Buried Lies

by Kristina Ohlsson

  Lucy was lying in the bath with water up to her chin and her hair in a knot on top of her head. She looked at me with wide eyes.

  ‘Yes. Are you?’

  I laughed and leaned against the edge of the door.

  ‘Sorry, I’m getting paranoid.’

  ‘Martin, no one could blame you if you were. You’ve got far too much on your mind right now. What did you think had happened?’

  I shook my head. I refused to talk about the images that had flitted through my overloaded brain. Visions of someone sneaking into the bathroom and holding Lucy’s head underwater. Or cutting her with a knife and turning the bathwater red.

  ‘Are you getting out soon?’ I said.

  ‘I’ve only just got in,’ Lucy said. ‘Feels like you could do with relaxing as well.’

  I didn’t respond, and walked back out into the room again. My pulse was too high and I was sweating even though the air-conditioning was doing its best to turn our room into a fridge. I had to make sure I didn’t lose my grip. There was no time for that.

  ‘The diary,’ I said, loudly enough for Lucy to hear. ‘It proves nothing. Jenny must have realised that.’

  ‘Possibly,’ Lucy said. ‘But I can’t think what she meant with it if not to help Sara.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure that’s what she wanted, I just don’t understand how it . . .’

  I broke off abruptly.

  Because I did understand.

  Without any hesitation, I expanded my theory with yet another supposition.

  ‘The diary was never about giving Sara an alibi or revealing anything revolutionary about her life,’ I said. ‘It was about one single thing, and that was to make sure that the link to Lucifer was made visible in the investigation. That was why she removed the passages showing that it was her diary.’

  ‘Because she didn’t want to be linked to Lucifer?’

  ‘Exactly. But she failed. The police had nothing else to indicate that Sara had anything to do with Lucifer, and therefore no one reacted to the contents of the diary. It’s not even certain anyone bothered to read it. Sara herself didn’t want anything to do with it, after all.’

  I heard Lucy knock over what sounded like a plastic bottle, and resisted the urge to dash to her rescue again.

  ‘Or else Boris was right when he guessed that Lucifer had friends in the police. Which means it isn’t impossible that someone actually read the diary but made sure it got discounted from the investigation. The fact that no one in Sweden reacted to the name isn’t so strange, but Jenny took it to the police in Houston first. Regardless of the fact that they can’t read Swedish, the name Lucifer ought to have jumped out at anyone in the know.’

  Everything she said was right, but the idea was still pretty damn difficult to accept. The suggestion that Lucifer’s network was so extensive that it even included police officers working on their investigation into him. But maybe that was why they failed to get him for more than assault.

  Lucy continued her analysis from the bath.

  ‘One thing that contradicts Boris’s guess about Lucifer’s connections to the police is the fact that we haven’t had the slightest response to our attempts to get his attention.’

  The same thought had occurred to me. I wasn’t happy about that. We had gone over the top and had called far too many people. There was a serious risk that we had attracted the attention of police officers who were merely doing their job. It would be unfortunate if another police force started to regard me as a potential criminal.

  Then the phone on the bedside table rang. It was the receptionist.

  She had found Denise Barton.

  41

  The Hotel Royal where Denise Barton worked was only three blocks away. I realised at once that I’d made a mistake booking a room at the Carlton. The Royal was considerably fancier.

  We hadn’t arranged a meeting with Denise Barton. From the receptionist we had learned that she was expected to show up for work before two o’clock. So we set off to the Royal, making sure we’d be there half an hour before then. Lucy’s hair was still wet and I hadn’t had time to shave.

  ‘You look good with a beard,’ Lucy said, stroking my cheek.

  ‘I look old with hair on my face,’ I said.

  ‘Not old,’ Lucy said. ‘Just a little older. Like someone with more experience of life.’

  How much experience of life can anyone really want? I felt like asking. I thought I’d managed to get through more than most people my age.

  We settled down in the bar at the Royal. It struck me that I had pretty much been with Lucy twenty-four hours a day for the past week. We each ordered a glass of iced water and tried to look cool and relaxed. Considering how cold it was indoors, it would have made more sense to order a cup of hot coffee or chocolate. Belle loved hot chocolate when she was younger. Then came the day when she declared out of the blue that she was too old for chocolate and would rather drink tea like Lucy and Grandma.

  Thinking about Belle wasn’t a good idea. Frustrated, I pulled my mobile from the chest pocket of my shirt. Still not a word from either Boris or Belle’s grandparents.

  ‘Martin, listen to me now,’ Lucy said, taking the phone out of my hand. ‘They’ve gone on an outing, that’s all. They haven’t got any mobile coverage. They’ll call you tomorrow.’

  But I couldn’t relax. In Sweden it was getting towards nine o’clock in the evening. They weren’t usually gone that long.

  ‘Maybe they decided to spend the night somewhere else,’ Lucy said. ‘The archipelago’s full of great places.’

  I interrupted her.

  ‘I was very clear about the rules,’ I said. ‘They were only allowed to leave the island for brief periods.’

  To both of our surprise my mobile started to ring. My normal phone, the one I’d avoided using from the moment I realised I was in trouble with the police.

  I recognised the number. Didrik.

  ‘Don’t answer,’ Lucy said. ‘Not now. Because I think we’re about to have company.’

  She nodded towards a young girl with her black hair cut in a simple bob who was heading in our direction. We had asked the doorman to look out for Denise Barton when she arrived for work. He had agreed to tell her we were waiting in the bar.

  Denise had the longest legs I’ve ever seen on a woman. Together with her high-heeled shoes and fairly short skirt, they formed a perfection so beautiful it made my eyes sting. Some idiots think you’re objectifying women if you point out and notice their external qualities. Few things annoy me more than that. Gifts are gifts, talents are talents. Of course they should be praised.

  ‘Denise?’ I said, slipping off the bar stool as she reached us.

  The time was ten minutes to two. We didn’t have long.

  ‘Who wants to know?’

  Some replies are as classic as they are appropriate. I introduced myself and Lucy, and said why we were there. Denise Barton received what was without doubt the most honest explanation. But still not completely honest. Just as before, I left out the fact that the police thought I was involved in the murders of Jenny Woods and Bobby Tell.

  Denise’s face turned pale when I told her Jenny was dead.

  ‘Out of all of us, I always thought she was the most likely to get away,’ she said quietly.

  I decided not to waste any time.

  ‘Which “us”?’ I said.

  She shook her head.

  ‘I don’t know you,’ she said. ‘You have no idea what you’re asking me to tell you. But I’ll do you a favour and give you a warning, if you haven’t already heard it. Get out, while you still can. Even in your wildest imagination, you have no idea what forces you’re going up against.’

  I lost my temper.

  ‘Thank you, we’ve lost count of the number of people we’ve heard that from. I’m starting to get seriously fed up of it. Warning after warning, but no substance whatsoever. So far seven people – eight if we count Sara – have died here in Texas and in Stockholm, and the
re’ll probably be more unless someone summons up a bit of courage and starts talking.’

  My voice was far too loud, and several heads turned to look at me.

  Denise looked me straight in the eye. Hers were almond-shaped, her irises shimmered between green and brown.

  ‘Can you actually hear what you’re saying?’ she said. ‘Seven people have died. Seven. Doesn’t that tell you all you need to know?’

  My anger drained away and was replaced by something else. Desperation.

  ‘Believe me, I wouldn’t be here now if I had a choice,’ I said. ‘I’m begging you – if you think you know anything that could help us understand how this whole mess fits together, please, just tell us. Because there aren’t many other people we can turn to.’

  That last bit was unnecessary but true. It would be more damaging not to tell her. I wanted Denise to know that she was hurting us if she chose not to cooperate. That she was responsible for our fates, whether she liked it or not. It worked.

  ‘You say you made a serious effort to contact Lucifer?’ she said.

  ‘Yes. Not him personally, we haven’t been able to do that, but by contacting people we think are part of his network.’

  ‘Then you’ll have realised that the so-called police operation and all the raids and trials were just playing to the gallery? That Lucifer and his partners were left untouched by the big clear-out.’

  In all honesty we hadn’t realised that, but I chose not to say anything. I nodded silently.

  ‘Good,’ Denise said. ‘But it’s funny that hasn’t told you all you need to know. Did you say you were at Preston’s Riding School today?’

  ‘Yes. Very smart, for a riding school.’

  ‘That’s because it isn’t a proper riding school. The whole damn thing’s just a façade.’

  Really? I knew what façades looked like. They rarely, if ever, consisted of smart buildings that were easily accessible. Besides, the riding school could boast a considerable number of successes.

  But I didn’t say that to Denise. If she wanted to believe that no horse riding took place at the school, she was perfectly entitled to do so.

  ‘A façade? Interesting,’ I said instead. ‘Intended to cover up what, exactly?’

  Denise lowered her eyes.

  ‘Not here,’ she said. ‘We’ll have to meet somewhere else to talk. You never know who’s listening here.’

  I shuffled nervously from one foot to the other. My nervousness stemmed from the fact that she was about to go, the woman we’d set such high hopes on.

  ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Where and when?’

  ‘When are you leaving?’

  ‘Tomorrow, ideally.’

  She thought for a moment.

  ‘Okay, how about this? The back of the Carlton. Do you know where I mean? It used to be fenced in, but these days it’s a big car park.’

  Lucy and I nodded like children. Yes, we knew where she meant.

  ‘Good, let’s meet there at eight o’clock this evening. I can’t get away before then.’

  She lowered her gaze, then looked up once more. She seemed genuinely frightened.

  ‘You say you’ve got a lot to lose by not talking to me. I could lose everything if I say too much. So I need to know I can trust you. One hundred per cent.’

  I looked her straight in the eye.

  ‘In less than twenty-four hours we’ll be leaving this country. You’ll never hear from us again, and we’ll never let on that you were our source.’

  My words evidently hit home. When Denise walked away I knew she would show up behind the Carlton a few hours later.

  When she turned her back on us and walked off, I caught a glimpse of the back of her neck. She was wearing a top that was cut fairly low at the back. The tattoo was right at the top of her back.

  Vega.

  Lucy saw it too.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ she said, turning pale.

  She took hold of her water glass and I could see her hand was trembling slightly. Had the reality of the story not struck her until then?

  ‘How do we know we can trust her?’ she said. ‘What guarantee do we have? I mean, she still lives in Galveston, in spite of everything that’s happened. And she still works in a hotel. Who knows who she reports to? Maybe she still belongs to Lucifer’s gang.’

  ‘I’d be inclined to agree with you if we had a choice,’ I said. ‘But for God’s sake, Lucy, we haven’t. We have to dare to tug at the few threads we’ve got left. Otherwise we’ll end up going home just as empty-handed as we arrived. And, as she made very clear, she’s got just as much reason to be frightened. I think that’s our biggest guarantee, that we’re equally exposed and on our own.’

  ‘I just hope we’re doing the right thing,’ Lucy said.

  ‘We are,’ I said firmly.

  And then I uttered a phrase that I’ve never said again since that day:

  ‘Either way, things can hardly get any worse than they already are.’

  It was meant as a joke. What I meant was: what could be worse than being accused of two murders you didn’t commit?

  I received the answer to that question thirty seconds later when Lucy had gone to the toilet and I sat at the bar and called Didrik back.

  ‘Sorry I didn’t pick up in time,’ I said. ‘We were stuck in a load of traffic.’

  ‘No problem,’ Didrik said. ‘Martin, where are you?’

  For some reason I got the impression it didn’t matter what I answered. So I chose to be honest.

  ‘I’m in Galveston, Didrik. Hopefully I’ll be home in forty-eight hours.’

  I heard Didrik breathing heavily down the line.

  ‘You can’t get back any sooner?’

  I thought about it. We could catch a flight from Houston the following morning. With a transfer in Chicago or New York we ought to be able to get home in twenty-four to thirty hours.

  ‘What’s this about?’ I said, trying to suppress the anxiety in my voice. ‘Has something happened? I mean, I’ve promised to cooperate, and of course I am, but . . .’

  Didrik interrupted me.

  ‘Martin, it’s about your parents-in-law.’

  Taken aback, I put my glass down. I didn’t have a steady relationship, I didn’t have any parents-in-law.

  Then I realised.

  ‘Oh, dear God,’ I whispered. ‘Lucy’s mum and dad. Please, tell me they’re okay.’

  It was Didrik’s turn to be surprised.

  ‘Lucy’s?’ he said first. Then, ‘No, bloody hell, sorry, Martin. My brain short-circuited. I didn’t mean your parents-in-law. I meant your sister’s.’

  It was as if the hotel bar disappeared. All sounds stopped, all sensory impressions dissolved into nothingness.

  ‘My sister’s?’

  ‘Your brother-in-law’s parents. Belle’s grandparents. The ones with the summerhouse in the archipelago.’

  As if in a trance I pulled out my other mobile. No news, no missed calls from Stockholm. I began to realise that there weren’t going to be any either. At least not from Belle’s grandparents.

  ‘What’s happened?’ I said.

  Or did I shout?

  I don’t remember.

  Didrik’s voice sounded brittle when he replied.

  ‘Martin, it feels terrible to have to tell you over the phone. At first I didn’t realise who they were, but when the penny dropped I swear we did everything we could. But we got there too late. Well, maybe not we. There was nothing the fire brigade could do when they got there.’

  The fire brigade?

  The fire brigade?

  ‘Our first thought is that it was an accident,’ Didrik said. ‘We believe that a gas stove in the kitchen caught alight, probably early this morning. As you know, they don’t have any close neighbours who could see the smoke and fire in time. The alarm was raised by someone who happened to be passing as they walked their dog. But by then it was already too late.’

  I couldn’t take in what he was telling me. It was impos
sible. Didrik himself must have been in shock, because he didn’t notice my silence and just went on talking.

  ‘Christ, Martin, I’m so sorry, for Belle’s sake. And yours. I know you liked Belle’s grandfather after all that business about who was going to look after Belle. They’re both gone. They died of smoke inhalation; they were badly burned by the time we got them out.’

  The room started to spin.

  They died of smoke inhalation.

  Both of them.

  Both?

  ‘Belle,’ I said in a voice so hoarse it was barely audible. ‘How’s Belle?’

  ‘Belle?’ Didrik said. ‘I don’t know. I assumed you’d want to tell her yourself.’

  I shook my head so hard it hurt.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ I said. ‘Belle was staying with her grandparents. They were looking after her.’

  Didrik fell silent.

  ‘For Christ’s sake, talk to me!’

  I’m sure I was yelling now. Lucy still wasn’t back. Where had she got to? I needed her. More than ever.

  ‘I don’t know what to say, Martin,’ Didrik said. ‘The bodies of four adults were found in the house. It looks like they had guests staying the night. Two men we haven’t been able to identify. But no child has been found. Not inside the house, anyway. I’ll contact the patrol out on the island. Maybe she managed to get out of the house, Martin. Because she wasn’t in there. Maybe she’s frightened and hiding somewhere. I swear – forget everything that happened before you left. You have my word that I’m going to find her.’

  I could no longer hear what he was saying. Four adults had died in the house. Belle was missing. You didn’t have to be a genius to work out that the unidentified men must be Boris’s guys, and that whoever had lit the fire had taken Belle away from there with them.

  I sank to my knees in the bar.

  I prayed to a god I didn’t know I believed in, begging him to spare her.

  ‘Take me instead,’ I whispered. ‘Take me.’

  Didrik was calling to me down the phone but I pressed the button to get rid of him. My fingers were slippery with sweat as I pulled out my other mobile. I got to my feet, my legs shaking badly. An elderly couple sitting nearby made an attempt to help me. I backed away from them.