The Girl in the Woods (Patrik Hedstrom and Erica Falck, Book 10) Read online

  ‘When was the last time you saw her?’ he asked. ‘Try to be as precise as possible.’

  ‘It was Sunday night,’ said Eva. ‘Day before yesterday. I read her a story after she put on her nightgown and brushed her teeth at eight o’clock. And I read for maybe half an hour. It was her favourite book, the one about the little mole who gets poop on his head.’

  Eva wiped her nose. Gösta reached for the roll of kitchen towels and tore off a piece for her. She blew her nose.

  ‘So it was sometime between eight thirty and eight forty-five?’ he asked, and Eva looked at her husband, who nodded.

  ‘Yes. That’s about right.’

  ‘What about later? Did you hear her or look in on her? She didn’t wake up sometime during the night?’

  ‘No, she always slept like a rock,’ said Peter, vigorously shaking his head. ‘She always slept with the door closed, and we didn’t look in on her once we’d said good night. There were never any problems with Nea in terms of sleeping, even when she was a baby. She loves her bed … loved her bed.’

  His lower lip quivered and he blinked several times.

  ‘I was up by six in the morning,’ said Peter. ‘I tiptoed around so I wouldn’t wake Eva or Nea. I made myself sandwiches to take with me, and I’d already made coffee the night before, so all I had to do was heat it up. And then … then I left.’

  ‘You didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary? Was the front door closed and locked?’

  Peter paused before saying, ‘Yes, it was closed.’ His voice broke again, and he began sobbing. Bengt reached out to stroke his back. ‘I would have noticed if it hadn’t been. If it was open, I definitely would have noticed.’

  ‘What about the door to Nea’s room?’

  ‘Same thing. It was closed. I would have remembered.’

  Gösta leaned towards Peter.

  ‘So everything was normal? Nothing seemed the least bit different? You didn’t see anything odd outside the house? Any people? Any cars passing by?’

  ‘No. Nothing. When I got outside, it felt like I was the only one awake in the world. All I heard were the birds chirping, and all I saw was the cat, who came over to rub on my leg.’

  ‘And then you left? Do you know about what time it was?’

  ‘I had set the alarm for six, and I spent maybe twenty minutes in the kitchen. So it must have been about six twenty or six thirty.’

  ‘And you didn’t return home until the afternoon, right? Did you meet anyone? See anyone? Talk to anyone?’

  ‘No. I was out in the woods all day. Several acres of woodland were included when we purchased the farm, and it needs looking after and …’

  His voice trailed off leaving the sentence unfinished.

  ‘So no one can confirm where you were during the day?’

  ‘No, but … What do you mean?’

  ‘Are you accusing Peter of something?’ asked Bengt. His face flushed. ‘Now wait just a minute—’

  Gösta held up his hand. He’d been expecting this. Everyone reacted the same way, and he fully understood why.

  ‘We have to ask. We have to rule out Peter and Eva from our investigation. I don’t think they’re involved, but it’s my job to rule them out, according to police procedure.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Eva faintly. ‘I understand. Gösta is only doing his job, Bengt. The faster and better he does it …’

  ‘Okay,’ said Bengt, but he was still sitting ramrod straight in his chair, ready to defend his son.

  ‘No, I didn’t meet anyone all day,’ said Peter. ‘I was deep in the woods, and there’s no mobile reception, so I couldn’t get or make any calls. I was all alone. Then I drove home. I was back by quarter to three. And I know the exact time because I checked my watch as I drove into the yard.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Gösta. ‘What about you, Eva? What was your morning and the rest of the day like? Can you give me a run-down?’

  ‘I slept until nine thirty. I know the precise time because the first thing I always do when I wake up is look at the clock, if I didn’t set the alarm, that is. And I remember being surprised …’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Surprised about what?’ asked Gösta.

  ‘Surprised it was so late. I hardly ever sleep past seven. I usually wake up automatically. But I guess I was so tired …’

  She rubbed her eyes.

  ‘I got up and looked in on Nea and saw she was gone. But that didn’t worry me. I wasn’t worried at all.’

  She gripped the edge of the table.

  ‘Why weren’t you worried?’ asked Gösta.

  ‘She often went along with Peter,’ said Ulla.

  Eva nodded.

  ‘Yes, she loved going out in the woods with him, and she usually got up early too. So I assumed she’d gone with him.’

  ‘What did you do after that? During the rest of the day?’

  ‘I spent a long time over breakfast reading the newspaper, and then I got dressed. Around eleven I decided to drive to Hamburgsund to do some shopping. I rarely have time for myself.’

  ‘Did you meet anyone there?’

  Gösta took a sip of coffee, but it had gone cold, so he set the cup down.

  ‘I’ll get you some more,’ said Ulla, standing up. ‘It must be cold by now.’

  He didn’t object, just gave her a grateful smile.

  ‘I walked around looking in the shops,’ said Eva. ‘There were a lot of people, but I didn’t see anyone I knew.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Gösta. ‘Did anyone drop by the farm either before or after your shopping trip to Hamburgsund?’

  ‘No, no one dropped by. I saw a few cars on the road. And several joggers. And right before I left I saw Dagmar out walking, like she always does in the morning.’

  ‘Dagmar?’ asked Gösta.

  ‘She lives in the red house nearby. She takes a walk every morning.’

  Gösta nodded and accepted the refilled coffee cup Ulla handed him.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said taking a sip of the steaming hot coffee. ‘Okay. Was there anything in particular that caught your attention? Anything out of the ordinary?’

  Eva frowned as she paused to think.

  ‘Take your time. Even the smallest detail might be important.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘No. Everything was the same as usual.’

  ‘What about phone calls? Did you talk to anyone on the phone during the day?’

  ‘No, not that I can remember. Wait, I rang you, Ulla, when I got home.’

  ‘That’s right, you did.’

  Ulla looked surprised that it was only yesterday her life had been perfectly normal. Without the least premonition everything was about to fall apart.

  ‘What time was that?’

  ‘Do you remember?’ Eva looked at Ulla. She wasn’t shaking any more. Gösta knew this relative calm was only temporary. There would be brief spells when her brain would push aside what had happened. But the next second it would all come back to her. He’d seen this happen so many times during his time as a police officer. The same grief. Different faces. Different reactions, and yet they were so similar. It never ended. There were always more victims.

  ‘I think it was around one o’clock. Bengt, you heard when Eva rang. Wasn’t it around one? We’d been down to La Mata for a swim and had not long come home for lunch.’

  She turned to Gösta.

  ‘We always have a very light lunch in Torrevieja. Some mozzarella and tomatoes, which are so much better in Spain, and—’

  She raised her hand to her mouth, realizing that for a few seconds she had forgotten what had happened and was talking as if everything was normal.

  ‘We got back to the flat shortly before one,’ she went on quietly. ‘Eva rang not long after. And we talked for maybe ten minutes.’

  Eva nodded. Tears had appeared in her eyes again, and Gösta handed her another piece of household paper.

  ‘Did you talk to anyone else yesterday?’

&nbs
p; He knew it must sound crazy that he kept asking them about phone calls and who they’d met. But as he’d already explained, he needed to rule them out from the investigation and see whether they could establish any sort of alibi. He didn’t for a moment think that Eva and Peter were involved. But he wasn’t the first police officer in history to have a hard time believing parents would harm their own child. And unfortunately, in some cases they had. Accidents happened. And horrifyingly enough, sometimes it wasn’t an accident.

  ‘No, just Ulla. Then Peter came home, and I realized Nea was missing, and then … then …’

  She was crushing the piece of paper so tightly in her hand that her knuckles were white.

  ‘Is there anyone who might want to harm your daughter?’ asked Gösta. ‘Have you thought of any possible motive? Someone you used to know in the past? Do you or your family have any enemies?’

  Both shook their heads.

  ‘We’re completely ordinary people,’ said Peter. ‘We’ve never been mixed up in anything criminal, nothing like that.’

  ‘No ex-spouses wanting revenge?’

  ‘No,’ said Eva. ‘We met when we were fifteen. There’s never been anyone else.’

  Gösta took a deep breath before asking the next question. He couldn’t put it off any longer.

  ‘I know this is a terribly insulting thing to ask, especially given the situation, but are either of you having an extramarital affair? Or have you ever had an affair? I’m not trying to embarrass you. I just need to find out, because it might provide a motive. Maybe somebody thought Nea was in the way.’

  ‘No,’ said Peter, staring at Gösta. ‘My God. No. We spend all our time together, and we’d never … No.’

  Eva shook her head vigorously.

  ‘No, no, no. Why are you wasting your time on things like this? Why are you here with us? Why aren’t you out looking for the murderer? Is there anyone around here who—’

  Her face paled when she realized what she was about to ask, and what those words implied.

  ‘Was she … Had she been … Oh, dear God …’

  Her sobs echoed off the kitchen walls, and Gösta had to fight to stay seated and not run out of the room. It was unbearable to see the look on the faces of Nea’s parents when they realized there was one question they didn’t want answered.

  And Gösta had nothing to tell them, no solace to offer, because he didn’t know.

  ‘Sorry, but it’s sheer chaos out there.’

  Jörgen turned to look at the young assistant who’d spoken. A blood vessel was throbbing at his temple when he replied, ‘What the hell do you want? We’re working here!’

  He shoved aside a cameraman who had come too close and was about to back into a table in the living room set they’d created. A vase teetered for a moment and nearly toppled over.

  Marie almost felt sorry for the assistant, who was blinking nervously. They were about to film the fourth take, and Jörgen’s mood had been rapidly worsening.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said the assistant. Marie thought his name was Jakob. Or was it Jonas?

  The young man coughed.

  ‘I can’t fend them off much longer. There’s a huge crowd of journalists out there.’

  ‘They’re not supposed to be here until four. That’s when we scheduled the interviews.’

  Jörgen looked at Marie, who threw out her hands. She hoped it wasn’t going to become a habit for him to speak to her in that tone of voice. Or else it was going to be a very long and uncomfortable filming.

  ‘They’re talking about a dead girl,’ said Jakob/Jonas uneasily. Jörgen rolled his eyes.

  ‘Yeah, we know. But they’ll just have to wait until four.’

  The young man’s throat flushed crimson, but he didn’t budge.

  ‘That’s not the girl they’re talking about. It’s a different girl. And they want to speak to Marie. Now.’

  Marie looked around the small film set. The director, camera-men, script girl, make-up artist, and assistants were all staring at her. The same way everyone had stared at her thirty years ago. Strangely enough, there was a certain feeling of security in the familiar situation.

  ‘I’ll go talk to them,’ she said, straightening her blouse and reaching up to smooth her hair.

  Photographers would undoubtedly be present as well.

  She turned to the nervous assistant.

  ‘Take them to the break room,’ she said and then looked at Jörgen. ‘We’ll reverse the schedule and do the interviews now. Then we can shoot the scene at four, and we won’t lose any time.’

  On a film set, the shooting schedule was God, and Jörgen looked as if his whole world had crashed.

  Standing in the doorway to the small break room, Marie paused for a moment. The crowd of reporters was impressive. She was glad she was dressed as Ingrid, in white shorts with buttons on both sides, a white blouse, and a scarf tied around her hair. The clothes suited her and would look good in any photographs. Excellent PR for the film.

  ‘Hello!’ she said in the slightly husky voice that had become her signature. ‘I heard you had some questions you wanted to ask little old me.’

  ‘Do you have any comment about what’s happened?’

  A young man with the hungry eyes of an evening paper reporter gave her an eager look.

  The others in the room were staring at her with equal intensity. She perched on the arm of a sofa that took up most of the space in the room and crossed her long legs, showing them off to good advantage.

  ‘Forgive me, but we’ve been shut up in the studio all day. Could you tell me what has happened?’

  The young reporter leaned forward.

  ‘The little girl who disappeared yesterday has been found. She was murdered. The girl who lived on the same farm as Stella.’

  Marie pressed her hand to her chest. She pictured a little girl with reddish blond hair. She was holding a big ice-cream cone in her hand, and the soft ice was dripping down the cone on to her fingers.

  ‘That’s horrible,’ she said.

  An older man sitting next to the reporter stood up and went over to the table to fetch a glass of water, which he handed to Marie.

  She nodded and took several sips.

  The man with the hungry eyes wasn’t about to let up.

  ‘The police just held a press conference, and according to Police Chief Bertil Mellberg, you and Helen Jensen are considered persons of interest in their investigation. What do you have to say about that?’

  Marie looked at the tape recorder he had thrust towards her. At first, all words deserted her. She swallowed hard several times. She recalled a different room, a different interview. And the man who had looked at her with suspicion.

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ she said. ‘The police quickly came to false conclusions thirty years ago.’

  ‘Do you have an alibi for the time in question?’ asked the man who had handed her the glass of water.

  ‘Since I have no idea when we’re talking about, it’s impossible for me to give you an answer.’

  The questions now came fast and furious.

  ‘Have you had any contact with Helen since you returned?’

  ‘Isn’t it a little strange that a girl from the same farm should die just as you came back here?’

  ‘Have you and Helen kept in touch over the years?’

  Usually, Marie loved being the centre of attention, but right now it was almost too much for her. She’d made use of her background to build her career; it had given her an edge over all the other thousands of ambitious young women fighting for acting roles. Yet the memories from those dark, loathsome years had taken their toll on her.

  And now she would be forced to relive everything again.

  ‘No, Helen and I have not had any contact. We’ve lived completely separate lives since we were accused of a crime we didn’t commit. Staying in touch would have meant keeping those terrible memories alive. As children we were friends, but we’re not the same people as adults. We haven’t
been in contact since I arrived back in Fjällbacka, or before that either. No contact at all since I was sent away, and the lives of two innocent children were ruined.’

  The photographers were frantically snapping pictures. Marie leaned back.

  ‘So what do you think about the coincidence of the two murders?’ asked the young reporter. ‘The police seem to think there’s a connection between them.’

  ‘I can’t answer that.’ She frowned apologetically. She’d had another Botox injection a month ago, giving her enough time to regain control of her facial features sufficiently before the film shoot began. ‘But no, I don’t think it’s a coincidence. And that only serves to reinforce what I’ve been saying all these years: while police focused on us, the real murderer was allowed to go free.’

  The cameras started flashing again.

  ‘So you’re blaming the Tanumshede police for causing Linnea’s death?’ asked the older journalist.

  ‘Is that her name? Linnea? Poor thing … Yes, I’m saying that if they’d done their job properly thirty years ago, this would not have happened.’

  ‘But it’s still rather odd that a new murder should be committed only days after you came back here,’ said a woman with dark hair cut in a pageboy style. ‘Could your return be a factor in triggering the murderer to strike again?’

  ‘That’s possible. Don’t you agree, it’s a reasonable assumption?’

  What headlines that would prompt in tomorrow’s paper. The financial backers of the film would be overjoyed by all the publicity. If nothing else, it would guarantee that the project could continue.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I’m truly shaken by the news of what’s happened. I need time to take it all in before I can answer any more questions. For the time being, you’ll have to talk to the film company’s PR division.’

  Marie stood up, surprised to notice that her legs were shaking. But she wasn’t going to think about that now. She refused to think about the dark memories that kept turning up.

  It was crowded at the top in her profession, and if she wanted to sustain her star position, she had to keep delivering. Behind her, she heard the reporters rushing out of the room, headed for their cars and computers to make the next deadline. She closed her eyes, picturing again a smiling little girl with reddish blond hair.