“We don’t know. The house is empty, and we’re waiting for reinforcements. You’ll have to leave the area immediately, sir.”
“Where’s Emma?”
“I told you, we don’t know,” said one of the officers sternly.
Johan turned on his heel and ran around the wall of the house, heading down toward the shore.
He ignored the police, who were shouting after him. As soon as he reached the beach, he saw tracks in the sand. Very visible footprints.
He ran in Emma’s tracks, rounded the point, and saw the lighthouse. The footprints continued. With relief he observed that the tracks were still from only one person. She must have gone to the lighthouse to seek help. But where was the killer?
He looked up at the raised grassy berm that ran along the beach before the woods took hold. He might have been following her from up there. He would have a good view from there, too.
Exhausted and out of breath, Johan reached the lighthouse and headed up the path toward the parking lot.
“Emma,” he shouted.
No answer. No cars in the parking lot, and he couldn’t see any people, either. Where had she gone?
He tried to make out any tracks in the grass, but there was nothing distinct. Instead, he continued along the deserted asphalt road. Silent and desolate, with woods on both sides. He looked at the nearby houses. No sign of life. The sound of an engine suddenly came closer, and he turned around.
A police car stopped with screeching brakes, and out climbed Knutas and Jacobsson.
“Have you seen or heard anything?” Knutas demanded.
“No, but I saw some tracks in the sand, and I think they’re Emma’s. They led this way.”
Knutas’s cell phone rang. The conversation was brief.
“Jens Hagman is probably the murderer,” he reported after hanging up. “Jan Hagman’s son. They found him in the school records. He’s the same age as the victims. He was in another sixth-grade class. His father, Jan Hagman, owns a red 1987 Saab. And it’s missing.”
Jacobsson stared at him in surprise. “It was the son?” she exclaimed. “Why didn’t we figure that out earlier!”
“Not now,” snapped Knutas. “We’ll have time for self-reproaches later on. Right now we’ve got to catch him.”
The main road that led to the ferry dock was blocked off at several places. The police set up a temporary base at the Sudersand campgrounds. A search party of officers with dogs started combing the wooded area between Skarsande and the lighthouse. Olle Winarve arrived.
After talking to Grenfors back in Stockholm, Johan called Peter. Of course they had to report on what was happening. At the same time, his concern for Emma was practically tearing him apart. It was when he found the letter that he decided to kill Helena. He was sitting in his mother’s bedroom. His parents had had separate rooms for years. He didn’t see anything strange about that. He had never seen them hug or give each other any other sign of affection. His mother was hanging out there in the barn. It would be a while before his father came home. He had several hours to go through things in her room before he would have to call the police and report that he had found his mother dead. He pulled open the drawers in her dresser and systematically went through them. Old pieces of paper with almost illegible notes, receipts, photographs of that stupid cat that his mother had loved. She loved the cat more than us, he thought bitterly. A few ugly pieces of jewelry, a thimble, ballpoint pens with ink that had dried up. How long ago was it that she went through these drawers herself? he thought with annoyance. Then he found something that caught his interest. At the very bottom of one of the drawers lay a crumpled envelope, yellow with age. He read what it said on the front: To Gunvor. It was his father’s handwriting. He frowned and opened the envelope. It was only a one-page letter. There as no date. * Gunvor I’ve been up all night, thinking, and now I’m prepared to tell you what’s been going on with me lately. I know that you’ve been wondering what has happened, even though, as usual, you haven’t said a word. The truth is that I’ve met someone else. I think this is the first time in my life that I’ve understood what real love is. It’s not something that I planned. It just happened, and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. We’ve been seeing each other for six months. I thought that it might just be something fleeting that wouldn’t last, but it’s turned out to be just the opposite. I love her with all my heart, and I’ve decided that I want to share my life with her. She’s also pregnant. I want to take care of her and our child. We both know that you’ve never loved me. So many times I’ve been surprised and frightened by your coldness. Both toward me and toward the children. It’s over now. I’ve found someone that I love. She’s one of my students. Her name is Helena Hillerstrom. By the time you find this letter, I’ll be living in an apartment in town. I’ll call you later. Jan He crumpled up the letter as the tears streamed from his eyes. Helena Hillerstrom, of all people. It was easy for him to make up his mind.
Emma woke up because she was freezing. It was dark, and the air was dripping with moisture. She was lying on something hard and cold. It took a few minutes for her eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness. A narrow strip of light was seeping in through an opening higher up on one wall. She was inside what seemed to be an underground room. The floor and walls were cement, and the room was bare except for two benches attached on either side. She was lying on one of them. She estimated that the room was about eight feet square. The sloping ceiling was low and made the space seem even more cramped. It was no more than seven feet to the highest point. There was no door. Instead, there was an iron hatch in the ceiling. A rusty iron ladder was fastened to the wall and led up the hatch. She realized that she must be imprisoned inside one of the old defense bunkers. There were a number of them on Gotland and Faro. She and her friends used to play in them when they were kids.
Her throat was dry, and she had a sour taste of vomit in her mouth. She also had a throbbing ache at the back of her head. She wanted to touch it to see if it was bleeding, but that turned out to be impossible. Her hands and feet were tied tight with rope. Her eyes swept over the damp gray walls. The hatch in the ceiling was the only way out, and it was closed. Probably locked on the outside. What was she doing here? Where was Hagman? And why hadn’t he killed her at once? The fact that she was still alive made her think that maybe there was still hope. The rope was chafing her skin. She had no idea what time it was or how long she had been lying here. Her body felt stiff and tender. With some effort she managed to sit up. She raised herself up, trying to look out the small opening, but she couldn’t do it. She tried to twist her hands around, but the rope made that almost impossible. She could move her feet only a few inches.
Emma listened for any noise, but no sounds seemed to penetrate from outside. The room was almost completely silent. Leaves rustled on the floor. A brown-spotted frog had slipped inside the bunker. Then she noticed another one. Several moths were up on the ceiling, asleep. The air was musty and raw.
She lay down again and closed her eyes, hoping the aching would stop. She needed to be able to think clearly.
Suddenly there was a rattling noise. The hatch in the ceiling was lifted away. A pair of legs became visible, and a man climbed down into the bunker. It was Jens Hagman.
He gave her a cold stare as he held a bottle of water to her lips. With his help she greedily took several big swallows without daring to look up at him. Afterward, she sat there without uttering a word. She didn’t know what to do, but she was determined to be on guard, to see how he would react.
He sat down on the bench across from her. He had closed the hatch, and the room was once again almost totally dark. She could hear him breathing in the dim light. Finally she broke the silence.
“What are you planning to do?”
“Shut up. You have no right to talk.”
He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.
“I need to pee,” she whispered.
“What the hell do I care?”
“Please. I’m going to pee my pants.”
Reluctantly he got up and loosened the rope. She had to squat down and pee as he looked on. When she was done, he tied her up again. He glared at her and then climbed back up the ladder and was gone.
The hours passed. She lay on her side on the bench, slipping in and out of sleep. Dreams mixed with thoughts. She couldn’t distinguish one thing from another. Occasionally a thick blanket of apathy settled over her. She was in his hands. There was nothing she could do. She might as well just lie down and die. Finish out her days in this bunker on Faro. Then images of her children would flash past, like bits of crystal. Sara and Filip. The last time she had seen them was out at the home of Olle’s brother in Burgsvik. She pictured the children waving to her at the gate as she drove away. Would that be the last time they ever saw each other?
Her joints ached, and her hands were prickling. They were about to go numb. She held them up toward the narrow strip of light. The tight rope had turned her wrists red. She decided to try thinking constructively and sat up again. What options did she have? Could she try to overpower him when he opened the hatch next time? Hardly. He was much bigger than she was, and there was nothing she could use as a weapon. She wondered where this bunker was located. Presumably far from the nearest house, although at this time of the summer there were always people around-people taking walks and hiking through the woods and the fields, taking advantage of Sweden’s legal right of access to private land. She looked up at the narrow slit in the wall. Should she try screaming? Hagman might be right outside. She guessed that he must be staying in his car. What did she have to lose if he heard her? She was probably still alive because he needed her to make his escape from here. That meant the police were out there, searching for her. As long as they stayed on Faro, he couldn’t kill her.
Her legs were tied as tightly as they had been before. It was hard for her to move, but she managed. She succeeded in reaching the opposite wall. She stretched up as close to the opening as she could and began screaming for help at the top of her lungs. She kept on shouting until she was worn out. Then she sat down on the bench and waited, her eyes stubbornly fixed on the opening. The minutes ticked by. Not a sign from Hagman or anyone else. She repeated the process until she couldn’t do it anymore.
She lay down again. Maybe it was better to try some sort of strategy. To talk to him. Ask him to forgive her. Convince him that she was sorry.
Yes, that’s what she should do.
TUESDAY, JUNE 26
Anders Knutas was sitting in the barracks-like building that served as a cafeteria and store for the Sudersand campgrounds. He had a cup of coffee and a cheese sandwich in front of him.
It was six thirty in the morning, and Emma Winarve was still missing. The police had arrested the father, Jan Hagman, at his home and taken him to headquarters. They didn’t know whether he was involved in the murders or not, but they didn’t want to take any chances.
Worry was gnawing at Knutas. Was Emma still alive? Hagman ought to be somewhere on Faro. Travel by ferryboat had been halted at an early stage, and the main road to the ferry was blocked off. He couldn’t possibly have left the island, except by means of his own boat. Knutas considered that possibility most unlikely. The police had been combing Faro’s coast. Which way could he have gone? There was no archipelago and no islands close by where he might have found refuge. He couldn’t have made it to Gotska Sandon or the mainland without being discovered. The only possibility was that he might have traveled in his own boat and gone ashore somewhere along the Gotland coast. No, that seemed preposterous.
So we have to assume he’s still here on the island, thought Knutas, sucking on a sugar cube as he poured coffee into the saucer. Whenever he was alone, he drank from the saucer, just like his father. He slurped up the coffee with the sugar cube between his teeth.
As far as they knew, Jens Hagman had no friends or relatives on the island. According to his father, the family didn’t know anyone on Faro, although they had spent a lot of time there when the children were growing up. Several summers they had rented a cabin in Ekeviken. That means that Hagman knows the area well, thought Knutas.
In the northern section of the island, a search had been made of all the houses, barns, cabins, cottages, tents, and camping trailers. The process was still going on.
Could he be hiding somewhere else? Of course it was possible that he was hiding outdoors, but that was unlikely. The risk of being discovered was too great. Could he have an accomplice? Certainly, although that, too, seemed unlikely. He had killed three women in a matter of a few weeks. Who would want to help him? He was a madman who might do anything at all.
She had worked out several alternative plans by the time the hatch was opened once again. Hagman was carrying a knife.
“Please, don’t hurt me,” she begged as he climbed down to the floor to stand in front of her.
He was holding the knife in his hand. The blade gleamed in the dim light.
Hagman looked at her with an inscrutable expression on his face. “Why shouldn’t I hurt you?”
“I understand why you killed the others. It was terrible, what we did to you.”
“You don’t understand a thing,” he snarled, and his eyes blazed with anger.
The only weapon she had was her power of persuasion. She went on. “I know that it was unforgivable, and I’ve thought of contacting you so many times. I wanted to ask you to forgive me. I’m so sorry. But we were just kids.”
“Just kids,” he snorted with contempt. “That’s easy for you to say. My life has been hell because of what all of you did to me. I’ve always been so damned afraid. Because of you, I could never meet any girls, I never dared have any kind of contact with people, and I’ve been so fucking lonely. Just kids,” he repeated, his voice filled with scorn. “You knew what you were doing. My whole life was destroyed because of you. Now it’s your turn to pay.”
Emma desperately tried to think of something more to talk about, to win time, but she was also terrified that she might provoke him.
“So why did you decide not to kill me?” she asked.
“Don’t think it’s just some lucky coincidence. I’ve planned out everything very carefully.”
“What do you mean?”
“I wanted to take out everybody who ever tormented me, one by one, starting with the worst of the lot. After I did that, it was time to go after Helena.”
“What?”
For a moment her terror subsided slightly and was replaced by surprise.
He looked at her in the dark. “My so-called mother. Everyone thinks she took her own life.”
He laughed mirthlessly.
“The police are such fools. They swallowed the whole scenario. But I did it. I killed her, and I enjoyed doing it. She had no right to live. A mother who gives birth to children she doesn’t care about at all. What kind of mother is that?” Jens Hagman’s voice had grown more shrill. He was practically screaming. It felt as if the air in the bunker might give out.
“So she didn’t care about you?” Emma whispered, in an attempt to calm him down.
“I’m a botched abortion just walking around. That’s what I’ve always been. Unwanted,” he said harshly. “But that bitch ended up paying for it. She certainly did,” he said triumphantly as he stared at her.
She couldn’t help seeing the madness in his eyes.
The thought struck her with all its force. There was no way out. She was never going to see her children again. She made the utmost effort not to start crying, not to lose control.
At that moment, the faint sound of a helicopter was heard. Hagman gave a start and listened intently.
“Don’t move, or I’ll kill you instantly,” he snarled. “And keep quiet.”
The helicopter seemed to be circling right overhead. Suddenly Knutas’s voice sounded through a megaphone.
“Jens Hagman! This is the police. We know you’re down there. You might as well give yourself up. We�
�ve got you surrounded, and we’ve taken your car. You don’t have a chance. The best thing you can do is surrender. Come out with your hands over your head!”
Hagman dragged Emma off the bench with such force that she almost fell over. He was holding the knife to her throat as he backed up toward the opening in the wall. He peered out. Emma caught a glimpse of the sea. It was clear that he was confused. He was cornered, and that made him even more dangerous. She wished he would ease up his hold on her throat.
For a moment there was silence.
Then the voice shouted through the megaphone again.
“Hagman! This is the police speaking. You don’t have a chance. Come out with your hands over your head!”
Jens Hagman acted fast and decisively. He cut the rope off Emma’s ankles, pushed up the hatch, and shoved her up the ladder ahead of him. He was right behind her. Warm air greeted her at the top. Emma saw her chance to escape. She would exit before he did. The ladder was so narrow and the bunker’s opening so small that it would be impossible for both of them to emerge at the same time. When she was almost above ground and about to take the last step up and out of the bunker, she kicked with all her might at Hagman below her on the ladder. The kick struck him in the face, and he started swearing. The next moment she felt his hand around one of her ankles, and she tumbled to the ground outside.
Her attempt to escape was over even before it began.
Hagman snarled into her ear, “Try another trick like that and you’re dead. Just so you know.”
She squinted up at the morning light and let her gaze take in as much as it could from her trapped position. They were at the edge of the woods, with the sea on one side and green-clad hills on the other, surrounded by police officers with weapons drawn. On a slope a short distance away stood Anders Knutas with the megaphone in his hand.
Hagman held her in front of him like a shield.
“Everybody, get away! Otherwise I’m going to kill her, right here and now. I only want the superintendent to stay. I want a car with a full tank of gas and a hundred thousand kronor in a bag in the car. Plus food and water, enough for three days. If you don’t do as I say, I’ll slit her throat. Do you understand? And it has to be fast! If I don’t get the car within two hours, I’ll kill her.”
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