okay, thanks,’ said Paula, getting up. Moving like a sleepwalker, she began pacing the kitchen as she hummed softly to Lisa.

‘Poor little thing,’ said Mellberg, taking another slice of bread. ‘It must be awful to have a tummy ache all the time. I’m lucky I was born with an iron stomach.’

Patrik was standing in front of the whiteboard in the station’s kitchen. Next to it on the wall he’d tacked up a map of Sweden, and he had inserted pins to mark the places where the girls had disappeared. He suddenly had a flashback to a case from several years earlier, when they’d also stuck pins in a map of Sweden. Back then they’d successfully solved the case. He hoped they’d be able to do the same this time.

The investigative materials that Annika had collected from the other districts were now sorted into four piles on the table, one for each missing girl.

‘It’s impossible for us to proceed as if Victoria’s death is an isolated case. We need to make sure we stay updated regarding the other disappearances.’

Martin and Gösta nodded. Mellberg had arrived at the station but had almost immediately gone back out to take Ernst for a walk, which usually meant that he would be stopping at the local bakery. He’d most likely be gone for at least an hour. It was no coincidence that Patrik had chosen this particular moment to review the case with his other colleagues.

‘Have you heard anything from Pedersen?’ asked Gösta.

‘No, but he said he’d phone as soon as he finished the autopsy,’ replied Patrik. He picked up the first stack of documents. ‘I know we’ve gone through everything before, but I want to go over the information about the other girls again, in chronological order. Maybe some new idea will turn up.’

He leafed through the papers and then turned to write the key points on the whiteboard.

‘Sandra Andersson. Fourteen years old, about to turn fifteen when she disappeared two years ago. Lived in Strömsholm with her mother, father, and younger sister. The parents own a clothing shop. No sign of any family problems. According to everyone interviewed, Sandra was a conscientious teenager who received excellent marks in school. She was planning to become a doctor.’

Patrik held up the first photograph. Sandra was a brunette. Pretty in a quiet sort of way, with intelligent eyes and a serious expression.

‘What were her other interests?’ asked Martin. He took a sip of his coffee but grimaced at the taste and set the cup back on the table.

‘Nothing special. She seemed to be totally focused on her studies.’

‘And nothing suspicious that occurred before she disappeared?’ asked Gösta. ‘No anonymous phone calls? Nobody sneaking about in the bushes? No letters arriving in the post?’

‘Letters?’ said Patrik. ‘For someone like Sandra, it would be more likely that she’d get emails or text messages. Kids her age hardly know what a letter or a postcard is any more.’

Gösta snorted. ‘I know that. I’m not that old and decrepit. But who’s to say that the perpetrator is so up on things? Whoever did this might belong to the snail-mail generation. You didn’t think of that, did you?’ With a triumphant smile Gösta leaned back and crossed his legs.

Patrik reluctantly agreed that his colleague had a point.

‘Nothing like that was reported,’ he said. ‘And the police in Strömsholm have been just as thorough in their investigation as we have. They’ve talked to her friends and classmates, searched her room and her computer, and looked into any other contacts she may have had. But they haven’t found anything out of the ordinary.’

‘That in itself seems fishy. A teenager who hasn’t got into the slightest mischief?’ muttered Gösta. ‘Sounds unhealthy, if you ask me.’

‘Personally, I think it sounds like a parent’s dream,’ said Patrik, thinking with dread about what might be awaiting him and Erica when Maja reached her teenage years. He’d seen too much in his line of work, and he felt his stomach clench at the thought of what lay ahead.

‘Is that all?’ Martin cast an anxious glance at the few words written on the whiteboard. ‘Where did she disappear?’

‘She was on her way home from visiting a friend. When she failed to return, her parents rang the police.’

Patrik didn’t have to consult the papers. He’d already read them several times. He placed Sandra’s stack of files aside and moved on to the next one.

‘Jennifer Backlin. Fifteen years old. Disappeared from Falsterbo eighteen months ago. As in Sandra’s case, there don’t seem to have been any problems at home. She comes from a wealthy middle-class family; her father owns an investment firm, her mother is a housewife. One sister. Jennifer was an average student academically, but a promising athlete. She’d done well enough in gymnastics to win a place at a sports academy.’ He showed the others a photo of a girl with brown hair, a nice smile, and big blue eyes.

‘Did she have a boyfriend? Did Sandra?’ said Gösta.

‘Jennifer did have a boyfriend, but he’s been cleared of any involvement. No boyfriend in Sandra’s life.’ Patrik reached for his glass of water and took a sip. ‘The same situation in both cases: no one saw or heard anything. No conflicts in Jennifer’s family or among her circle of friends. Nothing suspicious observed either before or after she disappeared, nothing online…’

Patrik began writing on the board, and the points were disturbingly similar to what he’d written about Sandra. Most striking of all was the lack of significant information or leads. Usually their enquiries would turn up someone who’d seen or heard something, but these girls seemed to have been swallowed up by the earth.

‘Kim Nilsson. A little older than the other girls – sixteen. She disappeared from Västerås about a year ago. Her parents own an upmarket restaurant, and Kim sometimes helped out, along with her sister. No boyfriend. Good marks in school, no particular interests other than school. Like Sandra, she seemed focused on her studies. Her parents said that she dreamed of studying economics at university, and then wanted to run her own business.’

Yet another photo of a pretty girl with dark hair.

‘Could we take a short break? I need to empty my bladder,’ said Gösta. His joints creaked as he stood up, and Patrik was suddenly reminded that his colleague was fast approaching retirement age. To his surprise, he realized that he would miss Gösta. For years Patrik had been irritated by his colleague’s tendency to opt for the course of least resistance and do only what was absolutely necessary. But he had also seen other sides of him, times when the older man demonstrated what a good police officer he really was. And under that gruff exterior of his, Gösta had a big heart.

Patrik turned to Martin. ‘Okay, while we’re waiting for Gösta, why don’t you tell me about your interview with Marta. Did you find out anything?’

‘No, not a thing.’ Martin sighed. ‘She didn’t see anyone and no vehicles passed that way before Victoria came out of the woods. And there were none afterwards, other than the car that struck the girl. Marta and the driver both stayed with Victoria while they waited for the ambulance to arrive. I didn’t learn anything new about her disappearance either. Apparently there have been no developments at the stable since the last time we talked to Marta.’

‘What about Tyra?’

‘Exactly the same as last time. But I did have a feeling that there was something she didn’t want to share. As if she might have a suspicion, but she didn’t dare tell me about it.’

‘Huh,’ said Patrik, frowning as he studied the notes he’d jotted down on the whiteboard, printed in bold letters. ‘If that’s true, let’s hope she changes her mind soon. Do you think we ought to lean on her a bit?’

‘I’m back,’ Gösta announced as he sat down again. ‘This damned prostate of mine has me running to the loo every fifteen minutes.’

Patrik held up his hand. ‘Okay, thanks, but that’s more than I want to know.’

‘Are we done with Kim?’ asked Martin.

‘Yes. The information is pretty much the same as in the two other cases. Not a trace left behind. Nothing suspicious. Nothing at all. But it’s a little different when we get to the fourth girl. It’s the only instance when an eye witness reported seeing a suspicious individual.’

‘Minna Wahlberg,’ said Martin.

Patrik nodded, wrote down the name, and picked up a photo of a girl with blue eyes. Her brown hair was gathered in a messy topknot. ‘Yes. Minna Wahlberg. Fourteen years old, from Göteborg. Disappeared about seven months ago. Her background is different from the other girls. Raised by a single mother, with lots of reports of trouble at home while Minna was growing up. Her mother’s boyfriends were usually to blame. Minna’s name started appearing in social welfare records for things like shoplifting and smoking hash. Unfortunately, it’s the classic story of a young girl gone astray. She was frequently absent from school.’

‘Any siblings?’ asked Gösta.

‘No. She lived alone with her mother.’

‘You haven’t added any comment about how Jennifer and Kim disappeared,’ Gösta pointed out. Patrik turned to look at the board and realized he was right.

‘Jennifer disappeared on her way home from school, after gymnastics practice. Kim disappeared near her home. She had gone out for a walk and planned to meet a friend, but she never turned up. In both cases the police were notified early on that the girls were missing.’

‘But that didn’t happen in Minna’s case, did it?’ said Martin.

‘No. You’re right. Minna hadn’t been seen at school or home for three days when her mother realized that something was wrong and phoned the police. Clearly she didn’t keep a close eye on her daughter. Minna came and went as she pleased. She would stay with various girlfriends or guys she knew. So we don’t know exactly what day Minna disappeared.’

‘What about the witness?’ Martin took another sip of coffee, and Patrik had to smile at his frown when he tasted the bitter brew, which had been sitting in the pot for hours.

‘Damn it, Martin. Why don’t you make some fresh coffee?’ said Gösta. ‘I could use a cup, and I’m sure Patrik could too.’

‘Why don’t you make it yourself?’ Martin replied.

‘Never mind. It’s not necessary.’

‘I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as lazy as you,’ said Martin. ‘Maybe it’s your age.’

‘Hey, I’m not that old.’ Gösta often joked and grumbled about his age, but he didn’t like it when anyone else alluded to it.

Patrik wondered what an outsider would think about the banter that went on between them, even during the most harrowing investigations. But it was something they all needed. Sometimes the work left them so weighed down that they had to take a moment to relax, tease each other, and laugh. That was how they coped with all the sorrow, death, and despair.

‘Shall we go on? Where were we?’

‘The witness,’ Martin reminded him.

‘Right. Well, this is the only case with a witness – an eighty-year-old woman. The information she provided is a bit hazy, and she had difficulty remembering the exact time, but it appears to have happened the first day Minna didn’t return home. The witness stated that she saw Minna get into a small white car outside the ICA supermarket on Hisingen.’

‘But she wasn’t able to identify the type of car?’ said Gösta.

‘No, she wasn’t. The Göteborg police have tried everything they can think of to get more details from her about the car, but it was no use. All she could tell them was that it was an “older white car”.’

‘And the witness didn’t see who was sitting inside?’ asked Martin, even though he already knew the answer.

‘No. She thought it might be a young man sitting behind the wheel, but she couldn’t say for sure.’

‘I can’t believe this,’ said Gösta. ‘How the hell can five teenage girls just disappear? Somebody must have seen something.’

‘Well, so far no one has come forward,’ replied Patrik. ‘And that’s in spite of all the media coverage. After all the column space the papers have devoted to the missing girls, you’d think someone would have contacted the police if they’d seen anything.’

‘Either the perpetrator is extraordinarily clever, or he’s so obsessive that he never leaves any evidence behind.’ Martin was thinking aloud.

Patrik shook his head. ‘I think there must be a pattern. I can’t say why I think so, but it’s there somewhere, and once we discover it…’ He threw out his hands. ‘By the way, have you had any luck finding someone to put together a psychological profile of the perpetrator for us?’

‘Turns out it’s not that straightforward,’ Martin said. ‘There aren’t many specialists in that field, and most of them are booked up. But Annika just told me that she’s found an expert who does profiling. A man named Gerhard Struwer. He’s a criminologist at Göteborg University, and he can meet with us at his office this afternoon. She emailed him all the information we have. It’s rather strange that the Göteborg police haven’t already talked to him.’

‘I don’t think it’s so strange. We’re the only ones stupid enough to believe in that sort of thing. Next we’ll be bringing in a fortune teller,’ muttered Gösta, who shared Mellberg’s opinion on the matter.

Patrik ignored his remarks.

‘He might not be able to put together a profile, but he could still give us some guidance. Maybe we should also drop by and meet Minna’s mother, since we’ll be in Göteborg anyway. If the perpetrator was the driver of the car, Minna might have had a personal relationship with him – or her. That would explain why she got into the vehicle voluntarily.’

‘Don’t you think the Göteborg police must have already interviewed her mother?’ said Martin.

‘Sure, but I’d like to talk to her myself and see if we can find out anything more-’

Patrik was interrupted by the ringing of his mobile. He picked it up, glanced at the display, and then looked at his colleagues.

‘It’s Pedersen.’

With a grunt, Einar pulled himself up into a sitting position in bed. His wheelchair stood nearby, but he stuffed a pillow behind his back and stayed where he was. There was nowhere for him to go. This room was his world now, and that was enough for him, because in here he was able to live in his memories.

He heard Helga pottering about downstairs, and the revulsion he felt brought a metallic taste to his mouth. He found it disgusting to be so dependent on someone as pitiful as his wife. The balance of power had shifted so that she was now the strong one who could control his life instead of the other way round.

Helga had been special, filled with such joy and with such a light in her eyes. It had given him tremendous satisfaction to slowly extinguish that light. It had been gone a long time now, but when his health had betrayed him and he was confined to this prison that was his own body, something had changed. She was still a broken woman, but lately he’d caught the occasional glimpse of rebellion in her eyes. Barely discernible, but enough to annoy him.

He cast a glance at the wedding photograph that Helga had hung on the wall above the chest of drawers. In the black-and-white picture she was looking at him with a radiant smile, blithely unaware how her life would turn out with the man in the suit standing beside her. Back then he had been a handsome young fellow. Tall and blond with broad shoulders and steady blue eyes. Helga was also fair-skinned. Now her hair was grey, but in her youth she’d had long blond hair, pinned up under the bridal veil and myrtle wreath. Of course he was aware how lovely she was, but in many ways he found her even more beautiful later on, after he’d shaped her in accordance with his wishes. A cracked vase was more beautiful than one that was whole, and the cracks had occurred without much effort on his part.

He reached for the remote control. His huge stomach was in the way, and he was filled with hatred for his body. It had been transformed into something that bore no resemblance whatsoever to the person he once was. But when he closed his eyes he always pictured himself as young. Everything was as clear to him now as it had been back then: the touch of the silky skin of all the women, the feel of their shiny long hair, their breath in his ear, the sound that had made him so hot and excited. The memories freed him from the prison of this bedroom, where the wallpaper had faded and the curtains had remained unchanged for decades. These four walls that now enclosed his worthless body.

Jonas sometimes came to help him, lifting Einar over to his wheelchair and carefully pushing it down the ramp on the stairs. Jonas was strong, just as strong as he had once been. But the brief excursions outdoors didn’t give him much joy. It felt as if his memories became diminished and faded outside, as if the sun on his face made him forget. So he preferred to stay here in this room, where he was able to keep his memories alive.

The light in her study was dim even though it was still morning. Erica was sitting at her desk, staring straight ahead and getting nothing done. Her experience the previous day was still haunting her: the darkness in the cellar, the bedroom with the bolt on the door. And she couldn’t stop thinking about what Patrik had said about Victoria. She had followed the course of the investigation as he and his colleagues had tried to find the missing girl, and now Patrik had told her about what had happened to Victoria. Erica’s heart ached at the thought of what her death must mean for her family and friends. But what if she’d never been found? How could any parent live with something like that?

Four other girls were still missing, vanished without a trace. Maybe they were dead and would never be seen again. Their families were living with the loss round the clock, wondering and agonizing, still hoping, even though they knew there was no hope. Erica shivered. She suddenly felt chilled, so she got up from her desk chair and went into the bedroom to put on a pair of heavy socks. She decided to ignore the mess. The bed had not been made, and clothes were scattered about. On one bedside table was a glass containing Patrik’s mouth guard, which was gathering bacteria. The table on her side of the bed was cluttered with bottles of decongestant spray. Ever since she was pregnant with the twins she’d become dependent on decongestant spray, and the right time to quit never seemed to present itself. She’d tried it before, so she knew quitting would involve three days of hell when she could hardly breathe. So it had been all too easy to go back to using the spray. She could understand why it must be a struggle to quit smoking once you were hooked, or for an addict to stop using drugs. She couldn’t even wean herself from something as banal as an addiction to decongestants.

The very thought made her nose close up, so she went over to the nightstand and shook several of the little bottles until she found one that wasn’t empty. Then she sprayed twice in each nostril. The sensation when her nasal passages cleared was almost like an orgasm. Patrik liked to joke that if she ever had to choose between Sinex and sex, he would have to get himself a mistress.

Erica smiled. The thought of Patrik with a lover seemed so ridiculous. First, because he would never dare. Second, because she knew how much he loved her, even though daily life all too often put a damper on romance. The burning passion from their first years together had long since faded, to be replaced by a more serene glow. They knew each other so well, and she loved the sense of security their marriage gave her.

Erica went back to her study. The thick socks were blissfully warm, and she tried once again to focus on what was on her computer screen. But today seemed to be one of those days when it was impossible to concentrate.

Listlessly she scrolled through the document she had opened on her computer. She was having a hard time making any progress with her book, which of course was largely due to Laila’s unwillingness to cooperate. Without the assistance of the key players she couldn’t write her true crime books – at least, not in the way she would like. Merely repeating what was recorded in the investigative reports and describing the police procedures wouldn’t lend flesh-and-blood to her account. She was looking for emotions and thoughts, everything that had gone unsaid. And in this instance, Laila was the only one who could tell her what had actually happened. Louise was dead, Vladek was dead, and Peter had disappeared. In spite of persistent attempts, Erica had been unable to locate him, and it was doubtful that he’d be able to tell her much about that day. He’d been only four years old when his father was murdered.

Erica closed the document, annoyed. Her thoughts returned to the current police cases, to Victoria and the other missing girls. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to spend some more time thinking about them. She often found it energizing to put aside her own work and deal with something else for a while. And she wasn’t tempted to use her free time doing the laundry.

She opened a desk drawer and took out a pad of Post-it notes. She had used them so many times before when she needed to bring some sort of order to her thoughts. After opening a web browser, she began searching for articles. The disappearance of the girls had been front-page news on a number of occasions, and it was easy to find the information she was looking for. She wrote their names on five different notes, using a different colour for each, in order to keep the cases separate. Then she used more Post-it notes to write down the rest of the basic information: hometown, age, names of parents and siblings, time and place of disappearance, interests. She stuck the notes on the wall, one column for each girl. She felt a pang in her stomach as she stared at them. Each column represented indescribable sorrow and grief. A parent’s worst nightmare.

She sensed that something was missing. She wanted to put a face to each girl’s name. So she printed out photos, which were also easy to find on the newspaper websites. She wondered how many extra copies of the papers they had sold when they reported on the disappearances, but quickly dismissed such a cynical thought. The newspapers were just doing their job, and she was in no position to criticize them, given that she made a living by writing about other people’s tragedies – and her books offered a much more detailed and in-depth description than the newspapers ever could.

Finally she printed out a map of Sweden in several sections, which she then taped together. She hung it up beside the Post-it notes and used a red pen to mark the places where the girls had disappeared.

She got up and took a step back. She now had a basic structure, or skeleton. Years of research had taught her that answers could often be found by simply getting to know the victim. What was it about these girls that had made the perpetrator single them out? She didn’t believe in coincidence. The girls shared something more than appearance and age, something about their personality or living situation. What was the common denominator?

She stared at the five faces in the photographs on the wall. So much hope, so much curiosity about what life had to offer. Her eyes settled on one of the photos and suddenly knew where she should begin.

Laila spread out the newspaper clippings and felt her heart start pounding wildly. It was a physical reaction to psychological anxiety. Faster and faster, a sense of powerlessness quickening her pulse until there seemed to be no oxygen left.

She tried to take several deep breaths, drawing in as much as she could of the stale air in the small room, forcing her heart to slow down. Over the years she had taught herself a great deal about handling fear, so she knew what to do when the panic attacks came, without seeking help from a therapist or drugs. In the beginning she had taken all the pills they gave her, downing anything that might allow her to disappear into the fog of forgetting, where she could no longer see the evil. But when nightmares began slipping inside the fog, she had stopped the medication. She handled the nightmares best when her mind was clear and alert. If she lost control, anything might happen. And all her secrets might then seep out.

The oldest newspaper clippings had started to yellow. They were creased and wrinkled from being folded up in the little box that she’d managed to hide under her bed. Whenever it was cleaning day, she would tuck it away in her clothes.

Her eyes scanned the words. It wasn’t necessary for her to read them, since she knew these texts by heart. Only the more recent articles required closer attention because she hadn’t yet read them often enough to commit the words to memory. She ran her hand over her cropped hair. It still felt strange. She’d had her long hair cut short during the first year in prison. She didn’t know why. Maybe it was her way of creating a distance, signalling an end. Ulla would no doubt have some theory to explain it, but Laila hadn’t asked her. There was no reason to go rooting around in anything concerning herself. For the most part she knew why things had turned out the way they had. She had all the answers in her possession.

Talking with Erica was like playing with fire. She would never have sought out someone to talk to, but Erica had made contact just as another clipping had been added to the collection in the box, so she was probably feeling especially vulnerable that day. Laila didn’t remember the details. The only thing she recalled was that she had surprised even herself by agreeing to a visit.

Erica had arrived that very same day. And even though Laila didn’t know at the time – and still didn’t – whether she would ever respond to Erica’s questions, she had met with her, talked to her, and listened to the queries, which hovered unanswered in the visitor’s room. Sometimes the panic would return after Erica’s visits. She was aware that it was becoming urgent, that she needed to tell someone about the evil, and that Erica might be the right person to hear her story. But it was so hard to open the door that had been closed for so long.

Yet she looked forward to the visits. Erica asked the same questions as everyone else, but she did so in a different way. Not with a ghoulish desire to hear all the scandalous details, but with genuine interest. Maybe that was why Laila continued to see her. Or maybe it was because she knew that eventually she had to tell someone what she knew. She was starting to fear what might happen if she didn’t.

Tomorrow Erica would come to see her again. The staff had told Laila that she had requested another visit. Laila merely nodded at the news.

She placed the newspaper clippings back in the box, folding them up in precisely the same way so no new creases would appear. Then she closed the lid. Her heart was again beating calmly.

Patrik went over to the printer and with trembling hands picked up the sheet of paper. He was overcome with waves of nausea, and he had to pause for a moment before he walked down the narrow corridor to Mellberg’s office. He knocked on the closed door.

‘What is it?’ called Mellberg, sounding annoyed. He had just come back from his purported walk, and Patrik surmised that he was now settling down to take a nap.

‘It’s Patrik. I have Pedersen’s report, and I thought you’d want to see the results of the autopsy.’ He resisted an impulse to yank open the door. He had done that once, only to find his boss snoring away, clad only in a pair of worn underpants. That was the sort of mistake he didn’t want to repeat.

‘Come in,’ said Mellberg after a moment.

When Patrik entered the room he saw his boss sitting at his desk and making a show of going through some papers to indicate he was a busy man. Patrik sat down in the visitor’s chair, and was immediately greeted by Ernst, who emerged from his usual place under the desk. The dog had been named after a former colleague who had now passed away. Patrik had never been one to speak ill of the dead, but he couldn’t help thinking the dog was considerably more likeable than his namesake.

‘Hi, fella,’ he said, scratching Ernst’s head.

‘You’re white as a sheet,’ said Mellberg. It was unusual for him to be so observant.

‘It’s not very pleasant reading.’ Patrik placed the printout in front of Mellberg. ‘Do you want to read through it yourself, or should I summarize the main points?’

‘Sure. Go ahead. Let’s hear it,’ said Mellberg, leaning back in his chair.

‘I hardly know where to begin.’ Patrik cleared his throat. ‘She lost her eyes because someone poured acid on them. The wounds had healed; judging by the scar formation, Pedersen thinks it was done shortly after Victoria was kidnapped.’

‘Bloody hell.’ Mellberg leaned forward and propped his elbows on his desk.

‘Her tongue was severed with a sharp tool of some description. Pedersen couldn’t say exactly what was used, but he reckoned it could have been done with shears, a hacksaw, or something of that nature. Probably not a knife.’ Patrik could hear how gruesome his words sounded, and Mellberg looked sick to his stomach.

‘In addition, a sharp object had been inserted into both ears, doing enough damage that Victoria had also lost her hearing.’ He reminded himself to tell Erica about this. Her idea of a girl in a bubble had turned out to be accurate.

Mellberg stared at him. ‘So you’re saying that she couldn’t see, hear, or speak?’ he queried.

‘That’s right,’ said Patrik.

For a moment neither of them said anything. They were trying to imagine what it must feel like to lose three such important senses, to be imprisoned in a silent and impenetrable darkness without the ability to communicate.

‘Bloody hell,’ Mellberg said again. Then the silence in the room continued. There were simply no words to express what they were thinking. Ernst gave a little yelp and gazed at them uneasily. He could sense the heavy mood that had descended over them, but he didn’t know why.

‘All of these injuries probably occurred right after she was captured. And she was mostly likely kept bound. Her wrists and ankles bore scars from a rope. Some were old, some were new. She also had bedsores.’

Now even Mellberg’s face had gone pale.

‘The toxicology report is also available,’ Patrik added. ‘There were traces of ketamine in her blood.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Ketamine is a sedative. Classified as a narcotic.’

‘Why would she have something like that in her blood?’

‘Hard to say, but according to Pedersen, the effect can vary, depending on the dosage. With a higher dose the individual will be unconscious and feel no pain. A lower dose can provoke psychosis and hallucinations. Who knows what effect the perpetrator was intending. Maybe both.’

‘And where would someone get hold of this narcotic?’

‘Drug dealers sell it, just like any other narcotic, but it’s a speciality drug. You have to know how to use it and what dose to take. Kids who ingest it in nightclubs don’t want to get knocked out for a whole night, which happens if they take too much. So it’s often mixed with ecstasy. But generally it’s used mostly in hospitals. And as an anaesthetic for animals. Especially horses.’

‘Shit,’ said Mellberg when he made the connection. ‘Have we taken a close look at that veterinarian, Jonas?’

‘Of course. Victoria disappeared after leaving their stable. But he has a solid alibi. At the time he was out on an emergency call. The owners of the sick horse confirmed that he arrived only fifteen minutes after Victoria was last seen at the stable, and he stayed for several hours. We didn’t find any link between him and the other missing girls.’

‘But in light of what we’ve just learned, don’t you think we ought to put him under the microscope?’

‘Definitely. When I told the others, Gösta recalled that there had been a break-in at Jonas’s office some time ago. He’s checking the incident report to see if ketamine is mentioned. But the question is whether Jonas might have reported the theft as a cover in case he was asked to account for the missing ketamine. No matter what, we need to have another talk with him.’

Patrik paused for a moment before continuing.

‘There’s one more thing. I thought Martin and I should take a little trip today.’

‘Oh?’ said Mellberg. He looked up sharply, on the alert at the prospect of additional expenses being incurred.

‘I want to drive to Göteborg to have a talk with Minna Wahlberg’s mother. And while we’re there…’

‘Yes?’ Mellberg sounded suspicious.

‘Well, since we’ll be there already, we can take the opportunity to talk to a man who might be able to help us by analysing the perpetrator’s behaviour.’

‘You mean one of those psychology guys?’ Mellberg’s expression betrayed exactly what he thought of that particular profession.

‘I know it’s a long shot, but it won’t entail any extra expense since we’re going to Göteborg for another purpose.’

‘Okay, okay. Just don’t try and drag in some fortune teller too,’ muttered Mellberg, which reminded Patrik how much he and Gösta had in common. ‘And for God’s sake don’t step on any toes at the Göteborg police station. You know as well as I do how territorial they are. So be careful.’

‘I’ll handle them with kid gloves,’ replied Patrik as he left the room, closing the door behind him. Before long Mellberg’s loud snoring would be echoing down the corridor.

Erica knew full well that she could be impulsive. Occasionally too impulsive. At least, that was Patrik’s opinion. According to him, she had a tendency to get mixed up in things that were none of her business. Yet she had frequently helped him with his investigations, so he really shouldn’t complain.

This was one of those instances when he would probably say she shouldn’t get involved. And for that reason, she wasn’t planning to tell him in advance. Instead, she would wait and see if her expedition turned out to be productive. If not, she could just offer the same excuse she’d given to her mother-in-law, Kristina, who had been summoned on short notice to babysit for the kids. Erica had told her that she needed to meet with her agent in Göteborg to discuss a contract with a German publisher.

She put on her jacket, grimacing as she glanced around. It looked as if a bomb had exploded inside the house. Kristina would have a few things to say about the mess, and Erica would no doubt receive a long lecture about the importance of keeping her home neat and tidy. Strangely enough, Kristina never lectured her son on that topic. She seemed to think that he, as the man of the house, was above such chores. And Patrik seemed to have no objections to his mother’s way of thinking.

No, now I’m being unfair, thought Erica. Patrik was amazing in so many ways. He did his share of the housework without complaint, and he took on an equal amount of responsibility for the children. Yet she still couldn’t say that they were a hundred per cent equal. She was the one who acted as team leader, the one who noticed when the children had outgrown their clothes and needed new things. She was the one who knew when they were supposed to take a packed lunch to the day-care centre, and when it was time for them to have their vaccinations. And she kept track of thousands of other things. She noticed when the laundry detergent was nearly gone, and when it was time to buy more nappies. She knew which lotion worked best when the twins had a rash, and she always knew where Maja had left her current favourite stuffed animal. Such concerns came naturally to her, while Patrik found it impossible to keep track of such things. She wasn’t sure he even tried. In the back of her mind Erica always had a suspicion that he was more than happy to leave everything to her, but she had chosen not to dwell on that thought. Instead, she had accepted the role of team leader, grateful that her husband was willing to take on whatever tasks she assigned to him. Many of her women friends were not as lucky.

When she opened the front door, the cold air almost made her step back. What a freezing winter they were having. She hoped the roads wouldn’t be too slippery. She was not especially fond of driving, and she got behind the wheel only when it was absolutely necessary.

Erica turned to lock the door behind her. Kristina had a key, which was both good and bad, but she willingly gave a hand with the children if she was needed. Erica frowned as she walked to the car. Kristina had asked if it was all right to bring along a friend, since Erica had asked for help without giving her much notice. Her mother-in-law had a busy social life and many female friends who sometimes came with her to babysit, so her request wasn’t all that strange. But there had been something odd about the way Kristina had said the word ‘friend’. Was it possible that for the first time since her divorce from Patrik’s father, Kristina had met a new man?

The thought amused Erica, and she smiled as she turned the key in the ignition. Patrik would go through the roof. He had no problem with the fact that his father had remarried long ago, but it was a different story when it came to his mother. Whenever Erica had teased him by saying she was going to sign up Kristina for an online dating service, Patrik looked worried. But it was time for him to accept that his mother had her own life. Erica giggled as she started driving towards Göteborg.

Jonas wore an exasperated expression as he briskly tidied the veterinary clinic. He was still annoyed that Marta had said no to the jump racing competition. Molly should have been allowed to compete. He knew how important it was to his daughter, and her disappointment cut him to the quick.

When she was younger, it had been extremely convenient to have his office in their home. He hadn’t trusted Marta to take care of Molly properly, so when he was working he used to take a break between patients to check that his daughter was all right.

Unlike Marta, he had wanted a child, someone to carry on the family. He wanted to see himself in the child, and for that reason he’d always imagined having a son. But then Molly had arrived. Even right after her birth he was amazed by the emotions that had overwhelmed him. Emotions he didn’t know were possible.

Marta, on the other hand, had placed the infant in his arms with an impassive expression. The hint of envy in her eyes had quickly disappeared. He had expected her to feel that way. Marta was his, and he was hers. But with time she would realize that the child wouldn’t change anything; on the contrary, having a daughter would bring them closer.

The first time he saw Marta, he knew that she was perfect for him. She was his twin, his soul mate. Such words were used far too often, to the point of being clichés, but in their case the words were true. Their only difference of opinion was regarding Molly. Yet for his sake, Marta had tried her best. She had raised their daughter according to his wishes, and she had allowed Jonas and Molly to have their relationship in peace. She, in turn, devoted all her energy to her relationship with her husband.

He hoped that Marta realized how much he loved her, and how important she was to him. He was constantly trying to show her this. He was forbearing, and allowed her to take part in everything. On only one occasion had he harboured any doubts. For a moment he had sensed a chasm open up between them, a threat to the symbiosis that had marked their life together for so long. But that doubt was now gone.

Jonas smiled as he straightened a box containing latex gloves. He knew there were so many reasons he should be grateful. And he was.

When Mellberg attached the lead to Ernst’s collar, the dog eagerly dashed for the front door of the police station. Annika glanced up from her desk in the reception area, and Mellberg explained that he was going home to have lunch. Then with a great sense of relief he stepped outside. As soon as the door fell shut, he took in a deep breath. After what Hedström had told him, his office had suddenly felt cramped and stifling.

By the time he reached the building where he lived, he was feeling better. The fresh air had cleared his mind. He’d come round to thinking that this new case could turn out to be a positive development, offering him an opportunity to show off his detecting skills.

‘Hello?’ he called as he stepped inside the flat. Paula’s shoes were in the hall, which meant she and Lisa were visiting.

‘We’re in the kitchen,’ replied Rita. Mellberg removed the dog’s lead so Ernst could run in and say hello to Señorita. Then he stomped the snow from his shoes, hung up his jacket, and followed the dog inside.

Rita was setting the kitchen table for lunch while Paula was rummaging through a cupboard. Lisa was snuggled in a baby carrier on her mother’s stomach.

‘We ran out of coffee downstairs,’ Paula explained.

‘In the back on the right,’ Rita told her, pointing. ‘I’ll set a place for you too. You might as well have some lunch, now that you’re here.’

‘Thanks. That would be nice. So how’s it going at the station?’ said Paula, holding a packet of coffee in her hand as she turned to face Mellberg. The coffee was exactly where Rita had said it would be. Her kitchen was organized with military precision.

Mellberg wondered whether he should relay the autopsy results to a woman who was both exhausted and a nursing mother. But he knew that Paula would be furious if she later found out that he had withheld information. So he briefly told her what Patrik had reported. Standing at the worktop, Rita froze for a moment but then continued to take cutlery from the drawer.

‘My God, that’s awful,’ said Paula, sitting down at the kitchen table. She absentmindedly rubbed Lisa’s back. ‘Did you say her tongue had been cut off?’

Mellberg pricked up his ears. He had to admit that Paula had on occasion shown an aptitude for police work, and she also had a phenomenal memory.

‘What are you thinking?’ He sat down on a chair next to her with an eager expression.

Paula shook her head.

‘I’m not sure. But it reminds me of something. Hmm… This damn brain of mine. All this nursing is making my mind fuzzy! It’s driving me crazy!’

‘It’ll pass,’ said Rita. She was putting together a big salad.

‘I know, but it’s so annoying,’ said Paula. ‘Anyway, there’s something familiar about the fact that her tongue was cut off.’

‘I’m sure it will come to you if you just let it go for a while,’ Rita told her.

‘Hmm, maybe,’ replied Paula. Mellberg could see that she was wracking her brain. ‘I wonder if it’s something I read in an old police report. Is it okay if I drop by the station later on?’

‘You can’t be planning on taking Lisa over there when it’s so cold outside!’ Rita objected. ‘Besides, you’re not supposed to be working. Not when you’re so tired.’

‘I can just as well be tired over there as here,’ said Paula. ‘And do you think Lisa could stay here with you? I won’t be gone long. I just want to have a look in the archives.’

Rita muttered something inaudible, but Mellberg knew she would be more than happy to babysit Lisa, even though there was a risk the baby might have one of her crying spells. He thought Paula was actually looking a bit more alert at the mere thought of going over to the station.

‘I’d also like to have access to the autopsy report while I’m there,’ she said. ‘Hope that’s okay, even though I’m officially on maternity leave.’

Mellberg snorted. It made no difference whether she was on leave or not. He had no idea what the rules were, but if he paid attention to all the rules and regulations regarding work places in general and the police force in particular, he’d never get anything done.

‘Annika has the report, along with all the other case materials. Just ask her to show it to you.’

‘Great. I think I’ll take a shower before going over there, for my sake and for everyone else’s.’

‘But first you need to eat lunch,’ said Rita.

‘Sure, Mamma.’

Enticing aromas were filling the kitchen, making Mellberg’s stomach growl. Rita was a phenomenal cook. Her only fault was that she rarely served dessert. In his mind’s eye he pictured the pastry case in the local bakery. He’d already stopped by once today, but maybe he could nip in on his way back to the station. No meal was complete without something sweet to finish it off.

Gösta no longer expected much from life. His uncle always used to say that if you can keep your feet and head warm, then you should be content. These days Gösta was starting to understand what his uncle meant. It was important not to make too many demands. And ever since Ebba had come back into his life after the strange events of the past summer, he had been much more content. She had moved back to Göteborg, and for a while he’d worried that she might disappear again, reluctant to stay in contact with an old codger she’d known for a brief period when she was a child. But she got in touch with him every so often, and whenever she came to see her mother in Fjällbacka, she would always stop by to see him too. Of course Ebba was feeling fragile after what she’d been through, but each time he saw her, she seemed stronger. He sincerely hoped that her wounds would heal and that one day her faith in love would be restored. Maybe sometime in the future she would meet a new man and become a mother again. And maybe, with a little luck, he’d be a stand-in grandfather and once again have a chance to pamper a child. That was his greatest dream: to walk among the raspberry bushes in his garden at home, with a child at his side, a child who, with tottering steps and holding his hand, would help him pick the sweet berries.

But for now that had to remain a daydream. In the meantime he needed to concentrate on the investigation. He shivered at the thought of what Patrik had told him about Victoria’s injuries, but forced himself to set aside his feelings of revulsion. He couldn’t afford to let emotion cloud his judgement. He’d seen plenty of misery during his years as a police officer, and even though the ugliness of this case surpassed any other he’d encountered, the principle remained the same: he needed to do his job.

Gösta skimmed over the report, digesting the contents. Then he went next door to Patrik’s office.

‘Jonas reported the break-in only a few days before Victoria disappeared. And ketamine was one of the substances purportedly stolen. I’d like to drive over to have a talk with him while you and Martin go to Göteborg.’

He saw Patrik’s look of surprise, and even though he felt rather insulted, he could understand it. He hadn’t always been the most industrious member of the team, and to be honest he still wasn’t. But he was a capable officer, and lately he’d had a renewed sense of determination. He wanted to make Ebba proud. Besides, he sympathized with the anguish of the Hallberg family after several months as their police liaison.

‘It sounds as though there’s a strong possibility the two events are connected. Good job,’ said Patrik. ‘But do you want to go there alone? If not, I could go with you tomorrow.’

Gösta waved a hand in dismissal. ‘It’s okay. I can handle it. It’s no big deal, and I was the one who filed the original report. Good luck in Göteborg.’ He gave Patrik a curt nod and left to go out to his car.

It took only five minutes to drive to the farm. He turned in to the yard and parked near the house belonging to Marta and Jonas.

‘Knock, knock,’ he said as he opened the door at the back of the house.

The veterinary clinic wasn’t large. A minuscule waiting room, not much bigger than an entryway, in addition to a kitchenette and treatment room.

‘No boa constrictors, spiders, or other creepy animals, I hope,’ he joked when he caught sight of Jonas.

‘Hi, Gösta. No, don’t worry. There aren’t many creatures like that in Fjällbacka, thank goodness.’

‘Could I come in for a minute?’ Gösta stepped inside, wiping his shoes on the mat.

‘Of course. I don’t have another patient for an hour. Doesn’t look as though it’s going to be one of my busier days. Take off your coat. Would you like some coffee?’

‘That would be great. Thanks. Unless it’s too much bother?’

Jonas shook his head and went to the kitchenette. Gösta could see an expensive-looking coffeemaker on the worktop.

‘I invested in this luxury for the sake of my own sanity. Strong or weak? Milk? Sugar?’

‘Strong, with milk and sugar. Thanks.’ Gösta took off his jacket and sat down in one of the two visitor’s chairs.

‘Here you are.’ Jonas handed Gösta a cup and sat down across from him. ‘I assume this is about Victoria.’

‘Not exactly. I wanted to ask you about the break-in you had here.’

Jonas raised his eyebrows. ‘I thought you wrote up a report about that. I have to admit I’ve been a little disappointed that the police haven’t made any progress with that matter, even though I realize that Victoria’s case has to be your top priority. Can you tell me why you’re suddenly so interested in the break-in?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ said Gösta. ‘How did you discover that someone had broken in? I know we’ve already gone over this, but I’d like to hear it again, if you don’t mind.’ He waved his hand apologetically and almost knocked over his coffee cup. He caught it as it started to tip and then picked it up, just to be on the safe side.

‘Well, as I already said, when I came over here in the morning, I found the door had been forced. That was about nine o’clock. That’s my usual starting time, because people rarely want to come any earlier. At any rate, I could tell immediately that the place had been burgled.’

‘And how did it look inside?’

‘Not too bad, actually. Some things had been pulled out of the cupboards and were scattered over the floor, but that’s about it. The worst part was that the cabinet where I keep substances classified as narcotics had been smashed open. And I’m always so careful to keep it locked. There’s not much crime in Fjällbacka to worry about, but the few junkies who do exist probably know that I keep drugs in the clinic. I’ve never had any problems before though.’

‘I know who you mean, and we had a talk with them right after the break-in. We didn’t get anything out of them, and I don’t think they would have been able to keep their mouths shut if they’d managed to get into the clinic. None of the fingerprints matched theirs.’

‘In that case it must have been someone else.’

‘So what exactly was missing? I realize it’s in the report, but tell me again.’

Jonas frowned. ‘I can’t remember all the details, but the controlled substances included ethyl morphine, ketamine, and codeine. Plus a number of medical supplies, like gauze bandages, antiseptics, and… latex gloves, if I recall. Ordinary, cheap supplies that you could buy in any chemist’s shop.’

‘Unless you wanted to avoid attracting attention because you were buying large quantities of medical supplies,’ said Gösta, thinking aloud.

‘Sure. I suppose that’s true.’ Jonas drank the last of his coffee, then stood up to get some more. ‘Would you like a refill?’

‘No, thanks. I have plenty,’ said Gösta, realizing that he had forgotten all about drinking his coffee. ‘Tell me more about the controlled substances. Would any of them be of special interest to a drug addict?’

‘Ketamine definitely would. I’ve heard it’s starting to be popular among junkies. It’s apparently known as Special K, as a party drug.’

‘What do you use it for in your veterinary practice?’

‘Vets and physicians both use it as an anaesthetic for surgical procedures. If you use ordinary anaesthetics, there’s a risk of heart attack and respiration slows. But ketamine doesn’t have that side effect.’

‘What type of animals do you use it on?’

‘Mostly dogs and horses. It’s a way to sedate them safely and effectively.’

Gösta stretched out his legs. His joints were feeling more and more creaky and stiff for every winter that passed. ‘How much ketamine was taken?’

‘If I remember right, we’re talking about four bottles that each contained a hundred millilitres.’

‘Is that a lot? How much would you use for a horse, for example?’

‘That depends on the weight of the horse,’ said Jonas. ‘But we usually estimate about two millilitres per hundred kilos.’

‘What about for a human being?’

‘I’m not sure. You’d have to ask a surgeon or anaesthesiologist, they’d be able to give you the precise dosage. I took a few courses in general medicine, but that was years ago. I know about animals, not people. Why are you so interested in ketamine?’

Gösta hesitated. He wasn’t sure he ought to say anything that would give away the true purpose of his visit. At the same time, he was curious to see how Jonas would react. If it turned out, contrary to all expectations, that he was the one who had used the ketamine and reported it stolen simply to divert suspicion, then maybe his expression would give him away.

‘We’ve received the autopsy report,’ Gösta told him. ‘Victoria had traces of ketamine in her body.’

Jonas looked startled. Gösta saw both surprise and horror in his eyes. ‘Are you saying that you think the ketamine that was stolen from my clinic may have been used to kidnap her?’

‘At this point we can’t say for sure, but considering it was stolen only days before she disappeared, and close to where she was last seen, it certainly seems possible.’

Jonas shook his head. ‘That’s terrible.’

‘So you have no idea who might have broken in? You didn’t notice anything suspicious either before or afterwards?’

‘No. I have no clue. As I said, this is the first time it’s ever happened. I’ve always been very careful about locking things up.’

‘And you don’t think any of the girls would have…?’ Gösta motioned towards the stable.

‘No, absolutely not. They’ve probably tried out some home brew in secret a few times, and no doubt they’ve smoked a cigarette or two. But none of them is worldly wise enough to know that veterinarians keep controlled substances that could be used as party drugs. Talk to them, if you like, but I can promise you that none of them has ever heard of ketamine.’

‘I’m sure you’re right,’ murmured Gösta. He tried to think of more questions to ask, and Jonas seemed to notice his hesitation.

‘Is there anything else you want to know?’ Jonas gave him a crooked smile. ‘If not, maybe we can talk more some other time. I’ve got to see to my next patient. Nelly the mouse has eaten something that made her sick.’

‘Oh.’ Gösta wrinkled his nose in disgust. ‘I can’t understand why people want to keep creatures like that as pets.’

‘I can think of worse things,’ said Jonas, shaking his hand firmly as they said goodbye.