Buried Lies

by Kristina Ohlsson

  My throat stung when I breathed. I clutched the bag to my chest.

  ‘That sounds good,’ I said. ‘I’ll do anything. Anything at all.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it,’ the voice said. ‘I’d do the same if I were you.’

  ‘I don’t care about anything that’s happened,’ I said. ‘I don’t even care if I get convicted of those murders. Just give Belle back to me. Please.’

  Up to that moment I was a man who hadn’t used the word please in that sense since I was seven years old and learned that it didn’t work. Pleading seemed to work for other kids, but never for me.

  ‘Okay, for the last time. I’m not responsible for the fact that you’re suspected of two homicides. Admittedly, I was planning to silence Bobby and Jenny, but using different methods. The less blood, the better the agreement. Like the one we’re looking at here, for instance.’

  An alarm started to sound in my head.

  Like the one we were looking at now.

  Exactly what had we agreed on?

  I felt sick again. Fear is an unpleasant thing, it can assume a million different colours and shapes. Beyond the fear of any agreement I might be forced to accept was an entirely different terror. If Lucifer wasn’t trying to frame me for two murders, who was?

  ‘It was both entertaining and disquieting to follow in your footsteps in Texas,’ the voice said. ‘You would have made a good policeman, Martin. You could have gone far.’

  I tried to think rationally. How much could he really know about what I knew? If he had spoken to Denise then it was all over. But if not . . .

  ‘I don’t know that much,’ I said. ‘We tried, Lucy and I. We tried like hell. But you were always one step ahead of us. No one was willing to talk to us.’

  ‘Apart from the au pair parents,’ the voice said. ‘And Jenny’s husband. And . . . Denise.’

  Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  ‘I still don’t know who you are,’ I said. ‘And I’ve got no proof. Of anything. Not for Belle’s kidnapping, not for the murders in Stockholm that Sara was accused of.’

  ‘No, you haven’t,’ the voice said. ‘And for that we are of course very grateful. But I’m afraid that isn’t enough.’

  We?

  My legs would no longer carry me. I sank to my knees, ready to be shot in the temple. I didn’t know where the conversation was going, and fear had drained me of all energy.

  ‘Get to the point,’ I said. ‘Tell me what you want so I can have Belle back.’

  I heard him take a deep breath.

  ‘I’m not a barbarian. I basically have zero interest in harming your child. But I need a promise that your investigation into my activities stops here and now. And by that I mean right here and right now. Do I have that promise?’

  At that moment I didn’t give a damn who the hell he was. I wasn’t curious, I never wanted to know. The only thing I wanted was to get my daughter back.

  ‘I promise,’ I said. ‘You have my word of honour. I swear by all that is holy – I shall never take another step in your direction.’

  ‘Excellent,’ the man said. ‘That’s the first part done, then. But do us both a favour and bear in mind the lengths I was prepared to go to in order to get hold of Belle. You know that if I really want something, nothing can stop me. I think that ought to suffice. Don’t waste time trying to hide Belle. Or Lucy, for that matter. Just stick to what we agree tonight. Then I’ll let you live. All three of you.’

  Hearing him mention Lucy and Belle’s names in the same context left me in free-fall. What we agree. Did he seriously think I had any other choice than to do exactly as I had been told?

  ‘Then we have a mutual dilemma to deal with,’ the man said matter-of-factly. ‘I would very much like to know who’s trying to frame you for those two homicides. But on that point I assume you don’t need any further motivation to realise how important it is to discover the identity of the person who would go to such lengths to be rid of you. Drag the bastard into the open. Using whatever means necessary. Find out who is pursuing you. So that we can get a bit of peace and quiet.’

  I sat there as though I’d fallen from the heavens, incapable of thinking of anything to say.

  ‘Why should you care who’s trying to frame me for two murders?’

  ‘How hard can it be to understand? I want to leave this story behind me. Stop it causing trouble. But it won’t let go of me, just keeps coming back. First when Larry Benson recognised Sara and kicked off the murder investigation. And now you’ve started digging about in the same mess. Naturally I shall conduct my own research to find out who is after you, I need to ascertain what the individual in question knows. But my resources in Scandinavia are limited. Which leads us neatly to the last point I want to discuss with you before we hang up.’

  But I didn’t want to hear the last point. Not yet. A glimmer of rationality broke through all the panic. What the hell was he saying?

  ‘It was you who framed Sara for those murders, no one else,’ I said.

  ‘Correct. But that wasn’t the plan back at the start. That was something I had to come up with once things had started to move. It didn’t strike me as even remotely possible that a police officer would recognise Sara from a picture that was several years old. Naïve of me, perhaps, but such is life.’

  My thoughts were swirling faster now. Too fast.

  ‘So what was your plan? If you weren’t trying to get Sara arrested?’

  The man took a deep breath.

  ‘She was supposed to get arrested. But just for the murders in Stockholm. And only if she didn’t do what I wanted. It was never about anything but the kid. But she didn’t want to surrender him voluntarily.’

  ‘Why didn’t you take him when you had the chance? After all, you had several years in which to do it.’

  ‘You mean I should have just snatched him away from Sara. That would have let her off the hook in a way she didn’t deserve. Besides, it’s dangerous to deprive a vulnerable person like Sara of the only thing she holds dear. There was a risk that she’d go to the police and lay all her cards on the table. So I needed some kind of hold over her. To make sure I could control her.’

  ‘So you threatened her?’ I said. ‘To make her surrender the boy to you of her own volition?’

  ‘Well, maybe not quite of her own volition. Once a year I went to Sweden and asked her to come back to the States with me. And every time she said no, I made sure I got rid of another person she could be linked to.’

  ‘All that, just to force her to capitulate one day? Did she know about the murders?’

  ‘Of course she did. That was the whole point. It was a simple choice. Either she and the child came back to the States with me. Or she stayed in Stockholm and lived with the consequences. Every time she said no, an innocent person died. Someone whose murder she risked being accused of. But I honestly never thought we’d get to that point. I assumed she would soften. And I also knew that she wouldn’t be able to keep quiet, and would tell the friends she still had in the US. Which was fine. It’s important to make an example of someone.’

  ‘And you did all this yourself? Or did you send an underling?’

  ‘This was and is personal. I did everything myself.’

  ‘How did you choose the victims? How did you know which people Sara knew or had been in contact with?’

  ‘You ask far too many questions. I let her choose. Which was nice of me, don’t you think?’

  The awareness of what I was up against was paralysing. It was screwed up beyond belief.

  ‘So what happened?’ I said quietly. ‘The Americans suspected Sara of the murders in Galveston and Houston and contacted the Swedish police. She was called to an initial interview and denied everything. Then what?’

  ‘I realised that she actually risked being convicted of those two murders. And I was concerned that her defence would be based upon her links to me. That she would try to bargain for her freedom by volunteering crucial information about my network and
activities to the police. So I went in and sorted things out. I made sure the police found out about the three murders in Sweden as well, making Sara look like a serial killer who had run amuck in two continents.’

  ‘All to make yourself invisible,’ I mumbled.

  ‘Exactly. But Sara needed something in exchange, of course. So I promised that if she confessed to the five murders, I would leave the child alone.’

  The irony stung like disinfectant in an open wound. Because there I was, in possession of the whole truth. And the man who had asked for it, Bobby, was dead. I had no one to share my tragic triumph with.

  My fingers moved over the wet wall behind me. The bricks were cold and slippery.

  ‘You’ve told me everything else, so tell me where Mio is now,’ I said. ‘Don’t try to claim that you abandoned your efforts to make him your child just because you’d made a promise to Sara. I don’t believe that.’

  Nor had Sara, I realised. That was why she had escaped. To save Mio.

  ‘Of course I had no intention of letting Mio go,’ the voice said. ‘But I was planning to wait until after the trial. That was a big mistake.’

  ‘You didn’t have time to take him,’ I said. ‘Sara got there first. She . . .’

  ‘She tried,’ the voice interrupted. ‘God knows, she tried. But she wasn’t sure she could do it on her own. And her escape plan had to succeed, of course. So she asked Jenny for help.’

  I nodded slowly. The picture was getting clearer and clearer. But not in the way I had expected.

  ‘But Jenny didn’t succeed with her mission either,’ the voice said. ‘According to their plan, Jenny was going to take Mio to safety. It wasn’t a particularly good plan. It was based on such improbable factors as Sara managing to escape and then joining them. Really, what place on earth could be so remote that they would never be discovered?’

  My stomach was cramping. Images of Belle in her grandparents’ summerhouse brought tears to my eyes. I knew better than anyone that there were no safe places to hide if it happened to be Lucifer you were running from.

  ‘Where is he?’ I said. ‘Where’s Mio?’

  ‘That’s precisely what I don’t know,’ the voice said. ‘Do I have to point out that I find that really fucking annoying?’

  I didn’t understand. Sara hadn’t killed Mio, as the police thought. And he wasn’t with Jenny, as Lucy and I had guessed. And now Lucifer was saying that he didn’t know where the child was either.

  ‘I thought you said there were no safe places to hide?’ I said.

  The brick wall took the weight of my body as I leaned back against it. Rainwater streamed down my face. I didn’t care. Cold or warm, wet or dry. Nothing mattered.

  ‘Not for anyone whose identity I know. Like Sara. And you. But that’s the problem. I don’t know who took the boy.’

  So you don’t know where to start looking, I thought.

  ‘How do you know he isn’t dead?’ I said.

  It was a terrible question, but I didn’t think I owed the man on the phone any great sensitivity.

  ‘I spoke to Sara after she escaped,’ the voice said. ‘She was utterly hysterical. The boy had gone missing from his preschool and she was sure I’d taken him. Later, once things had calmed down, I contacted Jenny. She said that was why Sara had jumped from the bridge that night. Because she was certain I had Mio, even though I denied it.’

  ‘But you hadn’t?’

  ‘No.’

  I didn’t know what to think or say. Mio wasn’t my boy. Everyone who had ever wished him well was dead. Yet I still couldn’t help wondering. If neither Sara, Jenny nor Lucifer had taken him, where was he?

  ‘I want you to find him for me, Martin. That was the last point we needed to discuss. I want Mio.’

  I stood up. My whole body was shaking. With fear, cold and anger. It evidently didn’t make any difference how much effort I put into moving on, moving forward. It was as if I was caught in a huge spider’s web. Impossible to escape.

  ‘I won’t be able to find him,’ I said. ‘Believe me, if I had even the weakest clue to go on . . .’

  ‘You’ll just have to do your best,’ the voice said. ‘Someone’s got Mio, and you’re going to find out who. That’s all there is to it.’

  ‘You just want a name?’

  ‘Exactly. Then I’ll fetch the boy myself.’

  I stood in silence on the pavement. So fucking alone. So beside myself with anxiety and objections.

  ‘And if I fail?’ I said.

  My voice was weak, and I hated the inferiority it betrayed.

  ‘I think the situation is as follows, Martin: you won’t be able to let go of this story without finding Mio. Ultimately the whole thing is about him. Whether we like it or not. So it’s in your own interests to track him down. Obviously I shall take a number of measures to locate him, but, let me repeat, I have limited resources. I need someone in Stockholm who can help me. I want that person to be you. And, for the sake of clarity – this is a non-negotiable wish.’

  Problems the size of icebergs loomed up ahead of me, joining those that were already there.

  ‘I’m already in the shit,’ I said. ‘I can’t afford to start running errands for the mafia.’

  ‘You aren’t going to be running errands,’ the voice said angrily. ‘You’re going to help me find the boy. No more, no less.’

  I swallowed hard.

  ‘And when do I get Belle?’

  The moment I said my child’s name, the dark blue summer’s night was split by a bolt of lightning. It lit up the street I was standing on. A taxi was waiting some distance away. There was no one but the driver in it.

  The rain that followed was like nothing I had experienced before. I ended up as wet as if someone had thrown buckets of water at me. Even so, I couldn’t bring myself to move.

  That business of time standing still – I know it’s true now. I held my breath and waited for what he would say next.

  Give her to me, I thought. Let me have her back and I’ll do anything.

  ‘According to the original plan, Belle was kidnapped to make you stop. To put a stop to everything, really. Both you and we needed a break. The fire made you go home from Texas quick as hell, and gave you a certain respite from the police. And I wanted to give you a warning. So that you would end up as willing to cooperate as you say you are now.

  ‘I’ll do anything,’ I said hoarsely.

  I scraped my fingers against the bricks.

  Say it, for God’s sake. Say I can have her back.

  ‘Belle will be in your hotel room when you get back.’

  I slid down towards the gutter. My back scraped the wall as the water from above did its best to drown me. I no longer knew what was rain and what were tears on my cheeks.

  ‘Thank you,’ I whispered. ‘Thank you.’

  As if I owed the man on the phone a huge favour. I suppose I did. But not the way you usually imagine someone to express gratitude.

  All the cold and wet had numbed me, left me impotent. I was an incompetent wreck who had got caught in the gutter. The rain would wash me away at any moment. I was going to get Belle back. Everything else was secondary. And in truth – I didn’t need any warnings. I had already understood that I had nothing to gain from hiding my nearest and dearest away.

  ‘How do we stay in contact?’ I said.

  ‘I’ll be in touch,’ the voice said curtly. ‘Two more things. Firstly, if it hasn’t already been made clear enough: from now on you stop telling the police what you do and don’t know. I assume you appreciate that?’

  I did. I had already told Didrik everything I had found out in Texas. Even if he probably wouldn’t do a damn thing with the information. And he wasn’t going to get any further details.

  ‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘And secondly?’

  ‘Secondly: I’m not Lucifer.’

  I almost dropped the phone. Quarter of an hour ago I had been certain Sheriff Stiller was Lucifer. Then my mobile had rung and I h
adn’t recognised the voice. So Lucifer had to be someone else. Now I was suddenly back with the same thought I had had a short while before.

  ‘I realise that I let you believe I was Lucifer throughout this conversation, but that isn’t the case. I am merely an associate. An assistant. A very senior assistant. You can think of me as a deputy. Lucifer sends his best wishes.’

  I opened my mouth, then closed it again.

  ‘Take care of yourself, now, Martin,’ the voice said. ‘We’ll be in touch. And don’t forget what I said. It’s all about Mio.’

  Then he was gone.

  I looked at my phone as if I’d never seen it before. As if I didn’t understand how it worked. Then I managed to make my clumsy fingers work. I called the only person who could confirm that Lucy was still there. As the call went through I thought how ironic it was that in spite of the fact that I’d taken a hundred steps forward, I was back standing where it had all begun. With someone telling me that I couldn’t ignore Mio’s fate.

  Eventually Lucy answered. Despite the note she had left at the hotel, despite wanting to be alone.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I said.

  Or did I sob?

  ‘Of course I am,’ she said.

  Then, with a little more doubt than before: ‘I always am, Martin.’

  50

  There was never any hope of restraint. I tried to stop myself, but of course it was impossible. I ran over to the taxi that was parked up a short distance away. It was busy, the driver was waiting for a customer. I turned and ran on. I ran so fast it felt like my lungs were on fire. Because I wanted proof that I hadn’t been tricked. That I hadn’t managed to lose Belle by being clumsy or naïve.

  I hadn’t. The next taxi I hailed was free.

  Exactly as promised, Belle was in my room waiting for me. She was sound asleep, but there was nothing wrong with her breathing. Belle was alive, and she was in my room.

  And Lucy was on her way.

  I kicked my shoes off, shrugged off my jacket and climbed onto the bed. Carefully I lay down beside Belle and held her. Not too hard, I was still soaked after all that rain. Her hair smelled faintly of smoke, which brought tears to my eyes and made me clutch her tighter.