Trapped, page 27
She let out a sob and Thomas squeezed her hand tightly again. The fine silver chain around her wrist jangled each time she moved her hand, and Julia saw that it had a disc with the word Robert engraved on it. Jessica spotted that she was looking. She let go of Thomas’s hand and held up the arm with the chain.
‘My Mother’s Day present last year from Robert. He saved up his pocket money and asked Thomas to take him to buy it.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Julia.
The thought appeared out of nowhere without her being able to stop it. She wondered whether she would ever be fêted on Mother’s Day. She brushed away the thought. Her troubles were insignificant in comparison.
‘Do you know of anyone who had anything against Robert?’
‘No, no, no, no one,’ said Thomas, shaking his head firmly. ‘Everyone loved Bobby. And he loved everyone. I’ve never met a single person that he didn’t charm.’
‘Do you remember the woman whose window he managed to smash with his slingshot?’ Jessica said, laughing. ‘The one across the courtyard? It ended with her inviting him for buns and juice.’
‘I remember.’
Thomas smiled and nodded. He raised his gaze and met Julia’s.
‘There are a thousand stories like that about Robert. He was our light. Our joy. Sure, he was born with a disability, or rather, what the world stubbornly insists on calling a disability. But believe me, the world would be a far better place if everyone was like Robert. He was perfect.’
From the corner of her eye, Julia saw a framed photo of Robert standing on the sideboard. It was the same photo that had been on the news hoardings. She wondered how she would react if she had a child with Down’s syndrome. She was forty-two now. It wasn’t improbable. And the probability only grew with each passing year. She wondered what Torkel would say …
‘We’re going to talk to the people who work at Robert’s accommodation too. Is there anything else you’d like to add?’ said Christer, looking at Julia quizzically following her sudden silence.
‘He was naive,’ said Thomas. ‘He would happily have gone anywhere with anybody.’
Thomas hesitated before he continued:
‘Do you have a suspect?’
Julia nodded. ‘A violent, relapsed criminal. We’re hunting him right now.’
‘You … you have to promise you’ll catch him,’ he said in a low voice. ‘How are we … how are we ever going to live otherwise?’
Julia stood up. She considered what she should say. She ought to know. She had heard the same plea so many times before. The plea for an end. The plea for deliverance. The punishment that would set everything right. But she knew that she shouldn’t make promises she couldn’t keep. Once she had set her coffee cup down in the sink and opened her mouth to reply, Christer beat her to it.
‘I’m afraid we can’t promise you that,’ he said. ‘But we can promise that we’ll do our absolute best. And he sounds like such a lovely boy. Take solace in those moments of beauty. Your great memories. Don’t let those be taken from you.’
Julia looked at him in surprise. Christer – the man who usually thought life was torment and death was liberation. She ought to discreetly check for the scent of alcohol on his breath once they were out of here.
When they left, Thomas and Jessica were still at the kitchen table. The last thing Julia saw before the door closed was that they were holding hands.
61
Kvibille 1982
Jane found Mum at the edge of the lawn, where it merged into the woods. She was sitting in the shadow of the trees, doing the weeding. Jane was tempted to ask what was the point of pulling up dandelions when they were living right next to a forest, but she knew that conversation would lead nowhere.
‘How’s it going?’ she asked instead, crouching beside Mum.
Her mother had cleared the dandelions in a precise straight line.
‘I can’t say it’s making much difference really.’
Mum adjusted her back, which creaked.
‘Ouch. But it’s good to have something to do. By the by, have you seen your little brother around?’
‘He cycled off with those three girls from his class,’ said Jane, tearing off one of the dandelion leaves. ‘They’re probably off snogging somewhere.’
‘Jane!’ said her mother in a shocked tone. ‘They’re seven years old! Anyway, “those girls” are called Malla, Sickan and Lotta. You should be happy for your brother that he has friends.’
‘Surprised, more like.’
Jane examined the dandelion leaf and then bit carefully into it.
‘You know that they’re edible, right?’ she said. ‘The dandelions. If you don’t want to get rid of them, that is.’
‘Why would I want to eat dandelions?’ said Mum, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, and smudging a streak of soil across her eyebrows in the process.
Jane shrugged.
‘They contain lots of iron, potassium and magnesium.’
‘And how do you know this? You’re hardly a member of the forest fan club.’
‘Why don’t you know that? Do you at least know that the French for dandelions is piss-en-lits, which means wet the bed? Because of their powerful diuretic properties?’
‘Powerful diuretic properties,’ her mother mimicked her in a pompous tone. ‘Sometimes I wonder whose daughter you are. You’re too smart for this place.’
And there it was. The opening she had been waiting for. Mum drove a metal tool into the earth next to the leaves of the next dandelion and began to prise it free. Jane took a deep breath. Now. She needed to say it now.
‘Talking of me and this place,’ she said. ‘You do remember that I’m leaving in eight days’ time?’
‘I know.’
Mum removed the dandelion and its roots.
‘You’re going to visit Ylva up in Dalarna. We’ve discussed it. Ylva’s mum seems nice. I’m not in the slightest bit worried. You’ll be gone for two weeks.’
‘It’s not just that,’ said Jane.
Say it now, say it now, say it now.
‘When I come home, it’ll be to pack,’ she said, and held her breath.
Mum stopped mid-movement and looked up from the grass.
Jane had to carry on and say it all at once, while she still dared.
‘I’m moving,’ she said. ‘I can’t live here any longer – on this farm. I want to do things. Live in a city. Find new friends. Study. I … I can’t bear to be here any longer. Being here is driving me crazy.’
Mum looked at her without saying anything. Jane began to blink in order to hold back the tears. She wasn’t going to cry. Wasn’t. If she did, she’d never be able to leave. If she did, Mum would win. She looked up at the clear blue sky and blinked some more. The sky was so empty. Not a cloud or plane in sight. She didn’t need emptiness – she needed its opposite. And she was never going to get that here on the farm.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’m almost sixteen. I’ll be fine. I’ve already sorted out somewhere to live.’
‘It’s not you I’m worried about,’ Mum said quietly. ‘It’s me. You’ve always been the strong one. The smart one. You know things like the fact that dandelions make you wee and how to figure things out and … and … I can barely put food on the table. Without you here … Your brother has his own special ways … I won’t be up to it.’
Mum looked back down at the grass again.
‘If you leave I’ll kill myself,’ she said.
The air vanished from Jane’s lungs. As if someone had punched her in the chest. She had thought Mum would get angry and forbid her and start crying and plunge into a depressive episode. Anything. But not this. Suddenly she was boiling over with rage.
‘Well, fuck you,’ she said. ‘And you call yourself my mother? This is blackmail. I can’t live your life for you. I need my own. And you won’t be alone. My brother isn’t as fragile as you think. And if you really can’t manage on your own, then perhaps it’s time to find someone who wants to stay here with you. Because I don’t want to.’
Jane got up and looked at her mother, who was still staring down at the grass, down at her perfect line of weeding. She looked so small. So spineless. Jane had done the right thing in telling her. She needed to get away from here. If she stayed, she’d go under. Just like Mum.
62
Peder waited anxiously outside the bathroom door. It sounded as if his wife was dying on the other side.
‘How are you feeling, darling?’ he called out, his ear pressed to the white-painted wood.
A tormented mumble reached him in reply. After a minute or so Anette unlocked the door. Her face was as white as a sheet.
‘Back up,’ she said, waving her arms at him to make him keep his distance. ‘I’ve got the winter vomiting sickness. Or maybe it’s summer vomiting sickness. Anyway, you and the triplets can’t come anywhere near me.’
Her long hair was lank and the smell from the bathroom made him quickly shut the door behind her.
‘No problem, darling,’ he said. ‘We’ll just wrap you up in clingfilm. It’s good for the triplets to have their meals properly wrapped when you’re breastfeeding them.’
Anette rolled her eyes and fetched a bottle of hand sanitizer from the bathroom. He held his breath. He really did wish she hadn’t opened the bathroom door again. She sprayed and wiped down the door handle on both sides.
‘I’m serious,’ she said. ‘This toilet is now off limits. It’s just for me. Unless you have a desperate need to do a shit or hurl?’
Peder backed away with feigned shock on his face.
‘Bodily fluids? Do we have those in this family? The triplets are so sterile …’
He drew her to him and stroked his wife’s straggling hair. Anette was too tired to protest.
‘I suggest you barricade yourself in here,’ he said, leading her to the bedroom. ‘I’ll fetch your iPad. Don’t come out until you’re better or you’ve watched everything on Netflix. Whichever happens first. The triplets and I will take the living room. We can build a den. If they miss their mother then I’ll just tell them you’ve left us.’
Anette smiled weakly.
‘You can expect some thank-you sex later on,’ she said, looking longingly at the bed. ‘In a year or two.’
‘I’ll have to double-check my calendar then, to make sure I’m free,’ said Peder, fetching a few extra pillows. ‘I’d better call the station to let them know I’m going to be looking after the kids for a few days.’
He pulled out his phone while Anette carefully sat down on the edge of the bed. She really didn’t look well. Perhaps he should ask Mina for a few litres of hand sanitizer. There was no way he wanted to end up as ill as his wife.
‘Peder,’ she said. ‘Obviously I’ll try to breastfeed as much as I’m able to, but what are you going to do about food?’
Peder bit his tongue. He really shouldn’t. She would never forgive him. But it was an open goal.
‘We’ll have hamburgers dripping in grease,’ he said, prolonging each and every word. ‘The sort that glisten with shiny fat. Or goose giblet soup. You know, blood and salt. With some lumps in it.’
Anette stared at him. Then she rushed out of the bedroom and lunged back into the bathroom.
63
‘Peder just called,’ Julia told others in the conference room. ‘He won’t be able to help out manning the phones. Anette’s sick and he has to look after the kids.’
Ruben wasn’t surprised. Not in the slightest. It didn’t take a genius to realize that Peder wouldn’t be able to keep going indefinitely. ‘Anette’s sick’. Yeah, right! More likely Peder needed a break. He was probably at Riche down on Stureplan right now, enjoying an early lunch. Aww. There would be plenty of women who for whatever reason didn’t need to go back to the office after lunch and would be sipping a cava or two instead. And women like that would be really turned on by the fact that Peder was a cop. Ruben had had his own experiences of that. Uniform drew them like a magnet, but it didn’t look so good when out on the town. Plain clothes needed a helping hand; you had to ensure that a set of handcuffs could be glimpsed under your jacket. That made them crazy. Rings on fingers didn’t make any difference at that stage. He didn’t begrudge Peder that. On the contrary. After giving birth to triplets, Anette would be a no show in bed for the foreseeable.
‘Is he going to look after the triplets all by himself?’ said Christer, shaking his head. ‘Poor chap. He’ll be a shadow of his former self when he comes back. Well, he already is. A shadow of a shadow …’
Christer leaned back, making his chair creak, and sighed deeply.
‘Maybe someone should go over there and help out,’ he muttered.
If Christer was so damn fond of children then he could bloody well do it himself. Nappies were the last thing Ruben was going to let into his life.
‘Anyway, we’re a body short,’ Julia continued.
She was wearing a jacket and a pair of wide-leg tailored trousers. He assumed those made her look more like a boss. Personally, he preferred it when she wore a skirt. Or tight jeans. But you couldn’t always have it all.
‘Ruben, you’ll have to do your shift with Vincent,’ said Julia.
‘Me and the magician?’ he snorted. ‘A match made in heaven.’
‘He’ll turn on his heel before he’s through the door if he hears you calling him that,’ said Mina. ‘Magician, that is.’
‘Really?’ said Ruben, adding an exaggerated tone of hope. ‘I’ll be sure to remember.’
Mina didn’t even look at him. Jesus, she was hard to flirt with.
‘Well then,’ said Julia, gathering up her papers. ‘We still haven’t found Jonas Rask, so I’ll be holding a press conference in two hours’ time. I won’t mention Vincent’s involvement in the investigation or the fact that we’re looking for Jonas Rask. After all, we don’t actually have any evidence against him, it’s all circumstantial. I’d also be grateful if you didn’t say anything to anyone off the record – or on the record for that matter. The conference will be live-streamed via all our social media channels and covered by various other media. After that, we’ll be waiting by the phone for as long as it takes. Ruben and Vincent will take the first shift.’
Ruben opened his mouth but Julia silenced him by raising a finger.
‘A match made in heaven, like you said,’ she told him. ‘Like I said. Vincent is one of us now.’
64
They were standing by the stone wall high up on Fjällgatan, which offered a commanding view over Stockholm’s Old Town, the island of Skeppsholmen and parts of Djurgården. When you saw the city from a distance, it was as if all the dirt, all the pollution and all the grubby people didn’t exist. From a distance it glittered. They also had a good view of the theme park at Gröna Lund where Tuva had been found. But Mina tried to push away that thought and just see the amusement park for what it was.
It had been Vincent’s suggestion that they take a walk and talk over the case – without the rest of the team. They had already been walking for an hour, thrashing out everything they knew or thought they knew.
‘Do you have any plans for the summer?’ Vincent suddenly asked, his gaze fixed on the view.
Mina stared at him.
‘Plans? You do realize we’re in the middle of an investigation, right?’
‘Yes, but I was thinking that it’s almost summer and …’
He cleared his throat and fell silent as if he no longer knew what he was going to say.
‘Vincent, was that an attempt at small talk?’
Mina repressed a smile.
‘Perhaps. It occurred to me we’ve talked a lot about the investigation now.’
‘Good that you’re practising.’
She turned her back to the view and leaned against the stone wall, but first she inserted her own plastic carrier bag from the supermarket between her back and the wall. The sun warmed her face. Her newly purchased sunglasses were being put to good use.
She thought she saw someone she recognized, but the person turned around when Mina caught sight of her and headed in the other direction. She was probably mistaken.
‘A propos the investigation,’ she said. ‘I don’t know whether it’s such a good idea for you to go to the press conference. What if some journalist recognizes you and starts asking questions about why you’re there? It may draw focus from the message we want to get out there. Julia was clear about not wanting to say that you’re helping us.’
‘I’m just curious about how a press conference like that works in reality,’ he said.
She closed her eyes behind her sunglasses.
‘We’ll share some of the details and keep others to ourselves. Things that only the murderer knows. That way we’ll be able to separate false confessions from a true one. It’s more common than you’d think for people to call in and admit to all sorts of things that they haven’t done. For instance, more than sixty people have confessed to Olof Palme’s murder.’
She took off her sunglasses and let the sun warm all of her. She liked it when it was cold because it felt so clean. But warmth felt … alive. As long as she didn’t get sweaty. Currently, it was just right, with a cool breeze fanning her face.
They began to walk again.
‘In that case,’ said Vincent, ‘I suggest that you play dumb when it comes to the “pieces of the jigsaw,” as Peder described them. The murder dates and times have to be a code – I can’t imagine they’re anything else. But you don’t need to divulge that you’ve realized that.’
‘No, that’s true.’
Mina fell silent for a moment. Then she looked sideways at Vincent.
‘Rask? What do you think?’
‘Wasn’t that obvious?’ said Vincent, kicking a pebble so that it bounced away across the road ahead of them. ‘I think it’s galling. It doesn’t feel right, quite simply. Rask is a sexually driven perpetrator – I don’t get the feeling that there was any kind of sexual motive around our murder victims.’
