Lifetime

by Liza Marklund

  Nina swallowed. ‘I’ll tell you later,’ she said. ‘At least, I hope I will.’

  He got up and walked round the desk, holding out the keys. ‘It’s almost worth it,’ he said, ‘just to see you in civilian clothes with wet hair.’ He dropped them into her palm. ‘My shift ends at twenty-two hundred,’ he said. ‘If you’re not here, you can pay for my taxi home.’

  She closed her fingers round the keys, turned on her heel and hurried towards the garage.

  Annika had just passed Norrtälje, and was following the E18 towards Spillersboda when the rain started. She hadn’t had the nerve to ask Berit to babysit again today so Kalle and Ellen were sitting in the back playing with their Game Boys, bribed temporarily with a packet of sweets each. She wasn’t sure how sensible it was, taking them to a home for young drug addicts.

  The Vårtuna Home was supposed to be on the outskirts of the town. She turned up the speed of the windscreen wipers and peered out, searching for the right turning. When she reached a more built-up area, she turned off towards Klemensboda.

  She was seriously regretting setting off at all. She had had a terrible night, full of nightmares, and had woken up in tears twice. She was absolutely exhausted.

  What she really needed was to lie on the sofa in Berit’s living room and watch a Sunday movie with the children. Instead she was on her way through driving rain to meet a born-again drug dealer who was going to sing David Lindholm’s praises.

  I don’t need to do this. I’m going home.

  She was considering turning round and driving back, when she realized that the Vårtuna Home was right in front of her.

  ‘Why are we here?’ Kalle said, as she parked between an old Volvo and a misshapen birch tree.

  She let out a deep sigh. ‘I’m so sorry I had to bring you with me,’ she said. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  She had read about the place on the Internet. It was actually an old campsite and youth hostel that had been bought by a Free Church organization and turned into a care home. Several buildings were scattered across the slope towards the sea. To the left there was a large building that Annika assumed was the main house. Ahead of her she saw small cabins with little porches that were probably where the clients lived, unless they were called patients.

  ‘I want to go home,’ Ellen said.

  ‘I know, but we can’t go just yet,’ Annika said, far too sternly and loudly. ‘I promised I’d talk to a man, and now we’re here. Come on!’

  She got out of the car quickly, holding an old copy of the Evening Post over her head, yanked open the rear doors and pulled the children out, then ran towards the main building with them.

  They were all soaked by the time they reached the porch. The door had swollen in the damp and they had to push it, and when it finally opened they tumbled into an old cafeteria. Annika helped the children to get up and they stamped their feet, instantly making a puddle of water round her trainers.

  ‘We’re very wet,’ Ellen said, blinking as the rain from her fringe dripped into her eyes.

  There were seven people in the large room. Kalle huddled closer to her and took hold of her sleeve.

  ‘Hello,’ Annika said, raising one hand in a little wave.

  Four young men had been playing poker at a table by the window. They were staring hard at them, and the dealer had frozen in the middle of what he was doing.

  The room was simply furnished, rib-backed chairs and kitchen tables with laminated tops. The floor was yellow linoleum, and the walls had layers of different-coloured paint.

  She pushed the hair off her face.

  Immediately ahead there was a counter with cakes and a hotplate for a pot of coffee. Behind it stood a middle-aged man, and behind him, two more young men.

  ‘Are they junkies?’ Kalle whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ Annika whispered back. ‘They all are.’

  ‘Are they dangerous?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. They’re better now.’

  The middle-aged man came towards them. ‘What terrible weather,’ he said. ‘Welcome! I’m Timmo.’ His Finnish accent was sharp and pronounced. His shoulders were slightly hunched and he had a bald head with a ring of pale blond hair.

  Annika tried to smile. ‘It’s good of you to see us at such short notice.’

  ‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘It’s nice to have visitors. This is the dining room, where we have our meals and group activities. Shall we go into the office?

  ‘This place was bought by the association almost four years ago now,’ Timmo Koivisto said, squeezing along a narrow corridor lined with crates of soft drinks and big sacks of jasmine rice. ‘Reoffending rates among our lads are very low … This way.’

  He held open the door for Annika, gesturing them through.

  The children trod on her heels as they went in.

  ‘Mum,’ Kalle said, tugging at her arm, ‘I left my Game Boy in the car. Will the junkies take it?’

  ‘You can never be too sure,’ Timmo Koivisto said, leaning towards Kalle. ‘Never leave valuables in the car, because opportunity makes the thief.’

  The boy was on the point of tears.

  ‘There are no thieves about today,’ Annika said quickly. ‘It’s raining far too hard. Thieves don’t like getting wet.’

  Timmo Koivisto nodded. ‘That’s actually true,’ he said. ‘Crime figures go down when the weather’s bad. In harsh winters there are hardly any opportunistic rapes, because sex-offenders don’t like getting cold backsides.’

  Dear God, what have I brought the children to?

  She forced herself to smile. ‘Maybe we could get down to business. I don’t want to take up any more of your time than I have to.’

  ‘Oh,’ Timmo Koivisto said politely. ‘We’ve got all afternoon ahead of us.’

  There was only one spare chair in the room. Annika sat down and lifted one child on to each knee. Timmo sat on the other side of the desk.

  ‘There’s one thing I must ask you,’ he said. ‘You can’t write anything that reveals the identity of any of our clients. They weren’t very happy when I told them someone from the Evening Post was coming. But I think it’s really great that you want to write about what we do.’

  Annika could feel her desperation rising as the flow of blood to her legs was slowly cut off. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but I think you might have misunderstood me. I’m sure what you do here is extremely interesting, but I was wondering if you could tell me anything about David Lindholm? I’m writing an article about him.’

  Timmo Koivisto raised one hand. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to explain that the Vårtuna Home is the most important thing in my life. Serving the Lord and helping my fellow unfortunates gives my life meaning, and it was David Lindholm who set me on the right path.’

  Annika moved the children so that they were standing beside her, then took out her pen and notebook from her bag and leaned over to write. ‘I didn’t know David was religious?’ she said.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I wouldn’t know about that. I didn’t actually know David Lindholm, but after my encounter with him I came to a new awareness. I had a choice, and I chose Christ.’

  She wrote chose Christ in her notebook, feeling the rainwater running down her spine.

  Should I ask the children to wait outside? They shouldn’t be hearing this. But can I trust those young men out there?

  ‘So it was after the attack in the Central Station that you decided to … change track?’

  Timmo Koivisto nodded. ‘I was a sinner,’ he said. ‘I had let down a lot of people around me, my mother most of all, I think. The mothers of this world never get enough recognition. I was only a small-time dealer, selling drugs to other small-time dealers to fund my own habit. It was my fault other young people became drug-users, but my income still wasn’t enough to keep me going. I started cheating, diluting the smack with icing sugar, but they found out and gave me a warning I’ll never forget.’ He turned his head to show the hearing-aid in his lef
t ear. ‘And I see double,’ he said. ‘My eyes don’t refract the light properly. I have special glasses, but they make me dizzy.’

  Why ever did I bring them? I’m a terrible mother! If Thomas finds out about this, he’ll take them away from me.

  ‘Why did he do it? Why did David beat you up like that?’

  The look in Timmo Koivisto’s eyes was calm and clear. ‘They wanted to show me that I could never get away. Wherever I went, they would find me. If even the police did their bidding, there was nowhere to run.’

  ‘And who were “they”?’ Annika asked. ‘The drugs Mafia?’

  ‘That’s one way of describing them.’

  ‘Mummy,’ Kalle said, ‘I need a wee.’

  Timmo Koivisto reacted at once. ‘I can take him.’

  Annika flew to her feet. ‘No!’ she said. ‘There’s no need. I’ll take him.’

  They went out of the office, Ellen too, and walked a few metres to the right.

  ‘Can you wait here until I’ve finished talking to the man?’ she whispered, once they had entered the small toilet.

  ‘But I want to stay with you, Mummy,’ Ellen said.

  ‘I’ll be back soon,’ she said, closing the door and hurrying into the office.

  ‘So, you were saying that David Lindholm did errands for some drug syndicate? Why?’ She sank on to the chair.

  ‘I don’t know, but I wasn’t the only one he went for.’

  ‘Tony Berglund,’ Annika said.

  Timmo Koivisto nodded again. ‘Among others. There were more who never reported it. I’ve met Tony. Things didn’t turn out too well for him. The last I heard, he was homeless, selling the Big Issue at Medborgarplatsen.’

  ‘And why did he attack Tony?’

  ‘The same reason he attacked me.’

  ‘Yet you’re still grateful to him?’ Annika said. ‘You say he saved your life?’

  Timmo Koivisto smiled. ‘It’s true. I woke up in hospital and found myself in the Valley of Death. David Lindholm had shown me the only way out, and I took it.’

  ‘Why did you retract everything during the trial?’

  ‘Surely you can work that out for yourself.’

  She could hear Kalle crying in the corridor. Annika stood up. ‘I’m really sorry,’ she said, ‘but I think I’m going to have to go now.’

  The man stood up. ‘Mind you, there’s one thing I must admit.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Annika asked, from the doorway.

  ‘I’m very pleased he’s dead.’

  The storm had turned the road ahead of her into a muddy ditch. Nina stopped the car and peered into the darkness between the fir trees.

  Pelle Sisulu’s car was a two-seater soft-top with a ground clearance of about five centimetres. Stones sticking out of the mud scratched the entire underside of the chassis.

  She paused, wondering how much further it could be. A couple of hundred metres? A kilometre? It had almost stopped raining, and the wind had eased. Should she park and walk?

  She looked up at the steel-grey sky.

  The marsh of Sågkärret was right in front of her. She had taken the motorway to Åkers styckebruk, then gone across country until she’d got to the junction at Sköldinge. She had then followed the Stöttasten road until she reached the turning to Nytorp, then taken the first left, and here she was.

  She put the car into first gear and accelerated cautiously. The wheels slid a little in the wet, then found their grip. She had never driven such a responsive car: it held the road like a limpet.

  They had to be here somewhere!

  She had hardly finished the thought before the wall of trees opened up to reveal a large clearing in the forest. A watery expanse was visible between the reeds and moss, and some stunted birches struggling against the wind on a small island further out.

  She put the car into neutral, pulled on the handbrake and peered into the growing darkness.

  Is this it?

  Then, to the left of the island with the birches, not far away at all, really, she saw a small group of men. One waved to her, and she could tell by his hat that it was Holger. She switched the engine off, opened the door and got out. Her foot sank straight into the boggy ground and she gasped as the water soaked through her trainer to her skin. The wind was buffeting her from behind.

  Holger was holding his hat on with his right hand and slowly making his way towards her. Nina clung to the car door as she waited for him to reach her. His eyes were red when he finally stopped beside her, and it was hard to work out if that was the result of the weather or something else.

  ‘Thanks for coming,’ he said, and in spite of the chasm in his voice she recognized her Holger, with all his strength and stability.

  She took a step towards him and gave him a hug, holding him tight for a whole minute. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered.

  Holger nodded. ‘So are we,’ he said. ‘Haven’t you got any better shoes than those?’

  Nina looked down at her Nikes and shook her head.

  ‘Hold on to me,’ he said, stretching out his arm.

  Together they set off across the marsh. Sometimes the ground held their weight, but occasionally Nina sank into the mud to her ankles. Holger was much better off in his heavy hunting boots. The wind was pushing them from behind, making them take long strides. The rain picked up and started lashing them again, and soon Nina could feel the damp soaking through her denim jacket and gathering at the small of her back. The birch trees out on the island were twisting in the wind.

  They soon reached the other men, Kaj from the neighbouring farm and two more she didn’t know. She held out her hand in greeting, and noted that it was frozen while theirs were dry and warm. Their eyes were wide, and no one said anything.

  She realized that they were now standing on firmer ground, rock and hard-packed earth underfoot, a small island similar to the one further out with the birch trees.

  ‘Here,’ Holger said, pointing to a rod sticking out of the water close to them. ‘When Kaj pulled the pole this floated up.’ He pointed to a bundle at the edge of the solid ground.

  Nina took a few steps over to it, then bent to look at it.

  Cloth. Muddy, but not torn.

  She felt the ground with her hand until she found a stick. She carefully prodded the bundle to see how stable it was.

  It doesn’t split, so it hasn’t been in the water long. But what is it?

  She didn’t want to touch the cloth, even though it could hardly hold any vital evidence. Instead she grabbed another stick and poked the fabric. It fell into two pieces. She stretched out the smaller of them.

  It was a little shirt.

  A child’s shirt.

  She bent down close to the cloth and scraped the edge with a nail.

  No, not a shirt, the fabric was too thick, it was …

  ‘Flannel,’ Holger said.

  Pyjamas.

  She smoothed out the other piece.

  A little pair of trousers.

  A pair of flannel pyjama trousers.

  She pulled one sleeve of the shirt over her wrist, not caring about possible evidence, and wiped the mud away to see the pattern and colour of the fabric.

  Pale, with blue and green balloons.

  ‘Blue and green?’ Holger wondered.

  Nina nodded.

  ‘Do you recognize it?’ he asked.

  ‘Not off the top of my head,’ she said.

  ‘What about that, then?’ Holger said, pointing to a tree-root close to the pole.

  Nina straightened and stepped closer to it.

  It was about twenty centimetres long, muddy and twisted, with odd pieces sticking out of it. She poked it with her stick and was surprised at how soft it was.

  ‘We, too, thought it was just a piece of wood,’ Kaj said.

  Nina let go of the stick and picked the object up with both hands, wiping the end on her sleeve.

  A pale blue eye looked up at her.

  She wiped the other side.

 
; Another eye.

  She scraped the mud off and a pair of ears and a nose appeared.

  ‘Is it him?’ Holger asked.

  Nina nodded. ‘Yes, it’s his teddy,’ she said.

  ‘You’re sure?’ Holger pressed.

  She turned the bear over and inspected one of its paws. The seam along the leg had been repaired with dark blue cotton, although now that it was wet it looked black. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I mended it.’

  ‘Viola bought Alexander a pair of flannel pyjamas last Christmas,’ Holger said. ‘I don’t know if these are the ones. But you’re sure about the teddy bear?’

  Nina felt water running down her face.

  It’s only rain, it’s only rain.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It’s Alexander’s. He never went anywhere without Bamse.’

  The four men around her bowed their heads.

  Monday, 7 June

  13

  The office was on the thirteenth floor, with a view of the Skanstull bridge and the whole of what had once been the industrial quarter of Hammarby. The furniture was grey, the walls white, the floors polished. The chairs in the corridor were black leather, designed to be uncomfortable.

  Annika felt constricted and sweaty in her knitted cardigan, and her jeans were muddy from crossing Berit’s lawn. She pulled her feet under the chair and looked at the time.

  Thomas ought to have been here by now.

  The claims assessor was talking on the phone behind the closed door in front of her; she could hear him chuckling.

  For him this is just another day in the office. For me it’s Hell.

  She’d slept badly again. The visit to the care home was still burning inside her. She hoped desperately that the children wouldn’t tell Thomas she had dragged them out there.

  The office door opened. ‘Mrs Samuelsson? Please come in.’

  The insurance man held out his hand, smiling broadly and disingenuously.

  ‘Bengtzon,’ Annika said, standing up and taking his hand. ‘It’s my husband who’s called Samuelsson.’

  The lift pinged behind them, the door slid open and Thomas stepped out. Annika turned towards him and her heart lurched. God, how lovely he looks!