The Silver Road, page 13
‘It doesn’t matter how hard I’ve got to work. Nothing can be worse than life with Silje.’
They found Birger in the barn. He looked youthful in his dark blue dungarees, his body like a young man’s and his greying hair hidden under a cap. The slurry and the flies didn’t appear to worry him. He put down the rake when he saw them coming.
‘I’d give you a hug, Meja, if I wasn’t so blasted dirty.’
Meja grinned, suddenly self-conscious. It was stifling in the dim barn. She wasn’t used to the smell of animals or the warmth from the bodies jostling in the straw or the flicking tails at war with the flies.
Carl-Johan also seemed uncertain. His voice was low and hesitant as he faced his father. ‘Is it OK if Meja stays with us for a bit? It’s not been easy for her at home.’
His blue ice-water eyes shone in his weather-beaten face, but Birger’s smile faded. He stood erect and stared directly at Meja. She looked down at the uneven floor of the barn, the clods of mud and the hay, the urine trickling out from the stalls. Her heart lurched and she regretted her suggestion. Nobody wanted her under their roof. She should have learnt by now that it was written all over her how damaged she was. That she wasn’t good enough.
Birger’s voice was like velvet against her racing pulse. ‘Well, of course Meja can stay with us. As long as it’s OK with her mother.’
The relief made her feel giddy. Carl-Johan threw an arm round her and pulled her to him.
She could hear them laughing, and perhaps she was laughing too.
They left Birger among the animals and hurried out into the light. The sun was directly in their eyes. Carl-Johan drew her into the shadows and kissed her until she couldn’t breathe. He lifted her up against the sun-warmed wall and pressed himself to her as if he were trying to melt into her.
Göran’s voice came from nowhere and they sprang apart.
‘Get a room, why don’t you?’
‘What the hell are you creeping about for?’
Göran smirked and wiped his hands on his overalls. His trouser legs were carelessly stuffed into his boots and he was sweating profusely.
‘Has something happened?’ he asked. ‘You seem pretty excited.’
‘Meja’s moving in,’ Carl-Johan said.
Göran took a step back and lurched on the uneven ground. He turned to Meja. ‘Is that right? Are you going to live here?’
‘For a while, at least.’
The face above the blue overalls changed colour. Göran looked up at the house, then back at Carl-Johan.
‘Some people have all the luck,’ he said, and spat on the grass.
It was almost midnight and Lelle was finding it hard to sit still. He wandered from room to room, an unlit cigarette first in his fingers, then in his mouth, then behind his ear. Hassan had called a colleague and they had confiscated his car. The forensics team at Skellefteå police were going to take a look at it, even though Lelle had repeatedly explained.
I collided with a reindeer calf up near Långträsk marshes.
Do I look like a German shepherd? Do you think I can tell the difference between human and reindeer blood?
I need the car!
Think yourself lucky we’re not taking you in as well.
Perhaps he had been an idiot to think Hassan was his friend, that he could be trusted. You could never let your guard down, because in the end you were left standing there defenceless and stupid. If he had learned anything at all these three nightmarish years it was that the world is a lousy, unreliable place and the Norrland interior was no exception. You couldn’t rely on people. End of.
At ten past twelve he couldn’t stand it any longer. He put on his jacket and shoes and walked out into the luminous night. The birds were roosting and the only sound was of his boots on the gravel. The air was still and heavy with the scent of vegetation. He cut through the pine forest where Lina had built a camp when she was younger. A few mouldy planks were still nailed to the tree trunks, but the remainder had fallen down and been covered in moss and weeds. He tried not to look.
He came out on Ängsvägen and carried on towards Storgatan and the wretched bus stop. His feet were doing the steering, the rest of his body was on autopilot. Including his thoughts. He lit a cigarette and looked at the night sky sparkling in the puddles. Still smoking, he walked over and sat in the solitary shelter. There was a half-empty can of Carlsberg on the seat and he thought a beer would go down well at a time like this. Just as he felt the need for alcohol run through his body he heard voices. He lifted the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled deeply, and out of the corner of his eye he watched as two young men approached. One was carrying a skateboard and the other limped as he walked. At the corner they went their separate ways with a fist bump. The lad with the skateboard set off down Storgatan, the small wheels clacking against the asphalt. The other hobbled in Lelle’s direction. He had dark hair down past his ears, and black tattoos coiled round his thin arms and up over his neck. He was black around the eyes, too, as if he was wearing make-up. Lelle sat upright and felt his fingers stiffen as the lad slowed down.
‘You don’t happen to have a spare cig, do you?’ he asked.
‘Sure.’ Lelle handed over the packet and the boy hobbled into the bus shelter. He had tattoos on his knuckles as well, a four-leafed clover on his left hand and some letters on his right.
‘What have you done to your foot?’ asked Lelle.
‘Skateboard mess-up.’
‘Oh, right.’
Lelle stubbed out his cigarette and felt the boy’s eyes on him. They were oddly light inside the dark shadows.
‘Aren’t you Lina Gustafsson’s dad?’
Lelle’s heart leapt. ‘Yes, I am. Do you know her?’
‘No, but everyone knows who she is.’
Lelle nodded. He was pleased to hear him speak of Lina in the present tense. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Jesper,’ said the boy. ‘Jesper Skoog.’
‘Don’t you go to Tallbacka?’
‘I left last year. I was in the class below Lina’s.’
Lelle couldn’t recall seeing the boy before, but then he didn’t notice people now the way he used to.
‘Didn’t I teach you maths?’
‘You would have done, but you were mostly off sick.’
Lelle studied the youth. His restless limbs, his feet constantly scraping the ground.
‘So you never hung out with Lina?’
‘I doubt she even knew who I was.’
‘Really?’
Jesper took a last drag and flicked away the cigarette. He had a tongue piercing that he clicked against his front teeth.
‘She only had eyes for Micke Varg.’
‘You’re right.’
‘They were totally obsessed with each other.’
‘Obsessed?’
‘Yeah, everyone thought so.’
Lelle considered this for a while. The night was silent around them. The only sound was the silver tongue ring clicking against enamel. It couldn’t be good for the teeth to keep doing that. Lelle held out the cigarette packet and offered Jesper another one. For the first time in ages it felt good to talk about Lina with someone else.
‘You’re probably wondering why I’m sitting here in the middle of the night,’ Lelle said.
‘Isn’t this where she vanished?’
‘That’s right.’
‘So you’re sitting here waiting for her to come back.’ It was more a statement than a question.
‘Yes, I suppose I am.’
Jesper smoked fast and inhaled deeply. The night sun picked out silvery streaks in his black hair and under his dark eyelashes the boyish eyes looked uncertain.
‘Everyone liked Lina,’ he said. ‘But nobody liked Varg.’
‘No one told me that.’
The boy inhaled and there was more clicking against his teeth.
‘He behaved like a total arse to us kids. Really looked down on us.’ Jesper spat. ‘He was so full of himself.’
‘Oh, he was full of himself all right,’ Lelle said.
‘She was good for him. Everyone thought so.’
‘I wasn’t aware of that.’
Jesper dropped the cigarette in a puddle and Lelle watched the glow die. ‘There are some who say he did it. That he’s admitted it.’
‘Admitted what?’
‘Killing Lina.’
The words echoed in Lelle’s head. ‘Who says that?’
‘Some guys I know, from Lajkasjärvi. Brothers. They used to sell alcohol to him and his scummy mates. They say he admitted it when he was drunk.’
‘That has to be a lie. Micke Varg has an alibi, according to the police.’
Jesper clicked his tongue stud. ‘I’m only saying what I heard.’
‘Lina isn’t dead,’ Lelle said, feeling his hands perspire against his jeans. ‘No one has killed her, because she isn’t dead.’
Jesper’s eyes darted over the ground. Lelle felt his irritation grow.
‘What are they called, these brothers?’
‘Jonas and Jonah. Ringberg.’
‘Jonas and Jonah?’
‘Twins.’
Lelle got out his mobile and entered their names. He tried to recall how far it was to Lajkasjärvi.
‘Do you know how I can get hold of these brothers?’
‘They usually hang out on Glimmers Hill at the weekend. They sell booze to kids up there.’
Lelle tapped in the information, struggling to stop his hands shaking.
‘I’m off home now,’ Jesper said. ‘Are you going to sit here all night?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Want a beer?’
Lelle gulped and noticed the thirst along with his frayed nerves.
‘I wouldn’t say no.’
Jesper shrugged off his faded blue Fjällräven backpack and slid out a bottle of Corona that he handed to Lelle.
‘Summer beer,’ he said. ‘Really you should have a wedge of lime with it.’
‘It’ll be fine as it is.’
Jesper shook his hair back and started to limp towards the village centre. When he was almost at the underpass he turned, and Lelle saw him take a deep breath.
‘I really hope she comes back!’ he shouted.
Lelle raised a hand and the words hung in the air. He sipped his beer.
‘So do I.’
Lelle downed the beer, but there was no feeling of intoxication. The sun’s rays were beating down on the small bus shelter, but the warmth didn’t reach him. His whole body trembled. How come he hadn’t heard of the Ringberg brothers until now? And if rumours were going around that Mikael Varg had admitted his guilt, shouldn’t the police know about them?
He threw the empty beer bottle into the waste bin and started running. He ran through Glimmersträsk shopping centre, deserted and slumbering in the dawn, ignoring the water that splashed up from the puddles and left dark streaks on his jeans. With Storgatan behind him he took a short cut over the football pitch, where the sprinklers were painting rainbows in the air.
His throat was burning when he reached the white house on the brow of the hill. A police car was parked on the drive and small clumps of violets shone in the flower beds. The sound of his feet on the gravel pounded in time with the beats of his heart and he bent double on the veranda to get his breath back. He leaned on the doorbell and when no one opened he began banging wildly on the door with his clenched fists. The sound echoed back from the edge of the forest.
When the door opened he stumbled headlong into Hassan’s naked chest. Hassan was in his underpants and his hair was sticking up.
‘What’s this all about?’
‘The Ringberg brothers,’ panted Lelle. ‘Jonas and Jonah. Do you know who they are?’
Hassan squinted in the night sunlight as if it hurt his eyes. ‘What the hell, Lelle? Have you been drinking? You stink of beer!’
‘One bottle. But forget that and listen to me. I was sitting in the bus shelter and got talking to a lad called Jesper. He told me the Ringberg brothers are going around saying Mikael Varg has admitted killing Lina.’
The words left a bad taste in his mouth and he turned and spat on the gravel.
Hassan scratched his chest hair and seemed too sleepy to understand the significance of what Lelle was saying. ‘Do you have any idea what the time is?’
‘Do you know the Ringberg brothers?’
‘Every social worker and cop north of Sundsvall knows those two. Small-time crooks who like peddling moonshine around here. Some burglary and minor theft. They’ve gone from one care home and foster family to the next since they could walk, basically.’
‘They say Mikael Varg has admitted the crime.’
Hassan sighed. ‘The Ringberg brothers are about as reliable as the weather. I wouldn’t trust anything they said.’
‘So you’ve heard they’re accusing Varg?’
‘Listen to me, Lelle. We’ve heard endless rumours concerning Lina’s disappearance over the years. You know that as well as I do. We went through the Varg property with a fine-tooth comb early on in the investigation, with forensics, dogs, the lot. We even went to their holiday cottage in Vittangi to have a look. We’ve heard the claims about an admission of guilt and we’ve interrogated Varg for hours about it. Over forty interviews with him and we got nowhere. He’s admitted sod all, and without a body or any forensic proof we can’t nail him.’
‘Sounds to me like you need a new interrogator.’
Hassan rested his head against the doorframe and shut his eyes. ‘You’re on bloody thin ice, Lelle. I know you’re suffering, but I’ve had it up to here with you and your accusations.’
Lelle took a step backwards. The tiredness and excitement had gone to his legs and made the ground sway beneath him. He looked over his shoulder at the patrol car gleaming in the sunlight, and the damned clumps of violets under his feet.
‘I need the car,’ he said. ‘I want to drive up to Lajkas and have a chat with those brothers.’
‘Your car is at the station.’ Hassan fixed his gaze on Lelle. ‘And if I hear that you have gone up to Lajkas I’ll make sure it’s impounded for the rest of the summer.’
Lelle leaned against the veranda railing and tried to steady his trembling legs. Hassan held the door wide open.
‘Come in and get some sleep. We’ll talk about this later.’
‘I don’t want you to be alone with Göran.’
Carl-Johan’s hair brushed against her neck. Meja turned over in bed to see his eyes. ‘Why not?’
‘Because you’re my girl,’ he said. ‘And Göran always wants what I’ve got.’
Meja pushed him away.
‘You talk as if I was some kind of possession.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that. But you see the way he looks at you?’
Meja put a finger on his lips.
‘He can look as much as he likes,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to worry about a thing.’
He pulled her close and his breath warmed her throat. ‘Keep away from him. Promise?’
At dawn he left her. Meja could feel the warmth where his arm had been. The air was clammy in the room, but he had insisted on holding her all night. She had dreamed about the forest, that she was running along a track and the trees leaned out to grab her. Long strands of hair were left hanging from the pines.
She reached for her phone and saw a text from Silje.
All the filth has gone. I’ve forgiven T. He wants you to come home so he can apologize.
Meja got up and opened the shutters to let in the light. It took a while for her eyes to adjust and for the paradise to take shape. It was like a film, with the cows grazing in the meadow and flowers climbing the barn walls. Hens were pecking in the gravel and she thought she saw Carl-Johan by the woodshed. He had told her they were behind with the logs this year and she had nodded as if she understood. She was used to this feeling of being lost, used to ending up in new places with new people, not knowing what was expected of her. Her life was all about watching and playing along.
Down in the kitchen Anita was hurrying between the oven and the wood stove. A blood-red scarf was holding back her white hair and when she saw Meja she stopped and gave her a swift hug, careful to keep her floury hands out of the way. Several loaves were rising under a tea towel and the room smelled of boiling jam. Meja felt her hunger begin to gouge a hole in her stomach.
‘Birger wants to talk to you.’
‘Me?’
‘He’s out in the dog pens.’
Meja had always liked dogs, but this Norrland breed seemed wilder, more wolf-like, as they sat in their pens and howled. There were seven of them, all with thick grey coats and pale blue eyes that followed every move she made. Carl-Johan had said they were working dogs and not pets. If she wanted something to pat she should go and find the goats.
Birger was holding two buckets when she found him. His neck muscles were bulging out like ropes.
‘Morning, Meja. Did you sleep well?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
‘I’m glad.’
The skin on his face had begun to sag and his chin quivered as he spoke. He put the buckets down and rested his hands gently on her shoulders, as if he was afraid she would be crushed if he pressed too hard.
‘We are so very pleased to have you here.’
Meja looked down at his work boots planted firmly on the damp ground. A strong, rotten smell came from the buckets.
‘I’m the one who’s glad.’
He took his hands away at last, picked up the buckets and went into the dog pens. He shovelled fish entrails into a long line of bowls, while the dogs jostled around him impatiently. Meja stayed on the outside of the bars, breathing through her mouth to escape the stench of fish. She tried not to look at the slimy pink strands the dogs were gulping down.
‘As you have probably noticed by now we work hard here at Svartliden to support ourselves. If you are going to live with us, you’ll have to do your share.’
Meja gripped the bars. ‘I’ve always lived in cities. I don’t know anything about farming and stuff.’
‘Don’t worry about that. Naturally, we’ll teach you everything. You won’t get a better training.’
Birger tipped the last of the fish guts on to the ground and two of the dogs fought over the remains. He swung the buckets at them in irritation.
