The Lost Boy (Patrick Hedstrom and Erica Falck, Book 7) Read online

  ‘I see,’ said Paula, leaning back in her chair again. She thought they might have missed something, but Patrik clearly had the situation under control.

  ‘What did you find out in Göteborg?’ asked Mellberg as he slipped a biscuit to Ernst.

  Patrik and Martin exchanged glances.

  ‘Well, it turned out to be a very productive trip. Would you like to tell everybody about our meeting with social services, Martin?’

  Patrik’s decision to let his youngest colleague take the lead a bit more often had an immediate effect. Martin’s face lit up. He delivered a clear and concise report on their meeting with Sven Barkman and the information he’d given them about the Refuge and its collaboration with social services. After casting an enquiring glance at Patrik, he went on to describe their visit to the Refuge office.

  ‘As far as we know, there were no threats directed at Mats because of his work with the organization. At least, the director of the Refuge claims to be unaware of any such threats. She did, however, allow us to look through the documents pertaining to the women who received help from the Refuge during the last year that Sverin worked there. We’re talking about approximately twenty cases.’

  Patrik nodded, and then Martin continued:

  ‘Without more to go on, it’s impossible to determine whether one or more of the cases might be of interest and warrant further investigation. We took notes and wrote down the names of those women that Mats was the contact person for. So we can follow up on that. I have to say, though, it was bloody depressing to sit there and read through those files. Many of the women were living in a hell that we can’t even begin to imagine … It’s really hard to describe.’ Embarrassed, Martin fell silent, but Patrik understood exactly what he meant. He too had been affected by the hellish lives that they had glimpsed in those files.

  ‘We’re considering talking to the other staff members,’ said Patrik. ‘And maybe also some of the women who received help from the Refuge while Mats worked there. But that might not be necessary. We now have a statement from a witness that could give us a potential lead.’ He paused for effect, noting that he had everyone’s full attention. ‘From the start I’ve felt there was something odd about the assault on Mats. So Martin and I took a chance and went over to the building where Mats used to live in Göteborg. As you know, the attack took place right outside the front entrance, and we managed to speak with a neighbour. We wanted to confirm what Sverin had reported about the teenagers who beat him up. But according to the neighbour, who actually witnessed the incident, the assault was carried out by a much older gang. “Motorcyclists”, was the term he used.’

  ‘Oh, shit,’ said Gösta. ‘Why would Sverin lie about that? And why didn’t the neighbour say anything before?’

  ‘As far as the neighbour is concerned, it’s the usual story. He was scared and didn’t want to get involved. A lack of civic courage, in other words.’

  ‘And Sverin? Why didn’t he tell the truth?’ Gösta persisted.

  Patrik shook his head. ‘Maybe he was scared too. Maybe it’s as simple as that. But these biker gangs aren’t known for attacking random people on the street, so there must be a reason for the assault.’

  ‘Did the neighbour recall any identifying marks?’ asked Paula.

  ‘An eagle,’ said Martin. ‘The neighbour said that he saw an eagle on their jackets. So it should be easy enough to find out which gang it was.’

  ‘Get in touch with our colleagues in Göteborg. I’m sure they can help you with that,’ said Mellberg. ‘That’s what I’ve been saying all along. An ugly customer, that Sverin. If he was mixed up with those types, it’s no surprise that he ended up in the morgue with a bullet in his skull.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ said Patrik. ‘We have no idea whether Mats was mixed up with them, and so far there’s no indication that he was involved with any sort of criminal activity. I thought we should start by asking the director of Refuge whether she recognizes this particular biker gang, and whether her organization has had any contact with them. And, as Bertil suggested, we should also talk to our colleagues in Göteborg. Yes, Paula?’

  Paula had raised her hand.

  ‘Well, the thing is,’ she began hesitantly. ‘I decided to speed things up a bit today. Instead of sending the paper bag to the lab, I took it straight to Torbjörn Ruud. You know how long it can take to get lab results. Things end up at the bottom of the pile, and …’

  ‘Yes, we know. Go on,’ said Patrik.

  ‘I had a chat with Torbjörn, and I sort of asked him for a favour …’ Paula shifted uncomfortably, not sure how Patrik was going to react. ‘To be blunt, I asked him to do a quick comparison between the fingerprints on the bag and Sverin’s prints.’ She took a deep breath.

  ‘Go on,’ Patrik said again.

  ‘He found a match. Mats’s fingerprints were on the paper bag containing the cocaine.’

  ‘I knew it!’ Mellberg pumped his arm in triumph. ‘Narcotics and associating with a criminal gang. I knew all along he had something to hide.’

  ‘I still say that we should proceed with caution,’ said Patrik, although he didn’t sound as sure of himself as before.

  Thoughts were whirling through his mind, and he was trying to make sense of them. To a certain extent, he had to agree with Mellberg. But the image that he’d formed of Mats Sverin after talking to his parents, his co-workers and Nathalie, did not fit with this new information. For all that Patrik had consistently had a feeling that something wasn’t quite right, he couldn’t accept Bertil’s assessment of Mats.

  ‘Was Torbjörn quite sure?’

  ‘Yes, one hundred per cent sure. The bag will now be sent on, and his conclusion will be formally confirmed. But Torbjörn is positive that Mats Sverin held that bag in his hands.’

  ‘That changes things. We need to find out from the known local drug dealers whether they had anything to do with Mats. But I have to say this doesn’t seem …’ Patrik shook his head.

  ‘Rubbish,’ Mellberg snorted. ‘I’m convinced that once we start nosing around, we’ll soon have our killer. A good old-fashioned drug-related murder. That shouldn’t take much effort to solve. He probably owed somebody money.’

  ‘Hmm …’ said Patrik. ‘In that case, why would he toss the bag in a litter bin near his flat? Or maybe somebody else did that? Either way, we need to check this out. Martin and Paula, could you have a talk with the usual suspects tomorrow?’

  Paula nodded as Patrik began writing on the flip-chart. He knew that Annika always took notes at their meetings, but writing on the chart gave him a feel for the big picture.

  ‘Gösta and I will talk to Mats’s colleagues, and this time we’ll ask more specific questions.’

  ‘Specific?’

  ‘Such as whether they heard or observed anything that might explain why Mats would be holding a bag of cocaine.’

  ‘You mean we’re going to ask them whether he was a drug addict?’ Gösta didn’t seem too enthusiastic.

  ‘We don’t know that yet,’ said Patrik. ‘We won’t have Pedersen’s report until the day after tomorrow. Until then, we have no idea what kind of substances may have been found in Mats’s body.’

  ‘We could ask his parents,’ suggested Paula.

  Patrik swallowed hard. It wasn’t a task he relished, but he knew she was right.

  ‘Yes, we need to talk to them too. Gösta and I will handle it.’

  ‘What about me?’ asked Mellberg.

  ‘I’d really appreciate it if you, as the chief of police, could hold down the fort here,’ said Patrik.

  ‘Right. That’s probably best.’ Mellberg stood up, visibly relieved, and Ernst followed close on his heels. ‘We all need to get our beauty sleep now. It’s going to be a busy day tomorrow, but we’ll solve this case soon. I can feel it in my bones.’ Mellberg rubbed his hands together but didn’t receive much of a response from his subordinates.

  ‘Okay, you heard what Bertil said. Go home and get some
sleep. We’ll start fresh in the morning.’

  ‘What about the Göteborg lead?’ asked Martin.

  ‘We’ll start at this end first. Then we’ll review it when we have more information. Not tomorrow, though. That means we’ll probably make another trip to Göteborg on Wednesday.’

  They ended the meeting, and Patrik went out to his car. He spent the whole drive home lost in thought.

  FJÄLLBACKA 1871

  It was early autumn before she was allowed to leave Gråskär for the first time. The boat pitched alarmingly, just as it had when she came to the island, but this time she didn’t feel panicked. She had been living so close to the sea and had become familiar with the sounds and shiftings of the water. If it hadn’t been for the fact that the sea had kept her imprisoned on the island, she would probably have learned to appreciate it. And now the waves were carrying her to the harbour.

  The surface of the sea was as smooth as a mirror, and she couldn’t resist the temptation to lower her hand and trail her fingers alongside the boat. She had to lean over the railing to reach the water as she held her other hand protectively over her stomach. Karl stood at the helm. He seemed so different now that he was away from Gråskär and the shadow of the lighthouse. He looked so handsome. She hadn’t thought about that in a long time. The spiteful glint in his eyes had made him seem ugly. But if she looked at him now, as he stood facing forward, she was able to recall what she had once found so attractive. Maybe it’s the island that has changed him, thought Emelie. Maybe there’s something about the island that has unleashed the evil inside of him. She immediately pushed any such thoughts away. What a fool she was. But Edith’s words of warning still echoed in her mind.

  For today, at least, they were leaving the island behind, if only for a few hours. She was going to see other people, help to buy the groceries they needed, and have coffee with Karl’s aunt, who had invited them to her home. She also had an appointment to see the doctor. She wasn’t worried. She knew that everything was as it should be with the child, who kicked so eagerly inside of her stomach. Nevertheless, it would be a blessing to have this confirmed.

  She closed her eyes and smiled. The wind felt lovely against her skin.

  ‘Sit down properly,’ said Karl, making her jump.

  She remembered again that first boat trip. She had been newly married and filled with anticipation. Karl had still treated her kindly back then.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, lowering her gaze. She didn’t really know why she was apologizing.

  ‘And no unnecessary chatter.’ His voice was cold. He was once again the same Karl as on the island. The ugly man with the malevolent eyes.

  ‘Yes, Karl.’ She kept her eyes lowered, staring at the deck of the boat. The child inside of her kicked so hard that she gasped for breath.

  Suddenly Julian got up from where he was seated across from her and sat down next to her. A little too close. Then he grabbed hold of her arm.

  ‘You heard what Karl said. No talking. No talking about the island or anything that is no one else’s concern.’ His fingers dug deeper into her arm, and she grimaced.

  ‘All right,’ she said, the pain making her eyes fill with tears.

  ‘Now sit quietly in the boat. It’s easy to fall overboard,’ said Julian in a low voice. Then he let go of her arm and stood up. He went back to his seat and turned to look in the direction of Fjällbacka, which was now visible up ahead.

  Trembling, Emelie placed her hands over her stomach. She suddenly found herself missing those she had left behind on the island. Those who were forced to stay there, unable ever to leave. She promised herself that she would pray for them. Maybe God would hear her prayer and show mercy to those poor lost souls.

  When the boat docked near the marketplace, she blinked away her tears and felt a smile spread across her lips. Finally she was among other people again. She was still able to leave Gråskär.

  15

  Mellberg was whistling as he walked to work. He could tell that it was going to be a good day. He’d made a few phone calls the previous night, and he now had half an hour to get everything ready.

  ‘Annika!’ he called as soon as he stepped into the reception area.

  ‘I’m sitting right here. No need to shout.’

  ‘Would you mind getting the conference room ready?’

  ‘The conference room? I didn’t know we had a fancy place like that here at the station.’ She took off her computer glasses, letting them dangle from the cord around her neck.

  ‘Okay, okay. You know what I’m talking about. The only room that has space for lots of chairs.’

  ‘Lots of chairs?’ Annika was starting to feel uneasy. It didn’t bode well that Mellberg had turned up so early in the morning, and in such high spirits.

  ‘Yes. Rows of chairs. For the press.’

  ‘The press?’ said Annika, feeling her uneasiness settle into a hard lump in her stomach. What was he up to now?

  ‘Yes, the press. I’m holding a press conference here, and the reporters need some place to sit.’ He was prattling like a child.

  ‘Does Patrik know about this?’ Annika glanced at her phone.

  ‘Hedström will find out about it soon enough if he ever decides to come in to work. It’s already two minutes past eight,’ said Mellberg, ignoring the fact that he himself rarely turned up at the station before ten. ‘The press conference is scheduled for eight thirty. In less than half an hour. And as I was saying, we need a room.’

  Annika again glanced at her phone, but then she realized that Mellberg wasn’t going to leave her alone until she got up off her arse and began arranging chairs in the only room that was suitable. She was hoping that then he’d go into his office and she’d have a chance to ring Patrik, to warn him what was about to happen.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Gösta asked from the doorway as Annika began setting up chairs.

  ‘Mellberg is apparently going to hold a press conference here.’

  Gösta scratched the back of his head and looked around the room.

  ‘Does Hedström know?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I asked Bertil. And no, evidently he doesn’t. This is one of Mellberg’s bright ideas, and I haven’t been able to get hold of Patrik to warn him.’

  ‘Warn me about what?’ Patrik appeared in the doorway behind Gösta. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘We’re to have a press conference in …’ Annika looked at her watch. ‘Ten minutes.’

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’ said Patrik, but he could see from Annika’s expression that this was no joke.

  ‘That bloody …’ Patrik turned on his heel and headed straight for Mellberg’s office. Then they heard a door open, followed by the sound of agitated voices before the door closed.

  ‘Ay ay ay,’ said Gösta, again scratching the back of his head. ‘I think I’ll go to my office.’ He disappeared so fast that Annika wondered whether he’d actually been standing there at all, or if he was just a mirage.

  Muttering to herself, she continued setting up chairs, though she’d have given anything to be a fly on the wall in Mellberg’s office. She could hear voices rising and falling behind his door, but she couldn’t make out any of the words. Then the bell rang, and she hurried to open the front door.

  Fifteen minutes later, the journalists had all gathered. There was a muted hum of voices in the room. Some of them knew each other, but some didn’t. Reporters had arrived from Bohusläningen, Strömstads Tidning, and the other local newspapers. Even the local radio station was represented, as well as the evening papers – the ‘big guns’, who were not frequent visitors to the area. Annika bit her lip nervously. Mellberg and Patrik still hadn’t appeared, and she wondered whether she should say something or just wait to see what happened. She chose to do the latter, although she kept casting glances at Mellberg’s office door. Finally it was flung open, and Mellberg came rushing out, bright red in the face and with his hair in disarray. Patrik stood in the doorway with his hands on hi
s hips, and in spite of the distance, Annika could see his angry expression. As Mellberg came towards her at top speed, Patrik went into his own office and slammed the door, rattling the pictures hanging on the wall of the corridor.

  ‘Young whippersnapper,’ muttered Mellberg as he pushed past Annika. ‘Who does he think he is, coming here and telling me how to run things?’ He stopped, took a deep breath, and fixed his comb-over. Then he went into the room.

  ‘Is everyone here?’ he asked, smiling broadly as the crowd murmured affirmatively.

  ‘Good. Then let’s get started. As I told you last night, the investigation into the murder of Mats Sverin has taken a new direction.’ He paused, but no one seemed to have any questions yet. ‘Those of you from the local press have probably already heard that we had a serious incident occur here yesterday. Three little boys were taken to Emergency at Uddevalla Hospital.’

  A few of the reporters nodded.

  ‘The boys had found a bag containing white powder. They thought it was sweets, so they tasted it. But the powder turned out to be cocaine, and it made them sick. They were taken to the hospital by ambulance.’ He paused again, straightening his back. He was in his element. He loved press conferences.

  The reporter from Bohusläningen raised his hand, and Mellberg nodded brusquely.

  ‘Where did the boys find the bag?’

  ‘In Fjällbacka, in a litter bin outside the block of flats near Tetra Pak.’

  ‘Have they suffered any permanent injury?’ A journalist from one of the evening papers asked the question without waiting his turn.

  ‘The doctors say that they’ll make a full recovery. Luckily, they didn’t ingest very much of it.’

  ‘Do you think that a known addict tossed away the bag? Or is there a connection to the murder? You implied something of the sort in your opening remarks,’ interjected the reporter from Strömstads Tidning.

  Mellberg was enjoying the way the tension was building in the audience. They could all see that he had a scoop for them, and he planned to make the most of it. After a moment of silence, he said: