Unspoken

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 29

The media’s interest in the disappearance of Fanny Jansson continued to grow as the hours passed. More and more people became involved in the search groups, and the police were using helicopters and infrared cameras in the woods around Visby as they intensified their search. On Thursday morning both evening papers ran big articles about the missing girl. Her picture dominated the front pages.

When Johan came into the Regional News editorial offices, he was met by Grenfors waving several newspapers in his hand.

“What the hell is this?” he shouted. His face was bright red. “Both Aftonbladet and Expressen have big spreads about the missing girl. Weren’t you supposed to keep on top of this story?”

“Could you let me take off my jacket first?” Johan snapped back. He had waited at the Hornstull subway station for twenty minutes for a train that never came. The red line was having problems again. And then Stockholm Local Traffic had the nerve to raise the price of a monthly pass.

Grenfors stubbornly followed him as he went to his desk.

“How come we didn’t have anything to report?” he continued, standing behind Johan.

Since Johan was painfully aware that he had been concentrating too much on Emma and too little on his job lately, he had no good answer. She had flown home this morning, and it would probably be a while before they saw each other again.

“I’ll make some calls and check things out,” he said.

“Maybe there’s a connection to the murder of that alcoholic. The killer is still on the loose, after all.”

“Do you think I should go over there?” asked Johan hopefully.

“That depends on what you find out.”

He got out the local papers from the stack of dailies and listened to the Radio Gotland morning news on the Internet. It was true that they were reporting that Fanny Jansson was still missing, but the police also seemed to be working with a number of new clues. It was the same story as in the newspapers, which had reported how the search was being conducted and the fact that the girl’s bicycle had been found.

It was damn stupid that he had been so lax at keeping tabs on the investigation. Regional News was now way behind in reporting the story. It was a big disadvantage that he wasn’t on site in Gotland and able to follow developments. The evening papers were both speculating, of course, whether the same person who had murdered the alcoholic might have struck again.

With a sigh he picked up the phone and punched in Knutas’s number. No answer, and his cell was turned off. Damn it. He tried Karin Jacobsson. He had dealt with her quite a bit during the summer. She sounded stressed.

“Jacobsson here.”

“Hi, this is Johan Berg from Regional News. I wonder how it’s going with the search for Fanny Jansson.”

The voice on the other end of the line softened. Johan realized that he was still in the good graces of the Visby police, at least for the moment.

“We’re working on a wide front. The search is now under way in the area around her school, her apartment building, and the racetrack, which is where she was last seen. But so far the results have been meager. We’ve found her bicycle, but I’m sure you already know that.”

“Yes. Are there any prints on it?”

“You’ll have to take that up with Anders Knutas. He’s the only one who can decide what we tell the media.”

“I’ve been trying to reach him, but he doesn’t answer his phone.”

“No, he’s in a meeting with the new officers from the National Criminal Police right now. It will probably go on for another hour.”

“Have you brought in more personnel from the NCP? Why is that?”

“As I said, you’ll have to talk to Knutas.”

“Okay. Thank you anyway. Bye.”

He leaned back in his chair. The fact that the police were receiving more help from the NCP meant that they were taking a serious view of the case. Something else must have come to light, indicating that a crime was involved. He got up and went over to the desk where Grenfors was sitting with a phone pressed to his ear, as usual.

Sometimes Johan wondered how much time he wasted waiting for people to finish talking on the phone. He noticed that Grenfors had dyed his hair again. The editor had recently turned fifty, and he was meticulous about his appearance. He was always dressed in a sporty and youthful manner. On principle, he never ate lunch with his colleagues; instead, he preferred to make use of his pass to the gym in the television building. He was tall, slim, and trim. He looked good for his age. Max Grenfors was married to an attractive woman who was fifteen years younger and an aerobics instructor.

When the editor finally put down the phone, Johan told him what Jacobsson had said.

“Let’s wait and see what Knutas has to say. It’s too late for you to go over there today, unless they have something really significant to report. From here you can put together some text for the anchorman, so that we can at least keep the pot boiling. You and Peter can fly over tomorrow if it seems worthwhile.”

That evening Johan went out with his friend Andreas. They started at the Vampire Lounge on Ostgotagatan, where the drinks were cheap and the atmosphere relaxed. The female bartender had short cropped hair and was dressed all in black and wore big earrings. When she turned around to rinse some glasses, a tattoo was visible at the small of her back. She mixed each of them a frozen margarita in a glass with a spiral stem. The bar was filled with a relatively young crowd, most of them with a pack of Marlboro Lights in front of them on the bar. In the restaurants at lunchtime hardly anyone ever smoked, but in the evenings nearly everyone had a cigarette hanging from their lips.

“You seem a little out of sorts,” said Andreas after they had run through the usual chitchat about their work and various sports events.

“Not really, just a little tired,” said Johan as he lit a cigarette, like everyone else in the place.

“How are things going with your Gotland girlfriend, Emma?”

“Good, but it’s tough, too, you know. With her husband and kids and everything.”

Andreas shook his head. “Why are you getting mixed up with a married woman who has little kids? And who lives on Gotland! Could you make your life any more complicated?”

“I know,” said Johan with a sigh. “But you don’t understand because you’ve never really been in love with anyone.”

“What the hell to you mean? Of course I have. I was with Ellen for five years,” Andreas protested.

“Sure, but what do you really know about love? You had your doubts the whole time. You were always grumbling about one thing or another. The fact that she was a vegetarian, that she was always late, that she was messy, and that she didn’t seem to have any plan for her life. And the fact that she kept studying and studying, but it never led anywhere and she never had any money. Have you forgotten about all that?”

Andreas let out a roar of laughter.

“Of course not, but do you know what she ended up doing? I ran into her downtown a month ago. Newly married with a baby on the way. She lives in Saltsjobaden and is head of a big advertising agency. And on top of that, she’s damn cute!”

“You see? You never can tell about anyone!” said Johan, laughing.

They started talking to three cheerful girls from Vastberga, and then they all continued on to Kvarnen, the legendary Sodermalm pub. Johan ran into some of his journalist colleagues and got into such an intense discussion about worldwide current events that both Andreas and the girls got bored and left.

When Johan caught a cab home around three in the morning, Emma was once more on his mind. What was she doing right now? He wanted to send her a text message but restrained himself. They had agreed that it would be her turn to call next.