The Lost Boy (Patrick Hedstrom and Erica Falck, Book 7)

by Camilla Lackberg

  ‘Wow, what brought that on?’ laughed Rita, turning around to put her arms around his neck. Bertil closed his eyes, realizing how fortunate he was and how rarely he thought about that. This woman in his arms was everything he’d dreamed of, and he couldn’t understand even for a second why he’d ever thought that life as a bachelor was the best way to live.

  ‘So what’s going on?’ She pulled out of his arms so she could get a proper look at him. ‘Tell me what’s happened.’

  He sat down at the kitchen table and let the words spill from his mouth. He didn’t dare look at her.

  ‘But, Bertil,’ said Rita, squatting down next to him. ‘That sounds like it wasn’t such a great move on your part.’

  Oddly enough, it felt good that she didn’t try to offer platitudes to comfort him. She was right, after all. It hadn’t been a good idea to contact the press. But he could never have imagined anything like this would happen.

  ‘What do you see in me?’ he asked at last. He looked her in the eye, as if he wanted to see what Rita’s answer would be, and not just hear the words. It wasn’t often that he made the effort to see himself through someone else’s eyes. Finding it uncomfortable and embarrassing, he’d always tried his best not to do so, but he couldn’t avoid it any longer. And right now he didn’t want to avoid it. For Rita’s sake, he wanted to be a better person, a better man.

  She looked at him without moving for a long time. Then she caressed his cheek.

  ‘I see someone looking at me as if I were the eighth wonder of the world. A man who is so full of love that he’d do anything for me. I see someone who helped bring my grandson into the world, and who is always willing to help when needed. Someone who would sacrifice his own life for a little boy who thinks that his grandpa Bertil is the best thing on earth. I see someone who has more prejudices than anybody I’ve ever met, but who is always ready to let them go when life proves that he’s wrong. And I see a man who has his flaws and faults, and perhaps thinks a little too highly of himself, but who is suffering in his soul right now because he knows that he did something stupid.’ Rita took his hand and squeezed it. ‘No matter what, you’re the one that I want to wake up next to every morning, and to me you’re as perfect as you could be.’

  The pot on the stove had started to boil over, but Rita paid it no mind. Mellberg could feel the pressure in his chest starting to ease. And in its place there was now room for an entirely new sensation. A feeling of deep gratitude.

  The sinking feeling was still there. She wondered if she’d ever be free from that insistent longing for what she knew she’d never be able to touch again. Nathalie shifted uneasily under the covers. It was early evening, too early to be in bed, but Sam was asleep, and she’d been trying to read for a while. After half an hour, though, she’d managed to turn the page only once, and she could hardly even remember what book she was holding in her hands.

  Fredrik hadn’t liked the fact that she enjoyed reading. He considered it a waste of time, and whenever he found her with her nose in a book, he would yank it out of her grasp and throw it across the room. She knew what was behind his actions. He’d never read a book in his life, and he couldn’t stand the thought that she was better educated and knew more than he did, or that she had access to other worlds. He was the smart and worldly one; her role in the relationship was to be pretty and keep her mouth shut, asking no questions and voicing no opinions. At a dinner party they’d once hosted at their home, she’d made the mistake of getting involved in the men’s discussion of American foreign policy. The views she expressed made it clear that she knew what she was talking about, and that was more than Fredrik could bear. He’d kept his temper until the guests left. Then she’d paid a high price for speaking up. At the time she’d been in the third month of her pregnancy.

  There was so much that he’d stolen from her. Slowly but surely he had taken over her thoughts, her body, her self-esteem. She couldn’t allow him to take Sam too. He was her life, and without him she was nothing.

  She put the book down on the bed and turned over with her face to the wall. Almost at once it felt as if someone had sat down on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on her shoulder. She smiled and closed her eyes. Somebody was humming a lullaby; the voice was lovely, but faint, hardly more than a whisper. She heard a child laugh. A boy was playing on the floor at his mother’s feet and listening to the song, just as Nathalie was. She wished that she could stay here for ever. Here they were safe – she and Sam. The hand on her shoulder was soft and consoling. The voice kept on singing, and she wanted to turn over to look at the child. Instead she felt her eyelids grow heavy.

  The last thing she saw in the borderland between dream and reality was the blood on her hands.

  ‘You mean Erling let you go of his own free will?’ Anders kissed Vivianne on the cheek as she came in the door.

  ‘Crisis at his office,’ said Vivianne, gratefully accepting the glass of wine that her brother handed to her. ‘Besides, he knows that we have a lot to do before the opening.’

  ‘Right. Should we go through all of that first?’ said Anders. He sat down at the kitchen table, which was covered with papers.

  ‘Sometimes it all seems so meaningless,’ said Vivianne, sitting down across from him.

  ‘But you know why we’re doing this.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ she said, looking at the wine in her glass.

  Anders suddenly noticed the ring she was wearing.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Erling proposed.’ Vivianne raised her glass and took a big gulp of the wine.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. What was she supposed to say?

  ‘Have we received all the RSVPs?’ Sensing it was time to change the subject, Anders pulled out several lists of names that had been clipped together.

  ‘Yes. Last Friday was the deadline.’

  ‘Good. Then at least that part is under control. What about the food?’

  ‘We’ve already bought everything. The cook seems good, and we have enough waiters on staff.’

  ‘Isn’t this a little absurd?’ said Anders suddenly, setting the guest lists back on the table.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Vivianne. A smile tugged at her lips. ‘What’s wrong with having a bit of fun?’

  ‘Yes, but there’s an awful lot of work involved.’ Anders pointed at all the papers on the table.

  ‘Which will result in a fabulous evening. A grand finale.’ She raised her glass in a toast to her brother and downed the rest of her wine. Suddenly the taste and smell made her feel sick. The images in her mind were so clear and distinct, despite the fact they’d come so far since then.

  ‘Have you given any thought to what I said?’ asked Anders, giving her a searching look.

  ‘About what?’ She pretended not to understand.

  ‘About Olof.’

  ‘I told you: I don’t want to talk about him.’

  ‘We can’t go on like this.’ His voice was pleading, and she couldn’t understand why. What was it he wanted? This was the only thing they knew. To keep going on. That was how they’d lived ever since they were free of him – free from the stench of red wine, cigarette smoke, and the strange odours of the men. She and Anders had done everything together, and she couldn’t grasp what he meant when he said they couldn’t go on.

  ‘Did you hear the news today?’

  ‘Yes.’ Anders stood up and began setting the table for their dinner. He gathered all the papers into a neat stack, which he placed on one of the kitchen stairs.

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I don’t think anything,’ he said, putting two plates on the table.

  ‘I went over to your place late that Friday after Matte came to Badis. Erling was asleep, and I needed to talk to you. But you weren’t home.’ Now she’d said it, now she’d given voice to what had been nagging at her. She looked at Anders, praying for some reaction that might relieve her mind. But he didn’t want to look at her. He did
n’t move, but carried on standing there with his eyes fixed on the table.

  ‘I don’t really remember what I was doing. Maybe I went for a late-night walk.’

  ‘It was after midnight. Who goes out for a walk at that hour?’

  ‘You were out.’

  Vivianne felt tears pricking at her eyes. Anders had never had any secrets from her. They’d never had secrets from each other. Not until now. And that made her more afraid than she’d ever been before.

  Patrik buried his face in her hair. For a few long minutes they simply stood like that in the front hall.

  ‘I heard,’ said Erica at last.

  The phones had started ringing in Fjällbacka as soon as the news had leaked out, and by now everybody knew. Gunnar Sverin had gone down to the basement and shot himself.

  ‘Sweetheart.’ Erica could feel Patrik’s breaths coming in a strange, choppy fashion, and when he finally pulled away from her, she saw the tears in his eyes. ‘What happened?’ she asked.

  She took his hand and led him into the kitchen. The children were asleep; the only sound was the muted voices from the TV in the living room. She gently pushed him on to a chair at the kitchen table and began fixing his favourite sandwich: crispbread with butter, cheese, and caviar, which he liked to dip in hot cocoa.

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ mumbled Patrik.

  ‘You have to eat,’ she said, using her best maternal voice as she continued making the food.

  ‘Fucking Mellberg. He was the one who started the whole thing,’ he said at last, wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeve.

  ‘I watched the news today. Was it Mellberg who …?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He’s really outdone himself this time.’ Erica stirred the O’boy cocoa into a saucepan of milk. Then she added an extra teaspoon of sugar.

  ‘As soon as we heard the shot from the basement, we knew what had happened. Both Gösta and I. Gunnar said he was going to the toilet, but we didn’t check to make sure. We should have thought …’ The words seemed to get stuck in his throat, and again he had to wipe his eyes on his sleeve.

  ‘Here,’ said Erica, handing her husband a piece of kitchen roll.

  It hurt her to see Patrik cry, because it happened so seldom. Right now she would have given anything to see him happy again. She fixed two sandwiches and poured him a big, steaming hot cup of cocoa.

  ‘All right, eat your food,’ she said firmly, setting everything on the table in front of him.

  Patrik knew there was no point resisting. Reluctantly he dipped one of the sandwiches in the cocoa until the crispbread began to soften. Then he took a big bite.

  ‘How’s Signe?’ asked Erica, sitting down next to him.

  ‘I was already worried about her before this happened.’ Patrik was having a hard time getting down a second bite of the food. ‘And now … I don’t know. They gave her a sedative, and she was admitted to the hospital for observation. But I don’t think she’ll ever really be herself again. She has nothing left.’ More tears began pouring down his face, and Erica got up to fetch another piece of kitchen roll.

  ‘What are you going to do now?’

  ‘We’ll just keep on going with the case. Tomorrow Gösta and I are driving to Göteborg to follow up on a lead. And the ME’s report from the post-mortem is due in. We have to carry on working as usual. Or rather, we need to work even harder.’

  ‘And the newspapers?’

  ‘We can’t stop them from writing whatever they want to write. But I can tell you that nobody at the station is going to have anything to say to them. Not even Mellberg. If he does talk to any reporters, I swear that I’ll bring up the matter with the police authorities in Göteborg. There are plenty of other things I could tell them too.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s true,’ said Erica. ‘Would you like to stay up for a while, or should we go to bed?’

  ‘Let’s go to bed. I’d like to crawl under the covers with you and hold you close. Could I do that?’ He put his arm around her waist.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  FJÄLLBACKA 1871

  It had felt strange to be examined by the doctor. Emelie had never been ill in her life, and she wasn’t used to the touch of a stranger’s hands on her body. But Dagmar’s presence had a calming effect on her, and after his examination, the doctor had assured her that everything looked good. It seemed certain that Emelie would give birth to a healthy child.

  As they left the doctor’s consulting room, she felt overwhelmed with happiness.

  ‘Do you think it’s going to be a girl or a boy?’ asked Dagmar. They paused for a moment to catch their breath, and she placed her hand gently on Emelie’s stomach.

  ‘A boy,’ said Emelie. And she was as certain as she sounded. She couldn’t explain why she knew that it was a boy kicking so hard inside of her. She simply knew.

  ‘A little boy. I think you’re right.’

  ‘I just hope that he’s not …’ Emelie caught herself and stopped in mid-sentence.

  ‘You hope he doesn’t take after his father. Is that it?’

  ‘Yes,’ whispered Emelie, feeling all of her joy disappear. The thought of sitting in the boat with Karl and Julian to go back to the island made her want to flee.

  ‘Karl hasn’t had an easy time of it. His father has been very hard on him.’

  Emelie wanted to ask Dagmar what she meant, but she didn’t dare. Instead, tears began spilling down her cheeks, and she felt ashamed as she hastily wiped them away on her sleeve. Dagmar looked at her with a solemn expression.

  ‘Your appointment with the doctor didn’t go well,’ she said.

  Emelie looked at her in confusion.

  ‘But I thought he said everything was as it should be.’

  ‘No, it didn’t go well at all. In fact, things are so serious that you’ll have to stay in bed for the rest of the pregnancy. And you need to be close to the doctor in case you need help. There’s no question of you getting into a boat.’

  ‘Oh. But …’ Emelie started to understand what Dagmar was saying, though she hardly dared believe her ears. ‘No, things didn’t go well at all. But where should I …?’

  ‘I have a spare room. The doctor thought it would be a good idea if you moved in with me so that someone could look after you.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Emelie, and tears welled up in her eyes again. ‘But won’t that be too much trouble? We can’t possibly pay you.’

  ‘That’s not necessary. I’m an old woman living alone in a big house, and I’d be grateful for some company. And it would be a great joy for me to help bring a baby into the world.’

  ‘It didn’t go well at the doctor’s office,’ Emelie repeated hesitantly as they approached the marketplace.

  ‘No, not well at all. He said you need to go straight to bed. Otherwise things could end very badly.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what he said,’ replied Emelie, but she could feel her heart pounding when she saw Karl in the distance.

  He caught sight of them and hurried towards them with an impatient look on his face.

  ‘That certainly took a long time. We still have a lot to do, and we need to be heading home soon.’

  He’s not usually in such a hurry, thought Emelie. Not all those times he and Julian stopped at Abela’s tavern. It didn’t matter then if they got home late. Suddenly Julian appeared behind Karl, and for a moment she was seized with such panic that she thought she might drop dead on the spot. Then she felt Dagmar link arms with her.

  ‘That’s out of the question,’ said Dagmar, her voice calm and steady. ‘The doctor has ordered bed rest for little Emelie. And he was quite insistent.’

  Karl looked bewildered. He stared at Emelie, and she could tell the thoughts were racing inside of his head like rats. She knew that he wasn’t the least concerned about her; he was merely trying to weigh the consequences of what his aunt had just told them. Emelie didn’t say a word. She rocked back and forth a bit because her feet and back ached after so much walking.

/>   ‘But that simply won’t do,’ said Karl at last, and she knew the rats were still racing around and around in his mind. ‘Who’s going to take care of the housework?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure the two of you can handle that,’ said Dagmar. ‘Boil a few potatoes and fry up some herring, and you’ll manage just fine on your own. I doubt very much that you’ll starve to death.’

  ‘But where is Emelie supposed to go? We need to tend the lighthouse, so I can’t stay on the mainland. And we can’t afford to rent a room over here for her. Where are we going to find money for that?’ His face was turning bright red, and Julian was staring at him angrily.

  ‘Emelie can stay with me,’ said Dagmar. ‘I’ll be very happy to have company, and I refuse to accept so much as an öre in payment. I’m certain that your father would think this is an excellent arrangement, but I can speak to him, if you’d like.’

  Karl stared at her for several seconds. Then he looked away.

  ‘No, that should work out fine,’ he muttered. ‘Thank you. It’s very kind of you.’

  ‘It’s my pleasure. Now I’m sure you can make your own way home in the boat.’

  Emelie didn’t dare so much as glance at her husband. She couldn’t help feeling a smile tugging at her lips. Thank God she didn’t need to go back to the island.

  17

  ‘Looks like you couldn’t sleep last night either,’ said Gösta, noticing the dark circles under Patrik’s eyes. He had shadows under his own eyes.

  ‘No, I couldn’t,’ said Patrik.

  ‘This road must seem awfully familiar to you by now.’ He glanced in the direction of Torp as they once again headed for Göteborg.

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  Gösta took the hint and leaned over to switch on the radio instead of trying to carry on a conversation with his colleague. An hour later, having listened to far too much pointless pop music, they finally reached the city.

  ‘When you spoke to him on the phone, did he sound as if he’d be willing to help us?’ asked Gösta. He knew from experience that cooperation between police districts often depended on the particular individual they happened to be dealing with. If they ended up with a surly type, it would be almost impossible to find out any information.