Guiltless

by Sten, Viveca

  The boys were at home playing computer games; they seemed to be in pretty good shape. They had both slept well over the last couple of nights, and Nora had begun to relax. Everything was going to be OK, she told herself for the hundredth time. Neither of them had been interested in coming out, but she couldn’t really blame them. She, however, was longing for some fresh air.

  After a ten-minute walk through the forest she emerged on the western shore, the fantastic view opening out before her.

  It really was stunning.

  The skerry directly opposite sparkled with snow, and the low pines were softly encased in white. Ice linked the islands, and for once there wasn’t a breath of wind.

  Nora sat down on a rock at the edge of the forest, enjoying the peace and quiet. She felt a little better today. Sandhamn had a calming effect on her, as always.

  An unexpected noise made her jump; it sounded like a twig cracking. She stood up and looked around but couldn’t see anyone, either in the forest or on the shore.

  She pushed her hands deep in her pockets and set off toward the east. If she followed the shore as far as Trouville and then cut through the forest, it would take about an hour total. It was a decent walk, and the boys would be fine while she was gone.

  After a while she had to stop to catch her breath. She leaned on a lone pine tree and glanced to the right. The shore was no longer empty; someone was a few hundred yards behind her.

  He, if it was a he, stopped when he realized she was looking at him. Nora tried to work out if he might be someone she knew, but he was too far away. She set off again but couldn’t help turning around after a little while to see if he was still there.

  He was.

  Nora kept going for a few minutes, then dropped down on one knee as if tying her shoelace. Over her shoulder she could see him coming closer. This was getting creepy; was he following her? What if the figure outside the Roséns’ house had recognized her and had come after her? It could even be the same person who had tried to get into her house last night.

  Why had she gone out that night, for goodness’ sake? It had been a stupid idea. She had put both herself and the children in danger. Henrik was right; she shouldn’t stay on the island.

  Panic made her break out into a sweat inside her thick jacket. The man was following her—that was the only possible explanation. There was no one else on the shore, and she didn’t even have her cell phone with her; she had left it on the charger back home.

  With her lips clamped firmly together, she increased her speed until she was almost running. The path leading to the village opened up among the trees ahead of her. She was a long way from home; it would take at least twenty minutes to get back. She turned her head again, hoping the man had disappeared, that she’d imagined the whole thing. But there he was. He seemed to be gaining on her; the distance between them had diminished.

  Fear flooded her body, and she broke into a run.

  Suddenly she heard a dog barking, and a second later a large black Labrador appeared among the pines. Nora recognized the dog; she belonged to her parents’ neighbor, a man in his sixties she’d known for years.

  She could have wept with relief.

  “Good girl,” she called out. “Come here, you good girl!”

  She tried to remember the dog’s name, but her memory failed her. At that moment the owner appeared and held up a hand in greeting. Nora managed a wan smile.

  “Hi. Maybe I could walk back with you?”

  “Sure—it’s always nice to have company.”

  She turned and looked back at the shore; it was deserted.

  Sandhamn 1928

  Miss Edith had had an idea. February had been unusually sunny with very little snow—plenty of cold, bright days, but it had hardly snowed at all. Now the bay was covered in shining black ice, and it was pure torment to sit in the classroom with the sun beaming outside. So Miss Edith announced that the whole school would be going ice-skating the following day. Some of the parents shook their heads and said old Magister Norrby would never have permitted such a thing, but the children were jubilant.

  They scraped together enough blades for everyone, then trooped off to the shore at Fläskberget, pushed their boots into the toe straps, and secured the ankle straps.

  Many years had passed since so much laughter was heard on the island. There were tumbles and giggles, with the little ones landing on their bottoms as the older children took the opportunity to show off. Some of the boys tried to impress the girls, while others found some long branches and set up a game of bandy.

  Karolina was with two of her girlfriends. Thorwald watched her secretly; she wobbled a lot and took short, cautious steps. Her nose was red, her face tense with effort and concentration. Her arms were outstretched as she tried not to fall over.

  She was the prettiest girl in school.

  Skating came easily to Thorwald. He’d always had good balance, and he sometimes played bandy with Arvid and his siblings.

  When Karolina suddenly went crashing down, he saw his chance. He was there in a second, holding out his hand.

  “Let me help you.”

  She looked up at him and smiled. Her skirt was spread across the ice, and she wore thick gray gloves.

  “I’m so clumsy.”

  Thorwald shook his head. All at once he realized how ugly his hat was. Vendela had knitted it from leftover scraps of wool, and he’d never liked the thing. With his other hand he swept it off and shoved it in his pocket, then he helped Karolina to her feet. She almost fell again, but he caught her. His heart was pounding like a sledgehammer, and he could have held on to her for the rest of his life.

  She regained her balance and let go of his hand. Thorwald offered his arm as politely as he could.

  “Would you like to skate with me for a while?”

  She looked at him shyly.

  Say yes, he thought. Please say yes.

  “Don’t you want to play bandy with the others?”

  He shook his head, searching for something to say that wouldn’t sound dumb. But Karolina solved the problem by tucking her arm in his.

  She only came up to his shoulder, and Thorwald was surprised at how small she seemed. He had shot up over the past year, and Vendela had had to let down his pants several times. He was almost as tall as his father, and his voice had deepened; it was no longer a child’s voice, although it hadn’t completely changed yet.

  He began to move across the ice, and Karolina did the same. Before long she grew more confident, and Thorwald extended his stride. Soon they were crossing the whole bay, back and forth as the sun sparkled on the ice. Far away a flock of birds rose into the air, a beautiful sight against the pale-blue sky.

  “Are you OK?” He had to bend his head to look her in the eye.

  “Yes!” She gave him a huge smile with deep dimples; her braids were dancing as she squeezed his arm tighter. “This is so much fun, Thorwald!”

  She laughed, and he joined in, feeling freer than he’d ever imagined. He never wanted this moment to end.

  Thorwald couldn’t understand why Karolina liked him, but he was grateful every single day. He was constantly worried that she would change her mind, but as time went by he began to feel more secure.

  At first, when she sought him out after school, he hardly dared believe it was true, but her sincere smiles convinced him. They got into the habit of strolling in the forest for a while in the afternoons, or going over to the southern shore. They didn’t say much; there was no need. Sometimes they would simply sit on a rock, gazing out across the sea.

  Even when she was running around the schoolyard like quicksilver with her friends, he knew she was thinking about him. A secret glance, a half smile.

  She was a miracle, and for the first time in his life, Thorwald thanked God. He said his bedtime prayers with sincerity and intensity, and most of all he prayed that Karolina would remain his beloved. Forever and ever.

  CHAPTER 36

  “He’s here—interview room th
ree.” Thomas had appeared in the doorway of Margit’s office. “Coming?”

  Jakob Sandgren was tall, around six four, Thomas guessed. He seemed like a smart young man. His hair was neatly parted on the side, and he was in fashionable worn jeans and an expensive V-neck sweater.

  He shook hands politely with both officers.

  Certainly knows how to present himself, Thomas thought. It came as no surprise that Sandgren was indeed a student at the Stockholm School of Economics. Both his clothing and his manner confirmed Thomas’s prejudices about that elite establishment. Sandgren showed no sign of nerves; he was so calm he could practically have been at the station on some kind of tour.

  Thomas switched on the tape recorder and gave the date and names of those present.

  “We need to talk to you about Lina Rosén,” Margit began. “I’m assuming you know what happened?”

  Sandgren nodded. “She went missing back in the fall.”

  “New developments have given us reason to believe she’s dead. You knew Lina, didn’t you?”

  Sandgren sat up a little straighter and crossed his arms. “Yes.”

  “How well did you know each other?”

  “My parents have a summer cottage in Trouville, so do hers.”

  “Were you close?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “Didn’t you have a relationship?”

  Thomas contemplated Jakob Sandgren. He seemed so young. Thomas could no longer remember what it felt like to be in his twenties. This guy was an adult, with a physique that spoke of regular visits to the gym, but his cheeks hadn’t quite lost their baby fat. You have brilliant prospects, he thought. Have you ruined everything by taking the life of a young girl, or is it just bad luck that you’re here right now?

  Sandgren’s shoulders slumped a fraction.

  “We were together last summer, but it didn’t last long.”

  “Why not?” Margit asked.

  “It just didn’t.”

  “No particular reason?”

  “No.”

  “How would you describe your relationship?”

  “Good, I guess.”

  “Could you tell us a little more?”

  “We liked each other, but then we broke up.”

  “Was she afraid of you?”

  Silence.

  Jakob Sandgren looked confused; the conversation had taken an unexpected turn. “Why would she have been afraid of me?” he asked eventually.

  “Why don’t you tell us, Jakob?” Margit asked. “Can’t you think of any reason?”

  Margit was going in hard. If there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was men who abused women.

  Thomas tried to signal to her to rein it in a little. They didn’t want to spook Sandgren; better to lull him into a sense of security, then get him to give himself away.

  If he was hiding something, of course.

  “What are you trying to say?” Sandgren’s tone was a little more aggressive now. “We were together for a while, then it ended. That’s what happens. I’ve been with plenty of girls on Sandhamn. I can’t help it if they like me.”

  He sounded far too cocky, and Margit couldn’t stop herself.

  “Did you hit her?”

  She definitely hadn’t picked up on Thomas’s signal. The question caught Sandgren off guard, but he quickly pulled himself together.

  “No.”

  “We actually have witnesses who say that you did.” Margit smiled sweetly. “On several occasions.”

  “That’s a lie.” Sandgren brushed back his hair. “And if you want me to answer that kind of question, I insist on a lawyer. It’s my right.”

  “Absolutely,” Margit said. “But that means you’ll have to stay here until we can get hold of someone. Wouldn’t it be better to just get this little chat out of the way?”

  Thomas decided to step in. He didn’t want an official reprimand for pushing it without a lawyer present.

  He could just imagine Sandgren’s rich parents moving heaven and earth if they felt the cops had gone too far with their precious son. No doubt they had excellent contacts that they wouldn’t hesitate to exploit; that kind of family usually did. The police had learned that Jakob’s father was a successful real estate developer and his mother was a plastic surgeon. They were clearly very comfortable—too comfortable, it seemed, given their son’s habits and alleged behavior.

  “We just want to ask you a few more questions, Jakob,” Thomas said in a conciliatory tone. “For example, we’re wondering where you were during the weekend of November third to fifth last year?”

  Sandgren was paler than he’d been at the start. He pushed his hair back again, revealing a pink scar on his right temple—irregular and just over an inch long.

  “I was on Sandhamn with my parents,” he mumbled.

  “All weekend?”

  “Yes. My younger brother was there, too.”

  “You know of course that’s when Lina Rosén disappeared.”

  “Yes, but that has nothing to do with me.”

  His eyes were wide. Innocent. But Thomas sensed calculation behind the frank expression.

  “I’d like to call my parents now,” Sandgren said. “I want my father here.”

  Thomas and Margit exchanged a glance; they couldn’t say no.

  “I just have one more question,” Margit said. “That scar on your temple—where did it come from?”

  Sandgren’s right hand immediately flew up; he ran his fingers along its length.

  “I was taking part in a yacht race. We tried to turn and misjudged the maneuver. The boom hit me.”

  “It must have been one hell of a blow,” Margit said.

  The softness in her voice made Sandgren relax, and he nodded.

  “Yeah, knocked me out. There was blood everywhere. We had to drop out of the race, and a helicopter took me to the hospital.”

  “When was this?”

  “About four years ago.”

  “Any lingering effects?”

  He pulled a face.

  “I get pretty bad headaches if I’m stressed, but otherwise I’m OK.”

  “Have you noticed any difference when you drink alcohol?” Thomas asked.

  Jakob Sandgren thought for a moment before he replied.

  “I guess so. I can’t drink like I used to. If I’m not careful, sometimes I’ll do dumb stuff and not even remember.” A wry smile. “But my friends make sure I hear all about it.”

  “Could you give us an example?”

  “I don’t know . . .” He grinned. “Just like, said some stupid stuff.”

  “Are you sure you can’t give us an example?” Margit’s eyes were suddenly like chips of ice as she leaned toward Sandgren. “Maybe you threatened someone? Lina, for instance? You gave her a little slap now and then, didn’t you? When she deserved it, and you were so drunk you couldn’t stop yourself.”

  Her words sliced through the room like a razor blade.

  Jakob Sandgren swallowed hard, but before he could speak, Thomas’s cell phone rang. He rejected the call, but the interruption was enough to give Sandgren space to recover. The young man shifted in his chair and spread his hands wide in a disarming gesture.

  “I never slapped or threatened Lina, like I already told you people. And I’m not going to answer any more questions until my father gets here.”

  Thomas cursed silently; why hadn’t he switched off his phone? The call couldn’t have come at a worse moment. They had been on the verge of catching Sandgren unawares, but now it was too late. His composure was striking, but Thomas wasn’t too surprised. Children from that social class were brought up to demonstrate a confidence that stayed with them all their lives. There was none of the contempt toward the cops so evident in problem-ridden neighborhoods, no trace of the nerves that a young person might be expected to display in this situation.

  Thomas realized they weren’t going to get any further right now. But we’re not done with you, he thought as he got to his feet. Not b
y a long shot.

  Sandhamn 1928

  Water was dripping from the eaves, and the ice that lingered in the Skärkarlshamn inlet was beginning to break up. Tomorrow was April 14—the endless winter was over at last.

  Thorwald was sitting in the classroom, daydreaming. The last class was coming to an end, and tomorrow they had the day off. He might row out with Great-Uncle Olle to lay drift nets for the spring herring.

  By the wall of the building opposite, a few snowdrop flowers had raised their sleepy heads, and the downy catkins of a willow sapling whispered of better days to come.

  Thorwald was feeling optimistic; he liked the tasks that came with the spring. He had to help tar the skiff and put it in the water, check and splice the ends of all the ropes. There was a lot to do after school, but he didn’t mind; in fact, he longed for classes to end so he could go out in the sunshine, down to the harbor. The place was buzzing with activity, the air filled with the smell of tar and seal oil.

  Great-Uncle Olle tended the nets; he would sit on the bench repairing any holes. When he’d finished he would fill a huge pot with water and add potash, birch, and alder bark. As soon as it came to the boil he would dip the nets; this stopped them from rotting, and they lasted much longer.

  “Thank you for today, children,” Miss Edith said, closing her book. “God bless you all.”

  “Thank you, Miss Edith,” the pupils chorused.

  Thorwald looked for Karolina; she was standing with some of the other girls, gesticulating animatedly as she talked. Slowly he gathered up his things and made his way to the coatroom. He lingered there for a moment, trying to stay close to her without making it too obvious. When the girls went outside, giggling among themselves, he followed at a safe distance.

  “Are you coming down to the jetty, Thorwald?” Arvid called out.

  He shook his head. “Later.”

  All the other girls had disappeared. Through the window he could see Miss Edith cleaning the chalkboard with a damp cloth. Karolina was standing by the gate, fiddling with the latch.

  Thorwald straightened his shoulders and wandered over to her, trying to look as if he’d just happened to notice her there. Her beaming smile told him she wasn’t fooled for a second. The spring sunshine had brought out a dusting of freckles on her nose, and those lovely blue eyes glowed with happiness.