The Lost Boy

13

Patrik was annoyed that he hadn’t managed to get much done the previous day. Even though it was Sunday, he’d gone to the station and written up a report about the missing boat, then checked to see whether it might have been advertised in Blocket or some other list of classified adverts. But he didn’t find anything. Later he had talked to Paula and asked her to go through the contents of Sverin’s briefcase. He’d taken a quick look inside, just enough to see that the laptop was there, along with a handful of documents. For once they’d had luck on their side in this investigation. The briefcase also contained a mobile phone.

Eager to make progress today, he summoned Martin and headed out to the car for the drive to Göteborg.

‘Where do we start?’ asked Martin. He was in the passenger seat, as usual, although he’d done his best to try to persuade Patrik to let him drive.

‘At the social services office, I think. I talked to them on Friday and said we’d probably arrive around ten o’clock.’

‘And then the Refuge? Have you come up with any new questions for them?’

‘I’m hoping that we’ll find out a bit more about them from social services. Hopefully that might give us a lead.’

‘What about Sverin’s ex-girlfriend? Did he tell her anything?’ Martin kept his eyes on the road ahead, instinctively grabbing hold of the handle above the door whenever Patrik made a risky manoeuvre to overtake a container lorry.

‘No. We didn’t learn much from her. Except that she gave us the briefcase, of course. And that may turn out to be a productive discovery, but we won’t know until Paula has examined everything. We’re not going to mess with the laptop, since we have no idea how to crack the password. We’ll have to send it on to the tech guys.’

‘How did Nathalie take the news of Sverin’s death?’

‘She seemed very shaken. She came across as pretty fragile. Not an easy person to read.’

‘Isn’t this where we’re supposed to get off?’ Martin pointed to an exit, and Patrik swore as he turned the wheel so hard that the vehicle behind almost ran straight into them.

‘Bloody hell, Patrik,’ said Martin, his face pale.

Ten minutes later they reached the social services building and were immediately ushered into the office of the director, who introduced himself as Sven Barkman. After the usual courtesies, they all sat down at a round conference table. Barkman was a short, slight man with a narrow face. The sharpness of his chin was further emphasized by a goatee. An image of Professor Calculus from The Adventures of Tintin suddenly sprang into Patrik’s mind; the likeness was striking. But the man’s voice didn’t match his appearance, which surprised both Martin and Patrik. Barkman had a deep, low voice that seemed to fill the room. It sounded as if he would be a good singer, and when Patrik looked around, this impression was confirmed. An array of photographs, certificates, and awards showed that Sven Barkman sang in a choir. Patrik didn’t recognize the name of the group, but clearly it was very successful.

‘I understand that you have some questions regarding the Refuge,’ said Sven, leaning forward. ‘May I ask why? We’re very careful about keeping tabs on the groups that we liaise with on social welfare matters. So naturally we’re a bit concerned when we receive enquiries from the police. Besides, the Refuge is somewhat unusual in its approach, as you may be aware. And to be honest, we scrutinize their work rather more than we do the activities of other groups.’

‘Are you referring to the fact that both men and women work on the crisis cases?’

‘Yes. That’s not the norm. Leila Sundgren has really put her neck on the line with this experiment of hers, but we support her.’

‘There’s no reason for you to be alarmed. A former employee has been murdered, and we’re trying to find out more about his life. Since he worked for the Refuge up until four months ago, and considering what sort of work is involved, we’re taking a close look at the group. But we have no reason whatsoever to believe that there are any irregularities.’

‘That’s good to hear. So, let’s see now …’ Sven began leafing through the papers on the table in front of him as he quietly hummed. ‘Yes, well … hmm … oh, that’s right.’

He continued to talk to himself as Patrik and Martin waited patiently.

‘Okay, now I have everything clear in my mind. I just needed to refresh my memory. We’ve worked with the Refuge for the past five years, or five and a half, to be exact. And I assume that, since this is a homicide investigation, I should be as precise as possible.’ He laughed. It was a low, chuckling laugh. ‘The number of cases that we’ve referred to them has increased sharply. Naturally, we were cautious at first, because we had to make sure that our collaboration with the group was functioning properly. Over the past year, four women have been referred to them via our office. All in all, I would estimate that the Refuge takes care of some thirty women per year.’ He looked up, apparently waiting for a follow-up question.

‘Can you talk us through the process. What sort of cases do you pass on to the Refuge? It seems rather an extreme measure to take, and I assume that you try other avenues first,’ said Martin.

‘Quite right. We work extensively with a wide range of these cases, and organizations like the Refuge are a last resort. There are times when we find out early on that there are problems in a particular family. But there are other cases when it takes us quite a while to spot the warning signals.’

‘What would be a typical case?’

‘It’s difficult to answer that question. I’ll give you an example. Say we get a call from the school about a child who seems to be in a bad way. Our next step is to follow up with various measures, including a visit to the family, to assess the situation. We would also check for any documentation that hasn’t been brought to our attention earlier.’

‘Documentation?’ asked Patrik.

‘Yes. There may have been several visits to the hospital, and when these are combined with the reports from the school, a pattern starts to emerge. We simply gather as much information as we can. At first we try to work with the family in its current situation, but that’s not always successful. As I said, helping the woman and any children to flee is a last resort. Unfortunately, it’s not as infrequent as we might wish.’

‘How does it work, in practice, when you have to turn to groups like the Refuge?’

‘We contact them directly rather than sending a written report,’ said Sven. ‘Leila Sundgren is our primary contact at the Refuge. We usually meet in person to provide background information and discuss the particular woman’s situation.’

‘Does the Refuge ever turn you down?’ asked Patrik, shifting position. The chair he was sitting on was extremely uncomfortable.

‘That has never happened. Because there are children at the shelter, they won’t accept women who are drug addicts or who have severe psychological problems. But we know that, so we don’t refer those types of cases to them. We find other shelters for those women. So no, the group has never refused to take any of the women we’ve referred.’

‘What happens when the group takes over?’ asked Patrik.

‘First we talk to the woman and set up a contact for her. Naturally, we handle this as discreetly as possible. The point is to make sure that they’re safe and that no one can find them.’

‘And later on? Do things ever get difficult for you at the social services office? I can imagine that some men get very angry when they discover that their wife and children have disappeared,’ said Martin.

‘Yes, but they don’t disappear for good. That would be illegal. We can’t hide a child from its father because he has a legal right to contest such actions. But we do receive our share of threats here at the office, and we regularly have to ring the police. So far, nothing serious has happened, touch wood.’

‘And what sort of follow-up do you do?’ Martin persisted.

‘The case remains with us, and we have ongoing contact with the relevant organization. Our objective is to arrive at a peaceful solution. In most instances, that’s not possible, but we do have some success stories.’

‘I’ve heard of cases where women have received help from these sorts of organization so that they can flee the country. Do you know anything about that? Do any of the women ever disappear?’ asked Patrik.

Sven fidgeted a bit. ‘I know what you’re referring to. I read the newspapers too. There have been a few cases where women we worked with have disappeared, but we’ve no way of saying whether a particular group helped them to do that. We just have to assume that they found a way to leave on their own.’

‘Can we talk off the record for a moment?’

‘Off the record, I do think they receive help from certain organizations. But since we have no proof, there’s nothing we can do about it.’

‘Have any of the women that you’ve referred to the Refuge disappeared in this way?’

For a moment Sven didn’t reply. Then he took a deep breath.

‘Yes.’

Patrik decided to drop the subject. It would probably be more productive to ask staff at the Refuge directly. The social services office seemed to operate on the principle of: ‘the less we know, the better’. And he was doubtful that Sven Barkman could help further.

‘We’d like to thank you for your time. Unless there’s anything else you’d like to ask?’ Patrik glanced at Martin, who shook his head.

On their way back to the car, Patrik felt a sinking sensation in his chest. He’d had no idea that so many women were forced to flee their homes – and the only statistic he’d been given was for cases involving the Refuge, so that was just the tip of the iceberg.

Erica couldn’t stop thinking about Nathalie. She had been the same, and yet not. A paler copy of herself and terribly preoccupied in some way. The golden shimmer that had surrounded her in school was now gone, even though she was just as beautiful, just as unreachable. It was as if something inside of her had vanished. Erica had a hard time describing it. All she knew was that she felt sad after the encounter with Nathalie.

She pushed the pram, stopping several times on Galärbacken.

‘Mamma tired?’ asked Maja as she happily perched on the running board of the twins’ pram. The boys had just dozed off, and with luck they’d sleep for a good hour.

‘Yes, Mamma’s tired,’ Erica told her daughter. She was breathing hard, and a wheezing sound could be heard in her chest.

‘Come on, Mamma,’ said Maja, giving a hop on the running board in order to help out.

‘Thanks, sweetie.’ Erica gathered her strength to push the pram the last part of the way past the fabric shop.

After delivering Maja safely to the day-care centre, Erica was on her way home when an idea occurred to her. Her curiosity had been roused by the visit to Gråskär. The long shadow of the lighthouse and Nathalie’s expression when they talked about the island and its ghosts had set Erica wondering. Why not find out a bit more?

Turning the pram around, she began walking towards the library. She had the whole day to kill and she might as well spend her time there while the twins were asleep. At least that felt more productive than sitting on the sofa and watching Oprah or Rachel Ray.

‘Hi, good to see you!’ May, the librarian, smiled as Erica parked the pram inside the front door and off to the side so it wouldn’t be in anyone’s way. Fortunately the library was totally deserted, and there didn’t seem to be much risk that she’d have to compete for space with anyone else.

‘And you brought those adorable twins,’ said May, leaning down to look inside the pram. ‘Are they as good as they are cute?’

‘Like little angels,’ Erica told her truthfully. Because she really couldn’t complain. The problems that she’d had when Maja was a baby had vanished, which was probably due to her own attitude this time around. When the boys woke in the night and started crying, she felt only gratitude instead of dread. Besides, they were seldom cranky, and they woke only once a night when they were hungry.

‘Well, you know your way around the library, so I’ll leave you to it. Give me a shout if you need any help. Are you working on a new book?’ said May, peering at her.

To Erica’s great joy, the whole town was proud of her achievements and followed her publications with great interest.

‘No, I haven’t started on another one yet. I was thinking of doing some research for my own amusement.’

‘Oh, really? What’s the topic?’

Erica laughed. The people who lived in Fjällbacka were not known for being shy. Their guiding principle seemed to be: if you don’t ask, you’ll never find out. She had no objections to that attitude. She herself was more inquisitive than most, as Patrik never failed to point out.

‘I was actually thinking of looking for books on the archipelago. I want to read up on the history of Gråskär.’

‘Ghost Isle?’ said May. She headed for the shelves on the far side of the room. ‘So you’re interested in ghost stories? In that case, you should have a talk with Stellan at Nolbotten. And Karl-Allen Nordblom knows a lot about the archipelago.’

‘Thanks. I’ll start by seeing what I can find here. Ghosts, the history of lighthouses, and anything of that nature would interest me. Do you think you’ve got any books on those topics?’

‘Hmm …’ May was studying the shelves. She pulled out a volume, quickly leafed through it, and then set it back. She took out another, studied the table of contents, and tucked it under her arm. After a few minutes she’d found four books, which she handed to Erica.

‘These might be useful. It won’t be easy to find any published volumes specifically about Gråskär, but you could talk to the staff at the Bohuslän Museum,’ she said as she took her place behind the library counter.

‘I’ll start with these,’ said Erica, nodding towards the four books she was holding. After making sure that the twins were still asleep, she sat down and began to read.

‘What is it?’ Their classmates had gathered around them in the schoolyard, and Jon felt the thrill of being the centre of attention.

‘I found it. I think it’s some kind of sweets,’ he said, proudly holding out the bag.

Melker pushed him aside.

‘What do you mean, you found it? We found it together.’

‘Did you take that out of a rubbish bin? Yuck, that’s disgusting! Throw it away, Jon.’ Lisa wrinkled her nose and then moved on.

‘But it’s inside a bag.’ Carefully he opened the seal. ‘And by the way, it was in a litter bin, not in a rubbish bin.’

Girls were so pathetic. When he was younger he’d played a lot with girls, but ever since starting school, things had changed, and the girls seemed totally different. As if aliens had taken them over. All they did was make a fuss and giggle.

‘God, girls are so ludicrous,’ he said out loud, and all the other boys crowding around him agreed. They knew exactly what he meant. The sweets were probably perfectly fine, since they’d been tossed into a litter bin.

‘And they’re inside a bag,’ exclaimed Melker, echoing what Jon had said. All the boys nodded.

They had waited until the lunch break to retrieve the bag. Sweets were forbidden at school, so what they’d found looked especially exciting – sort of like the powdered white liquorice that came in a tin shaped like a hockey puck. The fact that they’d discovered the discarded sweets all on their own made them feel like adventurers, like Indiana Jones. Jon – or rather Jon, Melker, and Jack – would be the heroes of the day. Now it was just a matter of working out how much they’d have to share with the others in order to maintain their hero status. The other boys would be cross if they didn’t get any. But if they gave away too much, there wouldn’t be enough left over for the three of them.

‘You can all have a taste. Three dips with the finger each,’ Jon finally decided. ‘But we get to go first, since we found it.’

Melker and Jack each solemnly licked an index finger and then reached for the bag. Their fingers came away covered with white powder, and with a delighted expression they stuck them in their mouths. Would it taste salty, like powdered liquorice? Or sour, like the sherbert sweets that came in those saucer shapes? They were greatly disappointed.

‘It doesn’t taste of anything. Do you think it’s flour?’ said Melker, and then he walked away.

Jon was crestfallen as he looked at the bag. He licked his finger as the others had done and stuck it deep inside the powder. Hoping that Melker was wrong, he stuck his finger in his mouth. It tasted of nothing. Absolutely nothing. Although he did feel a slight tingling on his tongue. Furious, he tossed the bag into a litter bin and headed for the school. He had a weird sensation in his mouth. He stuck out his tongue and wiped it on his shirt sleeve, but that didn’t help. Now his heart began pounding very fast. He was sweating, and his legs didn’t seem to want to obey him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Melker and Jack had fallen to the ground. They must have stumbled on something, or else they were just playing around. Then he felt the ground come rushing up towards him. Everything went black before he even hit the pavement.

Paula wished Patrik had taken her with him to Göteborg instead of Martin. On the other hand, it gave her the opportunity to examine the contents of Mats Sverin’s briefcase in peace and quiet. She had immediately sent the laptop over to the technical division; the personnel there were much more computer-savvy than she was and would know how to deal with it properly.

‘I hear the briefcase has been found,’ said Gösta, sticking his head in the door to her office.

‘Yup. I’ve got it here.’ She pointed to the brown leather briefcase lying on her desk.

‘Have you had a chance to examine it?’ Gösta came in, pulled up a chair, and sat down next to her.

‘Well, I haven’t done much yet, other than to remove the laptop and send it over to the tech guys.’

‘Good thinking. It’s best to let them handle it. I expect it’ll take a while before we hear back from them though,’ said Gösta with a sigh.

‘There’s not a lot we can do about that. I didn’t want to risk wrecking the data by doing it myself. But I’ve had a look at the mobile phone. It didn’t take long. He had hardly any numbers stored on it, and the only calls seem to have been to and from his office and his parents’ house. No pictures, no saved text messages.’

‘He was an odd fellow from the sounds of it,’ said Gösta. Then he pointed at the briefcase. ‘So, shall we take a look at the rest?’

Paula pulled over the briefcase and cautiously began emptying it. She spread out all the items on the desk in front of them. When she was sure that the briefcase was completely empty, she set it on the floor. They were looking at several pens, a pocket calculator, paper clips, a pack of Stimorol chewing gum, and a thick stack of documents.

‘Shall we divide them up?’ Paula picked up the papers, giving her colleague an enquiring look. ‘I’ll take half, and you can take half. Okay?’

‘Okay,’ said Gösta, reaching for his share. He set the papers on his lap and began leafing through them as he softly hummed to himself.

‘Could you possibly take them to your office?’

‘Oh, all right. Sure.’ Gösta got up and went to his own office, which was right next door.

As soon as she was alone, Paula started going through the documents lying on the desk in front of her. She frowned more and more for every page she turned. After half an hour of intense reading, she got up and went to Gösta’s office.

‘Do you understand any of this?’

‘No, not a word. It’s just a bunch of numbers and terms that I can’t decipher. We’re going to have to ask somebody for help with this. But who?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Paula. She’d been hoping to present Patrik with her findings by the time he got back from Göteborg. But the financial terms used in the documents meant nothing to her.

‘We can’t ask anyone at the council, since they probably have a vested interest in this. What we need is an outsider who’s willing to take a look and explain what it all means. We could send the documents over to the financial division, of course, but then we’d have to wait for an answer.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t know any economists.’

‘Me neither,’ said Paula, drumming her fingers on the doorframe.

‘What about Lennart?’ said Gösta suddenly, his face lighting up.

‘Lennart who?’

‘Annika’s husband. Isn’t he an economist?’

‘You’re right,’ she said, as she stopped drumming her fingers. ‘Come on. Let’s go and ask her.’ She gathered up the papers and headed for the reception area with Gösta on her heels.

‘Annika?’ She tapped lightly on the open door.

Annika spun her chair around and smiled when she saw Paula.

‘Yes? Can I help you with something?’

‘Your husband’s an economist, isn’t he?’

‘Yes, he is,’ said Annika, bemused. ‘He’s head of finance at Extra-Film.’

‘Do you think he could help us out? These were in Mats Sverin’s briefcase.’ Paula waved the stack of papers. ‘They’re financial documents. Gösta and I are completely clueless and need help to work out what they say and whether they’re of any importance to the investigation. Do you think Lennart would be willing to take a look?’

‘I can ask him. If he says yes, when do you need his help?’

‘Today,’ said Gösta and Paula simultaneously, and Annika laughed.

‘I’ll give him a call. I’m sure there won’t be a problem. You’ll just need to get the documents over to his office.’

‘I can take them over right away,’ said Paula.

They waited while Annika talked to her husband. They’d met Lennart many times when he dropped by the station to see Annika, and it was impossible not to like the man. He was over six feet tall and the nicest person imaginable. After many years of trying unsuccessfully to have a child, he and Annika had found out that they could adopt a baby girl from China, so they both had a new sparkle in their eyes.

‘Okay. He said you can bring the documents over. He’s not too busy at the moment, so he promised to look at them immediately.’

‘Great! Thanks!’ Paula gave her a big smile and even Gösta managed a faint smile, which totally transformed his usually gloomy face.

Paula rushed out and got in the car. It took her only a few minutes to drive over to Lennart’s office and deliver the documents, and she whistled cheerfully all the way back. But she abruptly stopped whistling when she pulled up in front of the station. Gösta was standing outside, waiting for her. And judging by his expression, something had happened.

Leila opened the door wearing the same worn denims as before, with an equally baggy sweater, although this time it was grey instead of white. Around her neck hung a long silver chain with a heart-shaped charm.

‘Come in,’ she said, leading the way to her office. It was as neat as on the previous occasion, and Patrik wondered how people managed to keep everything so tidy. Try as he might to be organized, it was as if gremlins snuck into his office and messed everything up the minute he looked away.

Leila shook hands with Martin and introduced herself before they all sat down. He cast an interested glance at the children’s drawings on the walls.

‘Have you found out who shot Matte?’ asked Leila.

‘We’re pursuing various lines of enquiry, but we have nothing further to report at the moment,’ Patrik said evasively.

‘But I assume that you think it has something to do with us, since you’ve come back here,’ she said. Her fingers toyed with the necklace, betraying her agitation.

‘As I said, we haven’t made a great deal of progress. We’re working several potential leads.’ Patrik spoke calmly. He was accustomed to people acting nervous when he came to see them. It didn’t necessarily mean that they had anything to hide. The mere presence of a police officer was enough to provoke anxiety. ‘We just wanted to ask you a few more questions and take a look at the documentation on the women who were offered shelter while Mats was working here.’

‘I’m not sure I can agree to that. It’s sensitive information. If we release details, it might cause trouble for the women.’

‘I understand, but the information will be safe with us. And this is a homicide investigation. We have the legal right to see the documents.’

Leila paused to consider this.

‘Of course,’ she said at last. ‘But I’d prefer not to allow the documents out of the office. If we can agree that everything stays here, then I’ll let you look through whatever we have.’

‘That’s fine. Thanks very much,’ interjected Martin.

‘We’ve just had a meeting with Sven Barkman,’ said Patrik.

Leila immediately began fiddling with her necklace again. She leaned towards them as she spoke.

‘We’re totally dependent on maintaining a good relationship with social services. I hope you didn’t lead him to believe that there’s anything fishy about our organization. We’re already in a rather difficult position, and some people regard us as somewhat unorthodox.’

‘Don’t worry, we made the purpose of our visit very clear, and we emphasized that there’s nothing at all suspect about the Refuge.’

‘I’m glad to hear that,’ said Leila, but she still looked uneasy.

‘Sven estimated that around thirty cases are referred to you from various social services offices every year. Does that sound right?’

‘Yes, I think that’s the number I gave you the last time you were here.’ Her voice took on a more professional tone, and she clasped her hands on the desk.

‘How many of these cases would you estimate end up causing … how shall I put it? Problems?’

Martin had dived in with his question, and Patrik reminded himself that he needed to let him take the lead more often.

‘I assume you mean men who turn up here?’

‘Yes.’

‘As a matter of fact, none. Most men who beat their wives or children don’t think they’re doing anything wrong. In their eyes, it’s the woman who’s at fault. It’s all a matter of power and control. And if they’re going to threaten anyone, it’s the woman and not the crisis centre.’

‘But there is a type of man who might, isn’t there?’ asked Patrik.

‘Indeed. A few every year. But mostly we hear about them from the social services staff.’

Patrik’s attention was caught by one of the drawings on the wall behind Leila, directly above her head. A gigantic figure next to two smaller ones. The big one had fangs and looked angry. He couldn’t understand how anyone could hit a woman; and as for hitting a child … The very thought that someone would hurt Erica or his children made him grip the arms of his chair.

‘How do you handle your cases? Let’s start with that.’

‘We have a chat with the social worker, and they will summarize the case. Sometimes the woman comes to see us before moving in. Often she’ll be accompanied by someone from social services. Otherwise she might arrive by cab or a friend might bring her here.’

‘Then what happens?’ asked Martin.

‘That depends. Sometimes it’s enough that the woman stays with us for a while until the situation calms down, and then the problems get resolved. Sometimes, if we think it’s too dangerous for the woman to remain in the area, we have to move her to another crisis facility. We might also offer legal help in arranging that her whereabouts are kept hidden within the system. Some of these women have spent years living in constant fear. They may exhibit many of the same symptoms as prisoners of war. For instance, they may be completely incapable of taking action. In that case, we step in and help them with the practical matters.’

‘And the psychological issues?’ Patrik stared at the drawing of the big, dark figure with fangs. ‘Are you able to help with those too?’

‘Not as much as we’d like. It’s a question of resources. But we do have a good relationship with several psychologists who donate their services. Our primary concern is to get help for the children.’

‘Recently there’s been a lot in the newspapers about women who have been given help to flee the country and are then charged with kidnapping their children. Are you familiar with any cases like that?’ Patrik studied Leila closely, but she gave no indication that the question made her uncomfortable.

‘As I said, we depend on maintaining a good working relationship with social services. We can’t afford to take that sort of action. We offer the help that’s permissible within the law. Of course there are women who take matters into their own hands and go underground. But that’s not something the Refuge promotes or is willing to help with.’

Patrik decided to drop the subject. She sounded convincing enough, and he sensed that he wasn’t going to get any further by pressuring her.

‘What about the few cases that give you extra trouble – are those the ones where you have to move the women to a different shelter?’ asked Martin.

Leila nodded. ‘It happens.’

‘What sort of problems are we talking about?’ Patrik felt his mobile vibrating in his pocket. Whoever was trying to reach him would just have to wait.

‘We’ve had cases where the men have found out where our shelter is located. For instance, by following our staff members. Each time we’ve learned something from the experience and improved our security measures. But you should never underestimate how obsessed these men can be.’

Patrik’s mobile continued to vibrate, and he placed his hand over his pocket to mute the sound.

‘Did Mats get specifically involved in any of these incidents?’

‘No. We make a point of insisting that none of our staff gets too involved in individual cases. We have a system in place so that the woman has a different contact person after a while.’

‘Wouldn’t that mean an even greater sense of insecurity for the women?’ Patrik’s mobile had started up again, and he was getting annoyed. How hard was it to understand that he couldn’t take the call at the moment?

‘Maybe so, but it’s important, because it allows us to keep our distance. Personal relationships and involvement would only increase the risk for the women. It’s for their own good that we work this way.’

‘How safe is the new address when they’re moved somewhere else?’ Martin changed tack after casting an enquiring glance at Patrik.

Leila sighed. ‘Unfortunately, we simply don’t have the resources in Sweden to provide the security that these women need. As I said, we usually move them to another crisis centre in a different city and keep their personal information as secret as possible. We also provide the women with an emergency signal device, in cooperation with the police.’

‘This device, how does it operate? We’ve not come across this in Tanumshede.’

‘They’re linked to the police emergency switchboard. If someone presses the button, the police are instantly notified. At the same time, the speaker on the telephone is activated, so the police can hear what’s happening in the flat.’

‘What about the legal issues? Custody of the children, and so on? Don’t the women have to appear in court?’ asked Patrik.

‘It can be handled by an ombuds-person. So that’s something we can resolve.’ Leila reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. Her hair was cut in a neat page-boy style.

‘We’d like to take a closer look at the more problematic cases that you handled while Mats was working here,’ said Patrik.

‘Okay. But the cases aren’t sorted individually, and not everything is accessible. We send most of the paperwork to social services when the women move out, and we don’t keep documents beyond a year. I’ll get out what we have, and then you can go through everything and see what you can find.’ She held up an admonitory finger. ‘As I said, I don’t want anything to leave this office, so you’ll have to take notes.’ She stood up and went over to the file cabinets.

‘Here you are,’ said Leila, placing about twenty file folders in front of them. ‘I’m going out for lunch now, so you can sit here undisturbed. I’ll be back in an hour, if you have any questions.’

‘Thanks,’ said Patrik. He gave the stack of files a discouraged look. This was going to take time. And they didn’t even know what they were looking for.

Erica didn’t manage to stay very long at the library as both twins decided to take only a short nap, but at least she made a start. When she wrote about true crime cases she had to spend long hours doing meticulous research, which she found just as interesting as the actual writing process. And now she wanted to continue looking into the legends of Ghost Isle.

She had to force herself to put all thought of Gråskär aside, because as soon as she turned the pram on to the driveway in front of their house in Sälvik, the twins began crying loudly. They were hungry. She hurried inside and quickly prepared two bottles of formula, feeling guilty that she was so happy not to be breastfeeding them.

‘Now, now. Slow down a bit, sweetie,’ she said to Noel.

He was always the greedier of the two. Sometimes he’d take such big gulps that he’d end up nearly choking. Anton, on the other hand, was slower, and it took him twice as long to drink a whole bottle. Erica felt like Super-Mamma as she sat there with a bottle in each hand, feeding the two babies simultaneously. Both boys had their gaze fixed on her, and she felt herself going cross-eyed from trying to look at both of them at once. So much love directed at her.

‘All right then. Do you feel better? Do you think your mother could take off her coat now?’ she said with a laugh when she discovered that she was still wearing both her coat and her shoes.

She placed each boy in his carrycot, hung her coat in the front hall, removed her shoes, and carried the babies into the living room. Then she sat down on the sofa and propped her feet up on the coffee table.

‘Mamma will do something useful in a while. But first she needs to spend a little time with Oprah.’

The boys seemed to ignore her.

‘Is it boring when your big sister isn’t home?’

At first Erica had let Maja stay home as much as possible, but after a while she noticed that her daughter was going stir-crazy. She needed to be with other children, and she missed the day-care centre. That was a big change from the awful period when leaving Maja at the centre felt like initiating a minor world war.

‘Why don’t we pick her up early today? What do you boys think about that?’ She interpreted their silence as agreement. ‘Mamma hasn’t even had her coffee yet,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘And you know how Mamma gets when she hasn’t had coffee. “Un poco loco”, as Pappa usually says. Not that we should pay too much attention to everything he says.’

Erica laughed and went into the kitchen to make herself a pot of coffee. The light was blinking on the answering machine. She hadn’t noticed before. Someone had actually taken the trouble to leave a message, so she pressed the button to play it back. When she heard the voice on the machine, she dropped the coffee scoop and pressed her hand to her mouth.

‘Hi, sis. It’s me. Anna. Provided you don’t have any other sisters, that is. I’m a bit worse for wear, and I’ve got the world’s lousiest hairdo. But I’m here. I think. Almost, at any rate. And I know that you’ve been here and that you’ve been worried. I can’t promise that …’ The voice rambled on. It was raspy and sounded different, with an underlying hint of pain. ‘I just wanted to say that I’m here now.’ Click.

Erica didn’t move for a couple of seconds. Then she slowly sank to the floor and began to cry. She was still holding the coffee pot in a tight grip.

‘Don’t you have to leave for work soon?’ Rita gave Mellberg a stern look as she changed Leo’s nappy.

‘I’m going to be working from home until after lunch.’

‘Oh, you’re working at home …’ said Rita, casting a glance at the TV, which was showing a programme about people who built machines from scrap metal and then entered them in competitions.

‘I’m gathering my strength. That’s important too. As a police officer it’s easy to get burned out, otherwise.’ Mellberg lifted up Leo and raised him high in the air, making the boy whoop with laughter.

Rita relented. She couldn’t stay angry with Bertil. Of course she saw what others saw: that he was a boor, that he could be terribly loutish, and sometimes he couldn’t see beyond his own nose. Plus he never wanted to do more than the bare minimum of work. But at the same time, she saw another side of him. How he beamed whenever Leo was near, how he never hesitated to change a nappy or get up in the middle of the night if the baby was crying. How he treated her like a queen and looked at her as if she were God’s gift to humanity. He had even thrown himself with enthusiasm into learning to dance the salsa, which was her passion in life. He would never be king of the dance floor, but he was able to lead quite decently, without causing too much damage to her feet. She also knew that he loved his son Simon with all his heart. Simon, who would soon turn seventeen, had come into Mellberg’s life only a few years back, but every time his name came up in conversation, pride shone in Bertil’s eyes. And he was always eager to keep in touch with his son and make himself available. For all of these reasons, Rita loved Bertil Mellberg so much that sometimes it felt as if her heart would burst.

She went into the kitchen. As she began fixing lunch, her concern about the girls returned. She had noticed that something wasn’t right between them. It made her sad to see the unhappy expression on Paula’s face. She suspected that even Paula didn’t really know what was wrong. Johanna had closed herself off, withdrawing from all of them, not just from Paula. Maybe she felt it was too much to live in such close quarters with others. Rita could understand if Johanna didn’t find it exactly ideal to be sharing the flat with Paula’s mother and her boyfriend, not to mention the two dogs. At the same time, it was very practical to have Bertil and herself here, able to step in as babysitters for Leo during the day when the girls were at work.

It must be difficult though, and she realized she ought to encourage them to look for their own flat. But as she stirred the stew, she felt a pang in her heart at the thought of not being able to lift Leo out of his cot in the morning when he sat there, wide awake and smiling up at her. Rita wiped away her tears. It must be the onions in the stew; she couldn’t very well be standing here crying in the middle of the day. She swallowed hard and hoped that the girls would work things out on their own. After tasting the stew she added another pinch of chilli powder. If it failed to send heat through her whole body, she knew she hadn’t put in enough.

Bertil’s mobile, which was lying on the kitchen table, began ringing. She went over to look at the display. The station. They’re probably wondering where he is, she thought as she carried the phone into the living room. Bertil was sitting on the sofa, sound asleep with his head tilted back and his mouth open. Leo was curled up on his big belly. His little fist was curved around his cheek, and he was sleeping with calm, deep breaths that made his chest rise and fall in time with his uncle Bertil’s. Rita switched off the phone. The station would just have to wait. Bertil had more important things to do at the moment.

‘So I take it that Saturday was a big hit,’ said Anders, giving Vivianne a searching look. She seemed tired, and he wondered whether she realized how great a toll this was taking on her. Maybe their past had finally caught up with them. But he knew better than to say anything; she didn’t want to hear it. She was so stubborn and determined, which was the very reason why she, and possibly he too, had survived. He had always been dependent on her. His sister had taken care of him, done everything for him. But he wondered whether things had started to change, and they were slowly switching roles.

‘How’s it going with Erling?’ he asked, prompting a grimace from Vivianne.

‘Well, if it weren’t for the fact that he sleeps so soundly at night, I don’t think I could stand it,’ she said with a joyless laugh.

‘We’re almost there,’ he said in an attempt to console her, but he could see that she wasn’t really listening. Vivianne had always possessed a special sort of inner light, and even though no one else had noticed, he could see that it was fading.

‘Do you think they’ll find the laptop?’

Vivianne gave a start.

‘No. They would have found it by now if it was going to turn up.’

‘I suppose you’re right.’

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

‘I tried to ring you yesterday,’ Vivianne said hesitantly.

Anders felt his body tense.

‘Really?’

‘You didn’t pick up all evening.’

‘I must have switched off my mobile,’ he said evasively.

‘All evening?’

‘I was tired, so I took a bath and read for a while. I also spent some time going over the reports.’

‘Oh. Right,’ she said, but he could hear that she didn’t believe him.

In the past they’d never kept secrets from one another, but that too had changed. At the same time, they felt closer to each other than ever before. He was having a hard time working out what he wanted. Now that the goal was within reach, things suddenly didn’t seem as clear as they had, and his thoughts were keeping him awake at night, making him toss and turn in bed. Things no longer seemed as simple as they once had.

How was he going to tell her this? The words had been on the tip of his tongue so many times, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. He couldn’t do it. There was so much that he owed her. He could still smell the stink of cigarettes and liquor, hear the clinking of glasses and the sound of people moaning like animals. He and Vivianne had lain curled up together in her bed. She had held him close, and even though she wasn’t much bigger than him, she had felt like a giant emanating a sense of security that would protect him from all evil.

‘I hear that Saturday was a big success!’ exclaimed Erling as he came out of the toilet, wiping his wet hands on his trouser legs. ‘I just talked to Bertil, and he practically waxed poetic about the whole experience. You’re amazing. Do you know that?’

He sat down next to Vivianne and put his arm around her shoulders with a possessive look. Then he delivered a wet kiss to her cheek, and Anders saw how she had to struggle not to pull away. Instead, she smiled sweetly and took a sip of tea from the mug on the table.

‘The only complaint was about the food.’ A deep furrow appeared on Erling’s forehead. ‘Bertil wasn’t particularly thrilled with what was served. I don’t know whether the others shared his opinion, but he’s the one who takes the lead, of course, and we ought to listen to our customers.’

‘Exactly what was wrong with the food?’ asked Vivianne. She spoke in an icy tone, but Erling didn’t notice.

‘Apparently there were far too many vegetables, and also a few strange items, from what I understood. And there wasn’t much gravy either. So Bertil suggested that we offer a more traditional menu that would appeal to a wider range of people. Good, plain food, in other words.’ Erling’s face lit up with enthusiasm, as if he anticipated a standing ovation.

Vivianne, however, had reached her limit. She stood up, fixing her eyes on Erling.

‘It sounds as though their time at the spa was completely wasted. I thought you understood my philosophy, my view of what’s important for both the body and soul. We’re concerned with health here, and we serve food that will provide positive energy and strength, not rubbish that will lead to heart attacks and cancer.’ She turned on her heel and walked swiftly away. Her long plait swayed in time with her footsteps.

‘Oh dear,’ said Erling, clearly taken aback at the reception to his suggestion. ‘Looks like I really put my foot in it this time.’

‘You might say that,’ replied Anders drily. Erling could behave however he liked. Soon it wouldn’t make any difference. Then worry overwhelmed him again. He was going to have to talk to Vivianne. He was going to have to tell her.

‘So what exactly are we looking for?’ asked Martin. He looked up at Patrik, who merely shook his head.

‘I don’t really know. I think we need to follow our gut feelings, read through all the material in the folders, and see if there’s anything that we should follow up.’

They leafed through the documents in silence.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Patrik after a while, and Martin nodded.

‘And this is just for the past year. Or not even that long. And the Refuge is only one of many women’s crisis centres. We really have no clue about the sort of things that go on in some women’s lives.’ Martin carefully closed up one folder, set it aside, and opened another.

‘I can’t understand …’ said Patrik, voicing the thought that had been occupying his mind ever since they arrived at the Refuge.

‘What fucking bastards,’ Martin agreed. ‘And it seems like it can happen to anyone. I don’t know Anna very well, but she seems like a strong-minded person who would never end up in the clutches of somebody like her ex-husband.’

‘I know what you mean.’ Patrik scowled at the thought of Lucas. Thank God all that was behind them now, but that man had managed to cause so much pain for his family before he died. ‘It’s hard to understand why a woman would stay with a man who beats her.’

Martin set another folder on the desk and took a deep breath.

‘I wonder what it’s like for the people who work here and have to deal with this on a daily basis. Maybe it’s not so strange that Sverin would decide that he’d had enough and wanted to move back home.’

‘I can see why they have that rule about staff not getting too involved, and why they’re constantly changing the individual in contact with each woman. Otherwise it would be practically impossible not to get personally involved.’

‘Do you think that might have been what happened to Mats?’ asked Martin. ‘Could the assault be connected with someone here? Leila used the word “obsessed”. Maybe one of the men decided that Sverin was more than just a contact person and decided to give him a warning.’

Patrik nodded. ‘I’ve been thinking along the same lines. But in that case, who would it be?’ He pointed to the stack of folders on the desk. ‘Leila claims to know nothing about it, and I don’t think there’s any point trying to pressure her for more information at this stage.’

‘We could talk to the other staff members. Maybe we could even talk to a couple of the women. I can imagine that a lot of gossiping goes on, and if what we’re theorizing really happened then that sort of news would spread fast.’

‘Hmm … could be,’ said Patrik. ‘But I’d like to have more facts before we do any real digging here.’

‘How are we going to find out more?’ Martin impatiently ran his hands through his short red hair, making it stand on end.

‘I think we should talk to the neighbours in the block of flats where Mats was living. The assault took place right outside the front door, so maybe somebody saw something but never reported it. And now we have the names of the women that Mats was the contact for, so hopefully we’ll have a reason to come back.’

‘Okay.’ Martin bowed his head and went on reading.

They closed up the last folder just as Leila came dashing into the office. She hung her jacket and handbag on a hanger.

‘Did you find anything interesting?’

‘We’re not sure yet. But at least we have the names of the women that Mats dealt with. Thanks for letting us look at the files.’ Patrik gathered up the folders in a neat pile, and then Leila put them back in the file cabinet.

‘You’re welcome. I do hope you realize that we’re willing to do whatever we can to cooperate with you.’ She leaned against the shelf that held three-ring binders.

‘We appreciate that,’ said Patrik. Then he and Martin stood up.

‘We were very fond of Matte. He was the kind of person who didn’t have a bad bone in his body. Keep that in mind as you work on the case.’

‘We’ll do that,’ said Patrik, shaking hands. ‘Believe me, we’ll do that.’

‘Why doesn’t a single person answer their damn phone?’ snapped Paula.

‘Not even Mellberg?’ said Gösta.

‘No. Nor Patrik. And Martin’s mobile goes straight to his voicemail, so he must have switched it off.’

‘I’m not too surprised about Mellberg. He’s probably home asleep. But we can usually get hold of Hedström.’

‘He must be tied up. In the meantime we’ll have to deal with this ourselves and bring them up to date later.’ She drove into the car park for Uddevalla Hospital and stopped the car.

‘I assume they’re in Intensive Care,’ she said, leading the way to the entrance.

They made straight for the lift and waited impatiently for it to carry them up to the correct floor.

‘A nasty business,’ said Gösta.

‘Yes, I can imagine how worried their parents must be. Where could they have got hold of shit like that? They’re only seven years old.’

Gösta shook his head. ‘I have no idea.’

‘We’ll just have to see what they say.’

When they reached the ward, Paula stopped the first doctor they saw.

‘Excuse me. We’re police officers, and we’re here regarding the boys from Fjällbacka school.’

The tall man in the white coat nodded.

‘They’re my patients. Come with me.’ He set off, taking long strides, and both Paula and Gösta had to jog to keep up with him.

Paula tried to breathe through her mouth. She hated hospitals and all the smells. It was the sort of place that she did her best to avoid, but given her chosen profession, she had to visit hospitals much more often than she would have liked.

‘They’re going to be fine,’ said the tall doctor over his shoulder. ‘The school reacted quickly, and there was an ambulance in the neighbourhood, so they were brought in relatively fast, and we were able to get the situation under control.’

‘Are they awake?’ asked Paula. She panted a bit as she ran along the corridor, enough to remind herself that she ought to go back to working out at the gym. She hadn’t done much of that lately. Plus she’d been eating too much of Rita’s good food.

‘They’re awake, and the parents have all agreed to let you talk to the boys.’ The doctor stopped outside a room that was almost at the end of the corridor.

‘Let me go in first and speak to the parents. From a medical perspective, there’s nothing to prevent you talking to the boys. I expect you’ll want to know where they found the cocaine.’

‘Are you sure it was cocaine?’ asked Paula.

‘Yes. We did some blood tests that confirmed it.’ The doctor pushed open the door and went in.

Paula and Gösta paced up and down the corridor as they waited. After a few minutes the door opened and a number of sombre-looking adults came out, their faces flushed from crying.

‘We’re from the Tanum police,’ said Paula, shaking hands with everyone. Gösta did the same; he seemed to be acquainted with several of the parents.

‘Do you know where the boys found the drugs?’ asked one of the mothers, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. ‘We think our children are safe at school and then …’ Her voice started quavering, and she leaned against her husband, who put his arm around her.

‘So the boys haven’t told you anything?’

‘No, I think they’re too ashamed. We’ve told them that they won’t get in trouble, but we haven’t been able to get any information out of them yet, and we haven’t wanted to pressure them too much,’ said one of the fathers. Though he seemed composed, his eyes were red-rimmed.

‘Would it be okay if we talked to them alone? We promise not to frighten them,’ said Paula, giving them a wry smile. She suspected that she didn’t seem particularly threatening, and Gösta looked like a nice, sad old dog. She had a hard time imagining that anyone would be scared of them, and apparently the parents agreed because they nodded their assent.

‘Why don’t we all have a cup of coffee in the meantime?’ said the father with the red-rimmed eyes. The others seemed to think this was a good idea. He turned to Paula and Gösta and said, ‘We’ll be in the waiting room over there. And we’d appreciate it if you’d let us know what you find out.’

‘Of course,’ said Gösta, patting the man on the shoulder.

They went into the room. The boys were lying in beds that had been placed side by side. Three pitiful little creatures tucked into their hospital beds.

‘Hi,’ said Paula, and all three faintly answered her greeting. She wondered which boy they should begin with. When two of them cast hasty glances at the third boy, who had dark curly hair, she decided to start with him.

‘My name is Paula.’ She pulled a chair over to his bed and motioned for Gösta to do the same. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Jon,’ said the boy weakly, but he didn’t dare look her in the eye.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Okay.’ He was nervously plucking at the blanket.

‘What an awful thing to happen, huh?’ She was totally focused on Jon, but out of the corner of her eye she saw that the other two boys were listening intently.

‘Uh-huh …’ He looked up at her. ‘Are you really from the police?’

Paula laughed. ‘Yes, I am. Don’t I look like a police officer?’

‘Er, not really. I know that girls can be policemen, but you’re so small.’ He smiled shyly.

‘We need small police officers on the force too. What if we need to get into a very tiny space, for example?’ she said. Jon nodded, as if that was a perfectly reasonable explanation.

‘Would you like to see my police ID?’

He nodded eagerly, and the other boys craned their necks to see better.

‘Maybe you could take out your ID too, Gösta, so the other boys could see it.’

Gösta smiled, got up, and went over to the next bed.

‘Wow. Your ID looks exactly like on TV,’ said Jon. He studied it for a moment and then handed it back.

‘That was pretty dangerous stuff you found. I hope you understand that,’ said Paula, trying not to sound too stern.

‘Hmm …’ Jon again lowered his gaze and began plucking at the blanket.

‘But nobody is angry with you. Not your parents or your teachers. We’re not angry either.’

‘We thought it was a bag of sweets.’

‘It does look a bit like the powder from those flying-saucer sweets, doesn’t it?’ she said. ‘I probably would have made the same mistake.’

Gösta had sat down again, and Paula waited for him to interject a few questions, but he seemed happy to let her carry out the interview. She’d always been good with children.

‘Pappa says that it was drugs,’ said Jon, tugging at a thread from the blanket.

‘Yes, that’s right. Do you know what drugs are?’

‘Poison. Except that you don’t die from it.’

‘Drugs can actually kill you. But you’re right that they’re poison. That’s why it’s important for you to help us find out where that powder came from, so we can prevent anybody else from being poisoned.’ She spoke in a calm, friendly voice, and Jon began to relax.

‘Are you sure you’re not angry?’ He looked her in the eye. His lower lip was quivering.

‘Very, very sure. Cross my heart,’ she told him, hoping the expression wasn’t hopelessly out-of-date. ‘And your mamma and pappa aren’t angry either. They’re worried, that’s all.’

‘We were over near the block of flats yesterday,’ said Jon. ‘We were hitting tennis balls against the wall. There’s a factory there. At least, that’s what I think it is. With high walls and no windows, so we can’t break any glass. That’s why we usually play over there. Then on our way home we were looking for bottles that we could turn in for money. In the litter bins outside the flats, and that’s when we found the bag. We thought it was a bag of sweets.’ The thread came loose from the blanket, leaving a tiny hole in the weave.

‘Why didn’t you taste the sweets yesterday?’ asked Gösta.

‘We thought it was cool to find so much of it, so we wanted to take the bag to school and show everybody. It seemed more exciting to taste it when everyone had some too. But we were going to keep most of it for ourselves, of course. We thought we’d just share a little.’

‘Which litter bin was it in?’ asked Paula. She knew the industrial building that Jon was talking about, but she wanted to be one hundred per cent sure.

‘Over by the car park. You see it when you come through the gate where we were playing tennis.’

‘Where the woods and hill are off to the right?’

‘Yes, that’s the one.’

Paula glanced at Gösta. The litter bin where the boys had found the cocaine was outside Mats Sverin’s front door.

‘Thank you, boys. You’ve been a huge help,’ she said as she got to her feet. She felt a churning in her stomach. Maybe this was finally the breakthrough that they’d been waiting for in the investigation.