The Girl in the Woods (Patrik Hedstrom and Erica Falck, Book 10) Read online

  ‘No, no, not Tony. Someone else who’s usually very stern.’

  Kristina frowned as she thought hard. The sequins on her dress rustled when she moved, and Erica reminded herself to take pictures. Lots of pictures. They would be prime blackmail material for years to come.

  Then Kristina saw who came into the room, and she shouted:

  ‘Cissi!’

  Erica had a big smile on her face. Kristina’s look of joy told her this had been a brilliant idea. Everyone who knew Kristina was aware that she was a huge fan of Let’s Dance, so when Erica caught sight of an advert announcing that Cecilia ‘Cissi’ Ehrling Danermark from Let’s Dance would be offering a course at TanumStrand, she’d instantly made a phone call.

  ‘Okay, let’s get started!’ exclaimed Cissi enthusiastically after saying hello to everyone.

  Kristina looked nervous again.

  ‘Do I have to dance in front of everybody? I’ll make a total fool of myself.’

  ‘No, no. Everybody’s going to dance,’ said Cissi firmly.

  Erica and Anna exchanged terrified looks. That wasn’t part of the plan. She thought Kristina and Gunnar would have a dance lesson while everyone could watch and drink bubbly. But she knew better than to protest. Giving Anna a long look, she went over to Cissi. She wasn’t about to let Anna off the hook by claiming she was too pregnant to dance.

  Two hours later Erica was sweaty, tired, and happy. Cissi had gone over the basic steps with an energy that was infectious but eventually wore them all out. Erica could only imagine how her whole body was going to ache in the morning. But it had been so much fun to see Kristina’s joy as she moved her feet and hips, shaking the fringe on her dress. Gunnar also seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, though he was sweating buckets in his dark suit.

  ‘Thank you,’ Erica said to Cissi, impulsively giving her a hug.

  This was one of the most fun things she’d ever done. But now it was time to move on to the next item on the agenda. She had planned the day down to the last detail, and besides, they only had use of the dining room at Stora Hotel for two hours.

  She refilled everyone’s glass.

  ‘Now it’s time for the groom to leave us,’ she said. ‘For the rest of the afternoon and evening, gentlemen are not invited. We’ve booked a suite on the top floor so we can get ready. We have an hour to rest, and then it’s time for cooking lessons.’

  Kristina gave Gunnar a kiss. Apparently he’d got a real taste for the dancing, because he elegantly dipped her, and everyone cheered. The mood couldn’t have been better.

  ‘Nice job,’ whispered Anna, patting Erica’s arm. ‘Although you’re awfully stiff. Even the old ladies were better at shaking their hips than you were.’

  ‘Oh, shut up,’ said Erica, swatting at her sister, who merely grinned.

  When they went upstairs to the Marco Polo suite, Erica realized she hadn’t thought about her work for even a second since the bachelorette party began. That was wonderful. A much-needed break. But she couldn’t believe how her feet ached.

  ‘How are all of you holding up?’

  They gave Bill a bewildered look, which reminded him for the thousandth time that he had to speak simple Swedish or English.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked in English.

  They nodded, but their expressions were tense. He understood. It must feel as if it would never end. So many of the refugees he’d talked to at the community centre told him the same thing. They had thought that if only they could get to Sweden, everything would be all right. But the locals looked at them with suspicion, and they encountered lots of red tape and far too many people who hated everything they were and stood for.

  ‘Adnan, could you take over?’ said Bill, motioning towards the helm.

  Adnan took his place with a glint of pride in his eyes. Bill sincerely hoped he’d be able to show them a different picture of the country he loved. Swedes were not evil. They were afraid. That was what made society more harsh. Fear. Not evil.

  ‘Could you trim the sails, Khalil?’

  Bill tugged on an imaginary line and pointed.

  Khalil nodded and perfectly trimmed the sails, precisely according to the rule book, just enough so the sail grew taut and stopped fluttering.

  The boat picked up speed and began leaning a tad, but this no longer caused panicked looks among the crew. Bill wished he felt equally calm. The regatta was fast approaching, and there was so much more he needed to teach them. But as things now stood, he was just happy they were willing to continue. He would have understood if they’d decided to throw in the towel and give up on the whole project. But they’d said they wanted to keep going for Karim’s sake, and he’d noticed a new determination when they arrived at the boat club this morning. They were taking it more seriously, and this was evident in the way they sailed, the way the boat moved through the water.

  People who were into horseback riding talked about how important it was to communicate with the horse, and for Bill the same thing was true of boats. They were not dead, soulless objects. Sometimes he thought he understood boats better than people.

  ‘We need to tack in a moment,’ he said, and they knew what he meant.

  For the first time they felt like a team. Something good always comes from something bad, as his father used to say. And that seemed to apply to this situation. But the cost had been high. He had rung the hospital in the morning to hear how Amina was doing, but they refused to give out any information to anyone who was not a family member. For now he hoped that no news was good news.

  ‘Okay, tack now.’

  When the sail filled and grew taut with wind, he had to restrain himself from shouting with joy. It was the best they’d done so far. They were sailing the boat like a well-oiled machine.

  ‘Great, boys,’ he said emphatically, giving them a thumbs up.

  Khalil’s face lit up, and the others sat up straighter.

  They reminded Bill so much of his older sons. He’d taken them out sailing too. Had he ever done that with Nils? He didn’t think so. He’d never given the boy the same amount of attention he’d given to Alexander and Philip. And now he was paying the price.

  Nils was a stranger to him. Bill didn’t understand how Nils’s attitude and anger could have been fostered in the home he and Gun had created, a home where their guiding principles were tolerance and consideration. Where had Nils got all his ideas?

  Last night when he came home, Bill had decided to have a talk with Nils. A real talk. Open up old wounds, lance the abscesses, lay it all out and ask for forgiveness, allowing Nils to let loose his disappointment and anger. But Nils had locked the door to his room, and he refused to open it when Bill knocked. He had merely turned up the volume so the music was soon pounding through the whole house. In the end, Gun put her hand on Bill’s shoulder and asked him to wait. Give Nils some more time. And no doubt she was right. Everything would work out eventually. Nils was young and still developing.

  ‘Let’s head for home,’ he said now, pointing towards Fjällbacka.

  Sam was slumped over his bowl of yogurt, focusing all his attention on his mobile. Helen’s heart ached as she looked at him. She wondered where he’d been in the morning.

  ‘You’re spending a lot of time with Jessie these days,’ she said.

  ‘Uh-huh. And?’

  Sam pushed back his chair and went over to the fridge. He poured himself a big glass of milk and chugged it down. He suddenly looked so young. It seemed to Helen as if only a few weeks had passed since he was tottering around in shorts, with his beloved and battered teddy bear under his arm. She wondered what had happened to the bear. James had probably thrown it out. He didn’t like them to hold on to things they no longer used. Saving something for its sentimental value was not part of his world.

  ‘I just meant that it might not be wise,’ she said.

  Sam shook his head.

  ‘I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about that.’

  The world began spinning b
efore her, as it always did when she thought about it. She closed her eyes and managed to make the spinning stop. She’d had many years of practice. She’d spent thirty years living in the eye of a storm, until finally she’d grown used to it.

  ‘It’s just that I don’t know whether I like the two of you spending so much time together,’ she said, and she could hear the pleading in her voice. ‘I don’t think your father would like it either.’

  In the past, that argument had sufficed.

  ‘James.’ Sam snorted. ‘Isn’t he going back on duty soon?’

  ‘Yes, in another week,’ she said, unable to hide her relief.

  They’d have months of freedom ahead of them. Respite. The absurd thing was that she knew James felt the same way. They were prisoners in a prison of their own making. And Sam had become their shared hostage.

  Sam set down his glass.

  ‘Jessie is the only one who has ever understood me. That’s something you’ll never understand, but it’s true.’

  He put the milk carton back in the fridge, on the shelf intended for butter and cheese.

  She wanted to tell Sam that of course she understood. She understood all too well. But the wall between them merely got higher and higher with all the secrets. They were strangling him and he couldn’t know why. She should have been able to set Sam free, but she didn’t dare. And now it was too late. Her inheritance, her guilt, had trapped him in a cage, and it was just as impossible for him to escape as it was for her. Their fate in life was intertwined and could not be separated, no matter how much she wished it could.

  But the silence was unbearable. His facade was so impenetrable, so hard. He must have so much inside that could explode at any moment.

  She decided to make a try.

  ‘Do you ever think about—’

  He interrupted her. His expression was so cold, so like James’s.

  ‘I already told you, we don’t talk about that.’

  Helen fell silent.

  The front door opened, and they heard James come stomping inside. Before she could even blink, Sam had disappeared upstairs to his room. She got up, pushed in her chair, and put the plates and glasses in the dishwasher. Then she hurried over to the fridge to move the milk to its proper place.

  ‘So, here we go again,’ said Torbjörn dryly. Patrik felt his stomach knot.

  Everything having to do with this search of the Berg family’s property had been such a muddle, and he wasn’t sure how that might affect the results. The only thing they could do was roll up their sleeves and get going.

  ‘Yes. We didn’t find anything of interest in the house, so now we’re going to tackle the barn,’ he said.

  ‘And then the shed and the rest of the property, if I understood correctly when we spoke yesterday.’

  Patrik nodded.

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  Torbjörn peered at him over the rims of his glasses. He’d started wearing them a few years ago. A reminder that they were both getting older.

  ‘So, I heard it was Mellberg who made a real mess of things.’

  ‘Who else?’ replied Patrik with a sigh. ‘But we have to make the best of the situation. At least it’s a relief not to have the family here this time.’

  Patrik surveyed the deserted farm, grateful for Gösta’s help. He’d had a long phone conversation with Peter, explaining why they needed to complete the search of the family’s property. He’d suggested that it might be a good time for the family to leave the farm for a few hours. Apparently they had listened to his advice, because they were gone when Patrik and Gösta and the tech team arrived.

  ‘Can I come with you?’ Patrik asked Torbjörn, hoping he would say yes.

  It was always important that as few people as possible were present at the place to be searched, but he didn’t know what else he would do. For whatever reason, Gösta had disappeared into the woods.

  ‘Okay,’ said Torbjörn. ‘But stay back as much as possible – and you have to wear the full protective suit. Okay?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Patrik, although he felt sick at the thought of how hot it would be inside the Tyvek suit.

  This summer was beating all records for high temperatures, and he sweated enough in his ordinary clothes.

  Just as he’d thought, it felt like being in a steam bath when he put on the protective suit. Yet it was cooler inside the barn than outdoors. He’d always liked barns. There was something special about the way the light seeped through the cracks in the boards in the walls. It felt somehow like a sacred place. A barn breathed peace and calm. So in a way it felt wrong to be invading that calm with rustling plastic suits, equipment, fluids, and the low murmuring of technicians as they worked.

  Patrik took up position in one corner and looked around the barn. It was big, and someone had kept it in good repair. It didn’t seem to be on the verge of collapse like so many barns out in the country. Nor had it been converted to a storage room. It was not filled with old cars, tractors, or junk. It was empty and neat and tidy. A ladder led up to the hayloft at one end, and Patrik was itching to climb up there.

  He gave a start. Something had rubbed against his leg, and he looked down. A grey cat meowed and wound its way between his legs. He leaned down to scratch under its chin. The cat began purring loudly, turning its head with contentment.

  ‘What’s your name?’ he babbled, petting the cat. ‘What a fine cat you are.’

  The cat was so happy it rolled on to its back and allowed Patrik to tickle its belly.

  ‘Patrik?’

  ‘Yes?’

  He straightened up. At first the cat looked offended and disappointed, but then it got up and sauntered off.

  ‘Could you come up here?’

  Torbjörn motioned to him from the loft.

  ‘There’s nothing here,’ said Torbjörn when Patrik climbed up. ‘Except for this.’

  He held up a Kex chocolate bar wrapper.

  Patrik frowned.

  ‘Pedersen thought it was Kex chocolate that Nea had in her stomach when she was found,’ he said, feeling his pulse rise.

  It could be a coincidence. But he rarely believed in coincidences.

  ‘We’ll try to get fingerprints off of it,’ said Torbjörn. ‘With the naked eye I can see there are some excellent prints. The wrapper was wedged in between two loose boards up here. It was sheer luck that I found it, because apart from that the place is clinically clean. Almost too clean.’

  Torbjörn gestured towards the loft.

  ‘Could you come back down?’ said one of the techs who was working below the hayloft. ‘We need to black out the barn now.’

  Torbjörn climbed down with the Kex wrapper in a bag, and Patrik followed.

  ‘The next part of the search has to be done in total darkness,’ Torbjörn explained. ‘So we have to cover all the walls with dark cloth. It can take quite a while, so you might as well wait outside.’

  Patrik sat down on a patio chair and watched as the techs went in and out of the barn. Then they closed the doors, and silence descended.

  After what seemed ages, Torbjörn called to him. Hesitantly Patrik got up and went over to open the door. He stepped inside the dark barn. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but then he saw several dark shadows some distance away.

  ‘Come over here,’ said Torbjörn, and Patrik cautiously headed towards his voice.

  As he got closer, he saw what Torbjörn and the other techs were studying with such interest. A bright blue patch on the floor. After witnessing many crime scene inspections, he knew what that meant. The techs had sprayed the area with Luminol, which showed traces of blood that could not be seen with the naked eye. And this was a big patch.

  ‘I think we’ve found the primary crime scene,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t go jumping to conclusions,’ said Torbjörn. ‘Don’t forget this is an old barn, and they’ve probably kept animals here. So this could be an old bloodstain.’

  ‘Or not. The stain, combined with the
chocolate wrapper you found, makes me think we’ve found the place where Nea died.’

  ‘I think you’re right. But I’ve been wrong before, so it’s always best not to latch on to any one theory until we have the facts to prove it.’

  ‘Can we take samples to compare with Nea’s blood? So we can get a definite match?’

  Torbjörn nodded.

  ‘Do you see the gaps in the floor? I’m guessing the blood ran down into the cracks, so even if someone tried to give the place a real good scrub, we’ll find blood if we tear up the floorboards.’

  ‘So let’s do it,’ said Patrik.

  Torbjörn held up his gloved hand.

  ‘First we need to document everything very carefully. Give us a while, and I’ll holler when we’re ready to pull up the floor.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Patrik, retreating once more to a corner of the barn.

  The grey cat came over to rub against his leg again, and he obediently squatted down to pet it.

  Even though it felt like an eternity, it actually took no more than fifteen minutes before the techs turned on the lights, and Torbjörn said they were ready to pull up the floorboards. Patrik stood up so quickly that the cat was frightened and raced off. He went over to the place on the floor that had now been documented from all angles. Samples had been taken and bagged. The only thing remaining was to see what was underneath.

  The barn door opened, and Patrik turned around. Gösta came towards them, holding his mobile in his hand.

  ‘I just talked to our colleagues in Uddevalla.’

  ‘The ones who are supposed to be checking on the sex offender Tore Carlson?’

  Gösta shook his head. ‘It wasn’t about that. I’d asked them some questions about the Berg family when I rang them last time. They told me they still talk about the Bergs at the station.’

  Patrik raised an eyebrow.

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well, apparently Peter Berg had a reputation for turning violent when he was drunk.’

  ‘How violent?’

  ‘Extremely violent. Lots of brawls at the local pub.’

  ‘But no reports of domestic abuse?’

  Gösta shook his head.