‘But he doesn’t have anything up his sleeve, does he? I mean, how could he possibly say that you’re a bad mother? If anyone has good reason to deny someone custody, it’s you.’
‘Sure, but Lucas seems to think that if he makes up enough stuff, something is bound to stick.’
‘But what about your police report on him, for child abuse? Shouldn’t that count for more than anything he could ever make up?’
Anna didn’t reply, and a nasty thought popped into Erica’s brain.
‘You never reported him, did you? You lied to my face and said you reported him, but you never did it.’
Her sister refused to look her in the eye.
‘Well, answer me. Is it true? Am I right?’
Anna’s reply sounded peevish. ‘Yes, you’re right, dear big sister. But please don’t judge me. You haven’t walked in my shoes, so you don’t know a thing about the way things are. Constantly living in fear of what he might do. If I’d reported him he would have hunted me as far as I could run. I hoped that he’d leave us alone if I didn’t go to the police. And it seemed to work at first, don’t you think?’
‘Okay, but now it’s not working. Damn it, Anna, you have to learn to think farther than the end of your nose.’
‘That’s easy for you to say! You sit here with all the security anyone could ask for, with a man who worships you and would never harm you. And now you even have money in the bank after that book about Alex. It’s fucking easy for you to say! You don’t know what it’s like to be alone with two kids and slave to put food on the table and clothes on their backs. Everything always goes so well for you. And don’t think I haven’t seen the way you look at Gustav with your nose in the air. You think you know so fucking much, but you don’t know shit!’
Anna refused to give Erica a chance to reply to her outburst. She hurried off towards the square with Adrian in the wagon and Emma firmly in hand. Erica was left standing on the pavement with tears rising in her throat. She wondered how things could have gone so wrong. She hadn’t meant any harm. All she wanted was for Anna to have the life she deserved.
Jacob kissed his mother on the cheek and shook hands formally with his father. Their relationship had always been this way. Distant and correct rather than warm and hearty. It was odd to view his father as a stranger, but that was the most apt description. Certainly he’d heard the stories about how his father had watched over him day and night at the hospital along with his mother, but he had only a foggy memory of that time. It had not brought them closer together. Instead he had been close to Ephraim, whom he often regarded as more of a father than a grandfather. Ever since Ephraim saved his life by donating his own bone marrow, he had worn a hero’s halo in Jacob’s eyes.
‘Aren’t you going to work today?’
His mother sounded as anxious as usual as she sat next to him on the sofa. Jacob wondered what sort of perils she thought lurked round the corner. She had spent her whole life as if balancing on the edge of the abyss.
‘I thought I’d go in a little later today. And work some this evening instead. I had an urge to drop by and see how things were with both of you. I heard about the broken windows. Mamma, why didn’t you call me instead of Pappa? I could have been here in no time.’
Laine smiled lovingly.‘I didn’t want to bother you. It’s not good for you to get upset.’
He didn’t answer, but gave her agentle smile.
She put her hand on his. ‘I know, I know, but let me have my way. It’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks, you know.’
‘You’re not old, Mamma, you’re still just a girl.’
She blushed in delight. This exchange was an old game of theirs. He knew that she loved to hear such comments, and he gladly offered them. She hadn’t had an easy time of it with his father over the years, and compliments were hardly Gabriel’s strong suit.
Gabriel snorted impatiently from his armchair. He got up.
‘Well, now the police have spoken with your good-for-nothing cousins, so let’s hope they’ll shut up for a while.’ He started towards his office. ‘Do you have a minute to look at the figures?’
Jacob kissed his mother’s hand, nodded, and followed his father. Gabriel had begun involving his son in the affairs of the farm several years ago, and his training was still ongoing. His father wanted to assure himself that one day Jacob would be fully capable of taking over from him. As luck would have it, Jacob had a natural talent for running a farm, and he handled the accounts as well as the more manual tasks splendidly.
After sitting with their heads together over the books for a while, Jacob stretched and said, ‘I thought I’d go upstairs and visit Grandpa. It’s been a long time since I’ve been up there.’
‘Hmm, what? Oh fine, go ahead.’ Gabriel was deep in the world of numbers.
Jacob went upstairs and walked slowly towards the door leadingto the left wing of the manor house. That was where Grandpa had lived out his days until his death, and Jacob had spentmany hours of his childhood up there.
He stepped inside. Everything was untouched. It was Jacob who had asked his parents not to move or change anything in the wing, and they had respected his wish, well aware of the unique bond that tied him to Ephraim.
The room bore testimony to strength. The decor was masculine and muted. It differed sharply from the rest of the manor’s bright decor, and Jacob always felt like he was stepping into a whole other world.
He sat down in the leather armchair by the window andput his feet up on the ottoman. As a boy he had curled up on the floor at his grandfather’s feet like a puppy and reverently listened to his stories from the old days.
The stories about the revival meetings had excited him. Ephraim had described in great detail the ecstasy visible in people’s eyes and how they focused completely on the Preacher and his sons. Ephraim had a voice like thunder, and Jacob never doubted that it could hold people spellbound. The parts of the stories he loved best were when Grandpa told him about the miracles that Gabriel and Johannes had performed. Each day had brought a new miracle, and for Jacob this seemed quite amazing. He never understood why his father refused to talk about this period in his life; instead, Gabriel seemed ashamed of it. Imagine having the gift of healing: to be able to cure the sick and heal the lame. What sorrow the brothers must have felt when the gift vanished. According to Ephraim, it disappeared overnight. Gabriel had shrugged his shoulders, but Johannes had been in despair. He prayed to God at night to give him back the gift, and whenever he saw an injured animal he ranover tried to conjure up the power he had once possessed.
Jacob never understood why Ephraim laughed so heartily when he talked about those days. It must have been a great sadness for Johannes, and a man who stood so close to God as the Preacher did should have understood that. But Jacob loved his grandfather and never questioned anything he said, or the way he said it. In his eyes his grandfather was infallible. After all, he had saved Jacob’s life. Not through laying on of hands perhaps, but by donating his marrow to Jacob and in that way life into him again. Because of that, Jacob worshipped him.
But best of all was the way Ephraim always ended his stories. He would pause dramatically, look his grandson deep in the eye, and say, ‘And you, Jacob, you also have the gift within you. Somewhere, deep inside, it’s waiting to be lured out.’
Jacob loved those words.
He had never succeeded in finding the power, but it was enough for him to know that Grandpa had said it was there. When Jacob lay ill he had tried to close his eyes and call it up, to heal himself, but he had only seen darkness, the same darkness that now held him in an iron grip.
Maybe he could have found the way if Grandpa had only lived longer. He had taught Gabriel and Johannes, after all, so why couldn’t he have taught his grandson too?
The loud screeching of a bird outside woke Jacob from his brooding. The darkness inside him again formed a tight band round his heart, and he wondered if it might grow so strong that it could make his heart sto
p. Lately, the darkness had come more often and felt tighter than ever before.
He pulled up his legs and wrapped his arms round his knees. If only Ephraim were here. His grandfather could have helped him find the healing light.
‘At this stage we’ll assume that Jenny Möller is not staying away of her own accord. We would also like to have the assistance of the public, and we ask anyone who has seen her to call us, especially anyone who saw her in or near a car. According to the information we have, she was trying to hitchhike to Fjällbacka, and any sightings connected with that are of the greatest interest.’
Patrik looked each and every one of the assembled reporters in the eye. At the same time Annika passed around the photograph of Jenny Möller. She would also see to it that all the newspapers were given a copy for publication. This wasn’t always common procedure, but at this they felt they could use the press.
To Patrik’s great surprise, it was Mellberg who suggested that he hold the hastily called press conference. Mellberg himself sat in the back of the little conference room at the station and watched Patrik, who stood up front.
Several hands were raised.
‘Does Jenny’s disappearance have any connection with the murder of Tanja Schmidt? And have you found any evidence to link the most recent murder with the deaths of Mona Thernblad and Siv Lantin?’
Patrik cleared his throat.‘First of all, we haven’t obtained a positive ID on Siv yet, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t write about that. Otherwise I don’t want to comment on what we mayor may not have concluded, so as not to hamper the ongoing investigation.’
The reporters sighed at being stymied once again by ‘investigative concerns’, but they still waved their hands in the air to ask questions.
‘The tourists have started to leave Fjällbacka. Are they right to be uneasy about their safety?’
‘There is no reason for concern. We’re working very hard to solve this case, but right now we have to focus on finding Jenny Möller. That’s all I have to say. Thank you.’
Patrik left the room despite protests from the reporters, but out of the corner of his eye he saw that Mellberg had stayed behind. He just hoped his boss wouldn’t say anything stupid.
He went into Martin’s office and sat down on the edge of his desk.
‘Jesus, it’s like sticking your hand in a hornets’ nest.’
‘Sure, but this time they might be of some use.’
‘Yes, someone might have seen Jenny get into a car, if she was hitchhiking as the boy claimed. With all the traffic on Grebbestadsvägen it would be a wonder if nobody saw anything.’
‘Stranger things have happened,’ said Martin with a sigh.
‘You still haven’t got hold of Tanja’s father?’
‘I tried again. Thought I’d wait till this evening. He might be at work.’
‘You’re probably right. Do you know if Gösta checked with the prisons?’
‘Yes, incredibly enough he did. Not a thing. There are no prisoners who’ve been locked up that whole time until now. I don’t suppose you thought there would be, either. Imean, you’d have to shoot the King or something, and even then you’d still get out after a couple of years for good behaviour. In fact you’d probably get probation after a few weeks.’ He tossed his pen onto the desk in irritation.
‘Look, don’t be so cynical. You’re way too young for that. After ten years on the job you’re allowed to start feeling bitter, but until then you have to stay naïve and put your faith in the system.’
‘Yes, old man.’ Martin gave him a limp pretend salute and Patrik got up, laughing.
‘By the way,’ Patrikwent on, ‘we can’t presume that Jenny’s disappearance has any connection with the murders in Fjällbacka. So for safety’s sake ask Gösta to check whether there are any known rapists or other sex offenders who were recently released from prison. Ask him to cross-check everyone who’s done time for rape, aggravated assault on women and so on, anyone who might be operating in the district.’
‘Good thought, but it could just as easily be someone from outside who’s here as a tourist.’
‘True, but we have to start somewhere, and this is as good as any.’
Annika stuck her head in the door. ‘Excuse me for disturbing you but Forensics is on the line for you, Patrik. Should I patch over here, or will you take it in your office?’
‘I’ll take it my office. Give me half aminute.’
He sat down in his office and waited for the telephone to ring. His heart was pounding a little faster. Hearing from Forensics was a little like waiting for Father Christmas. You never knew what surprises were going to be in the package.
Ten minutes later, he was back in Martin’s office, but he remained standing in the doorway.
‘It’s been confirmed that Siv Lantin is the secondskeleton, just as we thought. And the soil analysis is ready. We may have something useful there.’
Martin leaned forward in his chair with interest and folded his hands.
‘Okay, don’t keep me on tenterhooks. What did they find?’
‘First of all, the same kind of soil found on Tanja’s body was on the blanket she was lying on as well as on the skeletons. It means that at one time they were located in the same place. Then the Swedish Crime Lab found a fertilizer in the soil that’s only used in agriculture. They also managed to work out what type it was and the name of the manufacturer. But best of all –it’s not sold retail, but purchased directly from the manufacturer. It’s also not one of the more common types on the market. So if you could bounce a reply back to them and ask them to compile a list of the customers who’ve purchased this chemical, we might finally get somewhere. Here’s a note with the name of the fertilizer and the manufacturer. Their number is probably in the Yellow Pages.’
Martin waved his hand dismissively. ‘I’ll take care of it. I’ll let you know as soon as I get the lists.’
‘Great.’ Patrik gave him a thumbs up and drummed lightly on the door jamb.
‘By the way …’
Patrik was already on his way down the corridor and spun round at the sound of Martin’s voice.
‘Yes?’
‘Did they say anything about the DNA they found?’
‘They’re still working on that. SCL is running the analyses, and they apparently have a hell of a back-up. Lots of rapes this time of year, you know.’
Martin nodded dismally. He knew all too well. It was one of the big advantages of the winter half of the year. Lots of rapists thought it was too cold outside to pull down their trousers, but in the summertime it didn’t bother them.
Patrik hummed as he walked back to his office. Finally they had a lead. Even though it wasn’t much, at least they had something concrete.
Ernst treated himself to a hot dog with mashed potatoes on the square in Fjällbacka. He sat down on one of the benches facing the sea and kept an eye on the seagulls circling him. If they had the chance they’d snatch his hot dog from him, so he didn’t take his eyes off them for a second. Fucking dumb birds. When he was a kid he used to amuse himself by tying a fish to a line and holding the other end. When the unsuspecting gull gobbled up the fish, he would have his own living kite, flapping helplessly in the air in panic. Another favourite trick had been to sneak some of his father’s home-made moonshine and dip pieces ofbread in it. Then he would fling the bread to the gulls. The sight of them reeling in the sky always made him laugh so hard that he had to lie down on the ground and hold his stomach. He didn’t dare pull any boyish pranks like that any longer, but he wished he could. Fucking rats of the sea is what they were.
Out of the corner of his eye he spied a familiar face. Gabriel Hult pulled up to the kerb in front of the Central Kiosk in his BMW. Ernst straightened up on the bench. He had kept himself up-to-date with the investigation into the murder of the German girl, in sheer fury at being left out of it, so he knew all about Gabriel’s testimony against his brother. Maybe, just maybe, Ernst thought, there was more to be s
queezed out of that toffee-nosed fuck. The mere thought of the farm and the fields that Gabriel owned made his mouth water with envy, so it would feel fantastic to squeeze him a little. And if was the tiniest chance that he could find out something new for the investigation to show up thatfucking Hedström, then that would be a real bonus.
He tossed the rest of his hot dog and mashed potatoes in the nearest rubbish bin and sauntered over to Gabriel’s car. The silver BMW gleamed in the sunshine, and he couldn’t resist running his hand longingly over the roof. Damn, this was the car to have. He snatched his hand back when Gabriel came out of the kiosk with a newspaper, giving Ernst a suspicious glance as he stood listlessly by the passenger door.
‘Excuse me, but that’s my car you’re leaning on.’
‘Yes, it is.’ Ernst’s tone was as insolent as he dared. It was best to establish respect at once. ‘Ernst Lundgren, Tanumshede police station.’
Gabriel sighed. ‘What is it now? Have Stefan and Robert been up to something again?’
Ernst laughed. ‘I’m sure they have, if I know those two rotters, but nothing we’ve heard about at the moment. No, I have a couple of questions regarding the women who were found in the King’s Cleft.’ He nodded in the direction of the wooden stairs that wound up the side of the hill to the location that he’d mentioned.
Gabriel crossed his arms with his newspaper anchored under one arm.
‘What in the world would I know about that? I hope it’s not the old story about my brother again. Some of your colleagues have already asked me about that. First of all, it was a hell of a long time ago, and considering the events of the past few days, it should be obvious that Johannes had nothing to do with it. Look at this!’
He unfolded the newspaper and held it up in front of Ernst. The front page was dominated by photograph of Jenny Möller, next to a blurry passport photo of Tanja Schmidt. The headline, not surprisingly, was pure sensationalism.
‘Do you think my brother rose up from the grave and did this?’ Gabriel’s voice shook with emotion. ‘Howmuch time are you going to waste on interrogating my family while the real killer runs free? The only thing you have against us is testimony I gave over twenty years ago. Back then, I was positive about what I saw, but what the hell. It wasn’t really light outside, I’d been sitting by my ailing son’s sickbed, and maybe I simply made a mistake!’
Preacher Page 17
