Winter Grave

by Helene Tursten

  Hampus nodded, his face conveying nothing but warmth and understanding. “I get it—he’s always been a leader.”

  Johannes nodded and mumbled a barely audible “Yes.”

  “And is that still the case? He takes the lead and no one dares to go against him?”

  “It’s not quite the same—he’s less aggressive these days. Except when he’s had a drink. Then he can go kind of crazy.”

  Jasmin Carell leaned back, making no attempt to interrupt her client. I guess this is exactly what she wants, Embla thought. Johannes is telling the truth—that’s the only thing that can help him.

  Hampus gazed calmly at the man opposite. “So what about Sunday? Did Ted . . . go kind of crazy?”

  The direct question took Johannes by surprise, but after a deep breath he answered. “Yes.”

  And there it was.

  He spoke hesitantly at first, searching for the right words, but after a while the whole story came spilling out. It was as if he needed to lance an abscess that had been festering inside him.

  Ted had called him at around seven on Sunday evening and insisted that they meet up. They were both in the same boat now—they both had a missing kid. As always when his friend made a suggestion, Johannes went along with it. Maria tried to persuade him to stay home, but when Ted came to pick him up an hour later, she had to let him go.

  They drove off toward the town center in Ted’s Lexus. He parked outside a bar and they went in. One of Ted’s other pals was there, and they joined him. Hampus asked for the man’s name, but Johannes insisted he didn’t know. His eyes were darting all over the place, but Hampus chose to let it go. If he pushed too hard, there was a risk that Johannes would clam up. It was obvious that he was very frightened, even though he wanted to tell them as much as he dared.

  Hampus managed to get Johannes back on track. Ted had bought a round of beers in the pub, and the three of them had chatted about this and that. The atmosphere had been relaxed. Johannes thought he’d only had two beers, but it must have been more because his memories were very hazy. Suddenly they were in the car, he and Ted in the front and the other guy in the back. He remembered Ted saying over and over again: “We’re going to get the fucking truth! We’re going to find out what’s happened to Amelie and Viggo!”

  They had stopped at a gas station and Johannes had gone inside to use the toilet. The CCTV footage brought it all back to him, but he had no recollection of Ted filling a can with diesel.

  When they arrived at Breidablick there were lights showing in several windows. The barn, or rather the workshop, was in darkness. The only source of illumination was an external lamp on the gable; he did recall that. Before they had a chance to discuss what they were going to do, the other guy had jumped out of the car, grabbed the can of diesel, and run over to the workshop. In no time at all flames were licking the wooden walls.

  When he came back to the car, Ted yelled, “Those fuckers are gonna get exactly what they deserve!” He headed for the house. Johannes saw him yank open the double doors and disappear inside. By the time he reached the hallway, Ted had already started on Kristoffer. The boy was lying on the floor, trying to shield himself from the kicks and blows raining down on him. Ted was completely out of control.

  “What have you done with our kids, you fucker?” he yelled.

  At first Johannes had stood there, completely at a loss as he watched the brutal assault. The man who had set fire to the barn came in, and eventually the two of them managed to drag Ted away from Kristoffer. They had to keep a firm grip on him; he was like a thing possessed. Together they pushed him out of the house, and suddenly he stopped resisting. It was as if someone had pulled the plug on his rage.

  Johannes had been deeply shocked, and hadn’t been able to utter a word. Ted had been excited, and kept saying things like: “Look at those flames! I’ve taught that little shit a lesson—he’ll never fucking do it again!”

  They had dropped off Johannes in front of his house. He had staggered in without waking either Maria or Julien. His wife was in a deep slumber. She’d been taking sleeping pills ever since Amelie’s disappearance. Strangely enough Johannes had gone out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow. The following morning he’d had a crippling headache.

  “Could you have been drugged?” Hampus asked.

  Johannes hesitated, then mumbled, “Don’t know.”

  “Who was the other guy? What’s his name?”

  Johannes’s face closed down and his mouth became a thin line. It was obvious that he didn’t want to answer.

  “He’ll be able to confirm your story.”

  The look Johannes gave him was difficult to interpret. Hampus tried again, this time injecting a mild reproach into his voice. “Why won’t you tell us his name?”

  “I don’t remember it. Or maybe I don’t know it. I don’t think I heard it.”

  It was obvious that he didn’t intend to say any more. Hampus announced that the interview was over, and Johannes was led away.

  Nadir Khadem entered the room with his client. He smiled and greeted everyone. His eyes lingered for a fraction of a second too long on Embla, but that was it. She made an equal effort not to show how she felt about the man with whom she’d enjoyed a night of passion just a few hours earlier.

  Ted Andersson’s face was beaded with sweat when he sat down on the chair that Johannes had warmed for him. His hands were twitching, and at regular intervals his whole body jerked uncontrollably.

  Göran and Hampus took turns asking questions, which were met with absolute silence. That was clearly the strategy for the day.

  The two detectives also fell silent after a while. Hampus leaned back and fixed his gaze on Ted through those round glasses.

  “The doctors are bringing Kristoffer out of his induced coma this morning. In fact they’ve already begun. What do you think he’s going to say?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral.

  Ted gave a start, and there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. A direct hit. Embla braced herself in case he decided to make a run for it again.

  Suddenly he slammed his fist down on the table. “That slimy little shit—he’s sick in the head!”

  You could have heard a pin drop after his outburst. Neither Göran nor Hampus moved a muscle.

  Hampus stared at him for a while, then said, “We have reason to believe that a friend of yours set fire to Olof Sjöberg’s workshop. Is that correct?”

  “It was Johannes.”

  “Who assaulted Kristoffer?”

  “Johannes.”

  “That’s not what we’ve heard.”

  The color rose in Ted’s face, and he looked as if he was going to jump to his feet, but after a couple of deep breaths he managed to calm himself.

  “Listen, this is what happened. I called Johannes for a chat—I mean we’re in the same situation, with both our kids missing. He wanted to go somewhere—a bar. I drove over and picked him up and we went into town.”

  “What time was this?”

  “Around eight. Anyway, we went to Rocky’s. Johannes was putting it away, knocking back the booze like there was no tomorrow. I was driving, so I took it easy. Then he wanted to get back in the car. He asked if there was any gas in the can I always carry. I said no, and he told me to drive to a gas station. When we got there he asked if he could borrow the can—said he needed some gas for his car or something. Then he decided he needed to go and pee. He told me to fill up the can, so that’s what I did while he was gone. We headed home, but as we got close he changed his mind and told me to keep going. He insisted on going over to the Sjöberg place to talk to the boy. That was all he kept saying, talk to the boy. I did as he said, and . . . you know the rest.”

  Hampus stared searchingly at Ted’s face. His cheeks were bright red, his upper lip and forehead beaded with sweat. Giving nothing away, he asked, “Who was the guy
you met in the bar?”

  “We met plenty of guys in the bar. This place is a shit hole in the winter—everybody knows everybody else.”

  “I mean the one who came with you to Breidablick in the car.”

  Ted raised his eyebrows, the epitome of total surprise.

  “Came with us . . . There was nobody else in the car, just me and Johannes. He was drunk and crazy. If I hadn’t been there he would have killed the little fucker!”

  Göran had been tapping away on his laptop while Hampus conducted the interview. He looked up and said quietly, “I’ve just been checking the vehicle register. Johannes Holm drives an eight-year-old Mazda. Runs on gas. Why would he need a can of diesel?”

  “To set fire to the fucking workshop, Einstein!”

  With that Ted clamped his lips firmly shut and refused to say another word.

  “We’ve got time to go and have a chat with Maria Holm before lunch,” Hampus said as they emerged from the police station.

  It had started raining again, and a cold wind swept across the deserted square. In a few months the place would be swarming with tourists, and the market would be in full swing. Right now that seemed a long way off.

  Embla and Hampus set off to speak to Amelie’s mother; Göran had decided to work from the station and wait for them to come back for lunch. They’d all voted for a return visit to the Thai restaurant.

  Hampus had to ring the bell several times before there was any response. The door edged open and Maria’s face appeared in the narrow gap. When she let them in, they could see she’d been crying.

  “Is Julien home?” Embla asked.

  Maria shook her head. “Preschool.”

  She showed them into an airy living room with modern furniture: black armchairs and a pale-gray leather sofa. Nice. A large rug in shades of blue and several colorful, exotic pictures on the walls, probably painted by an artist from Maria’s homeland of Guadeloupe. The large windows and glass door overlooked a south-facing patio. There wasn’t much of a view, thanks to a tall cypress hedge just a few feet away. It was covered with a net of LED lights, which looked very pretty. In spite of the fact that it was almost lunchtime, there wasn’t much daylight out there.

  Embla and Hampus each took an armchair and Maria sank down on the sofa.

  “Can I get you a coffee or something?” she asked in a flat voice.

  “No thanks.”

  Hampus smiled warmly at her. She tried to return his smile, but managed only a grimace. A single tear trickled down her cheek, and she dashed it away with the back of her hand.

  “I don’t understand why . . . why he went with Ted!”

  She sounded angry, but they realized it was Johannes she was mad at, not them. When they began to ask about Sunday, Maria confirmed her husband’s story. Ted had picked him up around eight, saying they were going out to search for the children. He’d had an idea or been given a tip-off, she couldn’t remember exactly what he’d said. Maria had gone to bed at about ten o’clock after taking a pill. She had to get some sleep for Julien’s sake. She didn’t know when Johannes had come home, but he’d been as sick as a dog the following morning. At first she’d thought it served him right, but then she’d gotten worried. It took him almost the whole day to recover.

  “Has Johannes ever said he believes Kristoffer is responsible for Amelie’s disappearance?” Hampus asked.

  Maria stiffened and gave him a suspicious look. Maybe she thought he was trying to get her to say Johannes had attacked the boy.

  “I guess we both thought that—at first . . .”

  “But not now?”

  She turned her head and gazed out the rain-spattered window. “Maybe . . . Who else could it be? But I don’t know . . .”

  “What makes you unsure?”

  She took a deep breath and met his eyes once more. “Kristoffer is related to Amelie’s best friend, Tuva. He’s never . . . how shall I put it . . . tried to get close to the girls. He lives in his own world of engines and cars.”

  “You’ve never heard anyone say he was violent? Prone to outbursts of rage?”

  “Never—quite the reverse. Apparently he doesn’t defend himself against bullies—that’s what Tuva’s always said. It drives her crazy. She looks up to him. I think she sees him as a kind of older brother. She’s an only child and would have loved an older sibling, and Kristoffer . . .”

  She broke off, eyes shining with tears as she stared at a framed photograph on the wall: Amelie and Julien on a sun-drenched beach. They were in their swimming gear, grinning straight at the camera, each clutching an enormous ice cream. The palm trees in the background suggested the picture might have been taken on Guadeloupe.

  Embla was struck by a terrible thought. Julien probably doesn’t have a big sister anymore. Now he’s an only child, too.

  Even though hope is the last thing to leave a human being, Embla was pretty sure that Amelie was no longer alive. And if they didn’t find Viggo very soon, there was every chance that he was dead, too.

  A male nurse in his thirties whose name badge informed them that he was called Ahmed showed them the way. At first glance he reminded Embla of Nadir. He greeted the police officer on duty in the corridor, then accompanied them into Kristoffer’s room. Eva Sjöberg got up from the chair beside the bed and came toward them, smiling.

  “He’s come around, but he’s not fully awake yet. He keeps drifting in and out of sleep. Hassan—Kristoffer’s doctor—says he probably should have been kept sedated for another twenty-four hours,” she told them quietly.

  “How is he otherwise?” Embla asked.

  Eva shook her head.

  “His life is no longer in danger, but it’s going to take quite some time for his injuries to heal. His whole body is black and blue. They’ve replaced the shattered cheekbone with a titanium insert, and they’ve set his jawbone, which was broken in two places. He can’t chew, so he’ll be fed through a tube for a while. He has three broken ribs, plus a fractured ulna and wrist. They’ve removed his spleen, because it was ruptured, so the dressing on that wound will need to be changed regularly. He’s going to need strong pain relief, and they’ll be keeping him in for the foreseeable future.”

  She paused to catch her breath after the detailed report on her nephew’s condition. Kristoffer’s physical injuries would heal in time. The question was what kind of scars the mental trauma would leave.

  “Does he know about his father?” Embla whispered.

  “No. He hasn’t been awake for long enough yet . . .”

  A faint whimper came from the bed. Eva immediately turned and hurried back to the boy. She spoke softly, gently stroking the arm that wasn’t in plaster. He fell silent, but moved restlessly beneath the covers.

  “Are you in pain?” Eva asked.

  The response was a low groan. Eva stood up and pressed a red button on the edge of the bedside cabinet. Embla and Hampus edged a little closer.

  Half of Kristoffer’s face was bandaged, while the other half displayed all the colors of the rainbow. His eye was closed, but the eyelid was twitching. His features were so swollen that Embla didn’t even recognize the gangly teenager she’d met at Breidablick. His left arm was plastered up to the elbow. The sleeve of his hospital gown had ridden up the uninjured arm, which looked heartbreakingly pale. However, his forearm was muscular, and his large hands were callused. He must be pretty strong, given the work he does, Embla thought.

  The door opened and Ahmed came in carrying a syringe. He checked on Kristoffer, then attached the syringe to the IV catheter just below the boy’s throat, and slowly injected the contents. He adjusted the intravenous drip and had a word with Eva before leaving the room. Eva gave Embla a wink.

  “He’s good,” she said, sounding satisfied. She was certainly in a position to judge his competence.

  “Are you going to tell Kristoffer we’re he
re, or shall we do it ourselves?” Embla asked quietly.

  “I’ll do it.”

  Gently Eva stroked the back of Kristoffer’s hand and said softly, “Kristoffer, honey? There are two police officers here who want to have a little chat with you. They need to know what happened when you got . . . hurt.”

  His eyelid began to twitch again, and he managed to open it a sliver. They could see his eye darting from side to side; he was clearly finding it difficult to focus. Embla leaned over the bed, trying to put herself in his line of sight.

  “Hi, Kristoffer. My name’s Embla.”

  Hampus followed suit.

  Kristoffer groaned and closed his eye.

  “Do you think you might be able to answer a couple of questions?” Embla continued.

  She decided to interpret the ensuing grunt as a yes.

  “What happened on that evening when you got beaten up?” Might as well get straight to the point.

  A small furrow between his eyebrows showed that he was making a real effort to think. The eye flew open, and he stared in terror at the three faces around his bed.

  “Do you remember anything?” Eva asked anxiously.

  “No,” he mumbled, almost inaudibly. It was bordering on a sob, and there was panic in that wide-open eye.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’ve had a blow to the head. Your memory will come back soon,” his aunt reassured him.

  The look she gave Embla and Hampus didn’t reflect the same conviction.

  However, her words seemed to have the desired effect. Kristoffer relaxed, although that worried little furrow remained. Before any of them could ask another question, he looked straight at his aunt.

  “Dad . . . where’s . . . ?” he managed to force out, in spite of his damaged jawbone.

  Eva went pale and held his hand tightly. “You remember he was out there in the workshop? Which was on fire?”