The Ice Child Read online

  Where the hell could Tyra be? As so often before, her worry was mixed with anger, and fear was making it hard for her to breathe. How could Tyra do this after what had happened to Victoria? Every parent in Fjällbacka had been a nervous wreck after Victoria disappeared. What if the perpetrator was still in the area? What if their child was in danger?

  Her worry and anger were made worse because of the guilt she felt. Maybe it wasn’t so strange that Tyra had forgotten her mother was going to pick her up today. She usually had to come home on her own, and several times before when Terese had promised to fetch her, something had come up to prevent her from doing so.

  Should she ring the police? When Terese came home and Tyra wasn’t there, she had tried to convince herself that her daughter was on her way, that maybe she’d stopped to visit a friend. She’d even prepared herself for the sullen comments that Tyra often made upon stepping into the front hall after a long, cold walk from the stable. Terese had been looking forward to pampering her daughter a bit, serving her O’Boy chocolate drink and sandwiches with Gouda cheese and lots of butter.

  But Tyra hadn’t turned up. She hadn’t opened the front door and stomped the snow off her boots, muttering to herself as she took off her jacket. As Terese sat at the kitchen table, she realized how Victoria’s parents must have felt on that day when their daughter didn’t come home. She had met them on only a few occasions, which was actually rather strange. The two girls had been inseparable since they were little kids, but when Terese thought about it, she realized she hadn’t met Victoria that often either. The girls had always gone to Victoria’s house. For the first time, she wondered why, but then she painfully had to acknowledge the reason. She hadn’t created the home she had dreamed of for her children, the secure setting that they needed. Tears welled up in her eyes. If only Tyra would come home, she would do everything in her power to change things.

  She glanced at her mobile, as if a text from Tyra might magically appear on the display. As soon as she left the stable, Terese had phoned her daughter, but there was no answer. When she tried again after coming home, she heard the ring tone in Tyra’s room. Like so many times before, Tyra had forgotten to take her mobile.

  Suddenly a sound out in the hall startled her. But maybe it was just wishful thinking. It was almost impossible to hear anything over the shrieking and shouting of the boys. But then she heard a key turning in the lock. She leapt up and dashed to the front hall, throwing open the door. The next second she was holding her daughter in her arms and crying the tears that she’d held back for the past few hours.

  ‘My sweet, sweet girl,’ she whispered against her daughter’s hair. She’d ask questions later. Right now the only thing of importance was that Tyra was here, safe at home.

  UDDEVALLA 1972

  The girl watched her wherever she went, making Laila feel like a prisoner in her own home. Vladek was as bewildered as she was, but the difference was that he physically vented his frustration.

  Her finger still hurt. It had begun to heal, but the bone ached where it had grown back together. She’d gone to the doctor so many times over the past six months, and lately he’d started to get suspicious and ask her questions. Inwardly she had cried with longing to lay her head down on the doctor’s desk and tearfully tell him everything. But the thought of Vladek made her hold back. The problem had to be solved within the family – that was how he saw it. And he would never forgive her if she didn’t keep quiet.

  She had drawn away from her own family. She knew that both her sister and her mother wondered why. In the beginning they had come to Uddevalla to visit her once in a while, but not any more. They merely phoned occasionally, asking her discreetly how things were going. They had given up, and she wished she could too. But that wasn’t possible, so she kept them at arm’s length, giving only brief answers to their questions and trying to keep her tone light, her comments unremarkable. She couldn’t tell them anything.

  Vladek’s family was in touch even less often, but that was how it had been from the start. They were always travelling and had no permanent address, so how could they stay in contact? And it didn’t really matter. It would have been just as impossible to explain things to them as to her own family. She and Vladek couldn’t even explain the situation to themselves.

  This was a burden the two of them had to bear alone.

  Chapter Seven

  Lasse whistled softly as he walked down the road. His sense of satisfaction from yesterday’s church meeting was still with him. Feeling that he belonged was almost like a sober intoxication, and it was so liberating to leave behind all his past travails and realize that the answer to all his questions could be found in the pages of the Bible.

  That was also the reason he knew he was doing God’s will. Why else would God have given him the opportunity, putting him in the right place at the right time, precisely when a sinner needed to be punished? On that very day he had prayed to God for help to find a way out of his increasingly difficult situation. He had thought the answer to his prayer would come in the form of a job, but instead another path had opened before him. And the person in question was a sinner of the worst kind, a sinner who deserved justice of biblical proportions.

  Terese had started asking Lasse about their finances. He was the one who paid the bills, but she was wondering how they could possibly live on the income from her job at the Konsum supermarket, since he wasn’t making any money. He had muttered something about tax exemptions, but he could see she was sceptical. Well, it would all work out. She’d get her answer soon enough.

  Right now he was on his way to the beach in Sälvik. He’d chosen this particular meeting place because it was usually deserted at this time of year. In the summertime the shore was swarming with people because it was close to the camping area in Fjällbacka, but now the place was empty and the closest house was a good distance away. It was the perfect spot to meet, and he had suggested it every time.

  The ground was slippery, so he walked cautiously as he headed towards the beach. There was a thick blanket of snow, and he could see that the water was frozen a long way out from shore. At the end of the dock, near the bathing ladder, a hole had been cut in the ice for anyone crazy enough to insist on jumping in during the winter. Personally, he was a firm believer that the Swedish climate was not suitable for swimming at any time of the year, not even in the summer.

  He was the first to arrive. The cold was seeping under his clothes, and he regretted not putting on heavier clothing. But he had told Terese that he was going to another meeting at the church, and he hadn’t wanted to arouse her suspicion by bundling up in too many layers.

  Impatiently he walked along the dock. Not a sound came from under his feet, since the water was frozen solid. He glanced at his watch and frowned in annoyance. Then he went out to the far end and leaned against the railing to look down. Those mad winter bathers must have been here very recently because no new ice had formed over the hole. He shivered. The water had to be freezing cold.

  When he heard footsteps approaching, he turned around.

  ‘You’re late.’ He pointed at his watch. ‘Give me the money so we can get out of here. I don’t want to be seen, and I’m about to freeze to death.’

  He held out his hand, anticipation flooding through his body. God was good to find this solution for him. He despised the sinner who stood before him so much that his cheeks burned.

  But suddenly Lasse’s feeling of contempt turned to surprise. And then fear.

  Thoughts of her book left her no peace. When Patrik explained that he had to go to work, Erica was at first annoyed, since she’d planned to pay another visit to the prison. But then she came to her senses. Of course he had to go to the station even though it was Saturday. The investigation of Victoria’s disappearance had entered a new, intense stage, and she realized that Patrik would never give up until the case was solved.

  Thank goodness Anna had been able to come over and babysit. Now Erica was once again sitting in th
e visitor’s room at the prison. She had been uncertain how to start the conversation, but the silence didn’t seem to bother Laila, who was pensively staring out of the window.

  ‘I went over to the house a few days ago,’ Erica said at last. She studied Laila to see how she would react, but her icy blue eyes gave no sign of a response. ‘I should have done it much earlier, but I think that subconsciously I was reluctant to go there.’

  ‘It’s just a house.’ Laila shrugged. Her whole body radiated indifference, and Erica wanted to lean forward and shake her. Laila had lived in that house and allowed her child to be locked up and chained like an animal in the dark cellar. How could she be indifferent to such cruelty, no matter what horrors Vladek had subjected her to or how much he had crushed her spirit?

  ‘How often did he beat you?’ Erica asked, trying to remain calm.

  Laila frowned. ‘Who?’

  ‘Vladek,’ said Erica, wondering whether Laila was playing dumb. She had seen the medical reports from Uddevalla and read about her injuries.

  ‘It’s so easy to judge someone,’ said Laila, staring down at the table. ‘But Vladek was not an evil man.’

  ‘How can you say that after what he did to you and Louise?’

  Even though she knew about the psychology of victims, Erica couldn’t understand how Laila could persist in defending Vladek. She had killed him, after all, either in self-defence or as revenge for the violence that she and her child had suffered.

  ‘Did you help him put the chains on Louise? Did he force you to do it? Is that why you won’t talk? Is that why you feel guilty?’ Erica was pressuring Laila in a way she hadn’t done before. Maybe it was because of her talk yesterday with Nettan, and seeing that woman’s despair about her missing daughter. Maybe that’s what made her angry now. It wasn’t normal for a parent to be so indifferent about the unimaginable suffering her child had endured.

  Erica couldn’t help herself. She opened the bag she always brought along and took out the folder with the photographs.

  ‘Have a look at these pictures. Have you forgotten what the place looked like when the police arrived? Take a look!’ Erica slid a photo across the table towards Laila, who reluctantly fixed her eyes on the image. Erica pushed another photo over to her. ‘And this one. Here’s what the cellar looks like today. See the chain and the bowls for food and water? Just like for an animal! But it was a little girl who was kept there. Your daughter. And you let Vladek keep her imprisoned in a dark basement. I understand why you killed him. I would have too if someone treated my child like that. So why do you keep defending him?’

  Erica stopped to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding hard, and she realized that the guard outside was peering at her through the window in the door. She lowered her voice.

  ‘Forgive me, Laila. I … I didn’t mean to hurt you. But there was something about that house that really upset me.’

  ‘I’ve heard they call it the House of Horrors,’ said Laila, pushing the photographs back across the table towards Erica. ‘That’s a fitting name for the place. It definitely was a house of horrors. But not in the way you think.’ Then she got up and knocked on the door to signal she wanted to leave.

  Erica cursed herself as she remained sitting at the table. Laila probably wouldn’t want to talk to her again. Then she wouldn’t be able to finish writing her book.

  But what did Laila mean by her last remark? Hadn’t things happened the way everyone believed? Muttering to herself, Erica gathered up the photos and put them back in the folder.

  She felt someone place their hand on her shoulder, interrupting her angry thoughts.

  It was the guard who had been posted outside the door. ‘Come with me,’ the guard said. ‘There’s something I want to show you.’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Erica, getting up.

  ‘You’ll see. It’s in Laila’s room.’

  ‘But isn’t she in her room?’

  ‘No. She went out into the yard. She usually takes a walk when she gets upset. She’ll be out there for a while, but let’s hurry in case I’m wrong.’

  Erica glanced at the name badge on the guard’s shirt. Tina. Then she followed her, thinking that this was the first opportunity she would have to see the room where Laila spent most of her time.

  At the far end of the corridor Tina opened a door, and Erica went in. She had no clue how a prisoner’s room would look, and she’d probably seen too many American TV programmes, since she was expecting a cell with a bare mattress. What she saw instead was a pleasant room with everything nice and tidy. A neatly made bed, a nightstand with an alarm clock and a little pink ceramic elephant sleeping sweetly, a table with a TV. There was a small window, set close to the ceiling, but it let in a good deal of light, and it was framed by yellow curtains.

  ‘Laila doesn’t think we know about this.’ Tina went over to the bed and knelt down.

  ‘Are you allowed to do this?’ asked Erica, glancing towards the door. She didn’t know which made her more nervous: the thought of Laila turning up, or the prospect of some supervisor claiming that the prisoner’s rights had been violated.

  ‘We’re allowed to look at everything inside this room,’ said Tina, reaching her hand under the bed.

  ‘Yes, but I’m not a staff member here,’ said Erica, trying to restrain her curiosity.

  Tina pulled out a small box, stood up, and held it out to Erica. ‘Do you want to see it or not?’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll keep watch. I already know what’s inside.’ Tina went over to the door, opened it slightly and peered out into the corridor.

  After casting a nervous glance at Tina, Erica sat down on the bed and set the little box on her lap. If Laila came in now, any small amount of trust she might have established would be instantly gone. But how could she resist looking inside the box? Tina seemed to think she would find it interesting.

  Holding her breath Erica opened the lid. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but the contents certainly surprised her. One by one she took out the newspaper clippings while thoughts raced through her head. Why had Laila saved all these reports about the missing girls? Why was she so interested in them? Erica quickly looked through the articles, concluding that Laila must have cut out nearly everything that had been written about the disappearances in the local press and evening papers.

  ‘She may be back any minute now,’ said Tina, keeping her eyes on the corridor. ‘But don’t you think it’s strange? She grabs the newspapers as soon as they arrive, and then she asks if she can keep them after everyone else has read them. I didn’t know why until I saw what’s in the box.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Erica, carefully putting the clippings back inside. ‘Where should I put it?’

  ‘Next to the leg of the bed, in the far corner,’ said Tina, still keeping an eye out for Laila.

  Erica knelt down and carefully pushed the box back into place. She didn’t know how to make use of what she’d just learned. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Maybe Laila was just interested in cases of missing girls. People could get obsessed with the strangest things. Yet she didn’t really believe that was true when it came to Laila. There had to be some connection between Laila’s life and these girls that she could never have met. And Erica was determined to find out what it was.

  ‘There are a few things we need to discuss,’ said Patrik.

  Everyone nodded. Annika was ready with her notepad and pen, and Ernst was lying under the table waiting for any crumbs that might land on the floor. Everything was the same as always. Only the tense atmosphere in the kitchen made it clear that this was not an ordinary morning coffee break.

  ‘As you know, Martin and I went to Göteborg yesterday. We met with Minna Wahlberg’s mother Anette. We also had a talk with Gerhard Struwer, who gave us his views on the case, based on the materials we’d sent him.’

  ‘Nothing but humbug,’ muttered Mellberg, as if on cue. ‘A waste of valuable resources.’

 
Patrik ignored him and went on.

  ‘Martin has typed up his notes from yesterday, and you’ll all get a copy.’

  Annika picked up the stack of papers lying on the table and began handing them out to her colleagues.

  ‘I’d like to focus on the most important points, and then you can read through the full report later, just in case I may have missed something.’

  Trying to be as brief as possible, Patrik then gave a recap of both conversations.

  ‘Based on what Struwer said, there are two things I’d like to talk about. First, he underscored that Minna is different from the other girls, both in terms of her background and the way in which she disappeared. The question is whether there’s a reason for this. I think Struwer was right when he said that we should take a closer look at her disappearance. That’s also one reason I wanted to meet with Minna’s mother. Maybe the perpetrator had some personal connection to the girl, and if so, that might move us closer to solving Victoria’s case. Of course we’ll need to cooperate with the Göteborg police on this matter.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Mellberg. ‘These kinds of things can be rather sensitive, and—’

  ‘Don’t worry. We’re not going to step on anyone’s toes,’ Patrik quickly added. He was amazed that Mellberg always had to insist on saying everything at least twice. ‘And I’m hoping we’ll have the opportunity to meet with them in person. Struwer also advised us to gather representatives from all the relevant police districts in order to go over the cases together. That won’t be easy to arrange, but I think we should try to set up the meeting.’

  ‘That’s going to cost a fortune, with travel expenses and lodging for everybody. Management will never agree to it,’ said Mellberg as he slipped a piece of cinnamon bun to Ernst.

  Patrik restrained himself from sighing out loud. Working with Mellberg was often like pulling teeth. Nothing was ever easy or painless.