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

  The sheriff had told her she would be brought before the court, but what did that mean? Was there some way her life might be spared? Was there anyone who could save her?

  She was seated at the very front. Everyone fixed their eyes on her, making her feel even more humiliated. All those curious, frightened, and hateful stares. Britta was present too, but Elin did not dare look in her direction.

  The judge pounded his gavel to silence the murmuring voices. Elin gazed at the solemn men before her. She recognized only Lars Hierne. The others were strangers and for that reason all the more frightening.

  ‘We are here today to determine whether Elin Jonsdotter is a witch. We have seen her float, and we have been given a number of statements as to her actions, but Elin Jonsdotter also has the right to summon character witnesses to speak on her behalf. Do you wish to call anyone?’

  Elin glanced at the people sitting on the benches. She saw the maids from the farm and neighbours from Fjällbacka. She saw Britta and Preben and all the women and men she had helped when they were suffering from toothache, headache, heartache, and other ailments. With pleading eyes she looked at them, one by one, but they all turned away. No one stood up. No one said a word.

  No one would come to her defence.

  Finally she turned to look at Britta, who had a smile on her lips as she rested her hands on her stomach which was not yet overly large. Preben sat next to her. He lowered his head, making locks of his fair hair fall into his eyes. How she had loved his hair, which she used to stroke when they made love. She had loved him. Now she no longer knew what she felt. Part of her remembered her love for him. Part of her hated him. Part of her felt such loathing at his weakness. He went wherever the wind took him and gave in at the slightest resistance. She ought to have seen that, but she had been blinded by his kind eyes and his concern for her daughter. She had allowed herself to dream and to fill in the gaps instead of realizing that something was lacking. And now she would have to pay the price.

  ‘Since no one has come forward as a character witness for Elin Jonsdotter, we will now call those who can testify regarding her actions. The first person we call is Ebba of Mörhult.’

  Elin snorted. This was no surprise. She knew Ebba had been waiting for a chance to seek revenge, the way a fat spider waits for a fly. She did not deign to look at Ebba as the woman took her place in the witness box.

  After Ebba was sworn in, the questions began. She preened as she sat in the chair, waving her hands about as she spoke.

  ‘The first thing we noticed was that she could do things a human being should not be able to do. She had the women in the area running to her with all manner of problems, such as aching feet or aching stomachs. And the girls kept asking Elin to help them lure young men. But I saw at once that things were not as they should be. It is not in the nature of human beings to control such matters. No, that is the work of the devil. But would anyone listen to me? No. They kept running to that woman to seek help for their troubles. And she offered them liniments and potions and long incantations. Things a god-fearing woman would never know.’

  She looked around. Many of the spectators nodded agreement, even some who had gladly accepted Elin’s help.

  ‘What about the herring?’ said Hierne, leaning towards Ebba.

  She nodded eagerly.

  ‘When the herring stopped appearing, I knew it was Elin who had done it.’

  ‘Done it?’ asked Hierne. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘One evening I saw her put something in the water. And everyone knows that if you put copper in the water, the herring will stay away.’

  ‘But what reason would she have to do such a thing? She and her deceased husband made their livelihood from fishing.’

  ‘That merely shows how evil she is, the fact that she would allow her own family to risk starvation simply because she had a quarrel with the rest of us. She argued with some of the wives of Per’s crew the day before the herring stopped coming. Afterwards nothing went right with the fishing for herring.’

  ‘And what about the customs official? What happened on that day when he left their home after reporting that Per’s boat would be confiscated by the state because he had illegally smuggled a cask of salt from Norway?’

  ‘I heard how she cursed the customs official as he rode away. She flung after him blistering oaths that only the devil himself could have put in her mouth. No one with God in her heart would say the words she hurled at him. And then, on his way home …’

  She paused. The crowd waited with bated breath.

  ‘The customs official will recount for the court what happened to him,’ said Hierne. ‘But we will allow Ebba to speak of it first.’

  ‘On his way home, he was unseated from his horse, and he toppled into the ditch. I knew at once that Elin had done this to him.’

  ‘Thank you, Ebba. As I mentioned, we will also hear from customs official Henrik Meyer.’ He cleared his throat. ‘This leads us now to the most serious accusation against Elin Jonsdotter – that she used her witchcraft to cause her husband’s boat to sink.’

  Elin gasped and stared at Ebba of Mörhult. She knew she would not be allowed to speak unless addressed directly, but she could not stop herself.

  ‘Have you lost your wits, Ebba! Are you accusing me of sinking Per’s boat? With his entire crew? That is madness!’

  ‘Silence, Elin Jonsdotter!’ roared Hierne.

  Ebba of Mörhult pressed one hand to her chest and used the other to fan her face with a handkerchief.

  Elin snorted at this play-acting.

  ‘Pay no mind to the accused,’ said Hierne, placing his hand on Ebba’s arm to reassure her. ‘Please continue.’

  ‘Well, she was terribly angry with her husband, with Per. She was angry at him because of the cask of salt and because he wanted to take the boat out. I heard her say that if he did go out, then he might as well die.’

  ‘Tell us what happened next,’ said Hierne.

  Everyone leaned forward. There was no telling when they would next encounter such marvellous entertainment.

  ‘They went out in the storm, and I saw a dove fly over them. It was Elin. Somehow I was able to recognize her, even though she was not in human form. When she flew after the boat, I knew my husband would not be coming home again. And that is exactly what happened.’

  She sobbed loudly and blew her nose on her handkerchief.

  ‘He was such a good husband, a wonderful father to our five children, and now he is lying in the deep, eaten by fish because that … that witch was angry at her husband!’

  She pointed at Elin, who could only shake her head. This was so unreal. Like a bad dream. At any moment she would awake. But then she caught sight of Britta again and saw the satisfied smile on her sister’s face. And she saw Preben’s bowed head.

  Then she knew this evil was real.

  ‘Tell us about the abomination,’ said Hierne.

  Nausea surged inside Elin. Was nothing sacred?

  ‘She must have become with child after lying with the devil,’ said Ebba. A gasp passed through the crowd. ‘So she came to my sister to get rid of the abomination. I saw it myself. When I entered the room, I saw it in a slop bucket next to the door. It looked nothing like a child. It was the image of the devil himself, so ugly and disfigured that it turned my stomach.’

  Several women cried out. Hearing talk of lying with the devil and then giving birth to the devil’s spawn was beyond anything they had ever witnessed.

  ‘Ebba’s sister was the one who served as midwife to this abomination, and she will also offer her testimony about what took place,’ said Hierne, nodding.

  These were serious matters being discussed, and he made a great effort to ensure his bearing suited the gravity of the occasion.

  Elin shook her head. Her hands trembled as she clasped them on her lap, and the weight of these accusations bowed her head towards the wide wooden planks of the floor. Yet she had no idea what else awaited her.

  Cha
pter Thirty-Three

  Two days had passed as they waited with growing frustration. Even though the investigation had come to a standstill, Gösta still had plenty of work to do. Tips had continued to pour in, especially since the newspapers not only published big headlines about the murder case but also posted black-bordered placards about Amina’s death. This had led to a rancorous debate about refugee policies in Sweden. Both sides tried to make use of the arson and Amina’s death to argue their case. One side claimed the fire was the result of the hate-filled propaganda and hostile attitude towards refugees espoused by the Sveriges Vänner party. The other side claimed the fire had resulted from the frustration felt by the Swedish people because of an untenable refugee policy. And some insisted it was the refugees themselves who had set the fire.

  Gösta was sickened by the whole debate. In his view the refugee policies and the question of immigration should, of course, be examined and debated, and certainly improvements could be made. It wouldn’t work to open the borders completely and welcome an endless flood of people. There had to be a functioning infrastructure in place in order to integrate the immigrants into Swedish society. With that much he could agree. But he was repelled by the rhetoric of Sveriges Vänner and its supporters when they blamed the immigrants for the problem, making them out to be villains for coming to Sweden.

  A number of rotten apples did turn up, and the police couldn’t ignore that fact. But the overwhelming majority of the people who had come to Sweden simply wanted to save their own lives and the lives of their families. They wanted to build a better life in a new country. Only desperation would make someone leave his homeland and everything near and dear, knowing he might never be able to return. Gösta couldn’t help wondering how all the Swedes who were now complaining about refugees coming in and straining the country’s resources would have behaved if a war were raging in Sweden and their own children were in constant danger. Wouldn’t they also do everything they could to save their families?

  He sighed and put down the newspaper. Annika always placed the daily papers on the table in the kitchen, but he often couldn’t stand to do more than skim the bad news. Yet the police did have to keep an eye on what was written about the homicide case. Speculation and false statements had damaged many a criminal investigation.

  Paula came into the kitchen, looking more tired than usual.

  Gösta gave her a sympathetic look.

  ‘The kids having a tough time?’

  She nodded, helped herself to coffee, and then sat down across from him.

  ‘Yes. They can’t stop crying. And they wake up at night from bad dreams. My mother took them to the hospital so Karim could tell them about Amina, and I don’t know how she could bear it. But she’s been amazing, and we’re making arrangements so that Karim and his kids can rent a flat in our building when he’s discharged. The flat right next to ours has been vacant for a while, so I think it would be a good option for them. The only problem is that the municipality thinks the rent is too high, so we’ll have to see what happens.’

  Paula shook her head.

  ‘I heard it went well yesterday,’ she said. ‘I mean, with the exhumation.’

  ‘Yes, it was done in a dignified manner, under the circumstances. Now we’re just waiting for the results. But the bullet from the first post-mortem is still missing. It wasn’t even mentioned in the report. They’ve looked through all the material that was saved, which wasn’t much, but there’s no bullet. Evidence is supposed to be saved for seventy years. I wish they had complied with regulations.’

  ‘We don’t know why they can’t find the bullet,’ said Paula diplomatically. ‘But nobody suspected murder back then. His death was deemed a suicide, plain and simple.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Evidence should not disappear,’ said Gösta.

  Yet he knew he was being unfair. They did an incredible job at the Swedish National Forensic Centre, and at the forensic lab. Even with a budget that was too small and with too much work. But the missing bullet was yet another frustration in this investigation, which kept leading to blind alleys. He was convinced the death of Leif Hermansson, which was now presumed to be murder, was connected to the Stella case. He only wished they could find something soon that would prove his theory.

  ‘So I’m guessing there’s been no progress in locating Marie’s young stallion?’

  Gösta reached for a Ballerina biscuit and carefully separated the top from the bottom before licking off the chocolate filling.

  ‘You’re right. We’ve talked to a lot of people who were at Stora Hotel, but nobody saw anything. And the film director has confirmed that he spent the night with the make-up artist and not with Marie. He claims Marie begged him to lie because she knew she would be a suspect if she didn’t have an alibi. She also told him about the mysterious young man, but he didn’t see them together that night.’

  ‘Well, I seriously doubt that he even exists,’ said Gösta.

  ‘If we assume she’s lying … Why would she do that? And if she has something to do with the girl’s murder … Why? What’s the motive?’

  They were interrupted when Paula’s mobile rang.

  ‘Oh, hi, Dagmar,’ she said, giving Gösta a puzzled look.

  She listened intently, and then Gösta saw her face light up.

  ‘No, good God, it doesn’t matter that you forgot. What’s important is that you’ve now remembered! We’ll come right over.’

  She ended the call and looked at Gösta.

  ‘Now I know how we can work out what vehicles passed the Berg farm on the morning when Nea disappeared. Let’s go.’

  She stood up. Then she paused and a smile appeared on her face.

  ‘Wait. I think I’ll take Martin with me instead. I’ll explain later.’

  Patrik sat at his desk, trying to plan his work for the day. But how should they proceed when they kept hitting brick walls? He was pinning all his hope on the exhumation. Pedersen had promised to call first thing in the morning, and at eight o’clock the phone rang.

  ‘Hello,’ said Patrik. ‘That was fast.’

  ‘Yes. And there are two reasons for my call,’ said Pedersen.

  Patrik sat up a little straighter in his chair. This sounded promising.

  ‘First and foremost, I’ve finished my report regarding Linnea Berg. You’ll have it within the hour, although I don’t have anything more to add to the preliminary reports, which, against my better judgement, I already gave you. And by the way, that needs to stay between you and me.’

  ‘Of course. As always,’ Patrik assured him.

  Pedersen cleared his throat. ‘Well, there’s something I have to tell you about the body we received yesterday. Leif Hermansson’s body.’

  ‘Yes?’ said Patrik. ‘I realize you’ve barely started examining the body, so what’s this about?’

  ‘It’s about the missing bullet,’ Pedersen sighed. ‘The one that disappeared without trace.’

  ‘Yes …’ said Patrik, feeling his excitement rising. He was going to burst if Pedersen didn’t get to the point.

  ‘We’ve found it.’

  ‘Great!’ exclaimed Patrik. It was about time they had some luck. ‘Where was it? Hidden in the back of an evidence box?’

  ‘Not exactly. It was in the coffin.’

  Patrik gaped. Had he heard correctly? It made no sense whatsoever.

  ‘In the coffin? How did the bullet end up in the coffin?’

  He laughed, but Pedersen didn’t laugh with him. Instead he said wearily:

  ‘I know this may sound like a joke, but as usual, the human factor came into play. The pathologist who carried out the post-mortem was going through a divorce and custody battle at the time, so he was drinking a little too much. His situation eventually got sorted out, but it turns out there were certain … flaws in my predecessor’s work during that year when his personal life was in shambles.’

  ‘So you’re saying—’

  ‘I’m saying that the pathologist never
removed the bullet. It was still embedded in the head wound, and when the soft tissues disintegrated, the bullet rolled out.’

  ‘You’re kidding,’ said Patrik.

  ‘Believe me, I wish I was,’ said Pedersen. ‘Unfortunately, there’s no one around to yell at, because the pathologist in question died from a heart attack last year, while going through his third divorce.’

  ‘But you have the bullet?’

  ‘No, I don’t have it here. I immediately sent it over to Torbjörn in Uddevalla. I thought you would want to have it analysed as soon as possible. Give him a call and see if you can get a report this afternoon. As for this failure to follow the proper protocol, I can only apologize. This should never have happened.’

  ‘No, but the important thing is that we have the bullet,’ said Patrik. ‘Now we can compare it to Leif’s gun and determine whether his death was a suicide or not.’

  Basse sank on to the sofa, which still had a few stains left. Despite his having spent two days cleaning the house, it looked like shit. Dread was making his throat close up. When his parents phoned, Basse had assured them that everything was fine, but his knees shook as he ended the call. He’d be grounded for a year. At least. Maybe he’d never be allowed to go out ever again.

  And this was all Nils’s and Vendela’s fault. He should have known better than to listen to them, but ever since they were kids, he’d done whatever they told him. That was why they let him hang out with them. Otherwise he might have been the one they tormented instead of Sam.

  They hadn’t helped him with the house cleaning. Nils had merely laughed at him when he begged for help, and Vendela hadn’t even bothered to respond. And it wasn’t just the damage to the furniture. His mother’s jewellery box was missing, along with his father’s cigar box. Someone had even taken the big angel made from stone that his mother had set on the lawn as a birdbath.

  Basse leaned forward, rested his arms on his thighs and groaned. Soon his parents would arrive home. He’d thought about running away, but where would he go? He’d never be able to get by on his own.