The Girl in the Woods (Patrik Hedstrom and Erica Falck, Book 10) Page 22

  She put it away at the end of the kitchen island. Lined up with the other stool, with approximately two centimetres in between so they were both centred.

  ‘There’s some laundry in the basket. And my trousers were not properly pressed. You’ll have to do it over.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said, bowing her head.

  Maybe she should iron all his shirts at the same time. She might as well.

  ‘I’m going grocery shopping later,’ she said. ‘Is there anything else you want besides the usual?’

  James turned the page in the newspaper. He was still reading the morning issue of Bohusläningen. Then he had the newspapers DN and Svenska Dagbladet left. He always read them in the same order. First Bohusläningen, then DN, then Svenska Dagbladet.

  ‘No, just the usual.’

  Now he looked up.

  ‘Where’s Sam?’

  ‘He rode his bike into town. He was going to meet a friend.’

  ‘Who’s the friend?’

  He peered at her over the rims of his reading glasses.

  Helen hesitated.

  ‘Her name is Jessie.’

  ‘Her name? You mean a girl? Who are her parents?’

  He lowered the newspaper as a glint appeared in his eyes.

  Helen took a deep breath. ‘He didn’t say. But somebody told me he was spending time with Marie’s daughter.’

  James took several controlled breaths. ‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’

  ‘If you want me to tell him not to see her any more, I will. Unless you prefer to tell him.’

  Helen kept her eyes down. The knot in her stomach was back. So many things that should have been left in the distant past were being dug up again.

  James turned back to his paper.

  ‘No. We’ll let it be. For now.’

  Her heart raced, and there was nothing she could do about it. She wasn’t sure that James had made the right decision. But it wasn’t up to her to decide. Nothing had been left to her to decide since that day thirty years ago.

  ‘Have you made any progress with the reports? Have you found anything worth investigating further?’ Patrik asked Annika.

  She shook her head.

  ‘No, other than the guy who was taking videos of kids at the beach, I haven’t come up with a single incident that has the slightest hint of targeting children. But I haven’t made it through the whole stack yet.’

  ‘What time frame are you looking at?’

  Gösta reached for a slice of bread, which he spread with butter. Annika had laid on an assortment of breakfast items this morning, having guessed that everyone would skip breakfast in their eagerness to get to work.

  ‘I’ve gone back as far as May, as we discussed. Do you want me to go back even further?’

  She glanced at Patrik, who shook his head.

  ‘No, May’s a good starting point for now. But if you don’t find anything relating to children, we may have to consider broadening our search and look at reported incidents of sexual assault and rape.’

  ‘Is there any indication the murder was sexually motivated?’ asked Paula, taking a bite of her cheese-and-ham open-face sandwich.

  Ernst was sitting at her feet, giving her a pleading look, but she ignored him. He was starting to get fat from all the treats Mellberg fed him.

  ‘Pedersen hasn’t finished with the pathology exam yet, so we don’t know. But Nea was naked when her body was found, and the two most common motives when children are murdered are either sexual or …’

  He hesitated.

  Gösta helped him out.

  ‘Or the guilty person is someone close.’

  ‘So, what’s your feeling about this case?’ asked Paula, pushing aside Ernst’s muzzle, which he was trying to rest on her knee.

  ‘As I said before, I have a hard time picturing Nea’s parents as having anything at all to do with her death. But I can’t be a hundred per cent sure. When you’ve been on the police force as long as I have, you realize nothing can be ruled out.’

  ‘It does seem one of the least likely scenarios,’ said Patrik.

  ‘I agree. I also think we should explore any possible links to the murder of Stella,’ said Martin, getting up to fetch the coffee pot and refill everyone’s cup. ‘The similarities are striking, even though it was such a long time ago.’

  ‘You and Paula talked to Helen yesterday,’ said Patrik. ‘Could the two of you have a chat with Marie today? And I’ll pay Helen a visit. I want to know if either of them has an alibi.’

  ‘An alibi for when, though?’ asked Paula. ‘Nea’s parents didn’t see her after she went to bed, so we don’t know whether she disappeared in the morning or was kidnapped during the night.’

  ‘Were there any signs of a break-in?’ said Martin as he took his seat again.

  ‘I’ll check with her parents if anyone could have got in at night without them noticing,’ said Gösta. ‘The nights have been so hot, a lot of people in the area sleep with the windows open.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Patrik. ‘I’ll leave that to you, Gösta. And you’re right, Paula. We need to check alibis from Sunday evening onward.’

  ‘Okay. We’ll go see Marie and find out what she says.’

  ‘Talk to her daughter too,’ said Patrik. ‘As I recall, Marie has a teenage daughter named Jessie. I’m hoping to see not only Helen but also her son, Sam, and her husband. He’s that UN soldier who looks like he chews barbed wire for breakfast.’

  He got up to put the milk away in the fridge so it wouldn’t spoil in the summer heat. They had no air conditioning in the small yellow-painted kitchen, only an old fan, and it was almost unbearably hot in there, even though the window was open wide.

  ‘By the way, has anyone seen Mellberg?’ he asked.

  ‘His office door is closed, and no one answered when I knocked. He’s probably sound asleep,’ said Gösta with a wry smile.

  It wasn’t worth getting annoyed with Mellberg. As long as he stayed in his office and napped, the others could do their jobs in peace.

  ‘Have you heard anything from Torbjörn or Pedersen?’ asked Paula.

  ‘I phoned both of them yesterday,’ said Patrik. ‘As usual, Torbjörn won’t commit himself until his report is finalized, but he did send over the technical reports from the Stella case. And after a bit of coaxing, Pedersen revealed that Nea had a wound on the back of her head. I don’t yet know what that signifies, but at least it’s something.’

  ‘Is it possible that Helen and Marie were innocent?’ asked Paula, looking at Gösta. ‘Or do you think maybe one of them killed Stella and has struck again?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ replied Gösta. ‘Back then I was totally convinced of their guilt. But now I’ve heard that Leif had doubts, I’m beginning to wonder. It sounds like a long shot – what motive would they have for killing another little girl, especially after a thirty-year gap?’

  ‘It could be a copycat killer,’ said Martin, tugging at his shirt to cool off.

  His reddish hair was plastered to his head with sweat.

  ‘Well, at the moment we can’t rule out anything,’ said Gösta, looking down at the table.

  ‘How’s it going with tracking down the old interview transcripts?’ asked Patrik. ‘And all the other investigative materials.’

  ‘I’m working on it,’ said Annika. ‘But you know how haphazard the archiving of files has been in this place. Some documents have been moved. Others have disappeared. And some have been destroyed. But I’m not giving up. If there’s any material at all left from the Stella case, I’m determined to find it.’

  She gave Patrik a smile.

  ‘By the way, have you asked your wife? She’s usually better than we are at locating old investigative material.’

  ‘Don’t I know it!’ said Patrik, laughing. ‘She’s given me access to everything she has collected so far, but it’s mostly photocopies of newspaper articles. She hasn’t managed to get hold of any investigative documents.’

  ‘I�
��ll keep looking,’ said Annika. ‘If I find anything, I’ll let you know at once.’

  ‘Great. Okay, looks like we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us today,’ said Patrik. He was trying to remain objective, but it was difficult. Bordering on impossible.

  A voice boomed from the doorway.

  ‘So there you all are, loafing around drinking coffee!’

  Mellberg peered at them drowsily.

  ‘It’s a good thing somebody does any work in this place. Come on, Ernst! Your master is going to show them how things get done.’

  Ernst happily followed his master out of the room. They heard Mellberg stomping along the corridor, and then the door to his office slammed shut. He was undoubtedly going back to resume his morning nap. No one bothered to comment. They had work to do.

  Jessie was savouring the calm feeling that came over her as she listened to Sam’s steady breathing. It was something new: this serenity and security. Knowing she was seen.

  She turned over in bed, trying not to disturb Sam. But his arm around her tightened. Nothing she did seemed to bother him.

  Cautiously she stroked his stomach under the black T-shirt he was wearing. It felt so strange, being this close to another person. A guy. Touching him without being mocked or rejected.

  She raised her head to look at him. Those etched cheeks, those sensual lips, those long black lashes.

  ‘Have you ever hooked up with anybody?’ she asked him quietly.

  He blinked once, then closed his eyes again.

  ‘No,’ he said after a moment, opening his eyes. ‘Have you?’

  She shook her head and leaned close to rub her chin on his chest.

  She didn’t want to think about that humiliating episode the previous spring at the boarding school in London. There had been a brief moment when she thought Pascal wanted to sleep with her. He was the son of a French diplomat and so handsome he took her breath away. He’d started by sending her texts – wonderfully sweet messages. Then he’d texted an invitation to the school dance, and she’d hardly been able to sleep at the thought of how everyone would gape when she turned up on Pascal’s arm. And they’d kept on texting. He had coaxed her more and more out of her shell as they flirted, joked, and slowly approached the border of what was forbidden.

  One evening he asked her for a picture of her breasts. He said he wanted to sleep with the image in his mind. He said she must have the most beautiful breasts in the world, and he longed to caress them. So in her room she lifted up her shirt and took a picture of her breasts, not wearing a bra, completely exposed.

  The next day the picture had spread through the whole school. Everybody had known what Pascal and his pals were planning. They had deliberately laid a trap for her, and together they’d written all those messages to her. She wanted to die, to disappear from the earth.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, I’ve never had a boyfriend.’

  ‘We’ve been smart enough to wait for the right person,’ said Sam gently, turning to face her.

  She looked into his blue eyes and knew that she could trust him. They were like two scarred veterans who had been through the same war and didn’t need words to communicate about everything they’d endured.

  What their mothers had done had taken its toll on both of them.

  ‘I hardly know anything about what happened back then. Thirty years ago.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Sam. ‘Nothing?’

  ‘Well, okay, I know what you can find on Google. But so much was written about it at the time, things you can’t find on the Internet. But I’ve never asked Mamma … it’s not something we talk about.’

  Sam stroked her hair.

  ‘Maybe I can help you. Would you like that?’

  Jessie nodded. She rested her head on his chest, allowing calm to flow through her body, almost making her sleepy.

  ‘In a year I’ll be able to escape from all this,’ said Sam.

  He was talking about school. She knew that’s what he meant even though he hadn’t said so. They were so alike.

  ‘What will you do?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t want to be part of the rat race. Running around with no purpose.’

  ‘I want to travel,’ said Jessie, wrapping her arms around him. ‘I’ll take along only what will fit in a backpack and go wherever I like.’

  ‘You can’t do that until you’re eighteen. And it’s such a fucking long way off. I don’t know if I can stand it that long.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Jessie.

  He turned his head away.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t mean anything.’

  Jessie didn’t say a word, just continued stroking his stomach, as if she could somehow smooth away the knot she knew was inside. The same knot she always had in her own stomach.

  She felt something under her fingers and pulled up Sam’s shirt.

  ‘What’s that?’ she said, touching the circular mark.

  ‘A burn mark. Fuck. Basse and a few of the other guys in class held me down while Nils pressed a lit cigarette against my skin.’

  Jessie closed her eyes. He was her Sam now. She wanted to heal all his wounds.

  ‘What about this?’

  She let her hand move along his back and pressed lightly so he would turn on to his side and show her his back. Long streaks formed an irregular pattern on his skin.

  ‘Is that from Nils too?’

  ‘No. My father. From a belt. When the gym teacher asked me about it, I lied and said I tore up my back on some thorns. Nobody dares fuck with James. But from then on he was smart enough not to do anything that would leave a mark. And three years ago he totally stopped that sort of punishment. I don’t know why.’

  ‘Do you have other scars?’ asked Jessie, feeling a certain fascination as she touched the streaks on his back.

  Her own scars were all on the inside. But that didn’t mean they hurt less than if a belt had torn open the skin on her back.

  Sam sat up in bed. He rolled up his trouser legs to show her his knees. They were both scarred. She reached out her hand to stroke them as well. They felt knobby under her fingertips.

  ‘How did you … what happened?’

  ‘I had to kneel on the floor when it was covered with sugar. It may not sound especially painful, but believe me, it hurts. And that’s how I got these scars.’

  Jessie leaned forward and kissed his knees.

  He turned his back to her and pulled down his trousers to show her his buttocks.

  ‘Do you see it?’

  She did. Yet another circular scar, but this one didn’t look like a burn mark.

  ‘It’s from a pen. That old trick when somebody shoves a sharp pen underneath you just as you’re sitting down. The pen went in a couple of centimetres, then broke off. The whole class laughed so hard I thought they’d all pee their pants.’

  ‘Shit,’ said Jessie.

  She didn’t want to hear anything else. She didn’t want to see any more scars. She was all too aware of her own invisible scars, and she had no wish to see more of Sam’s. She leaned forward and kissed him on the buttocks. He turned on to his back and slowly pulled down his trousers without looking at her. She heard how his breathing changed; he was breathing harder now. Tenderly she kissed his hips, his thighs. He reached up to stroke her hair. For a second she shivered as she recalled the photos of her that had been circulated at school and the way she’d felt afterwards. Then she opened her lips and pushed the pictures out of her mind. She wasn’t there now. She was here. With her soul mate. The person who would be able to heal her wounds.

  ‘My God, it’s hot.’ Martin was panting like a dog as they headed for the police car. ‘You’re not even sweating, are you?’

  Paula laughed and shook her head.

  ‘I’m Chilean. This is nothing.’

  ‘But you’ve hardly even lived in Chile,’ said Martin with a laugh as he wiped the sweat from his brow. ‘You’re as Swedish as I
am.’

  ‘Nobody can be as Swedish as you, Martin. You’re the biggest Swede I know.’

  ‘You say that as if you think it’s a bad thing,’ said Martin, smiling as he opened the car door and got in.

  The next second he jumped back out.

  ‘Wait a minute. We’ve got it all wrong. She’s probably at the studio.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ said Paula, shaking her head. ‘And it’s only a stone’s throw away from here.’

  ‘Might be kind of fun to see a film studio,’ said Martin as he began walking towards the industrial area where the Ingrid Bergman film was being shot in one of the abandoned buildings.

  ‘I don’t think it’s as flashy as you imagine.’

  Martin turned to look at Paula, who was shorter and had a hard time keeping up with him. He gave her a mischievous wink.

  ‘We’ll see about that. No matter what, it’s going to be exciting to meet Marie Wall. She’s a real looker, considering her age.’

  Paula sighed.

  ‘Speaking of women,’ she said, ‘how’s it going with the woman you met the other day?’

  Martin felt himself blushing.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. I only talked to her for a few minutes at the playground. I don’t even know her name.’

  ‘But I thought you said the two of you hit it off.’

  Martin groaned. He knew Paula wasn’t about to let the subject go. The more uncomfortable he got, the more amused she was.

  ‘Well, I mean …’

  He searched frantically for some witty retort but couldn’t think of anything.

  ‘Let’s drop it,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘We’ve got work to do.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Paula, giving him a smile.

  The film studio was located in an industrial building with a distinctly unglamorous facade. A fence ran around the entire perimeter but when Martin reached for the gate, he discovered it wasn’t locked, so they were able to enter the area with no trouble. A door stood open, probably for the sake of ventilation, and they hesitantly entered. The place was the size of an aircraft hangar: one enormous room with a high ceiling. In front of them, sofas had been arranged to form a seating area, and with lots of clothes hanging from racks to one side, presumably the wardrobe area. On the left were several doors that led to toilets and an improvised make-up room. On the right, fake walls with windows had been erected to give the illusion of a real room. The set was surrounded by dozens of lights.