Winter Grave

by Helene Tursten

  “Unless they’re incredibly well hidden,” Embla pointed out.

  “Good point.”

  He opened up his laptop.

  “I’ve listed the similarities between the two disappearances. Number one: they both went missing outdoors and close to home. Comments?”

  “No one saw or heard anything when they were taken,” Hampus said.

  “It was dark,” Embla added.

  “Good—factors that were in the perpetrator’s favor. But another common denominator is that they vanished straight after darkness fell, late in the afternoon. In Amelie’s case it was between three and four, Viggo around a quarter to five. Any thoughts on that?”

  Göran looked encouragingly at his colleagues.

  “As Hampus said—it’s strange that no one noticed anything,” Embla said. She had found this puzzling from the start. The children hadn’t gone missing in the middle of some wilderness, but in residential areas with plenty of people around.

  “That suggests to me that the children didn’t resist, didn’t scream or fight back. Which could mean they weren’t scared of the perpetrator,” Hampus said reflectively.

  “So they knew the person?”

  “It’s not impossible.”

  Göran nodded. “So who knows both children?”

  Embla and Hampus thought for a moment.

  “Their parents know one another,” Embla said. “Johannes Holm and Ted Andersson were childhood friends and often travel home together from their jobs in Norway.”

  “I thought about that and checked with their employers. Both Johannes and Ted were working on the Thursday when Amelie went missing. Neither of them could have been involved,” Göran said.

  “What about the mothers?” Hampus asked.

  “Maria Holm was at work until four-thirty. Pernilla was free, but had an emergency dental appointment in the center of Strömstad on that Thursday afternoon. She’d been suffering from a bad toothache, and the dentist made a start on root canal treatment. According to the nurse at reception she arrived at three-fifteen and left at four. The preschool staff confirm that she picked up Viggo a quarter of an hour later, so she has an alibi.

  Hampus frowned. “And what about the day Viggo disappeared?”

  Göran picked up a sheet of paper from the table. “Johannes and Maria were home. Both of them were still off sick. Their younger son and Johannes’s mother, Iris Holm, were also there. Pernilla Andersson was on the afternoon and evening shift at the Co-op supermarket from midday until eight. Ted was home with Viggo.”

  “So it doesn’t look as if the parents are involved—but there’s something very shady about Ted,” Embla said.

  “Absolutely. I’ve spent several hours going through his computer, which Paula picked up for me. Ted has tried to cover his tracks, but he’s no hacker. I had no difficulty following his activities. He’s the one behind most of the hate mail that’s flooded social media since Viggo disappeared. He’s decided that Kristoffer is the perp.”

  “But Kristoffer has a watertight alibi,” Embla said.

  Göran took a sip of his coffee, then nodded. “Yes. Olof may be dead, but there are still four people who can confirm that he and Kristoffer were at Breidablick with them at the relevant time. One of those witnesses has no connection with the family; he’s just a client, the owner of an American car that Kristoffer’s been working on. I checked him out particularly carefully, and there’s absolutely no personal link between him and the Sjöberg family. The other three are Eva Sjöberg and Kristoffer’s friends, Anton and Gabriel.”

  Hampus’s eyes narrowed behind the round glasses. “So what about that battery-powered candle?”

  Göran leaned forward and brought up the image of a plastic candle in a red holder on the screen. The battery was concealed in the holder. “Found in a toolbox in one of the cars parked a short distance away from the workshop. There are no fingerprints on the candle—it’s been wiped. We think it’s Amelie’s, but we can’t be sure.”

  “It could have been planted there after the fire,” Embla pointed out.

  “Absolutely, by someone who wanted to put the blame on Kristoffer. But one important detail is that the candle was wiped with an oily rag. If you look closely at the picture, you’ll see the surface is dirty.”

  He was right; there was a brownish film on the white plastic in places.

  “Could the rag have been in the workshop?” Hampus asked.

  “It seems likely.”

  “We can ask Kristoffer about the candle when we see him tomorrow,” Embla said.

  “Have we found anything on Amelie’s cell phone?” Hampus asked. “And did Viggo have a phone?”

  “There’s nothing of note on the girl’s phone, and Viggo didn’t have one. Neither of them was on Facebook or any kind of forum. They haven’t had contact with anyone online.”

  The fire crackled and Embla gazed into the dancing flames, watching the sparks swirl. The house was lovely and cozy, but soon she would venture out into the darkness. To Nadir. She was brought back to the moment by Göran’s voice.

  “I’ve been in touch with Sven-Ove Berglund’s wife. Apparently he’s had a heart attack. He’s in the hospital and will be off work for some time. And Willén called to tell me that we might be getting additional resources from Stockholm to help investigate the Viktor Jansson homicide.”

  “Nothing new there?” Embla said.

  “Not a thing.”

  “Strange—that also happened late in the afternoon, but of course no one saw anything,” Hampus said.

  “To be fair, that stretch of road is pretty isolated. There are no houses overlooking the parking lot. Although you’d think the odd vehicle would have driven by.”

  Göran shut down the computer and stood up, smiling. “It’s Friday night and it’s almost ten o’clock. I’m going to get in my new little car and drive into Strömstad. Are you going to keep me company, Hampus?”

  Embla felt herself blush. He’d assumed she would be going into town in the Volvo. Hampus glanced up from his phone and shook his head.

  “No. I’ve got things to do.”

  Now or never, Embla thought.

  “What are you searching for? You’re always online these days.”

  Hampus looked up at her, a weary expression in his brown eyes. He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Property ads.”

  “Are you and Filippa thinking of moving already? But it’s only . . .”

  She was going to say it was only two years since they’d bought their house, but something in his face made her break off.

  “I’m moving. We’re splitting up.”

  Silence filled the room. Embla could see that Göran wasn’t completely taken by surprise, but that his suspicions hadn’t been confirmed until now. After a moment he cleared his throat.

  “Maybe that’s exactly why you ought to come with me. I’m happy to drive.”

  “No thanks. I’m not in the mood.”

  “Sure?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you want me to stay? It might be better if you’re not alone . . .”

  “No, I’m fine.” Hampus took a deep breath, then continued: “This is nothing new. We’ve been fighting for a long time, and now we’ve made up our minds. Filippa and the girls will stay in the house, and I’ll find an apartment nearby. Don’t you worry about me—I’ve got plenty to do.” He waved his phone in the air, determined to stick to his plan.

  Embla and Göran exchanged glances, then went off to their rooms to get ready for the evening.

  They left the house at the same time, Embla in the Volvo and Göran in his Nissan. Neither had suggested traveling together.

  Fifteen minutes later Embla hurried in through the glass doors of the spa hotel. In her peripheral vision she noticed someone who seemed familiar, but when she turned her head, sh
e realized it was her colleague Paula Nilsson, sitting at a table in the foyer bar. It was a table for two, and her jacket was draped over the empty chair. She was obviously waiting for someone. When she saw Embla she nodded and raised a hand in greeting. She looked slightly embarrassed, as if she’d been caught out. And suddenly Embla knew who that chair was for.

  She pressed the call button for the elevator, keeping an eye on the main door. Seconds later her boss walked into the hotel. A date. Göran had a date. At long last!

  It was almost three in the morning by the time Embla parked outside the Shore House. There was no sign of the white Nissan. So he was still out on the town! She giggled to herself. That was nothing compared to what she’d been doing. Wonderful, steamy, uninhibited sex. Fantastic! It was pure therapy as far as she was concerned, she felt better than she had in a long time, and Nadir seemed equally happy. He’d kept on saying that they must see each other again, that he adored her, that she was so beautiful. There had been no need for him to say any of it; what he did was more than enough.

  But he still hadn’t mentioned his wife and daughter.

  The alarm on her phone sounded its peremptory signal. Still half-asleep, Embla struggled to turn it off. When she finally managed to, she discovered it was set for nine o’clock. Nine! Suddenly she was wide awake. Talk about oversleeping . . . And why hadn’t Göran or Hampus . . . Only then did she realize it was Saturday. A chance to sleep in, but they weren’t taking the whole day off. Best to make a move.

  Trying to sound livelier than she felt, she burst into the kitchen with a cheerful, “Good morning!”

  Eggs were bubbling away in a pan on the stove. Hampus had made coffee and boiled some water for tea and set out bread, jelly, and yogurt on the table. He really had made an effort to produce a good breakfast for the three of them.

  “Would you like an egg?” he asked.

  “Please.”

  Embla glanced over at Göran’s closed bedroom door. “Any sign of life?” she whispered.

  With a conspiratorial smile, Hampus shook his head. “I’m sure he’ll appear when he smells the coffee. I guess he’s had a hard night.”

  He’s not the only one, Embla thought.

  Göran was in an excellent mood when he ambled into the kitchen. None of them mentioned the previous night; instead they discussed the plan for the day. It was decided that Embla and Hampus would go to the hospital to ask Kristoffer about the candle in the toolbox, while Göran would continue to follow up on the forensic leads on the fire. He also wanted to take a closer look at Johannes Holm and Ted Andersson.

  “They’re being transferred to a holding cell in Trollhättan today. They’ve had an easy time of it in the custody suite in Strömstad, where their relatives and legal representatives have been able to come and go as they wished, but that’s over now,” he said, sounding pleased with himself.

  Which meant that Nadir would no longer be able to stay at the spa hotel. Embla felt a stab of disappointment. But the best things in life are brief, as her mother used to say. Maybe it was better if it ended here and now. Or not. She really didn’t know how she felt about the guy.

  “Willén has booked a hotel room for Paula Nilsson over the weekend so that she can support me . . . us. I’m going to drive over and catch up with her later. Or she might come here.”

  Göran delivered this information without a trace of embarrassment. Embla and Hampus tried not to look at each other and managed to maintain an air of professional detachment. Kind of.

  They didn’t say much during the trip to the hospital; they were both lost in their own thoughts. Hampus was driving, so Embla was able to relax, which was nice. She was beginning to feel the lack of sleep over the past couple of days. Hampus broke the silence as the yellow hospital buildings came into view above the treetops.

  “I’ve been wondering about the guy with the cauliflower ear. Do you think he intended to kill Kristoffer, or did he just want to scare him into keeping quiet?”

  Embla’s mind had been on something quite different, but she pulled herself together and tried to concentrate. The knife . . . Suddenly she realized what had been floating around in her subconscious.

  “Shit! The knife! I need to call . . .”

  She grabbed her phone, called Göran, and switched to speakerphone so that Hampus would be able to hear. Göran’s voice sounded muffled when he answered; no doubt he was eating as usual.

  “Listen, the knife the guy used at the hospital—I just thought of something. It’s a perfect match for the blade the forensic pathologist said had caused Halvorsen’s stomach wounds! I have one myself—it’s a hunting knife, really expensive. Mine was a present, but I know they cost around fifteen hundred kronor. It’s a Buck Vanguard. The blade is four inches long and about an inch wide and—”

  “Wait!”

  They heard slurping and swallowing. I guess it’s coffee time again, Embla thought irritably.

  “So let me get this straight: you think there’s a connection between the stabbing of Robert Halvorsen and the attack on Kristoffer.”

  “It might be a long shot, but . . . yes. The knife fits.”

  After a brief silence, Göran said, “Paula brought some news. The guy you caught at the hospital could be linked to the gang who came here to party on New Year’s. His name is David Hagen, and he’s thirty-seven years old. His father’s Norwegian, and his mother’s a Swede from Strömstad; she moved back after the divorce. David was five at the time. When he was a teenager, he went to live with his father in Oslo, but his mother and sister are still in Strömstad. He doesn’t have a criminal record in Sweden, but the Oslo police found him in their database. He’s served several years for narcotics offenses, assault, and armed robbery. We should get more details during the course of the day, although I think I’ll call Gilstrup right away. This business with the knife is interesting. Catch you later.”

  Embla felt a rising sense of excitement. Had the knife provided a missing piece of the puzzle, or was it in fact a piece from a completely different puzzle, not part of the same picture at all?

  “Who’s Gilstrup?” she asked.

  Hampus braked gently as a bus signaled that it was pulling out. Without taking his eyes off the road he explained. “He’s an inspector with the Oslo narcotics unit. He’s working with their violent crimes unit on the investigation into Halvorsen’s death.”

  “Okay. So this David Hagen is obviously a real piece of work. What’s he doing caught up in the arson attack and the assault on Kristoffer? Why was he trying to intimidate or kill the boy with a knife? I don’t get it.”

  “A knife is a silent weapon . . .” Hampus said thoughtfully, then paused as he negotiated the heavy traffic on the approach to the hospital. When they were almost there he went on:

  “What if Hagen was the guy in the back of Ted Andersson’s Lexus when they went to Breidablick? What if he was there when the fire was set and Kristoffer was beaten up?”

  Embla realized he had a point. “That would explain why Johannes Holm daren’t tell us who was in the car—he knows how dangerous Hagen is,” she said.

  “Or he never knew his name.”

  “And Hagen came to the hospital because there’s a risk that the boy could have seen him at Breidablick.”

  “It’s possible.”

  But the mystery remained: What was the connection between the fatal stabbing of a Norwegian gangster and the events at Breidablick? Andersson and Holm had allegedly gone out there because they believed Kristoffer was responsible for the abduction of their children. Embla suddenly had an idea.

  “Could Hagen have had something to do with Amelie and Viggo’s disappearance?”

  “I don’t know, but I guess Göran’s had the same thought. He’ll be taking a close look at that guy.”

  Hampus flipped the signal on, ready to turn into the parking lot. Just as before it was visiting
time, and there were no spaces. However, they were in luck: a car began to pull out right in front of them. A woman in a Golf had also noticed what was happening and tried to nip in first, but when Hampus revved the Volvo’s engine and turned the wheel, the middle-aged woman driving the Golf had to slam on the brakes. She glared at Hampus through the windshield, before resuming her hunt for a space.

  “Sometimes size does matter,” Hampus announced with a grin.

  They greeted the two uniformed officers outside Kristoffer’s room and showed their IDs, just to be on the safe side. A young woman in white who was sitting by the bed immediately got to her feet.

  “Who are you?” Her voice was trembling slightly.

  They introduced themselves and showed their IDs. She looked relieved and told them her name was Carolin and that she was a junior nurse.

  “Eva’s having lunch. She’ll be back soon,” she explained.

  “You can go—we’ll wait here for her,” Hampus said.

  Carolin hesitated for a second. Presumably she’d been told not to leave Kristoffer alone under any circumstances. To reassure her they held up their IDs one more time; she gave an embarrassed smile and left the room.

  A second bed had been brought in for Eva to use when she wasn’t at the patients’ hotel.

  Kristoffer was snoring gently. The swelling on his face had begun to subside, and the angry tones of red and purple had faded to bluish-yellow. His mouth was half-open, exposing the metal and plastic that held his broken jaw together. He was on two different drips, and there was a glass of water with a bendy straw on the bedside table, so he’d obviously started to drink a little. The fingers visible below the plaster on his arm were also swollen and discolored. He must be in pain all over his body, Embla thought. And he’s just lost his father. He’s lucky to have his aunt, and thank God she managed to save him from David Hagen. At that moment the door opened and Eva Sjöberg came in. Her face lit up when she saw them.