The Ice Child Page 32

  Helga nodded and looked a bit calmer.

  ‘That’s probably all it is. I don’t really see why it’s necessary to bother the police with this right now. I’m sure they have plenty of other things to do.’

  She led the way to the kitchen and went back to emptying the dishwasher.

  ‘Sit down, Mamma,’ said Jonas.

  By now his anxiety was at fever pitch. He couldn’t understand what was going on. Where could they be? In his mind he’d gone over the conversations he’d had with Marta during the past few days. Nothing gave him any reason to believe that something was wrong. Yet he was filled with fear – the same fear he’d felt ever since their first meeting. The fear and conviction that one day she would leave him. And that scared him more than anything else. Whatever was perfect was bound to be ruined. The balance had to be destroyed. That was the philosophy he had made his own. How could he have believed that he would remain untouched? Or that the same rules didn’t apply to him?

  ‘How long were they here?’ Patrik was quietly asking his questions, and Jonas closed his eyes to listen as his mother answered. He could hear from her tone of voice that she didn’t like being put in this situation. He knew she thought they should have handled things without bringing in the police. In their family, they always took care of everything on their own.

  ‘They didn’t mention any plans, just said they would be training with the horses later on.’ Helga looked up at the ceiling as she talked. Jonas recognized this long-time habit of hers. All these familiar gestures, repeated over and over in an endless cycle. He had accepted that he was part of this cycle, and Marta had too. But without her, he couldn’t and wouldn’t be able to participate. It would no longer have any meaning.

  ‘So they didn’t say they were going to visit anyone? Or mention any errands they needed to run?’ Patrik went on.

  Helga shook her head. ‘No, and in that case they would have taken the car. Marta was always rather lazy, that way.’

  ‘Was?’ said Jonas, and he heard his voice rise to a falsetto. ‘Don’t you mean “is”, not “was”?’

  Patrik looked at him in surprise. Jonas propped his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands.

  ‘Sorry. I’ve been up since four this morning and haven’t had much sleep. It’s just not like Marta to miss a lesson, and definitely not like her to go off without telling me.’

  ‘I’m sure they’ll come home soon. And Marta will be cross when she hears that we’ve made such a fuss,’ said Helga, trying to console him. But there was a slight undertone, and Jonas wondered if Patrik had heard it.

  Jonas wished he could believe her, but all his senses told him something was wrong. What would he do if they were gone? He would never be able to explain to anyone how he and Marta were like one and the same person. Since the first moment, they had breathed in unison. Molly was his flesh and blood, but without Marta, he was nothing.

  ‘Excuse me, I’ve got to go to the loo,’ Jonas said, standing up.

  ‘I’m sure your mother is right,’ Patrik called after him.

  He didn’t reply. He didn’t really need the loo. He just wanted a few minutes alone to compose himself so they wouldn’t see that everything was about to fall apart.

  He could hear his father grumbling and groaning upstairs. He was probably making extra noise because he could hear voices in the kitchen. But Jonas had no intention of going upstairs to see him. Right now Einar was the last person in the world he wanted to see.

  Whenever he came near his father, he would feel a scorching heat, as if from a blazing fire. It had always been like that. Helga had tried to be the cooling force between them, but she’d never succeeded. Now only a quiet smouldering remained inside of Einar, and Jonas didn’t know how long he’d be able to help his father keep it alive. Or how long he was obligated to do so.

  Jonas went into the bathroom and leaned his forehead against the mirror. It felt pleasantly cool. He could feel how flushed his cheeks were. When he closed his eyes, images flashed through his mind – so many memories from the life he had shared with Marta. He felt his nose running, and he leaned down to get some toilet paper, but there was none. Outside the door he could hear a murmur of voices from the kitchen, as well as the noise Einar was making upstairs. Jonas squatted down and opened the cupboard under the sink, which was where Helga kept the extra rolls of toilet paper.

  He peered inside the cupboard. There was something hidden next to the toilet paper. At first he didn’t understand what he was seeing. The next instant he understood everything.

  Erica had offered to help search, but Patrik had pointed out the obvious: someone needed to stay home with the kids. Reluctantly she’d agreed he was right, and she decided to spend the evening watching the videotaped interviews with family members. They were all in a box in the front hall, but from experience she knew she shouldn’t start watching them until the children were asleep in their beds. So she pushed aside all thought of the videos and sat down on the sofa with the kids.

  She sat through yet another DVD film about Emil, smiling at his antics as she snuggled close to the twins and Maja. This wasn’t always easy since they all wanted to sit next to her, but she ended up pulling Anton on to her lap, with Noel and Maja on either side, leaning against her. She was filled with gratitude for everything she had in her life. She thought about Laila and wondered if she’d ever had similar feelings for her children. It seemed unlikely, in light of what she’d done.

  As Emil poured blueberry soup over Mrs Petrell’s head, she noticed that the children were dozing off. A few minutes later she heard the unmistakable sound of their quiet breathing as they slept. Carefully she untangled herself and got up. Then she carried them upstairs one by one and put them to bed. She paused for a few seconds in the boys’ room, looking at their blond heads resting on their pillows. So secure, so content, so unaware of the evil that existed in the world. Then she tiptoed out and went downstairs to the front hall to fetch the videos. She sat down on the sofa again and studied the labels on the DVDs. She decided to play them in order, starting with the first girl who disappeared.

  She felt a rush of sympathy when she saw Sandra Andersson’s family. Their faces were haggard as they tried to answer the police officers’ questions. They were eager to help, but they were tormented by all the thoughts stirred up by the interview. Certain questions were repeated several times, and even though Erica knew why this was done, she could understand the family’s frustration at not being able to answer.

  She moved on to the second and third videos, trying to keep all her senses on high alert. But she began to feel discouraged when she failed to find anything, though she couldn’t say what she was looking for. She realized that asking her for help was a long shot, and Patrik probably hadn’t thought she’d actually find something. But she was still hoping for that moment of epiphany when she would see everything clearly and all the pieces would magically fall into place. It had happened to her before, and she knew it was always possible, but in this case she saw only grieving families with too many unanswered questions.

  She turned off the DVD player. The suffering she’d witnessed in the eyes of the parents had started to get to her. Their pain was so apparent in their gestures and in their voices, which kept breaking with the effort to hold back their tears. Erica couldn’t bear to watch any more of the interviews. She decided instead to give Anna a call.

  Her sister sounded tired on the phone. Erica was surprised to hear that Anna had been present when it was discovered that Marta and Molly were missing. For her part, Erica could report that the police were now involved. Then they chatted for a while about their own lives which, in spite of everything, continued on. She didn’t ask how Anna was doing. Tonight she just couldn’t bear to hear her sister say that everything was fine, when that was so clearly a lie. She simply let Anna talk and pretended that nothing was wrong.

  ‘So, what’s up? Tell me why you called,’ said Anna.

  Erica wasn’t sure
how to reply. She had already mentioned the videos, but now she tried to sort out her feelings.

  ‘It’s just so strange to be sitting here watching these interviews. It’s like sharing the grief of these families. I can tell how awful it must be for them to go through something like this. At the same time I can’t help feeling relieved that my own children are safe in bed upstairs.’

  ‘Yes, thank God for our children. Without them I don’t know how I would have survived. If only …’

  Anna didn’t finish her sentence, but Erica knew what she was thinking. There should have been one more child.

  ‘I have to go now,’ said Anna. Erica had a sudden urge to ask whether Dan had mentioned that she’d phoned him earlier in the day. But she stopped herself. It might be best to let them handle things at their own pace.

  They said goodbye and ended the phone call. Then Erica got up from the sofa and put the next DVD in the player. It was the interview with Minna’s mother, and she recognized the flat she’d visited only a few days ago. She also recognized the resigned expression on Nettan’s face. Like the other parents, she tried to answer the police officers’ questions. She too wanted to help, but there the similarity ended. In appearance she was very different from the other family members. Her hair was dull and uncombed, and she was wearing the same nubby cardigan she’d had on when Erica visited. She chain-smoked through the whole interview, and Erica could hear the officers coughing occasionally from all the smoke.

  They mostly asked the same questions she had asked, and that helped to refresh her memory before telling Patrik again about her own interview with Nettan. The main difference was that she had been allowed to look through the photo album, and that had given her a more personal view of Minna and her mother. The police hadn’t seemed to bother with that. Yet Erica had always been more interested in the people involved in or affected by a crime. What sort of personal lives had they led? What were their relationships with others? What did they remember? She loved to look through photo albums, to see the family celebrations and daily life through the human eye behind the camera lens. Someone had chosen to photograph each specific scene, and it was interesting to see how he or she had depicted a life.

  In Nettan’s case, it had been painfully clear that she placed great importance on the various men who had come and gone. It was easy to see that she’d been longing for a family, a husband for herself and a father for Minna. There were pictures of Minna sitting on some man’s shoulders, of Nettan at the beach with some other man, and both of them with Nettan’s latest boyfriend, standing in front of a car packed with hopes for a wonderful summer holiday. Those were important images for Erica to see, even if they didn’t seem relevant to the police.

  She removed the DVD and put in another. This was the interview with Victoria’s parents and brother. But again she didn’t notice anything in particular. She glanced at her watch. Eight o’clock. Patrik would probably be late getting home, if he came home at all. She suddenly felt more alert, so she decided to watch all the videos again and pay even closer attention.

  A couple of hours later she was finished. And she was forced to admit that she hadn’t discovered anything new. She decided to go to bed. There was no need to wait up for Patrik, since he hadn’t phoned, and that meant he must be busy. She would have given anything to know what was happening, but after living so many years with a policeman, she’d learned that sometimes it was necessary to restrain her curiosity and simply wait. This was undoubtedly one of those occasions.

  Tired and overwhelmed with too much input, she got into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. Both she and Patrik liked to sleep in a cool room. The chill in the bedroom made it even more enjoyable to get under the warm duvet. Almost at once she began to drift off. In that no-man’s-land between sleep and consciousness, images from the videos began whirling through her mind. They rushed past in no particular order, each one quickly replaced by another. Her body got heavier, and as she began to slide into sleep, the flood of images slowed, until her brain stopped on one picture. And all of a sudden she was wide awake.

  Feverish activity had taken over the station. Patrik had planned to call a brief meeting to coordinate their efforts as they searched for Molly and Marta, but the work was already in full swing. Gösta, Martin, and Annika were phoning friends and acquaintances, ringing Molly’s classmates, the stable girls, and everyone else on the list that Jonas had provided. Those names led to more names, but so far they hadn’t found anyone who knew where Molly and Marta could be. By now it was getting so late that a reasonable explanation for their absence seemed less and less likely.

  Patrik walked down the corridor to the kitchen. As he passed Gösta’s office he caught a glimpse of his colleague jumping up from his chair.

  ‘Hey, wait!’

  Patrik stopped in mid-stride.

  ‘What is it?’

  Gösta’s cheeks were flushed. ‘Well, the thing is, something happened when you were gone today. I didn’t want to talk about it when we were at Jonas’s house, but Pedersen phoned earlier. He said it was Lasse’s blood on the dock.’

  ‘Just as we thought.’

  ‘Yes, but that’s not all.’

  ‘Okay. What else did he find out?’ asked Patrik impatiently.

  ‘On impulse Pedersen compared the blood with the DNA on the cigarette butt that we sent to the lab for analysis. The one we found in the garden of Victoria’s neighbour.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘They matched,’ said Gösta, eager to see Patrik’s reaction.

  ‘Are you saying that Lasse was the person watching her house?’ He stared at Gösta as he tried to make sense of everything. ‘He was the one spying on Victoria?’

  ‘Yes. And he was probably also the one who sent those threatening letters. But unfortunately we’ll never know for sure, since Ricky threw them out.’

  ‘So Lasse may have been blackmailing someone because he knew that person was having an affair with Victoria,’ said Patrik, thinking out loud. ‘Someone who wanted to keep the relationship secret. Even if it meant paying blackmail.’

  Gösta nodded. ‘Exactly what I was thinking.’

  ‘Do you think it was Jonas?’ said Patrik.

  ‘That was my thought, but it turns out that Ricky was wrong.’

  Patrik listened to Gösta’s explanation, and suddenly everything he’d thought was turned upside down.

  ‘We need to tell the others about this. Go find Martin and I’ll get Annika.’

  A few minutes later they were all seated in the kitchen. It was pitch dark outside, and snow was falling. Martin had made a fresh pot of coffee.

  ‘Where the hell is Mellberg?’ asked Patrik.

  ‘He was here for a while, but then he went home for dinner. He probably fell asleep on the sofa,’ said Annika.

  ‘Okay. We’ll get by without him.’ Adrenaline was making him jittery. Even though it was annoying that Mellberg always managed to sneak off, Patrik knew they’d get more work done in his absence.

  ‘So what’s happened?’ asked Martin.

  ‘We’ve received some new information that might be of great importance to our search for Molly and Marta.’ Patrik could hear how bombastic he sounded, but that sometimes occurred when the situation was as serious as it was now. ‘Could you tell everyone what you found out, Gösta?’

  Gösta cleared his throat and explained how they’d discovered that Lasse was the one spying on Victoria.

  ‘He must have found out that Victoria was having an affair with someone. And since he clearly regarded the relationship as morally objectionable, he started sending threatening letters to her. At the same time he began blackmailing the other person.’

  ‘Do you think he was the one who kidnapped Victoria?’ asked Martin.

  ‘That’s one possible theory, but Lasse doesn’t seem like the type of criminal that Struwer described. And I have a hard time believing that he’d be capable of carrying out that sort of crime,’ said Patrik.

 
; ‘But who was Lasse blackmailing?’ asked Annika. ‘It had to be Jonas, right? Since he was the one having an affair with Victoria.’

  ‘That was my conclusion, of course. But …’ Gösta paused for effect, and Patrik could tell that he was enjoying having everyone’s full attention.

  ‘But it wasn’t him,’ Patrik interjected. He nodded to Gösta to go on.

  ‘Ricky thought, just as we did, that Jonas was having a relationship with his sister. But his mother knew something about Victoria that no else knew. It wasn’t boys that she fell in love with.’

  ‘What?’ said Martin, sitting up straighter. ‘How come nobody knew about this? We didn’t hear a word about it when we talked to her friends and classmates. Why did her mother know about her sexual preference when no one else did?’

  ‘I suppose Helena, as her mother, suspected the truth. Then she happened to see something when Victoria brought a friend home. She later mentioned it to her daughter, so that Victoria would know she could be open about such things with her family. But Victoria panicked and begged her not to tell Ricky or her father.’

  ‘Obviously it would be a sensitive issue for her,’ said Annika. ‘At her age it can’t be easy, especially in a small town like this.’

  ‘Right. Sure. But I’m guessing she got so upset because at that time she had just started a relationship with someone, and she didn’t think her parents would want her to be with that person.’ Gösta reached for his coffee cup.

  ‘So who was it?’ asked Annika.

  Martin frowned. ‘Was it Marta? That would explain the argument between Jonas and Victoria. Maybe it was about Marta.’

  Gösta nodded. ‘And that means Jonas probably knew about it.’

  ‘So we’re assuming that Lasse was blackmailing Marta? She got tired of paying the money, and she killed him? Or was Jonas so angry when he found out that he took matters into his own hands? Or is there some other possible scenario that we’ve missed?’ Martin pensively scratched the back of his head.