The Girl in the Woods (Patrik Hedstrom and Erica Falck, Book 10) Page 13

  ‘Yes,’ said Gösta. ‘I was working here at the station thirty years ago. Unfortunately, I don’t remember all the details. It was a long time ago, and Leif turned over all the routine stuff to me while he handled the investigation and interviews. But I do recall what a shock it was to the whole town when Helen and Marie, having admitted to killing Stella, later retracted their confessions. To my mind, it’s no coincidence that Nea disappeared from the same farm and was found in the same place. Or the fact that this should happen right when Marie comes back here after a thirty-year absence.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Mellberg. ‘We need to talk to both of them. Even though I wasn’t here for that investigation, I heard a lot of talk about the case. And I’ve always thought it was especially horrifying that such young girls would kill a child.’

  ‘Both of them have maintained their innocence all these years,’ Paula pointed out.

  Mellberg snorted. ‘In that case, why did they confess in the first place? Personally, I’ve never doubted those two girls killed Stella. And it doesn’t take an Einstein to put two and two together when the same thing happens again, now they’re back together for the first time in thirty years.’

  ‘We need to be careful not to rush to judgement,’ said Patrik. ‘But I agree we need to talk to both of them.’

  ‘I think it’s crystal clear,’ Mellberg went on. ‘Marie comes back, she and Helen are united, another murder occurs.’

  Annika came back into the room, bringing the Thermos filled with coffee.

  ‘Did I miss anything?’

  ‘We were only saying that we need to consider possible similarities with the 1985 case. And we’ll have to interview Helen and Marie.’ Patrik looked at the whiteboard. ‘Annika, could you try to find the interview files and the rest of the case notes and evidence? I know it won’t be easy, considering what a mess it is in the archives, but give it a try.’

  Annika nodded and made another note on her pad.

  For a moment Patrik sat in silence, pondering whether what he was about to say had been properly thought through. But if he said nothing, it would undoubtedly come up in some other context, and then he’d be criticized for not mentioning it to his colleagues.

  ‘Regarding the Stella case …’ he said, pausing before going on. Then he tried again. ‘Well, the thing is, Erica has started work on her next book. And … she has decided to write about that particular case.’

  Mellberg sat up straight. ‘She’s going to have to put that on hold for a while,’ he said. ‘We have enough to worry about without your wife running around and getting in the way. This is police business, not a matter for civilians who have neither the training nor the experience of the police force.’

  Patrik had to stop himself from pointing out that Erica had been of far more help than Mellberg in solving their last few big cases. He knew it would do no good to insult Mellberg. His boss had the greatest faith in his own talents, albeit he was alone in that regard. Patrik had learned to work around him instead of with him. He also knew from experience that it would serve no purpose to tell Erica not to research the Stella case. Once she started poking around, she wouldn’t rest until all her questions were answered. But that wasn’t something he needed to tell his colleagues. He surmised that everyone other than Mellberg was well aware of this.

  ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell Erica. But she has already done a lot of research, so I was thinking we might use her as a resource. What would you think if I invited her over this afternoon so she could tell us what she knows about the case?’

  ‘I think that’s a brilliant idea,’ said Gösta. Everyone except Mellberg nodded agreement.

  But Bertil knew when he was outnumbered and muttered: ‘I suppose that’s all right.’

  ‘Good. I’ll talk to her as soon as we finish the meeting,’ said Patrik. ‘Maybe you could add whatever details you do remember from the investigation, Gösta.’

  Gösta nodded. His wry smile indicated there wasn’t much he’d be able to recall.

  ‘So, what else is on the list of things we need to do?’ asked Patrik.

  ‘The press conference,’ said Mellberg, looking more cheerful.

  Patrik frowned but he knew he had to choose his battles. Mellberg would be allowed to handle the press conference. They would just have to cross their fingers that he didn’t manage to do any damage in the process.

  ‘Annika, could you call a press conference for this afternoon?’

  ‘Okay,’ she said, making a note of the request. ‘Before or after Erica has been here?’

  ‘Let’s do it before,’ said Patrik. ‘Preferably two o’clock. I’ll ask Erica to be here around three thirty.’

  ‘I’ll tell the reporters two o’clock. The phone has been ringing nonstop, so it’ll be nice to be able to tell them something.’

  ‘We all need to be aware that this is going to turn into a real media circus,’ said Patrik.

  He shifted in his seat. Unlike Mellberg, who relished being in the spotlight, he viewed media interest as nothing more than a hindrance. Though on rare occasions media reports did lead to important tips from the public, more often than not the negative effects far outweighed the positive.

  ‘Don’t worry. Leave it to me,’ said Mellberg happily, leaning back in his chair. Ernst was once again draped over his feet under the table. Even though it must have been like wearing a pair of warm wool socks, Mellberg let him stay. Erica was fond of saying that Mellberg’s love for the big, shaggy dog was one of his few redeeming qualities.

  ‘Be sure to weigh every word you say,’ Patrik reminded him, fully aware that Mellberg usually allowed the words to spill out, free and uncensored, and without any thought for the consequences.

  ‘I have a lot of experience dealing with the press corps. During my days in Gothenburg—’

  ‘Great,’ Patrik cut in. ‘We’ll leave it to you then. Maybe you and I could do a brief run-through beforehand, discuss what we want to emphasize and what we should keep to ourselves. Okay?’

  Mellberg huffed. ‘As I said, during my days in Gothenburg—’

  ‘How should we divide up the work?’ asked Martin, heading off Mellberg’s diatribe.

  Patrik gave him a grateful look. ‘I’ll talk to Torbjörn and Pedersen and find out when we might expect to get more information from them.’

  ‘I’ll talk to Nea’s parents,’ said Gösta. ‘But I’ll give the doctor a call first to check how they’re doing.’

  ‘Do you want to take someone with you?’ asked Patrik. He could only imagine what Eva and Peter must be going through.

  ‘No, I can handle it alone. Better to use our resources on other things,’ said Gösta.

  ‘I can talk to the girls who were convicted of killing Stella,’ said Paula. ‘Or “women”, I suppose I should say. They’re not girls any more.’

  ‘I’ll go with you,’ said Martin, raising his hand like a schoolboy.

  ‘Good.’ Patrik nodded. ‘But wait until Erica has been here and given us more meat on the bone, so to speak. Use the time until then to knock on doors in the area around the farm. When people live in a remote spot like that, they tend to keep an eye out for anything unusual and any strangers who happen by. So it’s worth talking to the neighbours.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Paula. ‘We’ll drive out there and have a chat with the closest neighbours.’

  ‘I’ll hold the fort here,’ said Patrik. ‘The phone keeps ringing, and I want to review our plans for the investigation before the press conference.’

  ‘And I need to get ready,’ said Mellberg, reaching up to pat his hair in place.

  ‘All right. We’ve got a lot of work to do,’ said Patrik, signalling the meeting was over.

  The small conference room was now unbearably stuffy and hot. He was desperate to get out of there, and he suspected his colleagues felt the same way.

  The first thing he did was ring Erica. He wasn’t sure it was wise to let her get involved in the investigation, but as he saw
it, he had no choice. On the other hand, it would be a real bonus if she had information that could help them find Nea’s killer.

  The first kilometre was always tough, in spite of all the years she’d been running. But after that it got easier. Helen felt her body respond and her breathing became more regular.

  She had started running as soon as the court hearing was over. The first day she ran five kilometres to rid her body of all the frustration. The pounding of her footsteps on the gravel, the wind blowing through her hair, the sounds all around her – those were the only things that could silence the rest of the world.

  She ran a little further each time, and she got better and better. Over the years she’d run in more than thirty marathons. But only in Sweden. She dreamed of being in a marathon in New York, Sydney, or Rio, but she was grateful that James at least let her take part in the Swedish races.

  The fact that she was allowed to cultivate this interest of hers, allowed to spend a couple of hours every day on her running, was solely because he appreciated the discipline of the sport. It was the only thing he respected about her – that every morning she ran tens of kilometres, that her psyche was able to conquer the limitations of her body. But she could never explain to anyone how, when she ran, everything that had happened was erased, becoming hazy and distant, nothing more than a dream she had once had.

  In her peripheral vision she saw the house built on the site where Marie’s childhood home had once stood. By the time Helen returned to Fjällbacka, the new house was already there. Her parents chose to move away immediately after everything fell apart. Her mother, Harriet, couldn’t handle all the gossip, the surreptitious stares, and the whispering.

  James and her father, KG, had seen each other often until KG died. Sometimes she and Sam would go along when James drove to Marstrand, but only so Sam could visit his grandparents. Helen had no wish to see either of her parents. They had failed her when she needed them most, and that was something she could never forgive.

  Her legs were starting to tighten, and she reminded herself to correct her stride. Like so much else, she’d had to struggle to develop a good stride. Nothing had ever come naturally to her.

  No, now she was lying to herself. Until that day, life had been easy, they had still been a family. She couldn’t recall any problems or setbacks. Nothing but bright summer days and the scent of her mother’s perfume when she tucked her in at night. And love. She remembered the love.

  She picked up speed in order to drown out her thoughts. All those thoughts that running usually erased. Why were they appearing in her mind now? Was she going to have to give up even this temporary reprieve? Had Marie’s return ruined everything?

  With each breath, Helen noticed how different everything felt. Her lungs were straining, and in the end she had to stop. Her legs felt so tight, and her body was weak from lactic acid. For the first time her body had defeated her will.

  Helen didn’t notice she was falling until she landed on the ground.

  Bill looked around the restaurant in the TanumStrand hotel and conference centre. Only five people had turned up. He saw five weary faces. He knew they had been out searching for little Nea all night. He and Gun had talked about it on their way over, wondering whether they should postpone the meeting. But Bill was convinced this was exactly what was needed at the moment.

  Yet it had never occurred to him that only five people would come.

  Rolf had arranged for Thermoses of coffee and rolls with cheese and paprika to be set on a side table, and Bill had already helped himself. He took a sip of coffee. Gun sat on a chair next to him, sipping her coffee as well.

  Bill looked from the exhausted faces to Rolf, who was standing at the entrance to the restaurant.

  ‘Maybe you’d like to introduce everyone?’ he asked.

  Rolf nodded.

  ‘This is Karim. He came here with his wife and two children. He worked as a journalist in Damascus. Then we have Adnan and Khalil, sixteen and eighteen, respectively. They came to Sweden alone and have become friends at the refugee centre. And this is Ibrahim, the oldest of the group.’ Rolf switched to English. ‘How old are you, Ibrahim?’

  The man next to Rolf had a big beard. Smiling, he held up five fingers.

  ‘Fifty.’

  ‘That’s right. Ibrahim is fifty, and he arrived here with his wife. Finally, we have Farid. He came to Sweden with his mother.’

  Bill nodded to the man with the shaved head and the huge body. He looked to be in his thirties and, judging by his girth, he spent a large part of his time eating. Bill thought it might be tricky to get the weight distribution right in a sailboat with someone who weighed at least three times as much as the others, but they’d find a way. He needed to stay positive. If he hadn’t stayed positive he never would have survived that time when his boat capsized off the coast of South Africa and the great white sharks began circling.

  ‘And my name is Bill,’ he said, speaking slowly and clearly. ‘I’m going to speak Swedish with you as much as possible.’

  He and Rolf had agreed that would be best. The whole point was for the refugees to learn the language so they could more rapidly become part of society.

  Everyone except Farid had a puzzled expression. He replied in broken but understandable Swedish:

  ‘I am the only one who understands Swedish okay. I have been here the longest and I have studied hard, very hard. I can maybe help to translate in the beginning. So the boys will understand?’

  Bill nodded. That seemed sensible. All the new words and specialized sailing terms would be challenging even for a native Swede. Farid switched to Arabic and quickly explained what Bill had said. The others nodded.

  ‘We try … understand … Swedish … and learn,’ said the man named Karim.

  ‘Great! Excellent!’ said Bill, giving them a thumbs up. ‘Do all of you know how to swim?’

  He made swimming motions with his arms, and Farid repeated his question in Arabic. The five men spoke among themselves, then Karim replied for all of them, again in laborious Swedish.

  ‘We can … that is why we take this course. Otherwise not.’

  ‘Where did you learn to swim?’ asked Bill, both relieved and surprised. ‘Have you spent a lot of time on the coast?’

  Farid quickly translated. His words were greeted with laughter.

  ‘At the leisure centre,’ he said with a smile.

  ‘Oh, of course.’

  Bill felt stupid. He didn’t dare glance at Gun sitting next to him, but he could hear her trying not to snort. He probably needed to do some reading about Syria, so he wouldn’t seem like such an ignorant fool. He’d visited many parts of the world, but for him their country was only a blank patch on the map.

  He reached for another roll. It had a thick layer of butter, just the way he liked it.

  Karim raised his hand, and Bill gave him a nod.

  ‘When … when we begin?’

  Karim said something in Arabic, and Farid added: ‘When do we begin sailing?’

  Bill threw out his hands.

  ‘There’s no time to lose. The Dannholmen regatta takes place in only a few weeks, so we start tomorrow! Rolf will give you a lift to Fjällbacka, and we’ll begin at nine o’clock. Bring warm clothes with you. It’s colder out on the water than on shore when the wind is blowing.’

  When Farid had translated, the others looked a bit uneasy. But Bill gave them an encouraging look and what he hoped was a winning smile. This was going to be great, just great. No problems at all. It was all good.

  ‘Thanks for letting the kids hang out here for a while,’ said Erica as she sat down across from Anna on the partially finished deck.

  She had gratefully accepted the offer of iced tea. The heat was oppressive, and the AC wasn’t working properly in her car. She felt as if she’d been wandering in the desert for forty days. She reached for the glass Anna had filled from the carafe and downed the iced tea in one long swig. Anna laughed and refilled her glass. Now that E
rica had quenched the worst of her thirst, she could drink the rest of her tea more slowly.

  ‘It was fine,’ said Anna. ‘The kids were so sweet I hardly even noticed them.’

  Erica grinned. ‘Are you sure you’re talking about my kids? Maja can be quite docile, but I wouldn’t call those two little rascals “sweet”.’

  Erica wasn’t kidding. When the twins were younger, they’d been very different from each other. Anton had been calmer and more introverted, while Noel was the one who always made a fuss and got into mischief. Now both of them had entered a period when they were filled with such an excess of energy that it was frequently too much for her. Maja had never gone through anything like that. She hadn’t even been particularly obstinate when she was a toddler, so Erica and Patrik had not been prepared for this. And it was double trouble, since they were twins. Erica would have loved to leave the children with Anna for the rest of the day, but her sister looked so tired that she couldn’t ask any more of her today.

  ‘So how did it go?’ Anna said, leaning back in her Baden Baden deckchair with the gaudy, sun-patterned cushion.

  Anna hated the sight of those cushions every time they sat outside on the deck, but Dan’s mother had made them, and she was such a nice person that Anna couldn’t bring herself to replace them. In that respect Erica was lucky. Patrik’s mother, Kristina, would never dream of sewing or doing any other type of handiwork.

  ‘It was pretty hopeless,’ said Erica gloomily. ‘Her father died so long ago, and she didn’t remember much. And she didn’t think he’d saved any of the investigative materials. But she did say something interesting. She told me Leif had started to doubt whether they actually did it.’

  ‘You mean he thought the girls weren’t guilty after all?’ said Anna, swatting away a horsefly.

  Erica kept her eye on the fly. She hated all wasps and flies.

  ‘Uh-huh. She said he wasn’t convinced they did it, especially towards the end of his life.’

  ‘I thought they confessed,’ said Anna, again swatting at the fly. But it was merely dazed and continued attacking her the second it recovered. ‘My God, get away from me!’