The Preacher: A Novel, page 36
Patrik quickly told him about his visit to the hospital.
“Have you thought about why the blood analysis didn’t produce anything?” asked Martin. “We know that the perp we’re searching for is related to Johannes, but it’s not Jacob, Gabriel, Stefan or Robert. And considering the nature of the sample, we can rule out the women at once. Do you have any ideas?”
“Yes, I’ve asked Annika to try to compile some data on whether Johannes had any children out of wedlock in the area.”
“That sounds smart. With a guy like him I’d be surprised if he didn’t have any illegitimate kids scattered around.”
“What do you think of the theory that the same person who beat up Stefan is now after Jacob?” Patrik cautiously slurped a little coffee. It was freshly brewed and scalding hot.
“It would undeniably be a very odd coincidence if it wasn’t. What do you think?”
“The same as you. That it would be a hell of an odd coincidence if it’s not the same person. It seems as if Jacob has completely vanished from the face of the earth. Nobody has seen him since last night. I have to admit I’m worried.”
“You’ve had a hunch the whole time that Jacob was hiding something. Could that be the reason something has happened to him?” Martin said hesitantly. “Could somebody have heard that he was at the police station and thought he was going to blab about something, something that this person didn’t want to come out?”
“Maybe,” Patrik said. “But that’s precisely the problem. Anything is possible right now, and all we have are a bunch of speculations.” He counted on his fingers. “We have Siv and Mona murdered in ’79; Johannes murdered in ’79; Tanja murdered now, twenty-four years later; Jenny Möller abducted, presumably when hitchhiking; Stefan beaten up last night, and maybe even killed depending on the prognosis; and Jacob, who has vanished without a trace. The whole time the Hult family seems to be the common denominator, and yet we have evidence that it’s not one of the Hults—at least not any of the ones we know about—who is guilty of Tanja’s death. And all indications are that whoever murdered Tanja also murdered Siv and Mona.” He threw out his hands in frustration. “It’s a mess, that’s what it is. And we’re standing in the middle of it all and can hardly tell our ass from our elbow.”
“You’ve been reading too much of that anti-police propaganda again,” Martin said with a laugh.
“So, what do we do now? I’m all out of ideas. Time must be running out for Jenny Möller, or it could already be too late.” He hastened to change the subject to drag himself up from his morose thoughts. “Have you invited that girl out yet, by the way?”
“What girl?” said Martin, trying to force his face into a neutral expression.
“Don’t even try. You know who I mean.”
“If it’s Pia you’re talking about, it wasn’t anything like that. She helped us out with a little interpreting, that’s all.”
“‘She helped us out with a little interpreting, that’s all,’” Patrik repeated, mocking him in falsetto, wagging his head from side to side. “Get off the bench and get into the match now. I can tell when you talk about her that’s what you’re thinking. Although she may not be your type. Are you sure she doesn’t already have a boyfriend?” Patrik smiled to take the sting out of his teasing.
Martin was collecting himself for a biting retort when Patrik’s cell rang.
With his ears pricked, Martin strained to hear who it might be on the phone. He heard something about the blood analyses, so it was probably someone from the lab. That much he could make out. He couldn’t glean anything else from Patrik’s end of the conversation:
“What do you mean by odd? Aha, I see. What the hell are you saying? But how can … Okay …”
Martin had to suppress a desire to scream. Patrik’s changing expressions indicated that something big was brewing, but he stubbornly continued to give single-word replies to the person at the lab.
“So what you’re saying is that you’ve precisely mapped the family relationships between them.” Patrik nodded to Martin to show that he was deliberately trying to share a little information from the conversation. “But I still don’t understand how that fits with … No, that’s totally impossible. He’s dead. There must be some other explanation. No, but for God’s sake, you’re the expert. Listen to what I’m saying and think about it. There must be another explanation.”
Patrik looked as if he was waiting tensely while the person on the other end was thinking.
Martin whispered, “What’s happening?”
Patrik held up a finger to shush him. Now he was obviously getting some sort of answer. “It’s not far-fetched at all. In this particular case it’s actually completely plausible.”
Patrik’s face lit up. Martin could see relief spreading like a wave through his colleague’s body, while he himself was practically scratching long grooves in the table.
“Good Lord! Thanks! Thanks a lot!” Patrik slammed his cell shut and turned to Martin, with relief still lighting up his face.
“I know who has Jenny Möller! And you’re not going to believe your ears when you hear this …”
The operation was over. Stefan had been rolled into the recovery room connected to all sorts of hoses and tubes, off in his own dark world. Robert sat next to the bed holding Stefan’s hand. Solveig had reluctantly left them to go find the bathroom, and he had his brother to himself for a while, since Linda had not been allowed in. They didn’t want too many relatives in the room at one time.
The thick tube going into Stefan’s mouth was connected to a machine that made a wheezing sound. Robert had to force himself not to breathe in the same rhythm as the respirator. It was as if he wanted to help Stefan breathe, anything to take away the feeling of helplessness that threatened to overpower him.
He stroked Stefan’s palm with his thumb. He thought he would try to look at his brother’s life line, but he gave it up because he didn’t know which of the three distinct lines was the life line. Stefan had two long lines and one short one. Robert hoped that the short one was his love line.
The thought of a world without Stefan filled him with a dizzying sense of emptiness. He knew that he usually appeared to be the stronger of the two, the leader. But the truth was that without Stefan, he was nothing more than a little shit. There was a kindness in Stefan that Robert needed to retain his own sense of humanity. Any kindness he might have felt had vanished when he found his father’s body. Without Stefan the harshness he felt inside would take over.
Robert continued to make promises as he sat next to his brother’s hospital bed. The promise that everything would be different, if only Stefan were allowed to live. He promised never to steal again, to get a job, to try to use his life for something good; yes, he even promised to cut his hair.
The last promise he made with dread, but to his great surprise it seemed to be the one that made all the difference. He felt a feather-light trembling in Stefan’s hand, a light movement of his index finger, as if he were trying to caress Robert’s hand in return. It wasn’t much, but it was all Robert needed. He waited eagerly for Solveig to come back. He longed to tell her that Stefan was going to be all right.
“Martin, there’s a guy on the phone who says he has information about the beating of Stefan Hult.” Annika’s head was sticking out the doorway and Martin stopped and turned around.
“Damn, I don’t have time right now.”
“Should I ask him to call back?”
“No, damn it, no, I’ll take it.” Martin rushed into Annika’s office and took the phone from her. After listening intently for a while and asking some more questions, he hung up and ran out the door.
“Annika, Patrik and I have to go. Can you get hold of Gösta and ask him to call me on my cell right away? And where’s Ernst?”
“Gösta and Ernst left to go to lunch, but I’ll call them on the cell.”
“Good.” He took off.
A few seconds later Patrik rushed in.
“Did you get hold of Uddevalla, Annika?”
She gave him the thumbs-up. “All clear, they’re on their way!”
“Great!” He turned to go but stopped. “I forgot to tell you, you don’t have to do any more on that list of fatherless children.”
Then she watched him disappear too, hurrying down the corridor. The energy at the station had risen to a level that was palpable. Patrik had told her in haste what had happened, and she could feel excitement tingling in her hands and feet. It was a relief to finally get a breakthrough in the investigation, and right now every minute counted. She waved to Patrik and Martin as they passed her window and left the station. “Good luck!” she called, not sure if they heard her. She quickly dialed Gösta’s number.
“Yeah, it’s really the pits, Gösta. Here the two of us sit while the young cocks strut.” Ernst was getting into his favorite topic, and Gösta had to admit that it was starting to wear on his nerves. Even though he’d railed against Martin before, it was mostly bitterness over being reprimanded by someone not even half his age. Afterward he realized that it wasn’t that big a deal.
They had taken the car to Grebbestad and were sitting at the Telegrafen restaurant having lunch. The choice of eating establishments in Tanum was not great, and they’d tired of them pretty quickly. And Grebbestad was only ten minutes away on the coast.
Gösta’s telephone was lying on the table. When it rang, they both saw from the display that it was the station calling.
“Damn, don’t answer it. You have the right to eat your lunch in peace and quiet.” Ernst reached out to turn off Gösta’s phone, but a look from his colleague stopped him.
It was the height of the lunchtime rush. Some of the patrons glowered angrily at the sight of someone bold enough to take a phone call in the middle of the restaurant. Gösta glared back and talked extra loud. When he finished he placed a banknote on the table, stood up and motioned to Ernst to do the same.
“We’ve got a job to do.”
“Can’t it wait? I haven’t even had a bite yet.”
“You can have something at the station later. Right now we have to bring a guy in.”
For the second time that day Gösta was headed toward Bullaren; this time he was behind the wheel. He told Ernst what Annika had reported. When they arrived half an hour later, they found a teenage boy waiting for them by the road, just as she had said, a short distance from the farm.
They stopped the car and climbed out.
“Are you Lelle?” said Gösta.
The boy nodded. He was big and husky, with a wrestler’s neck and enormous hands. As if born to be a bouncer, Gösta thought. Or a henchman, as in this case. But a henchman with a conscience, or so it seemed.
“You called us, so start talking,” said Gösta.
“Yes, let’s hear it. Come on, start talking,” said Ernst aggressively, and Gösta shot him a warning glance. This assignment wouldn’t demand any macho displays on his part.
“Well, as I told the girl at the station, Kennedy and I did something dumb yesterday.”
Something dumb, Gösta thought. The boy was certainly inclined to understatement. “Yes?”
“We beat up that guy a little, the one who’s related to Jacob.”
“Stefan Hult?”
“Yeah, I think Stefan’s his name.” His voice turned shrill. “I swear, I didn’t know that Kennedy would go off on him so damn hard. He said he was just going to have a talk with him. Just to threaten him a little. Nothing heavy.”
“But that’s not what happened.” Gösta tried to sound fatherly but wasn’t very successful.
“No, Kennedy flipped out. He kept saying a bunch of stuff about how fucking good Jacob is and that he, Stefan I mean, had fucked him over somehow and lied about something that Kennedy wanted him to take back, and when Stefan said no, then Kennedy really lost it and started beating the shit out of him.”
Here the boy had to stop and catch his breath. Gösta thought he’d followed most of the account, but he wasn’t entirely sure. Kids these days didn’t seem to speak the same language.
“And what were you doing in the meantime? Messing around in the garden?” said Ernst scornfully. He got another dark look from Gösta.
“I was holding the guy,” Lelle said quietly. “I held him by the arms so he couldn’t hit back, but I didn’t know that Kennedy was going to go fucking crazy. How would I know that?” He looked from Gösta to Ernst and back. “What’s going to happen now? Can I keep staying here? Am I going to prison?”
The big tough guy was almost in tears. He looked like a scared little boy, and Gösta no longer had to make an effort to sound fatherly; now it came naturally.
“We’ll talk about that later. We’ll work it out. Right now the most important thing is for us to talk to Kennedy. You can either wait here while we drive over and get him, or wait in the car. Take your pick.”
“I’ll wait in the car,” said Lelle in a low voice. “The others are going to find out anyway that I was the one who ratted out Kennedy.”
“All right, let’s go.”
They drove the last hundred yards up to the farm. The same woman who had opened the door for Gösta and Martin that morning opened it again. Her irritation had risen another notch.
“What do you want now? We’re going to have to put in a door for the police. I swear, I’ve never seen anything like it. After all the cooperation we’ve shown the police over the years—”
Gösta interrupted her by holding up his hand. He looked as solemn as the grave when he said, “We don’t have time for any discussion. We need to talk to Kennedy. Now.”
The woman heard the gravity in his voice and immediately called Kennedy. When she spoke again her tone was softer.
“What do you want with Kennedy? Has he done something?”
“You’ll hear all the details later,” Ernst said brusquely. “Right now our only job is to take the boy to the station and have a talk with him there. We’re taking in that big boy Lelle too.”
Kennedy stepped out of the shadows. He wore dark pants and a white shirt. And with his hair neatly combed he looked like a boy from an English boarding school, not a former offender at a reform school. All that disturbed the image were the big scrapes on his knuckles. Gösta swore to himself. That’s what he’d noticed earlier. He should have remembered.
“May I help you gentlemen?” Kennedy’s tone of voice was well modulated but perhaps a touch overdone. They could hear that he took great pains to speak correctly, which deadened the whole effect.
“We’ve talked to Lelle. So you’re going to have to come with us to the station.”
Kennedy bent his head in silent acquiescence. If there was anything Jacob had taught him, it was that a person had to suffer the consequences of his actions to be worthy in the sight of God.
He took one last regretful look around. He was going to miss the farm.
They sat silently facing each other. Marita had taken the children with her and gone down to Västergården to wait for Jacob. Outside the summer birds were chirping, but indoors it was quiet. The luggage was still standing at the bottom of the front steps. Laine couldn’t leave before she knew that Jacob wasn’t hurt.
“Have you heard anything from Linda?” she asked in an uncertain voice, afraid to disturb the delicate temporary cease-fire between herself and Gabriel.
“No, not yet. Poor Solveig,” said Gabriel.
Laine thought about all the years of extortion but said nothing. A mother cannot but feel sympathy for another mother whose child has been injured.
“Do you think that Jacob also … ?” The words stuck in her throat.
In an unexpected gesture Gabriel put his hand on hers. “No, I don’t think so. You heard what the police said. He’s no doubt somewhere trying to think things through. He has a lot to think about.”
“Yes, he certainly does,” said Laine bitterly.
Gabriel said nothing but kept his hand on hers. It was astonishing how comforting it felt, and she suddenly realized that it was the first time in all these years that Gabriel had shown her such tenderness. A warm feeling spread through her body, but at the same time it was mixed with the pain of parting. She didn’t wish to leave him. She had taken the initiative to save him the humiliation of throwing her out, but all at once she was unsure whether she had done the right thing. Then he removed his hand and the moment passed.
“You know, in hindsight I can say that I always felt that Jacob was more like Johannes than me. I saw it as a scornful trick of fate. Outwardly it may have seemed that Ephraim and I were closer to each other than he and Johannes were. Father lived here with us, and I inherited the manor and all that. But it wasn’t true. The reason they fought so much was that they were basically so alike. Sometimes it seemed that Ephraim and Johannes were actually one and the same person. I was always on the outside. Until Jacob was born and I saw so much of both my father and my brother in him. It felt like a possibility had opened up for me to join the community. If I could bind my son strongly to me and get to know him inside and out, then it would be like getting to know Ephraim and Johannes at the same time. I would become a part of their community.”
“I know,” Laine said softly, but Gabriel didn’t seem to hear her. He was looking out the window into the distance as he went on.
“I envied Johannes. He actually believed Father’s lies that we could heal people. Imagine what power that faith gave him! To look at your hands and know that they were the tools of God. To see people stand up and walk, to make the blind see and know that you were the one who made it possible. I myself saw only the spectacle. I saw Father standing in the wings, guiding and directing, and I detested every minute of it. Johannes saw only the sick before him. He saw only his direct channel to God. What sorrow he must have felt when it was closed. And I offered him no sympathy. Instead I was overjoyed. Finally we could be boys, Johannes and I. Finally we could be equals. But that never happened. Johannes continued to spellbind people, while I, I …” His voice caught.
