The Stonecutter: A Novel (Pegasus Crime)

by Camilla Lackberg

  ‘What was it that was so important? I had patients waiting.’ The best defense was a good offense.

  ‘Martin Molin rang.’

  He searched his memory for the name.

  ‘The police in Tanumshede,’ she clarified, and now he remembered. The young, freckled chap.

  ‘What did he want?’ he said tensely.

  Charlotte, who now had finished changing and dressing Albin, turned toward Niclas with their son in her arms.

  ‘They discovered that someone had threatened Sara. The day before she died.’ Her voice was ice-cold and Niclas waited nervously for her to continue.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘The man who threatened her was described as an older man with gray hair and black clothes. He called her the “Devil’s spawn.” Does that sound like anyone you know?’

  Instantly, rage coursed through his veins.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ he cried and ran up the stairs. When he tore open the door to the ground floor, he almost knocked Lilian off her feet. He had been right about the old biddy, but it wasn’t even worth getting excited about now. He put on his shoes without bothering to tie them, grabbed his jacket, and ran out to the car.

  Ten minutes later he stopped with a screech outside his parents’ house after driving much too fast through town. The house stood on the side of the hill, right above the mini-golf course, and it looked exactly the same as it had when he was a boy. He shoved open the car door and jumped out without bothering to shut it. He rushed right up to the front entrance, took a deep breath, and knocked hard on the door. Niclas hoped his father was at home. No matter how un-Christian he was, it wasn’t proper to do what he intended to do in a church.

  ‘Who is it?’ called the still-familiar, stern voice. Niclas tried the door handle. As usual, the door wasn’t locked. He stepped inside and called out.

  ‘Where are you, you cowardly old devil?’

  ‘What in the world is going on?’ His mother came into the hall from the kitchen holding a dish towel and a plate, as his father’s austere figure emerged from the living room.

  ‘Ask him.’ Niclas pointed a trembling finger at his father, whom he hadn’t seen except at a distance in more than twenty years.

  ‘I don’t know what he’s talking about,’ said the father, refusing to speak directly to his son. ‘Of all the nerve, coming in here and standing there cursing and screaming. That’s enough now. Get him out of here.’

  ‘You know damn well what I’m talking about, you old bastard.’ Niclas saw to his satisfaction how his father flinched. ‘And how cowardly can you be, threatening a little girl! If you’re the one who killed her, I’ll make sure that you never walk again, you bloody fucking …’

  His mother looked back and forth between the two men and then raised her voice. This was so unusual that Niclas abruptly shut up, and even his father closed his mouth without replying.

  ‘Now one of you be so good as to tell me what this is all about. Niclas, you can’t just barge in here and start screaming, and if it’s something to do with Sara, then I have a right to know.’

  After taking a couple of deep breaths Niclas said through clenched teeth, ‘The police found out that’—he could hardly bring himself to look at his father—‘he yelled and screamed and threatened Sara. The day before she died.’ Fury took over again and he shouted, ‘What the bloody hell is wrong with you? Scaring a seven-year-old out of her wits and calling her the “Devil’s spawn” or some such nonsense. She was seven years old, don’t you get it, seven years old! And I’m supposed to believe that it was a coincidence that you threatened her the day before she was found murdered! Is that right?’

  He took a step toward his father, who hastily backed up.

  Asta now stared at her husband. ‘Is the boy telling the truth?’

  ‘I don’t have to stand here and answer to anyone. I answer only to the Lord,’ said Arne bombastically, turning his back to his wife and son.

  ‘Don’t even try that. You answer me now!’

  Niclas looked in astonishment at his mother, who followed Arne into the living room with her hands on her hips, ready for a fight. Arne too seemed shocked that his wife dared defy him. He was opening and closing his mouth but no sound was coming out.

  ‘Answer me,’ Asta continued, backing Arne farther into the room as she came closer. ‘Did you see Sara?’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ said Arne defiantly, working to recapture the authority he’d taken for granted for forty years.

  ‘And what did you say to her?’ Asta seemed to grow a meter taller before their eyes. Both men found her suddenly terrifying.

  ‘I had to see whether she was made of sterner stuff than her father. If she’d taken after my side of the family.’

  ‘Your side,’ Asta snorted. ‘Oh yes, that would be something. Sanctimonious fawners and stuck-up females, that’s what you have on your side of the family. Is that supposed to be something worth emulating? So what was your conclusion?’

  Arne’s eyes betrayed his hurt but he said, ‘Silence, woman, I come from God-fearing folk. And it didn’t take long to work out that the girl was not made of good stock. Impudent and obstinate and noisy, not the way girls should be. I tried to talk to her about God, I did, and she stuck out her tongue at me. So I told her a few truths. I was within my full right to do so. Someone had obviously not bothered to raise the child properly; it was high time somebody took her in hand.’

  ‘So you scared the wits out of my little girl,’ said Niclas, clenching his fists.

  ‘I saw the Devil in her recoil,’ Arne said proudly.

  ‘You God-damned …’ Niclas took a step toward him, but stopped when he heard a hard knock at the door.

  In that pause, Niclas knew that he had been standing at the edge of the abyss. If he’d gone after his father, he wouldn’t have been able to stop. Not this time.

  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 going to do 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 back. He tried to tell you, but you were on the phone.’

  ‘Yeah,
I was busy checking Niclas’s alibi for yesterday. Which was air-tight, 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 call 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 the two of 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 toward 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 stroller, as if her daughter had somehow been able to hide in a corner. But the stroller was empty.

  ‘What is it?’ said Dan, who came running, with an anxious look on his face. ‘What’s happened?’

  Erica tried to explain, but her tongue felt thick and clumsy, and she couldn’t get any words out. Instead she pointed with a trembling hand at the stroller, and Dan hurried to look inside. She saw the realization hit him like the blow of a hammer.

  ‘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 swallowed 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 call the police. It’ll be all right.’

  Erica felt her chest heaving, but she did as he said. A cold wind blew into the house because Dan had left the front door open, but that didn’t bother her. She felt nothing other than paralyzing panic. She couldn’t remember where she’d put the telephone and stood for several moments staring helplessly at the furniture. Finally she just ran round and round the living room rummaging under pillows and tossing things aside. At last she found it, in the middle of the living room coffee table. She flung herself over to 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. Shoeless, she ran down the steps and out into the driveway. The wet and the cold went right through to her skin, but she didn’t care. She saw Dan running toward her from the front of the house, 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 final few feet and grabbed Maja from Dan’s 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, although she was now screaming to high heaven, flailing her arms and legs. Still kneeling, Erica lifted her daughter up and pressed her tight, letting tears of relief mix with the falling rain.

  ‘Come on, let’s get her 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 re-attached. 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 stroller, sneaked round the house, and placed the sleeping baby on the ground. Erica began to sob again with rising panic.

  ‘Shh … it’s over now,’ said Dan. ‘We found her and she looks fine. But we’d better phone the police. You didn’t have time to call them, did you?’

  Erica shook her head.

  ‘We have to call 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, a black stain that spread across the front of Dan’s sweater. She held Maja out so she could examine her too.

  ‘What is this stuff?’ she said. ‘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 it in. A hard lump of fear had formed in her stomach.

  The days ran into one another. She never called Erica back, never did anything about her plan to escape. She couldn’t. Anna’s feeling of impotence was paralyzing. Nothing she said or did escaped Lucas’s fierce watch. He was keeping track of 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 obvious that there was something terribly wrong with his mind. All barriers were gone, and there was an evil light in his eyes; she understood instinctively that if she wanted to survive she needed to go along with his demands.

  Emotionally, she had shut down completely, except when she thought about the children. That was what pained her the most. They were no longer allowed to go to day-care, and now spent their days in the same shadow existence as she did. Listless and clinging, they watched her with dead eyes, and it felt like an accusation. They were right to blame her: it was all her fault. 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 going back to him for the children’s sake, for their safety. Instead she had surrendered to her own cowardice. She always took 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.

  Sometimes she dreamed about killing him. She knew by now that that’s how it must inevitably end: with one of them dead. Occasionally, during the long hours of the night when she lay awake, unable to relax enough to escape into sleep, she would watch him as he slept next to her. She fantasized about the way a kitchen knife could slip into his flesh and sever the fragile thread that bound him to life. Or she would feel the rope cutting into her hands as she looped it round his neck and pulled, hard.

  But it went no further than her imagination. Something inside her, maybe an inherent cowardice, kept her lying still in bed while dark thoughts ricocheted around 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 hardened her heart against everything 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 Erica’s sake. Despite their difference in age and the distance that separated them, Anna was coming to understand her older sister better and better. She knew that if there was anyone who was in desperate need of having her love reciprocated, it was Erica. It was ironic that Anna had always considered Erica so strong, but now that she herself was at her weakest, she understood her sister’s real vulnerability. Erica lived her life scared to death that everyone would see what their mother had seen, what had made her feel as if her two daughters were 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, playing silently on the floor, also paused with alarm and looked up at their mother.

  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 phony 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?’