The Preacher Page 4

  ‘Linda knows what side her bread’s buttered on, so I’d be very surprised if she ran off without securing some financial support. And if she keeps studying that’s exactly what she’ll get. I promised to send her money every month if she keeps on with her studies, and I intend to honour that promise. Now I really don’t want to hear any more about this matter.’

  Laine kept on rubbing her hands, but she knew when she was beaten, and she left his office with her shoulders slumped. She carefully closed the sliding doors after her and Gabriel heaved a sigh of relief. This nagging was getting on his nerves. She ought to know him well enough after all these years together to see that he wasn’t one to change his mind once it was made up.

  His sense of satisfaction and calm returned as he went back to writing in the book he had before him. The modern computer accounting programs had never won him over, because he loved the feeling of having a big ledger in front of him, with neatly written rows of figures that were summed up on each page. When he was finished he leaned back contentedly in his chair. This was a world he could control.

  For a moment Patrik wondered whether he was in the right house. This couldn’t be the calm, peaceful home that he’d left this morning. The noise level was far above what was permissible in most workplaces, and the house looked like someone had tossed a grenade into it. Belongings he didn’t recognize were strewn everywhere, and things that should have been in a certain place were missing. Judging by Erica’s expression, he should have come home an hour or two earlier.

  In amazement he counted two kids and two extra adults, and he wondered how in the world they could sound like a whole day-care centre. The Disney channel was blaring full blast on the TV, and a little boy was running about chasing an even smaller girl with a toy pistol. The parents of the two little devils were sitting peacefully on the veranda. The big lug of a man waved happily to Patrik but didn’t bother getting up from the sofa or tear himself away from the tray of pastries.

  Patrik went out to the kitchen to find Erica, and she collapsed in his arms.

  ‘Take me away from here, please. I must have committed some unpardonable sin in a former life to be saddled with all this. The kids are little demons in human form, and Conny is … Conny. His wife has hardly said a peep and looks surly enough to curdle milk. Help, they’ve got to be on their way!’

  Patrik patted his wife sympathetically on the back and felt that her blouse was sopping wet with sweat.

  ‘You go and take a shower in peace and quiet, and I’ll take care of the guests for a while. You’re soaked through.’

  ‘Thanks, you’re an angel. There’s a pot of coffee ready. They’re into their third cup already, but Conny has started to drop little hints that he wants something stronger, so you might want to check what we have available along that line.’

  ‘I’ll fix it. Now get going, dear, before I change my mind.’

  Erica gave him a grateful kiss and then waddled up the stairs to the bathroom.

  ‘I want some ice cream.’ Victor had sneaked up behind Patrik and was aiming his pistol at him.

  ‘Sorry, we don’t have any ice cream in the house.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to go and buy some.’

  The boy’s contrary expression drove Patrik crazy, but he tried to look friendly and said as gently as he could, ‘No, I’m not going to do that. There are biscuits on the table outside, you can have some of those.’

  ‘I want ice creeeeeeam!!!’ The boy whined and jumped up and down, and now his face was bright red.

  ‘We don’t have any, I tell you!’ Patrik’s patience was starting to wear thin.

  ‘ICE CREAM, ICE CREAM, ICE CREAM, ICE CREAM …’

  Victor wasn’t going to give up easily. But he must have seen from Patrik’s eyes that a limit had been reached, because he quieted down and slowly backed out of the kitchen. Then he ran crying to his parents who were sitting out on the veranda, ignoring the tumult in the kitchen.

  ‘PAPPAAA, Uncle Patrik is mean! I want some ICE CREEEAM!’

  With the coffee pot in his hand Patrik tried to turn a deaf ear and went out to greet his guests. Conny stood up and held out his hand. When Patrik greeted Britta he too experienced her cold-fish handshake.

  ‘Victor’s going through a phase right now,’ she said. ‘He’s testing the limits of his own will. We don’t want to hamper his personal development, so we’re letting him find out where the dividing line runs between his own wishes and those of other people.’

  Britta gave her son a tender look, and Patrik remembered Erica telling him that she was a psychologist. But if this was her idea of raising children, then psychology was a profession that little Victor would be in close contact with when he grew up. Conny hardly seemed to notice what was going on, and he shut his son up by stuffing a good-sized piece of cake in the boy’s mouth. Judging by Victor’s rotundity, this was a frequent tactic. But Patrik had to admit that it was effective and appealing in all its simplicity.

  By the time Erica came downstairs, freshly showered and with a much more alert expression on her face, Patrik had set the shrimp and other dishes on the table. He’d also managed to fix the children each a pizza after realizing that it was the only way to avoid a total catastrophe at dinner.

  They all sat down and Erica was just about to open her mouth to say ‘bon appetit’ when Conny dug into the bowl of shrimp with both hands. One, two, three big fistfuls of shrimp landed on his plate, leaving barely half of the original amount in the bowl.

  ‘Mmm, delicious. Now I’m a guy who knows how to eat shrimp.’ Conny proudly patted his stomach and dug into his mountain of shrimp.

  Patrik, who had put in the serving bowl fully two kilos of ruinously expensive shrimp, merely sighed and took a small handful that hardly took up any space on his plate. Erica without a word did the same and then passed the bowl to Britta, who morosely took the rest.

  After the unsuccessful dinner they made the beds for their visitors in the guest room and excused themselves early, on the pretext that Erica needed to rest. Patrik showed Conny where the whisky was and escaped in relief upstairs to peace and quiet.

  When they finally got into bed, Patrik told Erica what he’d been doing all day. He had long since given up trying to keep his police activities a secret from Erica, but he also knew that she kept her mouth shut about what he told her. When he got to the episode with the two missing women, he could see that she pricked up her ears.

  ‘I remember reading about that. So you think they might be the ones you found?’

  ‘I’m fairly sure of it. It would be too big a coincidence otherwise. But as soon as we get the report from the ME we can start investigating the matter properly, but for the time being we have to keep as many options open as possible.’

  ‘You don’t need any help digging up background material, do you?’ She turned eagerly towards him and he could see the gleam in her eyes.

  ‘No, no, no. You have to take it easy. Don’t forget that you’re actually on sick leave.’

  ‘Sure, but my blood pressure was back down at the last check-up. And I’m going stir crazy being at home all the time. I haven’t even been able to start writing a new book.’

  The book about Alexandra Wijkner and her tragic death had been a big seller, and in turn had brought Erica a contract for another true crime book. The writing had demanded enormous effort on her part, both in research and emotion, and after sending it off to the publisher in May she hadn’t felt like starting a new project. High blood pressure followed by sick leave had tipped the scales against her, so she had reluctantly postponed all work on a new book until after the baby arrived. But it wasn’t in her nature just to sit at home and twiddle her thumbs.

  ‘Annika is on holiday, so she can’t do it. And it isn’t as easy as you might think to do research. You have to know where to look, and I do. Can’t I just take a quick peek – ’

  ‘No, out of the question. Hopefully Conny and his wild bunch will leave early in the morning,
and then you can take it easy. Now be quiet so I can talk to the baby a minute. We have to get started planning his football career – ’

  ‘Or hers.’

  ‘Or hers. Although then it would probably be golf instead. There isn’t any money in women’s football yet.’

  Erica just sighed, but obediently lay down on her back to facilitate the conversation.

  ‘Don’t they notice when you sneak out?’ Stefan was lying on his side next to Linda and tickling her face with a straw.

  ‘No, because Jacob “trusts” me.’ She frowned, mimicking her brother’s serious tone of voice. ‘It’s something he picked up from all those courses on how to create good contact with young people. The worst thing is that most of the kids seem to lap it up; for some of them Jacob is like God. Although if you’ve grown up without a father you probably take whatever you can get.’ Annoyed, she slapped away the straw Stefan was tickling her with. ‘Cut that out.’

  ‘What’s the matter, can’t I tease you a little?’

  She could see that he was offended, and she leaned over and kissed him, as if putting a plaster on a cut. It just wasn’t a good day today. She’d got her period that morning, so she wouldn’t be able to make love with Stefan for a week. And then it was getting on her nerves to be living in the same house with her splendid brother and his equally splendid wife.

  ‘Oh, if only the year would be over fast so I could leave this fucking hole!’

  They had to whisper so they wouldn’t be discovered in their hiding place in the hayloft, but she slapped her hand on the boards to punctuate her words.

  ‘Do you wish you could leave me too? Is that what you want?’

  The hurt expression on Stefan’s face deepened, and she bit her tongue. If she ever got out in the wide world, she would never look at someone like Stefan. As long as she was stuck here at home he was amusing enough, but that was all. But he didn’t need to know that. So she curled up like a cuddly little kitten and snuggled closer. When she got no response, she took his arm and put it around her. As if of their own accord his fingers began to wander over her body, and she smiled to herself. Men were so easy to manipulate.

  ‘You could come with me, couldn’t you?’ She said this knowing full well that he would never be able to tear himself away from Fjällbacka, or rather from his brother. Sometimes she wondered whether he even went to the toilet without asking Robert’s permission.

  He didn’t answer the question. Instead he said, ‘Have you talked to your father? What does he say about your idea of leaving town?’

  ‘What can he say? In a year he won’t be able to tell me what to do. As soon as I turn eighteen he’ll have fuck-all to do about it. And that will drive him crazy. Sometimes I think he wishes that he could enter us in one of his fucking account books. Jacob debit, Linda credit.’

  ‘What do you mean, debit?’

  Linda laughed. ‘Those are financial terms, nothing you need to worry about.’

  ‘I just wonder how things would have been if …’ Stefan fixed his gaze somewhere behind her as he continued to chew on a straw.

  ‘How things would have been if what?’

  ‘If Pappa hadn’t lost all the money. Then maybe we would have been the ones living in the manor house, and you’d be in the cabin with Uncle Gabriel and Aunt Laine.’

  ‘Oh yeah, that would have been a sight. Mamma living in a shabby cabin. Poor as a churchmouse.’

  Linda tilted her head back and laughed so loud that Stefan had to shush her so she wouldn’t be heard over in Jacob and Marita’s house, only a stone’s throw from the barn.

  ‘Maybe Pappa would have still been alive today, in that case. And then Mamma wouldn’t spend her days poring over those sodding photo albums,’ said Stefan.

  ‘But it wasn’t because of the money that he – ’

  ‘You don’t know that. What the hell do you know about why he did it?’ His voice rose an octave and turned shrill.

  ‘Everybody knows.’

  Linda didn’t like the turn the conversation had taken, and she didn’t dare look Stefan in the eye. The family feud and everything connected with it had always been off limits, by tacit agreement.

  ‘Everybody thinks they know, but nobody knows fucking shit,’ Stefan went on. ‘And there’s your brother, living on our farm – that’s too fucking much!’

  ‘It’s not Jacob’s fault things turned out the way they did,’ said Linda. It felt odd to defend the brother she usually showered with abuse, but blood was thicker than water. ‘He got the farm from Grandpa, and besides, he’s always been the first to defend Johannes.’

  Stefan knew that she was right, and his anger drained out of him. It was just that sometimes it hurt so damn much when Linda talked about her family, because it reminded him of what he himself had lost. He didn’t dare say it to her face, but he often thought that she was pretty ungrateful. She and her family had everything, and his family had nothing. Where was the justice in that?

  At the same time he could forgive her for everything. He had never loved anyone so intensely, and the mere sight of her slim body next to his made him burn inside. Sometimes he couldn’t believe it was true. That an angel like Linda would waste her time on him. But he knew better than to question his good fortune. Instead he tried to ignore the future and enjoy the present. Now he pulled her closer and shut his eyes as he inhaled the scent of her hair. He unbuttoned the top button of her jeans, but she stopped him.

  ‘I can’t, I’ve got my period. Let me instead.’

  She unbuttoned his jeans and he lay back in the hay. Behind his closed eyelids heaven flickered past.

  Only a day had passed since the dead woman was found, but impatience was already plaguing Patrik. Somewhere somebody was wondering where she was. Pondering, worrying, letting their thoughts run along ever more anxious paths. And the terrible thing was that in this case the worst misgivings had come true. He wanted more than anything else to find out who the woman was so he could inform her loved ones. Nothing was worse than uncertainty, not even death. The work of grieving could not commence until they knew the reason for their grief. It wasn’t going to be easy to be the one who delivered the news – a responsibility that Patrik had already shouldered in his mind – but he knew that it was an important part of his job. To facilitate and offer support. But above all, to find out what had happened to the loved one.

  Martin’s fruitless phone calls the day before had demonstrated the task of identification would be more difficult. She had not been reported missing anywhere in the local area, so the search field had to be expanded to all of Sweden, perhaps even to other countries. At the moment the task seemed impossible, but he quickly dismissed that thought. Right now they were the unknown woman’s only advocates.

  Martin knocked discreetly on the door.

  ‘How would you like me to proceed? Widen the search radius, or start with the big-city districts, or … ?’ He raised his eyebrows in an enquiring gesture.

  At once Patrik felt the weight of the responsibility for the investigation. Actually there was nothing pointing in any direction, but they had to start somewhere.

  ‘Check with the big-city districts. Göteborg has been taken care of, so start with Stockholm and Malmö. We should be getting the preliminary report from Forensics soon, and if we’re lucky they might be able to come up with something useful.’

  ‘Okay.’ Martin slapped the door on his way out and headed for his office. A shrill signal from the front hall made him turn on his heel, and he went to let in the visitor. That was usually Annika’s job, but while she was gone they just had to help each other out.

  The young woman looked upset. She was thin, with two long blonde braids and an enormous pack on her back.

  ‘I want to speak to someone in charge,’ she said in English.

  She spoke with a thick accent, and he guessed that she was German. Martin opened the door and motioned her to come in. He called down the hall, ‘Patrik, you have a visitor.’

&n
bsp; Too late it occurred to him that maybe he should have asked what her business was first, but Patrik had already stuck his head out of his office and the young woman was headed in his direction.

  ‘Are you the man in charge?’

  For a moment Patrik was tempted to send her on to Mellberg, who was technically the chief, but he changed his mind when he saw her desperate expression and decided to spare her that experience. Sending a good-looking girl into Mellberg’s office was like sending a lamb to the slaughter, and Patrik’s natural protective instincts won out.

  ‘Yes, how can I help you?’

  He motioned for her to come in and sit down in the chair in front of his desk. With surprising ease she slipped off the enormous backpack and carefully leaned it against the wall by the door.

  ‘My English is very bad. You speak German?’

  Patrik ransacked his ancient knowledge of school German. His answer depended on how she defined ‘speak German’. He could order a beer and ask for the check, but he suspected that she wasn’t here in the capacity of waitress.

  ‘Little German,’ he replied haltingly in her mother tongue, wobbling his hand in a ‘so-so’ gesture.

  She seemed pleased to hear this and spoke slowly and clearly to give him a chance to understand what she was saying. To Patrik’s surprise he found that he knew more than he’d thought at first, and even though he didn’t understand every word, he got the gist of it.

  She introduced herself as Liese Forster. Apparently she had been in a week earlier to report her friend Tanja missing. She had spoken with an officer here at the station, who told her that he would contact her when he knew more. Now she’d been waiting a whole week and still hadn’t heard a peep. Anxiety was writ large across her face, and Patrik took her story seriously.

  Tanja and Liese had met on the train on the way to Sweden. They were both from northern Germany but hadn’t known each other before. They got along well at once, and Liese said that they became like sisters. Liese had no fixed plans about where to go in Sweden, so Tanja had suggested that she come along with her to a little town on the west coast called Fjällbacka.