“As far as we know he had certain resources, shall we say, but no job.”
“Was he violent toward her?” Alex asked.
The question made both parents drop their guard. They looked genuinely stunned.
“No. No, I don’t believe he was. She would have told us.”
Fredrika didn’t think that was something that could necessarily be taken for granted, but it was probably best to leave Josephine’s parents with that delusion.
“Did you see your daughter often?” she asked.
“Yes, but less so after she moved in with that man.”
“Was she involved in his criminal activities?”
As Alex spoke, Fredrika could see that he might just as well have punched the parents in the face.
“What the hell are you insinuating?” the father said. “Of course she wasn’t!”
“Had she had similar boyfriends in the past?” Fredrika asked, trying to draw attention away from Alex’s question.
“Never.”
Parents were always parents. They rarely said anything about their children in a way that reflected how things actually were, rather than how they wished they were. The distance between these two realities could be significant.
Fredrika looked at her watch, then at Alex. There was no reason to continue interviewing the parents. Their answers were mechanical, their tragedy incomprehensible. It was Fredrika and Alex’s duty to leave them alone.
Fredrika had been spared the loss of those who were near and dear to her. Once she had almost lost Spencer in a car accident; she didn’t even want to think about what it would have cost her mentally if he had died. She had been expecting their first child at the time, and at long last he had been ready to give up his marriage in order to live with Fredrika.
And now he wanted to go off to Jerusalem for two weeks. What a brilliant idea. Fredrika didn’t know what bothered her more: the fact that he seemed to think it ought to be achievable in spite of the short notice, or that she herself would never have considered such a thing.
“One last question,” Alex said. “What did Josephine do before she qualified as a teacher and started working at the preschool?”
A pale smile shimmered across her mother’s face.
“She was lost back then, our Josephine. She tried just about every job you could think of.”
“And a few you wouldn’t think of,” her father muttered. “But nothing illegal,” he added quickly.
“I presume she liked children?”
“I’m not so sure about that,” her mother said. “But she loved her job, so I suppose she did.”
Fredrika and Alex got to their feet, both feeling relieved at the thought of leaving the apartment. No one wants to visit the province of grief with a one-way ticket.
“Did she have any enemies?” Fredrika asked as they stood in the doorway.
“Not that we knew of.”
“No conflicts or arguments? Not necessarily in the recent past?”
Both parents shook their heads. They looked so abandoned standing there, so desperately lonely.
“Is there anyone we can call for you?”
“Thank you, but some close friends are on their way.”
“In that case, thank you for your time, and once again, our condolences on your incomprehensible loss.”
She felt Alex stiffen as she uttered the last three words.
Your incomprehensible loss.
It sounded so artificial, like something out of a bad play.
“We’ll be in touch,” Alex said, opening the door. “Please don’t hesitate to call us at any time if anything occurs to you or if there’s anything we can do.”
Seconds later they were out in the street, and Fredrika thought that Josephine’s last day had been an unusually cold one.
An unusually long day. An unusual start to the new year, in fact. Alex Recht was exhausted; he just wanted the day to end so that he could go home. His cell phone rang as soon as he dropped Fredrika off outside her door.
Diana.
The second great love of his life, the fresh start he hadn’t believed was possible after the death of his wife, Lena.
He longed to hear her voice.
But it wasn’t Diana. It was his boss.
“How did it go with the parents?”
“I don’t really know what to say, except that we’re none the wiser.”
His boss starting coughing, a rattling, smoker’s cough. As far as Alex knew, smoking was his only vice, but it was remarkable to think that one wrong choice could bring a person so much closer to the end of their life.
“We’ve had another call from the Solomon Community.”
Alex waited, hoping this wasn’t more bad news. But it was. First of all came something that he already knew.
“Have you heard that Peder Rydh has just been appointed as their new head of security?”
“I found out when they called and asked me for a reference earlier this evening.”
“What did you say to them?”
“The same as I always say. That he was a very talented police officer with certain issues regarding his temperament, and one or two problems when it came to his attitude toward women in the past.”
His boss was coughing again.
“Issues regarding his temperament? I suppose you could put it that way.”
Alex had no interest in discussing the matter any further. A lot of things would have to change before he stopped supporting Peder Rydh.
“It’s most unfortunate that he’s been appointed to the post at this particular moment. Don’t you agree?”
“Perhaps.”
“I mean, you’re going to have to work with him—have you thought about that?”
“I’ve worked with Peder before and we’ve never had any problems.”
Untrue. And he knew it. His boss wasn’t slow to pick him up on his mistake.
“I’m sorry—you’ve never had any problems?”
Alex couldn’t listen to this; he didn’t have the energy to get involved in a discussion. His current boss had never actually worked with Peder but knew his history like everyone else.
“I know, I know.”
He thought back to the beginning of their conversation.
“So did the Solomon Community call to ask you for a reference, too?”
“No, they just happened to mention Rydh in connection with the real reason for their call.”
“Which was?”
“Two boys who belong to the community didn’t arrive at their tennis coaching session. The parents have reported them missing to the police, and the case should end up on your desk. You’re the person who’s most familiar with this kind of thing.”
Of course. Shit.
“There’s absolutely no way that Fredrika and I can deal with two major investigations—the fatal shooting and two missing kids. Forget it.”
“I realize that; we’ll sort it out tomorrow. Unless of course there’s a connection, in which case it would probably be better to expand your team. Fast.”
Why would there be a connection? Because all three were Jews? Because the boys had gone missing on the day the teacher was shot? Were they actually missing? Kids got the most peculiar ideas; they could be back home in a couple of hours.
“Have the parents been interviewed?” he asked, sincerely hoping that he wouldn’t have to speak to them as well.
“Yes, you don’t need to think about that for the time being. And the Stockholm city police and the National Crime Unit are helping to search for the boys. You won’t have to deal with any of this until tomorrow.”
Good. Tomorrow was another day.
A busy day, by the sound of it.
“The Solomon Community is also organizing a search. They’ve gathered in the center in Östermalm and they’re ringing everyone in the boys’ classes to see if anyone has heard from them. You could drop in on your way home, if you feel like it.”
Why would he want to do that? They’d be
in touch if the boys turned up.
It was eight o’clock. Alex wanted to go home. Listen to Diana telling him about her day. Have something to eat. Ring his children. If necessary he could come back in later, leave his cell phone switched on all night.
But to his surprise he heard himself say:
“I’ll drop by and call you afterward.”
“Good. And Fredrika Bergman? Is she still playing the violin?”
“She’s with her family.”
Alex’s response was curt and angry. To protect Fredrika. He thought about her frown, how pensive she had been. He hoped she wasn’t having problems at home. The way she had looked today, she wouldn’t have the energy to fight a war on two fronts.
• • •
The weather was atrocious, and it seemed to be getting worse all the time. Stockholm looked deserted as he drove toward the Solomon Community for the second time today. Cars covered in snow lined the streets like white sculptures, silent and motionless.
Nothing evoked stronger feelings than children at risk; Alex was well aware of that, so he wasn’t surprised when he walked in and saw how many people had gathered to support the parents in their search for the two boys.
The general secretary recognized him.
“Any news?” he said, his tone almost pleading. He adjusted his glasses, which had slipped down his nose. The yarmulke perched on the back of his head was black and crooked. It was interesting to observe the effects of a divergence from normality.
“I’m afraid not,” Alex said. “I was about to ask you the same question.”
The general secretary shook his head gloomily.
“Not a trace.”
“And there’s no reason to suspect that the boys might have gone off somewhere of their own accord?”
“No. Where would they go? They’re ten years old, there’s a blizzard, and it’s minus five out there.”
Just as Alex opened his mouth to say something about children who went missing and where they usually went, he caught sight of someone he hadn’t seen for a long time.
Peder Rydh.
A tsunami of emotions surged through his body. Peder had been there when Alex’s career reached its zenith, when he was asked to lead his own freestanding team. He had selected Peder himself, and Fredrika had joined immediately afterward. As time went by they had become one of the best teams Alex had ever worked with.
The pain of loss seared his soul like salt on an open wound. He was leading a similar team now, with a small core and a wide periphery. But without Peder Rydh.
When had he last seen Peder? They had bumped into one another in town about a year ago, but that was all.
Peder was sitting at one of the tables, deep in thought. He was holding a sheet of paper in his hand, frowning as he read. The years had left a clear impression on his face. He looked hardened. Hardened but balanced.
“Excuse me,” Alex said to the general secretary, and walked over toward Peder.
When he was only a yard or so away, Peder looked up and saw Alex. His face broke into such a broad grin that Alex had to take several deep breaths to stop the tears from coming.
They hugged each other tightly without saying a word.
“You’re looking well,” Alex said when they had let go.
“I’m fine,” Peder said. “I don’t actually start until tomorrow, but they asked if I’d come in tonight.”
A shadow passed across his face, and a flicker of the defiance that had been so typical of him was visible for a split second.
“What can you tell me?” Alex said.
They sat down at the table. This was neither the time nor the place to discuss private matters.
“Not much. The boys didn’t turn up for their tennis coaching session, and they hadn’t said anything to their friends about other plans.”
“Have you met the parents?”
“The mothers are over there; the fathers are out searching.”
“Out searching.” As if that was a feasible option. A search party in Stockholm city center. In a blizzard. Senseless and pointless.
“They seem, at least at first glance, to be harmonious families. One of the fathers is perhaps a little unstable, but I can’t decide whether that’s because of what’s happened or whether he’s always like that.”
Of course not—how could he possibly know when the investigation had been going on for less than an hour? And a person could be unstable for all kinds of different reasons.
Peder lowered his voice.
“The community has a lot of contacts within the police.”
“So I’ve realized,” Alex said.
“One name in particular has been mentioned several times over the last hour: Eden Lundell. I’ve never heard of him or her—have you?”
He certainly had.
Eden Lundell. A woman so strong that she could declare war on any country, all by herself. They had worked together only once, but that was enough. Alex had the greatest respect for Eden Lundell.
“I know who she is,” he said. “She’s a very special woman.”
“Special enough to find two missing boys and clear up a premeditated murder?”
“I’d be very surprised if she got involved in all this,” Alex said.
“Why?”
“Because she’s Säpo’s head of counterterrorism.”
He was so damned good.
Like most other men, her beloved husband wasn’t perfect, but he was a damned good lover. Which was fortunate, because otherwise he would never have won Eden Lundell’s heart.
She buried her face in his shoulder to smother her cries as she came. Pulled him closer, wrapped her legs more tightly around him. Her heart was pounding like a hunted animal’s, and she could feel his sweaty upper body pressing down on hers. Then he stopped moving and her pulse rate dropped.
Eden was satisfied. Obviously a successful encounter.
Mikael withdrew and lay down by her side. The sheet stuck to her skin as he laid his arm across her breasts and breathed against her neck. Closeness was important to him, and she let him be. For a while, anyway.
“Do you mind if I have a cigarette?” she said.
“Eden, for fuck’s sake!”
“You can’t blame me for asking. One day you might say yes.”
“No bloody chance.”
“Goodness me, all this swearing. Are priests really allowed to swear?”
“This one is.”
She caressed his arm distractedly. The bedroom still smelled of fresh paint. From the street came the muted sound of traffic. Quieter than usual; the bad weather must have persuaded people to stay at home.
It had been Eden’s idea to sell their boring house and move into the city. Mikael had taken some convincing, but when Eden made the point that she would have more time for the family if she had a shorter commute, he gave in.
“Was it my cell phone or yours that rang just now?” she said.
“Bound to be yours. The rest of us switch off our phones when we’re making love.”
Making love—was that really what they had just been doing? Eden would have said they were screwing, and that they knew exactly what they were doing.
“You can’t be serious,” Mikael said, raising his head as she slipped out of bed.
“I’m just going to check,” Eden said as she walked across the room to pick up her bag.
She sat down on the edge of the bed and took out her cell phone. Mikael grabbed it.
“Give it back!”
Sometimes she sounded like her daughters, barking out staccato orders and expecting instant compliance. However, she was far superior to the girls when it came to getting her own way. Mikael maintained that he and the children lived in the shadow of Eden’s whims and caprices, but she thought that was unfair.
It wasn’t her fault that others were so weak.
Mikael gave her the phone and she listened to the message that came from a withheld number. It was the general secretary of the Solomon Commu
nity.
“Eden, I don’t know if you’re in Sweden or if you’ve been following the news, but we’ve had two terrible incidents today. A member of staff at the Solomon school was shot dead this afternoon, and this evening two boys have been reported missing by their parents. Give me a call if you can.”
She put the phone back in her bag. Mikael looked pleased as she lay back, resting on his outstretched arm.
“Anything important?”
“Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.”
She had already heard about the shooting, but not the missing boys.
Do I need to get involved? No.
For some obscure reason the Solomon Community had gotten the idea that they could count on her support and resources in various situations. This was, to put it mildly, a misapprehension. She felt no loyalty whatsoever toward what were somewhat inaccurately referred to as “her people.”
“I thought we might go away in March,” Mikael said.
Did you indeed?
“Where?”
“Somewhere hot. Just you and me and the girls.”
As if they usually went away with a whole crowd of other people.
“I don’t know if I can get away from work.”
“I’m sure you can, if you book the time early enough.”
“We’ve talked about this before; you have to realize there’s a difference between what you do and what I do.”
Mikael was a priest, and Eden loved him for that. Everything was possible in Mikael’s world. The sky was the limit as far as he was concerned, but his naive attitude toward time, and above all to obligations outside the family, drove her crazy. It created conflict and all too often led to arguments.
Things had been calm for a while now; Christmas had been enjoyable, and January hadn’t sprung any surprises. Eden had even managed to drop the girls off at day care and pick them up, just like an ordinary mom.
A normal mom. One who didn’t feel like screaming “For God’s sake will you hurry up!” as soon as she saw the twins ambling toward her, eager to show and tell what they had been doing at day care. As if they had all the time in the world. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world, they would hand her drawings and trolls made of stones and all kinds of crap that Eden realized other people took into work and placed on their desks; personally, she just wanted to chuck the whole lot in a box in the garage. She understood that the children thought they had made something wonderful, but she felt as if she would be doing them a disservice if she lied. Ugly was ugly, end of story.
The Chosen Page 5
