He left the room without looking at either his father or his mother and opened the front door. The man outside seemed surprised to see him there.
'Oh, hello. Martin Molin. We've met before. I'm from the police. I'd like to have a word with your father.'
Niclas stepped aside without a word. He felt the officer watching him as he walked to his car.
'Where's Martin?' said Patrik.
'He drove over to Fjällbacka,' Annika said. 'Charlotte identified our nasty old man without much difficulty. It's Sara's grandfather, Arne Antonsson. A bit of a nut case according to Charlotte. He and his son have evidently not spoken to each other in years.'
'Just so Martin remembers to check his alibi, both for the morning when Sara was murdered and for the incident yesterday with the little boy'
'The last thing he did was to double-check the time in question for yesterday. Between one and one thirty, wasn't it?'
'Exactly. I'm glad there's at least one person we can count on.'
Annika's eyes narrowed. 'Has Mellberg talked to Ernst yet? I mean, I was surprised when he showed up this morning. I thought he would have been suspended at the very least, if not fired by now.'
'Yeah, I know, I thought that was what happened when he was allowed to go home yesterday. I was just as surprised as you were to find him sitting there as if nothing had happened. I'll have to speak to Mellberg. He can't just look through his fingers this time. If he does, I'm quitting!' A grim furrow had formed between Patrik's eyebrows.
'Don't talk like that,' said Annika in alarm. 'Have a talk with Mellberg. I'm sure he has a plan for how to deal with Ernst.'
'You don't even believe that yourself,' said Patrik, and Annika looked away. He was right. She seriously doubted it.
She changed the subject. 'When are we going to question Kaj again?'
'I was thinking of doing it now. But I'd prefer to have Martin present.'
'He took off not long ago, so it may be a while before he gets hack. He tried to tell you, but you were on the phone.'
'Yeah, I was busy checking Niclas's alibi for yesterday. Which was airtight, by the way. Patient appointments from twelve to three o'clock. And I'm not just going by his appointment book; I had it confirmed by each of the patients he saw.'
'So, what does that mean?'
'If I only knew,' said Patrik, massaging the bridge of his nose with his fingers. 'It doesn't change the fact that he couldn't come up with an alibi for Monday morning, and it's still suspicious that he tried to conceal his whereabouts. But he wasn't the one involved yesterday, at any rate. Gösta was going to ring the rest of the family to hear where they were at that time.'
'I assume that Kaj will also have to answer that question in detail,' said Annika.
Patrik nodded. 'Yeah, you can bet on it. And his wife. And his son. I thought I'd have a talk with them after I interview Kaj again.'
'And in spite of everything, the killer could still be someone else entirely, someone we haven't even considered,' Annika said.
'That's the worst thing about it. While we're chasing our tails, the murderer is probably sitting at home laughing at us. But after yesterday I'm sure, at least, that he, or she, is still in the vicinity. And that it's probably someone from Fjällbacka.'
'Or else we already have the murderer in custody,' said Annika, nodding towards the jail.
Patrik smiled. 'Or else we already have the murderer in custody. Well, I don't have time to hang around here, I have to go talk to a man about a jacket…'
'Lots of luck,' Annika shouted after him.
'Dan! Dan!' Erica yelled. She could hear the panic in her voice, and it just made her more upset. She frantically rummaged through the covers in the pram, as if her daughter had somehow been able to hide in a corner. But the pram was empty.
'What is it?' said Dan, who came running, with an anxious look on his face. 'What's happened? Why are you yelling?'
Erica tried to speak, but her tongue felt thick and clumsy, and she couldn't get any words out. Instead she pointed with a trembling hand at the pram, and Dan hurried to look inside.
He gazed down at the empty space, and she saw the realization hit him like a hammer blow.
'Where's Maja? Is she gone? Where's…?' He didn't finish his sentence but looked about wildly. Erica was hanging on to him, panic-stricken. Now the words gushed out of her.
'We have to find her! Where's my daughter? Where's Maja? Where is she?'
'Shh, there, there. We'll find her. Don't worry, we'll find her.' Dan concealed his own panic so he could reassure Erica. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. 'Now we have to stay calm. I'll go out and look for her. You ring the police. It'll be all right.'
Erica felt her chest heaving spasmodically in an odd imitation of breathing, but she did as he said. Dan left the front door open, and a cold wind blew into the house. But that didn't bother her. She felt nothing other than paralysing panic that made her brain stop working. For the life of her she couldn't remember where she'd put the telephone. Finally she just ran round and round the living room rummaging under pillows and tossing things aside. At last she realized that it was in the middle of the living room coffee table. She flung herself over it and with stiff fingers punched in the number of the station. Then she heard Dan's voice outside.
'Erica, Erica, I found her!'
She dropped the phone and rushed to the front door, heading for his voice. In her stocking feet she ran down the steps and out on the driveway. The wet and the cold went right through to her skin, but she couldn't care less. She saw Dan running towards her from the front of the house; he was carrying something red in his arms. A terrific wail rose up and Erica felt relief wash over her like a storm swell. Maja was screaming, she was alive.
Erica ran the last few yards that separated her from Dan and grabbed Maja out of his arms. Sobbing she hugged her daughter close for a second before she went down on her knees, lay Maja on the ground, and tore open her red overalls to examine her. She looked unhurt and was now screaming to high heaven, flailing her arms and legs. Still kneeling, Erica lifted her daughter up and pressed her tight once again, as she let tears of relief mix with the falling rain.
'Come on, let's go inside. You'll both be soaked,' said Dan gently as he helped Erica to her feet. Without loosening her grip on the baby she followed him up the steps and into the house. The relief she felt was physical in a way that she never could have imagined. It was as though she'd lost a part of her body that was now reattached. She was still sobbing, and Dan patted her reassuringly on the shoulder.
'Where did you find her?' she managed to say.
'She was lying on the ground in front of the house.'
Only now did they both seem to understand that someone must have put Maja there. For some reason this person had taken her out of the pram, sneaked round the house, and placed the sleeping baby on the ground. The panic that this realization aroused made Erica start to sob again.
'Shh… it's over now,' said Dan. 'We found her and she looks unharmed. But we'd better ring the police. You didn't have time to call them, did you?'
Erica shook her head.
'We have to ring Patrik,' she said. 'Can you do it? I never want to let her go again.' She hugged Maja tight. But now she noticed something she'd missed before. She looked at the front of Dan's jumper and held Maja out so she could examine her too.
'What's this here?' she said. 'What's all this black stuff?'
Dan glanced at the dirty overalls but said only, 'What's Patrik's number?'
In a shaky voice Erica told him the number of Patrik's mobile and watched as Dan punched in it. A hard lump of fear had formed in her stomach.
The days ran into one another. Anna's feeling of impotence was paralysing. Nothing Erica's sister said or did escaped him. Lucas was watching her every step, listening to every word.
The violence had increased too. Now he openly enjoyed seeing her pain and humiliation. He took what he wanted, when
he wanted, and God help her if she protested or resisted. Not that she would even think of it now. It was so obvious that there was something wrong with his mind. All barriers were gone, and there was something evil in his eyes that aroused her survival instinct and told her to go along with his demands. If only she would be allowed to live.
For herself, she had shut down completely. It was looking at the children that pained her the most. They were no longer allowed to go to day-care, and spent their days in the same shadow existence as she did. Listless and clinging they regarded her with dead eyes, and it felt like an accusation. She took full blame for what was happening. She should have protected them. She should have kept Lucas out of their lives, precisely as she had intended. But a single instant of fear had made her give in. She allowed herself to be convinced that she was doing it for the children's sake, for their safety. Instead she had surrendered to her own cowardice. It was her habit of always taking what seemed the path of least resistance, at least at first glance. But this time she had gravely misjudged her options. She had chosen the narrowest, trickiest and most perilous path available, and she had compelled her children to come along as well.
Sometimes she dreamt about killing him. To anticipate him in what she now knew would be the inevitable conclusion. Occasionally she would watch him as he slept next to her, during the long hours of the night when she lay awake, unable to relax enough to escape into sleep. Then she would imagine with pleasure how one of the kitchen knives would slip into his flesh and slice through the fragile thread that bound him to life. Or she would feel the rope cutting into her hands as she cautiously looped it round his neck and pulled it tight.
But it went no further than wonderful dreams. Something inside her, maybe an inherent cowardice, made her lie still in bed while dark thoughts ricocheted around in her skull.
Sometimes she pictured Erica's baby before her in the night. The little girl she had not yet seen. She envied the child. She would be getting the same warmth, the same care that Anna herself had received from Erica when they were growing up, more as mother and daughter than as sisters. But back then she hadn't appreciated Erica. She had felt suffocated and inferior. The bitterness that she felt from their mother's lack of love had apparently made her heart so. hard that it wasn't receptive to what her sister had tried to give her. Anna sincerely hoped that Maja would be better able to accept the enormous ocean of love that she knew Erica was capable of giving. Especially for her sister's sake. Despite their difference in age and the distance that separated them, Anna knew her sister so well. She knew that if there was anyone who was in desperate need of having her love reciprocated, it was Erica. The odd thing was that Anna had always viewed her as being so strong, and her own bitterness had been diluted by that feeling. Now that she herself was. weaker than ever before, she saw her sister as she actually was. Scared to death that everyone would see what their mother had seen, what had made her see the two sisters as unworthy of love. If only Anna had one more chance, she would throw her arms around Erica and thank her for all those years of unconditional love. Thank her for the concern, for the scoldings, for the worried look in her eyes when she thought that Anna was on the wrong track. Thank her for everything that had previously made Anna feel suffocated and constricted. How ironic. She hadn't really known what it felt like to be suffocated and truly constricted. Not until now.
The sound of the key in the lock made her jump. The children also paused with alarm from listlessly playing on the floor.
Anna got up and went to meet him.
Schwarzenegger gazed down at him with concern through his dark sunglasses. The Terminator. If only Sebastian had been like him. Cool. Tough. A machine without the ability to feel.
Sebastian stared up at the poster as he lay on his bed. He could still hear Rune's voice, his phoney voice of concern. That tone of smarmy, feigned caring. The only thing he actually worried about was what people would say about him. What was it he had said?
'I've heard some terrible accusations made against Kaj. I have a hard time believing that it's anything but pure slander, but I still have to ask the question: did he on any occasion behave in an inappropriate manner towards you or any of the other boys? Peeked at you in the shower, or anything like that?'
Sebastian had laughed to himself at Rune's naïveté. 'Peeked at you in the shower…' That wouldn't have been so bad. It was the other thing that he couldn't live with. Not now, when everything was going to come out. He had an idea how things like that worked. They took their pictures and saved them and traded them, but no matter how well they hid them, they would all come out now.
It wouldn't take more than a morning, then it would be all over the school. The girls would stare at him, pointing and giggling. The boys would make jokes about queers and make stupid hand gestures as he walked by. Nobody would have the slightest sympathy for him. No one would see how big the hole in his chest was.
He turned his head a bit to the left and looked at the poster of Clint as Dirty Harry. He should have had a pistol like that. Or even better, a submachine gun. Then he could have done it the way those guys in the States did it. Run into the school in a long black coat and mow down everyone he saw. Especially the cool ones, who were going to treat him the worst. But he knew that it was nothing but a crazy idea. It wasn't in his nature to hurt anyone. It wasn't their fault, really. He had only himself to blame, and it was only himself he wanted to hurt. He could have put a stop to it, of course. Hadn't he ever said no? Not in so many words. Somehow he'd hoped that Kaj would see how it troubled him, how much he was hurting him, and stop of his own accord.
Everything had been so complicated. Because a part of him had liked Kaj. He'd been great, and at first Sebastian had got that fatherly feeling from him. The feeling he never got from Rune. He'd been able to talk to Kaj. About school, about girls, about Mamma and about Rune, and Kaj had put his arm round him and listened. It was only after a while that things had got so screwed up.
It was quiet in the house. Rune had gone off to work, pleased that he'd confirmed what he already thought he knew, that all the accusations against Kaj were utterly groundless. He would probably sit in the lunchroom and loudly complain about how the police made unfounded accusations.
Sebastian got up from the bed and prepared to leave. He stopped in the doorway and turned round. He looked at each and every one of them and gave them a curt nod, as if in greeting. Clint, Sly, Arnold, Jean-Claude and Dolph. The ones who were everything he was not.
For a moment he thought he saw them nod back.
The adrenaline was still pumping after the encounter with his lather, and Niclas felt sufficiently belligerent to take on the next person with whom he had a score to settle.
He drove down Galärbacken and stopped short when he saw that Jeanette was in her shop, busily preparing to stay open on All Saints' Day. He parked the car and went inside. For the first time since they'd met he felt no tingle in his loins when he saw her. He felt only a sour, metallic distaste, both for himself and for her.
'What the hell do you think you're doing?'
Jeanette turned round and gave Niclas a cold look when he slammed the door behind him, making the 'Open' sign flutter.
'I don't know what you're talking about.' She turned her back to him and continued unpacking a box of knick-knacks to price and put up on the shelves.
'You certainly do. You know exactly what I'm talking about. You've been to the police and told them some cops-and-robbers story about how I forced you to lie and give me an alibi. How fucking low can you sink? Is it revenge you're after, or do you just enjoy making trouble? What the hell were you thinking? I lost my daughter a week ago. Can't you understand that I don't want to keep going behind my wife's back anymore?'
'You promised me,' said Jeanette with flashing eyes. 'You promised that we'd be together, that you'd divorce Charlotte, that we'd have kids together. You promised me a hell of a lot, Niclas.'
'So, why the fuck do you think I did that? Because yo
u loved hearing it. Because you willingly spread your legs when you heard those promises about a ring and a future. Because I wanted to have a little fun with you in bed once in a while. I can't believe you're so fucking dumb that you believed me. You know the game as well as I do. You've had your share of married men before, I'm sure,' he said rudely, watching her flinch at each word, as if he'd slapped her. But he didn't care. He'd already crossed the line and had no desire to show a sensitive side or spare her feelings. Now only the pure, unadulterated truth was appropriate, and after what she'd done, she deserved to hear it.
'You fucking pig,' said Jeanette, reaching for one of the objects she was unpacking. In the next instant a porcelain lighthouse whistled towards his head, but it missed and hit the display window instead. With a deafening crash the pane shattered and big chunks of glass came sliding down. The silence that followed was so complete that it echoed off the walls. Like two combatants they stared at each other as mutual rage made their chests heave. Then Niclas turned on his heel and walked calmly out of the shop. The only sound was the glass crunching under his shoes.
Arne stood in helpless silence and watched while she packed. If Asta hadn't been so determined, the sight of him would have surprised her so much that she would have stopped what she was doing. Arne had never before been helpless. But her fury kept her hands at work, folding clothes and placing them in the biggest suitcase they owned. She didn't yet know how she was going to lug it out of the house, or where she would go. It didn't matter. She didn't intend to stay one more minute in the same house with him. Finally the scales had fallen from her eyes. That feeling of dissonance that she'd always had, the feeling that things might not be the way that Arne said, had finally taken over. He wasn't all-powerful. He wasn't perfect. He was merely a weak, pathetic man who enjoyed bullying other people. And then there was his belief in God. It probably didn't go very deep. Asta saw clearly now how he used the word of God in a way that strangely enough always matched his own views. If God was like Arne's God, then she wanted no part of his faith.
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