The Lost Boy (Patrick Hedstrom and Erica Falck, Book 7) Page 11

  ‘In the autumn I’ll take over so you can start writing again.’

  ‘I know. Besides, we have the summer holiday before then, which is great. It’s been a hectic day, that’s all. And what happened to Matte is so awful. I didn’t really know him very well, but we were at school together. Secondary school too.’ She paused and then said, ‘So how’s the investigation coming along? You didn’t answer my question.’

  ‘We haven’t made much progress.’ Patrik sighed. ‘We talked to Mats’s parents and several of his co-workers, but he seems to have been a real loner. Nobody can tell us anything about him. Either he was the world’s most boring person, or else …’

  ‘Or else what?’ asked Erica.

  ‘Or else there are things that we haven’t yet discovered.’

  ‘Well, I certainly didn’t think he was boring when we were in school together. He seemed so outgoing and upbeat. And he was very popular. One of those boys who was bound to succeed, no matter what he did.’

  ‘Didn’t you go to school with his girlfriend too?’ said Patrik.

  ‘Nathalie? Yes, I did. But she …’ Erica hunted for the right words. ‘It always felt like she thought she was better than the rest of us. She didn’t really fit in. Don’t get me wrong – she was popular too, and she and Matte were the perfect couple. But I always had the feeling that he … How should I put it? He followed her around like a puppy dog. Happily wagging his tail and grateful for the slightest attention. I don’t think anyone was surprised when she decided to move to Stockholm and left Matte behind. He was devastated, from what I could tell, but even he probably saw it coming. Nathalie wasn’t the sort of person you could hold on to. Do you know what I mean? Am I making any sense at all?’

  ‘Yes, I get what you’re saying.’

  ‘Why are you asking about Nathalie? She was his girlfriend in secondary school. And though I hate to admit it, that was ages ago.’

  ‘Nathalie’s here.’

  Erica looked at him in amazement. ‘In Fjällbacka? She hasn’t been back here in years.’

  ‘Well, according to Mats’s parents, she and her son are out there on that island her family owns.’

  ‘Ghost Isle?’

  Patrik nodded. ‘Apparently that’s the nickname for it, but I think they told me it has another name too.’

  ‘Gråskär,’ said Erica. ‘Although most people around here call it Ghost Isle. It’s said that the dead …’

  ‘… never leave the island,’ Patrik finished her sentence and smiled. ‘Yes, I’ve heard about that superstition.’

  ‘What makes you so sure that it’s just superstition? I once spent the night over there with my classmates, and at least half of us came away convinced that there really were ghosts on the island. It had an incredibly spooky atmosphere, and after everything we saw and heard, none of us ever wanted to spend another night out there.’

  ‘I don’t put much faith in the imaginings of teenagers.’

  Erica poked him with her elbow. ‘Don’t be such a spoilsport. A few ghosts always liven things up.’

  ‘Well, that’s one way to look at it. At any rate, I need to have a talk with Nathalie. Mats’s parents thought that he was planning to go out and see her, but they weren’t sure whether he ever did. Even though it was a long time ago that they were dating, he might have told her more about his life now …’ He seemed to be thinking out loud.

  ‘I’ll go with you,’ said Erica. ‘Tell me when you want to go, and we can ask your mother to babysit. Nathalie doesn’t know you,’ she added before Patrik could voice any objections. ‘At least she and I went to school together, even if we were never good friends. Maybe if I’m there, she’ll be willing to talk.’

  ‘Okay,’ Patrik agreed reluctantly. ‘But tomorrow I have to drive to Göteborg, so it won’t be until Friday.’

  ‘Perfect,’ said Erica with satisfaction, snuggling into Patrik’s arms.

  FJÄLLBACKA 1870

  ‘How does it taste?’ Emelie asked at every meal, even though she knew that the response would always be the same. A grunt from Karl and a grunt from Julian. The fare was a bit monotonous on the island, but she had no control over that. Most of what she put on the table came from the two men’s fishing expeditions, usually mackerel and plaice. And since she still hadn’t been allowed to accompany them on their trips to Fjällbacka, which occurred a couple of times each month, the grocery purchases hadn’t been entirely satisfactory.

  ‘So, Karl, I was wondering …’ Emelie put down her knife and fork without even tasting the food. ‘Couldn’t I come with you to Fjällbacka this time? I haven’t seen anyone else in so long, and it would be a joy to spend a bit of time on the mainland.’

  ‘That’s out of the question.’ Julian wore that stern expression that he always did whenever he looked at her.

  ‘I was talking to Karl,’ she calmly replied, but she could feel her heart skip a beat. This was the first time she had ever dared talk back to him.

  Julian snorted and glanced at Karl.

  ‘Did you hear that? Do I really have to put up with that sort of talk from a woman?’

  Karl looked tired as he stared at his plate.

  ‘We can’t take you with us,’ he said, and it was clear that he considered the topic closed. But the solitude had begun to wear on Emelie’s nerves, and she couldn’t stop herself.

  ‘Why not? There’s plenty of room in the boat, and I could take care of the grocery shopping so that we’d have something besides mackerel and potatoes day in and day out. Wouldn’t that be nice?’

  Julian’s face had turned white with rage. He kept his eyes fixed on Karl, who abruptly got up from the table.

  ‘You’re not coming with us, and that’s my final word.’ He put on his jacket and went out into the gusty weather. The door slammed behind him.

  This was how it had been ever since the night when she had touched Karl in bed in an attempt to draw him into a more intimate relationship. His indifference had been replaced with an attitude that was more like Julian’s open disdain. Karl radiated an animosity towards her that she could neither understand nor change. Had she really done something so terrible? Was she that repulsive and disgusting? Emelie tried to recall what it had felt like when he asked her to marry him. The proposal had come unexpectedly, but there did seem to be some warmth and longing in his voice. Or had she imagined that because of her own feelings and dreams? She looked down at the table.

  ‘Now see what you’ve done.’ Julian tossed his knife and fork on to his plate with a clatter.

  ‘Why do you treat me like this, when I’ve never done you any harm?’ Emelie didn’t know how she’d summoned up the courage, but it felt as if she simply had to speak the words that had been weighing on her so heavily.

  Julian didn’t reply. He merely stared at her with that dark expression of his. Then he stood up and followed Karl out of the house. A few minutes later she saw the boat leave the dock as they headed for Fjällbacka. In truth, she knew full well why she wasn’t allowed to go along. The presence of a wife wasn’t wanted at Abela’s tavern on Florö, which was where the two men obviously ended up on their trips into town. They’d be back before dusk; they always returned in time to work their shifts in the lighthouse.

  A cupboard door slammed shut, and Emelie jumped. She didn’t think it was intended to scare her, but it had. The front door was closed, so a gust of wind couldn’t be the cause of it. She stood very still, listening and looking around. No one else was in the house. When she shut everything else from her mind, she could make out a distant, muted sound. The sound of someone breathing, light and regular, although it was impossible to say from which direction the sound was coming. It was almost as if the house itself were breathing. Emelie tried to work out what this unknown person might want from her. But suddenly the sound vanished and the house was quiet once again.

  Emelie’s thoughts returned to Karl and Julian, and with a heavy heart she set about washing the dishes. Though she was a good hous
ekeeper, nothing she did seemed satisfactory. She felt terribly lonely. At the same time, she wasn’t alone. It was becoming increasingly hard to ignore their presence on the island. Emelie heard things, sensed things, just as she had a moment ago. And she was no longer afraid. They didn’t wish to harm her.

  As she leaned over the dishes, with tears dripping into the dirty water, she felt a hand on her shoulder. A comforting hand. She didn’t turn around. If she did, she knew she’d find no one there.

  8

  Paula stretched out her arms in bed, and her hand happened to touch Johanna’s hair. She left her hand lying there, even though it made her uneasy. Over the past few months they had felt awkward about touching each other. It no longer came naturally, and they’d had to make conscious decisions to express themselves physically. They had made love to each other, but it had felt so strange.

  In fact, it had been going on longer than a few months. If Paula were to be completely honest, it had started when Leo was born. They had both longed for him, and fought to have him. They thought that having a child would make their relationship stronger. And in one sense it had, but in other ways it had not. Paula didn’t think she had personally changed very much; Johanna on the other hand had immersed herself in the role of mother. And lately she’d started to act as if she were superior in some way. It seemed as if Paula didn’t count any more, or at least that Johanna counted more, since she was the one who had given birth to Leo. She was Leo’s biological mother, while the baby possessed none of Paula’s genes. All she could give him was the love that she’d felt for him ever since he was inside Johanna’s womb. A love that had grown a thousand fold after he was born and Paula held him in her arms. She felt that she was as much Leo’s mother as Johanna was. The problem was that Johanna didn’t share this feeling, even though she refused to admit it.

  Paula could hear her mother bustling about in the kitchen as she talked to Leo. They were really very lucky. Rita was a morning person, and she was happy to get up early so that Paula and Johanna could have a lie-in. And now that the ongoing murder investigation was making it hard for Paula to work only part-time, Rita had willingly stepped in to help. To everyone’s amazement, Bertil had also shown himself ready to lend a hand. But lately Johanna had begun criticizing the way Rita took care of their son. In her opinion, she was the only one who knew how to care for Leo properly.

  With a sigh, Paula swung her legs over the side of the bed. Johanna stirred but didn’t wake up. Paula leaned over and brushed a lock of hair out of Johanna’s face. She had always thought that their relationship was so strong and stable. That was no longer the case. And that thought frightened her. If she lost Johanna, she would also lose Leo. Johanna would never stay here in Tanumshede, while Paula couldn’t imagine moving away. She was thriving in this small town, with her job and her colleagues. The only thing that didn’t make her happy was the way things had changed between Johanna and herself.

  In spite of everything, she was looking forward to driving to Göteborg with Patrik today. The Mats Sverin case had roused her curiosity. She wanted to find out all there was to know about him. Her instincts told her that they needed to examine his past and all the things that he’d kept quiet about if they wanted to find out who had put a bullet in the back of his head.

  ‘Good morning,’ said Rita when Paula came into the kitchen.

  Leo was sitting in his high chair. He reached out his arms towards Paula, and she lifted him up, holding him close.

  ‘Good morning.’ She sat down at the table with Leo on her lap.

  ‘Breakfast?’

  ‘Yes, please. I’m super hungry.’

  ‘I can fix that.’ Rita placed a fried egg on a plate and set it in front of Paula.

  ‘You spoil us, Mamma.’ Impulsively Paula wrapped one arm around Rita’s waist and leaned her head against her mother’s warm body.

  ‘I enjoy spoiling you, sweetheart. You know that.’ Rita hugged her back and then kissed the top of Leo’s head.

  Ernst came sauntering into the room and with a hopeful expression sat down on the floor next to Paula and Leo. Before anyone could react, Leo tossed the fried egg to Ernst, who happily swallowed it whole. Pleased at having fed his favourite dog, Leo clapped his hands with delight.

  ‘You little rascal,’ said Rita with a sigh. ‘That dog is getting so fat that it wouldn’t surprise me if he were to die an early death.’

  She turned back to the stove and cracked another egg into the skillet.

  ‘So how are the two of you doing?’ Rita asked in a low voice without looking at her daughter.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Paula, although she knew full well what her mother was getting at.

  ‘I mean you and Johanna. Is everything okay?’

  ‘We’re fine. We’ve both been really busy at work lately, that’s all.’ Paula looked down at Leo, so that her expression wouldn’t give her away if Rita happened to turn around.

  ‘I just wondered whether …’ Rita didn’t have time to finish her sentence.

  ‘Is there any breakfast?’ Mellberg strolled into the kitchen, clad only in his underwear. He leisurely scratched his belly and sat down at the table.

  ‘I was just telling Mamma that she spoils us,’ said Paula, relieved at the change of subject.

  ‘How true, how true,’ said Mellberg, greedily eyeing the egg frying in the pan.

  Rita cast an enquiring glance at Paula, who nodded.

  ‘I’d rather have some bread and cheese.’

  Rita slid the egg on to a plate. Ernst watched her every move and then sat down close to Mellberg’s feet. If he was lucky, he might get another helping.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ said Paula after wolfing down a big piece of bread and cheese. ‘Patrik and I are off to Göteborg today.’

  Mellberg nodded.

  ‘Good luck. Hand over the boy, and let me hold him for a while.’ He reached out for Leo, who willingly allowed himself to be transferred to Mellberg’s lap.

  Out of the corner of her eye as she left the kitchen Paula saw Leo, quick as a flash, toss the second egg to Ernst. This really was the dog’s lucky day.

  Having settled the twins on a soft blanket on the floor, Erica headed for the attic. She didn’t want to leave them alone for more than a few minutes, so she practically ran up the steep steps. Once she reached the top, she had to stop for a moment to catch her breath.

  After rummaging about for a bit, she located the box she was looking for. Cautiously she backed down the attic stairs balancing the heavy box in her arms. The babies didn’t seem to have missed her, so she sat down on the sofa and placed the carton on the floor at her feet. Then she began pulling out items and putting them on the coffee table. She wondered when she’d last looked through the contents. School yearbooks, photo albums, postcards, and old letters quickly joined the pile on the table. They were covered with dust, and the original colours had faded. She suddenly felt ancient.

  A few minutes later she found what she was looking for. A school yearbook and a photo album. She leaned back against the sofa cushions as she leafed through the pages. The pictures of students in the yearbook were all in black and white. Some of the faces had been crossed out, some were circled, depending on who had been the object of hatred, and who had been well liked. Remarks had also been scribbled here and there. ‘Cute’, ‘sweet’, and ‘idiotic’ were some of the labels that had been handed out without much finesse. Her teenage years were not something to be proud of, and when Erica came to the page with the picture of her own class, she blushed. Good Lord, is that really how she had looked? She couldn’t believe her hair style and the clothes she was wearing. Obviously there was a good reason why she hadn’t looked at these photos in a long time.

  She drew in a deep breath and took a closer look. Judging by her hairdo, the picture must have been taken during her Farrah Fawcett period. Her hair was long and blond, and she had used a curling iron to flick up the ends. Her glasses were so big that they hid half her face, an
d she sent a silent thank you to whoever it was that had invented contact lenses.

  Suddenly her stomach gave a lurch. There was so much anxiety attached to those years in secondary school. The feeling that she didn’t fit in, didn’t belong. The constant searching for something that would admit her to the circle of kids who were considered cool and hip. She had tried. She copied their hair styles and clothes, used the same slang as the girls in her class – the popular ones. Girls like Nathalie. But Erica had never succeeded. She hadn’t belonged at the very bottom either; she wasn’t one of the students who was constantly bullied, the type who knew that they were such outcasts that it wasn’t worth their trying to fit in. No, she had belonged to the invisible masses. Only the teachers had paid any attention to her, giving her encouragement and approval. But that hadn’t been much consolation. Who wanted to be a bookworm? Who wanted to be Erica if they could be Nathalie?

  She looked at Nathalie in the class photo. She was sitting in front, with her legs casually crossed. Everyone else had carefully posed for the camera, but Nathalie looked as if she had simply dropped on to the chair and hadn’t bothered to change position. Yet she was clearly the centre of attention. She had long, blond hair that reached to her waist. Straight and shiny, no fringe. Sometimes she had worn her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. Nathalie seemed to do everything without effort. She was the original, and everyone else was a mere copy.

  In the photo Matte was standing behind Nathalie. The picture was taken before they started dating, although with hindsight it was obvious that they’d end up together. Because Matte wasn’t looking at the camera like his classmates. Instead, the photographer had caught him as he cast a glance at Nathalie, looking down at her beautiful long hair. Erica remembered thinking that Matte was in love with Nathalie, but back then all the boys were in love with her. There was no reason Matte should have been an exception.

  ‘How nice he was,’ murmured Erica as she studied the picture. She couldn’t recall having that thought at the time, but that was probably because she’d been so infatuated with Johan. He was in the same grade but in the other class, and she’d harboured an unrequited love for him throughout secondary school. She could see now that Matte was very cute. His blond hair was slightly tousled and shaggy; his serious expression was quite appealing. He was a bit lanky, but that was how all boys were at that age. She had no clear memories of Matte from those years in school. She hadn’t belonged to the same group. He was one of the popular kids, although he never boasted of the fact. Not like some of the other cool boys who were loud and arrogant and so full of themselves and their status in that little world where they were the kings. Matte just seemed to quietly drift along.