The Stone Cutter

by Camilla Lackberg

  'You have to pull yourself together. The doctors are doing all they can,' she said, trying to make her voice as soothing as possible, without taking the force out of what she said. Lilian gave her an injured look, but obeyed and stopped sniffling.

  Charlotte sighed and rolled her eyes at Niclas. She didn't doubt that her mother's distress about Stig was genuine, but her tendency to turn every situation into a drama starring herself was incredibly trying. Lilian had always thrived when she was the centre of attention, and she used every means at her disposal to achieve that position, even in a situation like this. That was just how she was, and Charlotte struggled to accept it and conceal her vexation. This time her mother's suffering was real.

  Six hours later they still hadn't got any news. Niclas had gone in to talk with the doctors repeatedly, but they didn't have any more information. The prognosis for Stig was still uncertain.

  'Somebody has to drive home and see to Albin,' said Charlotte, talking as much to Lilian as to Niclas. She saw that her mother opened her mouth to protest, unwilling to let either her daughter or son-in-law go, but Niclas anticipated what she was going to say.

  'Yes, you're right. He'll be terrified if Veronika tries to put him to bed at her house. I'll go, so you can stay here.'

  Lilian looked annoyed, but she knew that they were right and reluctantly gave in.

  Niclas kissed Charlotte on the cheek and then patted Lilian on the shoulder. 'Everything will work out, you'll see. Ring if you hear anything.'

  Charlotte nodded. She watched him vanish down the corridor and then leaned back in the uncomfortable chair and closed her eyes. It was going to be a long wait.

  * * *

  GÖTEBORG 1958

  The disappointment ate at Mary from the inside. Nothing had turned out the way she'd thought. Nothing had changed, except that now she didn't even receive the brief displays of kindness and tenderness her mother had given her when Äke was around. In fact, Mary hardly ever saw her. She was either on her way out to meet Per-Erik, or she had to go to a party somewhere. Her mother also seemed to have abandoned all attempts to control Mary's weight, so she could eat anything in the house. By now she had far surpassed her former top weight. Sometimes when she looked at herself in the mirror she saw only the monster that had been growing inside her for so long. A voracious, fat, loathsome monster, constantly surrounded by a nauseating smell of sweat. Mother didn't even bother to conceal the disgust she felt when she looked at her. Once she had even demonstratively held her nose when she passed by. The humiliation still stung.

  This wasn't the way that Mother had promised things would be. Per-Erik was supposed to be a much better father than Äke ever was, Mother would be happy, and they would finally live together like a real family. The monster would disappear, she would never again have to sit in the cellar, and that dry, sickening, dusty smell would never again fill her mouth.

  Duped. That was how she felt. Duped. She'd tried to ask her mother when things were going to be as she'd promised, but got only brusque answers in return. When she insisted, she'd been locked in the cellar, after first being fed a little Humility. She had cried bitter tears that contained far more disappointment than she could handle.

  Sitting in the dark she felt the monster thriving. It liked the dryness in her mouth. It ate it and rejoiced.

  * * *

  The door closed heavily behind him. Moving slowly, Patrik went into the hall and wriggled out of his jacket. He left it lying on the floor, too exhausted to bother hanging it up.

  'What happened?' said Erica in a worried voice from the living room. 'Did you find out something new?'

  When he saw her face, Patrik felt a pang of guilt that he hadn't stayed at home with her and Maja. He must look like a wreck. He had rung home from time to time, of course, but the chaos at the station after what happened had made the conversations extremely abrupt and stressful. As soon as he confirmed that everything was all right at home, he had more or less hung up on her.

  He plodded into the living room. As usual, Erica was sitting in the dark and watching TV with Maja on her lap.

  'I'm sorry I was so curt on the phone,' he said, rubbing his face wearily.

  'Did something happen?'

  He collapsed onto the sofa and at first couldn't reply.

  'Yeah,' he said after a moment. 'Ernst got the idea of bringing in Morgan Wiberg for questioning, completely on his own authority. He managed to stress the poor boy out so badly that he escaped out of a window, ran into the street, and was run over.'

  'My God, that's horrible!' said Erica. 'What happened to him?'

  'He died.'

  Erica gasped. Maja, who was asleep, whimpered but then settled down again.

  'It was so horrendous, you wouldn't even believe it,' said Patrik, leaning his head back and staring up at the ceiling. 'As he lay there in the street, Monica arrived and caught sight of him. She rushed forward before we could stop her, took his head in her lap, and then sat rocking him and wailing in a way that hardly sounded human. We finally had to tear her away from him. Jesus Christ, it was ghastly.'

  'And Ernst?' said Erica. 'What happened to him?'

  'For the first time I actually think he's going to be sacked. I've never seen Mellberg so mad. He sent him home on the spot, and after this I don't think he'll be coming back. Which would be a blessing.'

  'Does Kaj know?'

  'Yeah, and that's a whole other story. Martin and I were questioning him when the accident happened, and we had to run outside. If it had happened a few minutes later, I think we could have got him to talk. Now he's totally clammed up and refuses to say a word. He blames us for Morgan's death, and to some degree he's right. Some colleagues from Göteborg were supposed to arrive this morning to interrogate Kaj, but they had to postpone it indefinitely. Kaj's lawyer put a stop to all questioning for the time being, considering the circumstances.'

  'So you still don't know whether he was involved in Sara's murder? And in… in what happened yesterday?'

  'No,' said Patrik wearily. 'The only thing that's sure is that it couldn't have been Kaj who took Maja out of the pram. We had him in custody at the time. Has Dan been here, by the way?' he said, caressing his daughter and lifting her over to his own lap.

  'Yes, he was. He's been like a faithful watchdog.' Erica smiled, but it didn't reach all the way to her eyes. 'I finally had to send him away, more or less. He left half an hour ago. I wouldn't be surprised if he spends the night in our garden in a sleeping bag.'

  Patrik laughed. 'Yeah, that sounds plausible. At any rate, I owe him one. It feels good to know that you two weren't alone here today.'

  'You know, we were just on our way upstairs to go to bed, Maja and I. But we can sit up a while longer if you'd like company.'

  'Don't be offended, but I'd prefer to sit by myself for a while,'

  Patrik replied. 'I brought home some work to do, and then maybe I'll watch TV to wind down for a while.'

  'Do whatever you feel like doing,' said Erica. She got up and took Maja from Patrik after giving him a kiss on the mouth.

  'By the way, how was your day?' he asked when she was halfway up the stairs.

  'Fine,' said Erica, and Patrik could hear that there was new energy in her voice. 'Today she didn't need to sleep at my breast at all; she slept in the pram. And now she doesn't cry for more than twenty minutes. In fact, last time it was actually only five.'

  'Good,' he said. 'It sounds like you're starting to get control of the situation.'

  'Yeah, what a miracle that it actually works,' she said with a laugh. Then she turned serious. 'Although Maja can only sleep indoors now. I don't dare put her outside ever again.'

  'I'm sorry I was so… dumb last night,' said Patrik hesitantly. He didn't want to risk saying anything stupid again which left him fumbling for every word, even to apologize.

  'That's okay,' she said. 'I've been a little oversensitive too. But I think the tide has turned now. The fright I got when she was missing had at lea
st one beneficial effect. It made me realize how thankful I am for every minute with her.'

  'Yeah, I know what you mean,' he said with a wave as she continued upstairs.

  He shut off the sound on the TV, took out his cassette player and pressed 'rewind' and then 'play'. He had already listened to the tape several times at the station. It was the few minutes that were recorded of Ernst's so-called 'interrogation' of Morgan. Not much was said, but there was still something that bothered him, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

  After listening to the tape three times he gave up, put away the cassette player and went to the kitchen. He pottered about for a couple of minutes and emerged with a cup of hot chocolate and three cheese and caviar sandwiches on delicious Skogaholm bread. He turned up the sound on the TV and switched to 'Crime Night' on the Discovery Channel. Watching re-enactments of real crimes was perhaps an odd way for a cop to relax, but he always found it soothing. The crimes were always solved.

  As he watched the programme a thought of a highly private nature began to take shape. A highly pleasurable and invigorating idea, which effectively repressed all images of crime and death. Patrik smiled as he sat there in the dark. He would have to go on a little shopping expedition.

  The light was piercing and relentless in the cell. Kaj felt that it was penetrating every part of him, every nook and cranny. He tried to hide from it by burying his head in his arms, but he still felt the light prickling the back of his neck.

  In only a few days his whole world had come crashing down. It might seem naive in hindsight, but he had felt so safe, so untouchable. He had been part of a group that seemed above the ordinary world. They weren't like the others. They were better, more enlightened than everyone else. What the world didn't understand was that it was all about love. Nothing but love. Sex was only a small part of the whole. Sensuality was the closest word he could find to describe it. Young skin was so pure, so unsullied. Children's minds were full of innocence, not befouled by ugly thoughts as the minds of adults were, sooner or later. What they were doing was helping these young people to develop so that they could reach their full potential. They helped them to understand what love was. Sex was the tool, but not the goal in itself. The goal was to achieve an accord, a union of souls. An association between young and old, so beautiful in its purity.

  But no one would understand. They had talked about it so much in the chat rooms. How the stupidity of the others and the narrow-mindedness of their thinking made them unable to imagine even trying to understand what was so obvious to the members of the group. Instead, the others were so eager to label what they were doing as dirty, they even then labelled the children in the same way.

  Against that background he could understand why Sebastian did what he did. The boy had realized that nobody would understand, that he would be forever after regarded with abhorrence and contempt. But what Kaj couldn't understand was why he'd levelled such accusations against him in his final farewell to the world. Kaj felt hurt. He had really believed that they'd reached a deep mutual understanding during their meetings, and that Sebastian's soul, after the initial reluctance that always had to be overcome, had willingly sought to merge with Kaj's. He had regarded the physical act as something subordinate. It was the feeling of literally drinking from the fountain of youth that had been the real reward. Had Sebastian really not understood that? Had he been pretending the whole time, or was it society's norms that had made him disavow their affinity in his last letter? It pained Kaj to think that he would never know.

  He had tried not to dwell on the other matter. Ever since they had brought him the news of Morgan's death, he had tried to push away all thought of his son. It was as if his brain couldn't accept the cruel truth, but the merciless light in his cell forced images upon him that he fought hard to keep at bay. And yet one thought had spitefully caught up with him, the idea that this was perhaps his punishment. But he hastened to fend it off. He hadn't done anything wrong. Over the years he had come to love other boys, and they had loved him. That's how it was, and that's how it had to be. The alternative was too terrible for him even to imagine. It must have been love.

  He knew that he had never been much of a father to Morgan. It had been so difficult. Even in the beginning his son had been hard to love, and he had often admired Monica because she was able to show him affection, that intractable, awkward child of theirs. Another thought occurred to him. Maybe they were going to try to make a case that he'd touched Morgan. The very idea made him furious. Morgan was his son, after all, his own flesh and blood. He knew that was what they'd say. But it was only proof of how restricted and narrow-minded they were. It wasn't the same thing at all. The love between father and son was different from the love between him and the others. It was on a completely different level.

  And yet he had loved Morgan. He knew that Monica didn't believe it, but it was true. He simply hadn't known how to reach out to Morgan. All his attempts had been rejected, and he sometimes wondered if Monica in some subtle way might have been thwarting them. She had wanted him all to herself. Wanted to be the only parent he turned to. Kaj was effectively shut out, and even though she rebuked him and accused him of not engaging with his son, he knew that secretly that was precisely the way she wanted it. And now it was too late to change anything.

  As the harsh light of the fluorescent tube flickered at him, he lay on his side on the floor and curled up in the foetal position.

  So far the medical examiners on TV had solved three cases in forty-five minutes. They made it seem easy, but Patrik was well aware that it wasn't that simple. He hoped that Pedersen would get back to him tomorrow with news about the ashes on Liam's shirt and Maja's overalls.

  Then a new case was presented. Patrik watched the programme listlessly and felt sleep sneaking over him as he reclined on the sofa. But slowly the details of the case began to sink into his consciousness. He sat up and focused his attention on the TV screen. It was a case from the States from many years ago, but the circumstances seemed eerily familiar. He hurried to press the 'record' button on the VCR, hoping he wasn't recording over the last episode of one of Erica's reality shows. If so, the family jewels would be at risk. It was in such situations that his dear life partner usually threatened to get out a rusty pair of scissors.

  The M.E. in charge of the analyses spoke at great length and in detail. He showed diagrams and photos to explain the course of events as clearly as possible, and Patrik had no difficulty following along. An idea began to take shape in his mind, and he nervously checked again to see that the 'record' symbol was visible on the VCR's display. He was going to have to watch the show a couple of more times.

  After playing the segment three more times, he felt as certain as he could be. But he still needed to get a little help with his memory. Excited and well aware of the urgent nature of his quest, he went upstairs to find Erica in the bedroom. She had Maja next to her, so he assumed that their daughter was getting a little reward for sleeping so well in the pram during the day.

  'Erica,' he whispered and shook her shoulder gently. He was terrified of waking Maja, but he had to talk to Erica.

  'Unnh,' was the only reply, and she made no attempt to move.

  'Erica, you have to wake up.'

  This time he got a response. She gave a start, looked around in confusion, and said, 'What? What is it? Is Maja awake? Is she crying? I'd better fetch her.' Erica sat up and was about to get out of bed.

  'No, no,' said Patrik, carefully pushing her back down on the bed. 'Shh, Maja is sleeping like a log.' He pointed at the little bundle that now squirmed a bit.

  'So why are you waking me up?' said Erica morosely. 'If you wake Maja I'll murder you.'

  'Because I have to ask you something. And it can't wait.'

  He quickly told her what he'd just learned and then asked the question weighing on his mind. After a moment of astonished silence she gave him his answer. He told her to go back to sleep, kissed her on the cheek and hurried back downs
tairs. With a grim expression on his face, he punched in a number that he looked up in the phone book. Every minute counted.

  * * *

  GÖTEBORG 1958

  Something was wrong. She had let it go on for far too long. A year and a half had passed since Äke died, and Per-Erik had met her demands for action with excuses that kept getting vaguer and vaguer. Recently he had scarcely bothered to answer her at all, and the phone calls summoning her to the Hotel Eggers were now few and far between. She had begun to hate that place. The soft hotel sheets against her skin and the impersonal furniture now filled her with a nauseating revulsion. She wanted something else. She deserved something better. She deserved to move into his big villa, to be allowed to be the hostess at his parties, to be given respect, status, and mention in the society columns. Who did he think she was, anyway?

  Agnes trembled with rage as she sat behind the steering wheel. Through the windscreen she saw Per-Erik's big white-brick villa, and behind the curtains she glimpsed a shadow moving through the rooms. His Volvo wasn't parked on the drive. It was Tuesday morning, so he was no doubt at work, and Elisabeth was at home alone, probably devoting herself to being the excellent little housewife she was. Hemming tablecloths or polishing the silver or doing some other boring task that Agnes would never stoop to do. Surely Elisabeth had no idea that her life was about to be smashed to bits.

  Agnes felt not the slightest hesitation. The thought didn't even occur to her that Per-Erik's ever more evasive manner might be due to a fading enthusiasm for her. No, it must be Elisabeth's fault that he still hadn't come to her as a free man. She pretended to be so helpless, so pitiful and dependent, just to bind him to her. But Agnes saw through that act, even though Per-Erik did not. And if he wasn't man enough to confront his wife, Agnes had no such scruples. She got out of the car with determined steps, wrapped her fur coat tighter in the November chill and walked quickly up the path to the front door.