Ever since the true identity of the father of Alex’s child had appeared like blazing letters in the sky for Erica, she had dreaded the confrontation. She was still not looking forward to it. But the new strength that she felt inside made it possible to come to grips with the dilemma, instead of pushing it aside. She knew what she had to do.
She took a long shower in scalding hot water. Everything felt like a new beginning this morning, and she wanted to meet it completely clean. After the shower and a glance at the outdoor thermometer, she dressed warmly and said a prayer that she could get the car started. She was in luck. It started on the first try.
During the drive Erica thought about how she should bring up the subject. She practised a few opening lines but each sounded lamer than the last, so she decided to ad lib. She didn’t have that much to go on, but her gut told her that she was right. For a fraction of a second she considered ringing Patrik and telling him about her suspicions, but she quickly vetoed that idea, deciding that she had to check it out herself first. There was too much at stake.
The road to her destination was short, but it felt as if it took an eternity. When she turned into the car park below the Badhotel, Dan waved happily from the boat. She had guessed that he would be here. Erica waved but didn’t smile back. She locked the car and with her hands in the pockets of her light-brown duffel coat, she sauntered over towards Dan and the boat. The day was hazy and grey, but the air smelled fresh. She took a couple of deep breaths to try and dispel the last traces of haze in her head, caused by last night’s copious wine intake.
‘Hi, Erica.’
‘Hi.’
Dan kept working on his boat but looked happy to have company. Erica glanced around a little nervously for Pernilla; she was still worried about the look Dan’s wife had given them last time. But in light of what she now knew, she suddenly understood it much better.
For the first time Erica saw how beautiful the worn old fishing boat was. Dan had taken it over after his father, and he had cared for it with real tenderness. Fishing was in his blood, and it was his great sorrow in life that this occupation could no longer feed a family. Naturally he got on well in his role as teacher at Tanum School, but fishing was his true calling in life. He couldn’t help smiling whenever he worked on the boat. The hard work didn’t bother him, and he kept the winter cold at bay by wearing layers of clothing. He hoisted a heavy roll of line onto his shoulder and turned towards Erica.
‘What the hell is this? No treats today? I hope you don’t intend to make a habit of it.’
A lock of his blond hair hung down from under the knit cap. He looked big and strong, standing in front of her like a massive pillar. He radiated strength and happiness, and it pained her that she would have to puncture that joy. But if she didn’t do it, someone else would. The police, in the worst case. She convinced herself that she was doing him a favour, but she knew she was entering an emotional grey zone. The main reason was that she personally wanted to know. She had to find out.
Dan went up to the bow with the roll of line, tossed it onto the deck and came back to Erica, who was leaning against the railing in the stern.
Erica gazed unseeing out at the horizon. ‘I purchased my love for money, for me there was naught else to have.’
Dan laughed and finished the verse: ‘Sing lovely you soft burring strings, sing lovely of my only love.’
Erica wasn’t smiling.
‘Is Fröding still your favourite poet?’
‘Always has been, always will be. The kids at school claim they’re going to puke if they read any more Fröding, but in my opinion it’s impossible to read too much of his poetry.’
‘Yes, I still have that collection of his that you gave me when we were together.’
She was speaking to his back now, because Dan had turned round to move some crates of nets that were lying against the opposite railing. She continued relentlessly.
‘Do you always give that book to your girlfriends?’
He stopped short with his chores and turned to Erica with a shocked expression.
‘What do you mean? You got one and yes, Pernilla got one, although I doubt that she ever bothered to read it.’
Erica saw an uneasy expression on his face. She gripped the railing she was leaning against a little harder with her mitten-clad hands and looked him straight in the eye.
‘And Alex? Did she get a copy too?’
Dan’s face turned the same colour as the snow on the icy bay behind him, but she also saw an expression of relief quickly slide over it.
‘What do you mean? Alex?’
He was not yet ready to capitulate.
‘I told you last time that I was in Alex’s house one evening last week. What I didn’t tell you was that someone came into the house while I was there. Someone who came straight up to the bedroom and took something away. At first I couldn’t think of what it was, but then I checked the last call that Alex made from home. It was to your mobile, and that’s when I remembered what was missing from the room. I have the exact same book at home.’
Dan didn’t say a word, so she continued. ‘It wasn’t hard to work out why someone would take the trouble to go into Alex’s house and then steal something as simple as a poetry book. There’s a dedication in it, isn’t there? A dedication that would point straight to the man who was her lover?’
‘“With all my love I surrender my passion—Dan.”’
He declaimed it in a voice full of emotion. Now it was his turn to stare vacantly at the water. He sat down abruptly on a crate on deck and tore off his cap. His hair stuck out in all directions. He pulled off his gloves and ran his hands through his hair. Then he looked straight at Erica.
‘I couldn’t let it get out. What we had together was madness. An intense and all-consuming madness. Not something that we could let collide with our real lives. We both knew that it had to end.’
‘Were you supposed to meet on the Friday she died?’
A muscle twitched in Dan’s face at the reminder. After Alex died he must have pondered countless times what would have happened if he had actually shown up. Whether she still would have been alive.
‘Yes, we were supposed to meet that Friday evening. Pernilla was going to visit her sister in Munkedal with the kids. I thought up some excuse about feeling out of sorts and preferring to stay at home.’
‘But Pernilla didn’t go, did she?’
There was a long silence.
‘Yes, Pernilla went but I stayed at home. I turned off my mobile, and I knew she’d never dare ring the phone at the house. I stayed away because I was afraid. I didn’t dare look her in the eye and tell her it was over. Even though I knew she realized that it would have to happen sooner or later, I was afraid to be the one who took that step. I thought that if I could slowly start backing away, she’d get tired of things and break it off with me. Very manly, don’t you think?’
Erica knew that the hardest part was yet to come, but she had to go on. Better that he heard it from her.
‘But Dan, she didn’t understand that it had to end. She envisaged a future with you. A future where you left your family and she left Henrik and the two of you lived happily ever after.’
He seemed to shrink with each word, and the worst was yet to come.
‘Dan, she was pregnant. With your child. Apparently, she had intended to tell you about it that Friday night. She’d prepared a feast and put champagne on ice.’
Dan couldn’t look at her. He tried to fix his gaze out in the distance, but tears began to flow, making everything run together in a mist. Grief welled up from somewhere deep inside him, and tears started running down his cheeks. He began to sob, and he kept having to wipe his nose with his gloves to stop the snot from running down. Finally, he put his head in his hands and gave up all attempts to wipe off his face.
Erica squatted down next to him and put her arms around him to console him. But Dan shook her off. She knew that he’d have to get himself out of the hell he was in
on his own. So she waited him out with her arms crossed until the tears came more slowly and he seemed to be able to breathe again.
‘How do you know she was pregnant?’ The words came in a stammer.
‘I was with Birgit and Henrik at the police when they told us.’
‘Do they know it wasn’t Henrik’s child?’
‘I’m sure Henrik knows, but Birgit doesn’t; she thinks Henrik is the father.’
Dan nodded. It seemed to console him a little that her parents didn’t know.
‘How did you meet?’
Erica wanted to turn away his thoughts from his unborn child, if only for a moment, to give him a little breathing space.
He smiled bitterly. ‘Really classic. Where do people meet each other in Fjällbacka at our age? Having a beer at Galären, of course. We saw each other across the room and it was like being kicked in the stomach. I’ve never felt so attracted to a woman before.’
Erica felt a tiny, tiny twinge of jealousy at those words.
Dan went on. ‘We didn’t do anything then, but a couple of weekends later she called on my mobile. I drove over to see her. Then it just sort of snowballed from there. Stolen hours when Pernilla was away somewhere. Not that many nights, in other words; it was usually during the day that we met.’
‘Weren’t you afraid that the neighbours would see you when you went to Alex’s house? You know how fast gossip travels here.’
‘Sure, I did think about that. I used to climb over the fence in the back yard and then go in through the cellar entrance. To be quite honest, that was probably a good part of the excitement between us as well. The danger and the risk.’
‘But didn’t you understand how much you were risking?’
Dan was fidgeting with his cap and kept his eyes fixed on the deck as he talked.
‘Of course I did. On one level. But on another I felt invulnerable. Other people might get caught, but not me. Isn’t that how it always is?’
‘Does Pernilla know?’
‘No. Not in so many words, anyway. But I think she suspects something. You saw how she reacted when she saw us here. That’s how she’s been the past few months—jealous and watchful. I’m sure she senses that something is going on.’
‘You know you have to tell her about it now.’
Dan shook his head vehemently. Tears welled up in his eyes again.
‘That won’t work, Erica. I can’t do it. It wasn’t until this thing with Alex that I really understood how much Pernilla means to me. Alex was a passion, but Pernilla and the kids are my life. I can’t do it!’
Erica leaned forward and put her hand over Dan’s. Her voice was calm and clear and showed nothing of the agitation she felt inside.
‘Dan, you have to. The police need to be informed, and you have a chance now to tell Pernilla about it in your own way. Sooner or later the police will figure it out by themselves, and then you won’t have a chance to explain to Pernilla the way you want to. Then you’ll no longer have any choice. And you said yourself that she probably knows or at least suspects something. Maybe it would even be a relief for both of you if you talked about it. Clear the air.’
She saw that Dan was listening and taking in what she said. She could also feel that he was shaking.
‘But what if she leaves me? What if she takes the kids and leaves me, Erica? Where will I go then? I’m nothing without them.’
A tiny, tiny voice inside Erica whispered cruelly that he should have thought of that earlier, but stronger voices drowned it out and said that the time for recriminations was past. There were more important matters to take care of right now. She leaned forward, put her arms around him and ran her hands over his back to comfort him. At first his sobs intensified, then ebbed away. When he freed himself from her embrace and wiped away the tears she saw that he had decided not to postpone the inevitable.
As she drove away from the wharf she looked at him in the rear-view mirror, standing motionless on his beloved boat with his eyes fixed on the horizon. She crossed her fingers that he would find the right words. It wasn’t going to be easy.
The yawn felt like it came all the way from his toes and spread through his whole body. Patrik had never been so tired in his life. Nor had he ever been so happy.
It was difficult to focus on the huge piles of paperwork lying in front of him. A homicide generated incredible amounts of documents, and his job now was to go through everything in detail to find that one tiny piece of the puzzle that could propel the investigation forward. He rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath to gather energy for the task.
Every ten minutes, he had to get up from his chair to stretch, get some coffee, hop a little in place, or whatever would make him stay awake and focused for a little while longer. Several times his hand had strayed towards the telephone to ring Erica, but he checked himself. If she was as tired as he was, she was probably still in bed asleep. He hoped she was. He intended to keep her awake as long as possible tonight too, if he had anything to say about it.
One stack of papers had grown since he last went through them—the documents containing information on the Lorentz family. Annika, assiduous as always, had apparently kept digging for old articles and items mentioning the family, and then placed the papers neatly in the stack on Patrik’s desk. He worked methodically, refreshing his memory by turning over the stack and working up from the bottom so that he first read the articles he’d read before. Two hours later, there was nothing that had set his imagination in motion. Despite a strong feeling that he was missing something, it still seemed to elude him.
The first really interesting new information came a good way down in the pile. Annika had inserted an article about a case of arson in Bullaren, about thirty miles from Fjällbacka. The article was dated 1975 and had been given almost a whole page in Bohusläningen. The house had burned down the night of the sixth of July 1975 in an explosion-like event. When the fire was extinguished there was almost nothing left of the house except ashes, but the remains of two human bodies had been found. The bodies turned out to be Stig and Elisabeth Norin, the couple who owned the house. Miraculously their ten-year-old son had managed to escape the fire. He was discovered in one of the outbuildings. The circumstances surrounding the fire were considered suspicious according to Bohusläningen, and the police called it arson.
The article was fastened with a paper-clip to a folder, and inside Patrik found the police report. He was still perplexed at what the article had to do with the Lorentz family until he opened the folder and saw the name of the Norins’ ten-year-old son. The boy was named Jan. The folder also contained a report from social services in which his foster-home placement with the Lorentz family was mentioned. Patrik gave a low whistle. It was still uncertain what this might have to do with Alex’s death, or with the murder of Anders for that matter, but something began to stir at the edges of Patrik’s consciousness. Shadows which faded and dissolved as soon as he tried to focus on them, but which indicated that he was on the right track. He made a mental note about this and then continued his laborious scrutiny of the material on his desk.
His notebook was slowly filling up. His handwriting was so sprawling that Karin always teased him that he should have been a teacher instead, but he could read it all right, and that was the main thing. Some to-do items took shape, but most dominant among the notes were all the questions that the material had generated, marked with big black question marks. Who was Alex waiting for when she made the fancy dinner? Who was the man she was meeting in secret? And whose child was she expecting? Could it be Anders’s, even though he had denied it? Or was there someone they hadn’t yet managed to identify? Why would a woman like Alex, with her looks, class and money, have an affair with someone like Anders? Why had Alex saved an article about Nils Lorentz’s disappearance in a bureau drawer?
The list of questions grew longer and longer. Patrik was on the third page before he got into the matter of Anders’s death. The stack of paper on Anders was much smaller so far
. But the documents would start piling up soon enough. For the moment there were only about ten documents, including the one confiscated during the search of Anders’s flat. The biggest question concerning Anders was the way he had died. Patrik underlined this question several times with furious black strokes. How did the killer or killers lift Anders up to the hook in the ceiling? The autopsy would provide more answers, but from what Patrik had seen there were no marks of a struggle on the body, precisely as Mellberg had pointed out at this morning’s run-through. Someone who is unconscious feels incredibly heavy, and Anders would have had to be lifted up a good distance for someone to fasten the rope to the hook.
He was actually leaning towards the possibility that Mellberg might be right for once—that more than one person had been on the scene. Although that didn’t seem to agree with what happened when Alex was killed. Yet Patrik could swear that it was the same killer they were looking for. After his initial doubt he was now more and more certain that this was true.
He looked at the papers they’d found in Anders’s flat and fanned them out in front of him on the desk. Stuck between his teeth he had a pencil that he had chewed beyond recognition. His mouth felt full of yellow flakes from the pencil. He spat out a few and tried to pick the rest of the flakes from his tongue. It was no use. Now they were stuck to his fingers instead. He flicked them a couple of times to try to dislodge them but gave up and turned his attention back to the papers fanned out on his desk. None of the pages seemed to arouse his interest, so he picked up Telia’s telephone bill as a starting point. Anders made very few calls, but with all the fixed charges the total was still rather high. The details were still attached to the phone bill, and Patrik sighed when he realized that now he would have to do a little old-fashioned legwork. Even though he didn’t think this was the right day for boring, routine tasks.
Patrik Hedstrom 01 - The Ice Princess Page 25
