In the Heat of the Moment (Sandhamn Murders Book 5)

by Viveca Sten

  His only consolation, if truth be told, when mother and daughter ganged up on him.

  The glint in Molly’s eye when she realized he’d given in made him smile.

  “OK, little girl, you win,” he said, patting her soft head. “We’ll take a walk.” He tried to adopt a stern expression. “But then we’re going back to bed, you hear me?”

  Molly wagged her tail, and Pelle pulled on his jeans. He grabbed a sweater from the back of a chair and stuck his feet into a pair of worn sneakers. He would try and rest for a while when they got back; it had been nearly impossible to get to sleep last night.

  His house was some distance from the harbor, right by the tennis courts, but in spite of that, the noise from the disco had been inescapable. The pounding bass beat had gone right through his bones—or at least that was how it had felt when he pulled the pillow over his head to try to drown out the racket.

  He picked up Molly’s leash but let her run free. It wasn’t a problem at this hour. Nobody would mind. However, he made sure he locked the door behind him; he didn’t usually bother, but on this particular weekend, it didn’t do any harm to be a little more careful.

  Molly raced off toward the shore at Skärkarlshamn, and it wasn’t long before she squatted down. Her relief was obvious, and Pelle was a little ashamed of having made her wait so long.

  Now that he was fully awake, he could see that it was a beautiful morning. The sun was rising behind Korsö Tower; it was going to be another glorious day. The air was fresh, with the tang of salt.

  As Molly sniffed around, he stopped and fumbled in his pocket. He lit a cigarette and enjoyed the first drag. He closed his eyes for a moment, then set off after his dog at a steady pace.

  Let her run, he thought. Let her have fun. We can sleep for a while when we get home.

  He had to smile at his own sentimentality.

  From a distance, he noticed a number of tents in the sparse pine forest. The gray fabric blended well with the surroundings, where blueberry bushes and yellow-green moss grew in abundance. The vegetation looked like islands in the sand, often with a stunted pine tree as the center point of an area about three feet square that was strewn with fallen cones and needles.

  He went down toward the sea and turned right. A few hundred yards away, where the shore ended, he could just see a fence that ran all the way down to the water. Traditionally properties adjoining the beach weren’t fenced off, and this kind of behavior infuriated both the residents and summer visitors.

  In Pelle’s case, it simply increased his desire to cut demonstratively straight across the garden.

  Molly had picked up an interesting scent and headed off to the far end of the shore. He strolled after her, wondering whether to go over to Trouville, since they were out anyway. He took another drag of his cigarette and stumbled over a root in the sand. When he straightened up, he heard the dog start barking frantically. She was a short distance away in front of a lush alder with a thick trunk, just where the sand gave way to rocks, around twenty yards before that irritating fence.

  The sound shattered the peaceful morning.

  “Shh!” Pelle called out as quietly as he could. “Hush, Molly, be quiet! People are still sleeping.”

  He hurried toward her, clambering over a thick root system sticking up out of the sand.

  Molly kept on barking.

  “Quiet, Molly!”

  Pelle raised his voice, and the sharpness in his tone made her stop. Instead she began whining, a sound that came from deep in her throat. She stood her ground; she had no intention of moving.

  Pelle edged closer. He could make out something white among the greenery. He pushed aside a couple of branches, then knelt down to get a better look.

  Suddenly he understood why the dog had reacted as she did.

  On the ground, beneath the foliage, he saw a pale face with lifeless eyes.

  Molly’s cold nose against his cheek got Pelle up on his feet. His heart was pounding as he ran back home, where he had left his cell phone on the bedside table.

  CHAPTER 15

  Nora picked up her sailing jacket. Both boys were still fast asleep; they probably wouldn’t wake up while she was gone, but just to be on the safe side, she left them a note in the middle of the kitchen table.

  She was hungry but didn’t think she had time to make a sandwich. Instead, she poured herself a glass of yogurt and drank it as she stood by the sink. Then she closed the front door behind her and opened the white wooden gate, noting in passing that it would soon need repainting.

  As she hurried away from Kvarnberget, she took out her cell phone and called Jonas. He answered right away.

  “Has she come home?”

  Nora’s heart sank as she heard the hope in his voice. He must be so worried about Wilma by this stage.

  “I’m afraid not,” she said, pressing the phone to her ear. “That’s not why I’m calling; something else has happened.”

  She quickly explained the situation. “I’m on my way to the police outreach center—that’s where the girls are. I’ve promised Monica they can come back to my house for the time being.” She hesitated. “Have you told the police Wilma’s missing?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t you think you should?”

  “I haven’t seen any police officers.”

  His breathing was shallow, and he was speaking much more quickly than usual.

  “Since I’m going to the outreach center anyway, should I ask if anyone’s seen her? It can’t do any harm, can it?”

  She heard Jonas take a couple of deep breaths. “No,” he said. “No, I don’t suppose it can.”

  “Where are you?” Nora asked.

  “At the end of the farthest pontoon, opposite the Via Mare jetty. I’m trying to look on board the big yachts, but it’s hopeless. Everyone’s asleep. There’s no one to ask.”

  The Via Mare jetty was next to the gas station by the Royal Swedish Yacht Club marina. It was a long walkway reserved for a select group of members, and a code was needed to open the gate.

  Nora wanted to say something to reassure him, but she couldn’t find the right words.

  “I’m sure she’ll be in touch any minute,” she said feebly. “I bet your phone will ring as soon as we hang up.”

  She slipped her cell phone into her pocket and hurried through the narrow alleyways bordered by red-and-white picket fences. The elder bushes were in full bloom, and the clusters of lovely creamy-white flowers reminded her of how pretty Wilma had looked the previous day, dancing around the Midsummer pole.

  She passed the Divers Bar and came out into the harbor, right by the pale building that housed the island’s grocery store.

  Jonas had been right; the place was deserted. Over by the steamboat jetty, the kiosk’s gray metal shutters were down, and the clothes store opposite was also barricaded against any possible damage.

  A couple of mergansers were circling in the morning mist a short distance away. The sun was already well above Korsö Tower, but Nora thought there was a chill in the air.

  When Nora rang the bell at the outreach center, the door was opened almost immediately by a pretty police officer with Korean features.

  “My name is Nora Linde. I think I’m supposed to pick up two girls here?”

  She could hear how confused she sounded, but the police officer didn’t seem to notice. She held out her hand and introduced herself. “Anna Miller. I’ve been waiting for you. The girls are upstairs. Do you have ID?”

  “Er, yes.”

  Nora was a little taken aback, but she took out her driver’s license and showed it to Anna, who glanced at it.

  “Thank you. Felicia’s father said you’d be coming, but I just had to check.” She pointed to a staircase. “This way.”

  They’re so young. The thought struck Nora as soon as Anna opened the door and she saw the two girls.

  Narrow shoulders, medium-length hair, skinny bodies, and thin clothes. They were lying close together on a bed with
a blanket over them. One of them got up to say hello. “I’m Ebba.” Her face was stained with tears. The other girl, who must be Felicia, didn’t look much better, lying there with tousled hair. Nora couldn’t help thinking of Wilma.

  Spontaneously she gave Ebba a hug.

  “I’m Nora Linde, and I live here on Sandhamn. My mother-in-law knows Felicia’s family. That’s why I’m here. How are you both?”

  “Not great,” Ebba said quietly.

  Nora stroked her hair, just as she did with Simon when he needed comforting.

  “You’re going to come home with me and sleep for a while until your parents get here. Everything will be all right, you’ll see. Don’t worry.”

  Ebba nodded, but said nothing. Felicia was awake, though her eyes were clouded, and when Nora tried to talk to her, she simply mumbled something unintelligible.

  “OK, so they’re all yours,” Anna said. A few strands of dark hair had escaped from her ponytail, and she loosened the bobble, caught them up, and refastened it.

  “Do I need to do anything in particular?” Nora asked, suddenly unsure about what she had taken on.

  “Just let them sleep and recover. It would be good if you could get them to eat and drink something eventually.”

  “Is she suffering from alcohol poisoning?” Nora asked quietly, nodding in Felicia’s direction.

  “It wasn’t quite that bad; otherwise we’d have sent her to the hospital. But she’s definitely had too much to drink; she was completely out of it when we found her.”

  “I understand,” Nora said, even though she didn’t. These girls were barely older than Adam. Could he end up like this—brought in by the police, incapable of looking after himself? She couldn’t even imagine her son being tipsy, let alone in this state.

  “Do they really start so young?” she asked, against her better judgment.

  “You have no idea. We come across kids from junior high who are completely incapacitated, thanks to wine and beer.”

  “How is that possible? Where do they get the alcohol?”

  Anna looked at Nora as if she lived in a different universe. “They steal it from their parents, or they get their older siblings to buy it for them. There are also professional suppliers. They hang around outside schools on Fridays.” She gave Nora a sympathetic smile. “Do you lock away your alcohol at home?” she asked, as if she already knew the answer.

  Nora shook her head, feeling embarrassed. Quite the opposite: there were wine bottles on the kitchen countertop, in a carved olivewood box that she’d bought in Spain. And there was an open box of white wine in the refrigerator.

  She hadn’t even thought about putting it away, even when Wilma was getting ready for her night out.

  Stupid.

  Ebba interrupted them. “Sorry,” she said shyly, “but I was wondering if you’ve found our friends?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Anna said. “But don’t worry. I’m sure they’re just fast asleep somewhere, as you two should be.”

  The girl looks exhausted, Nora thought. Her lips were dry, her eyes dull. Nora touched Anna’s arm.

  “I wanted to ask you about something else.”

  They moved over to a north-facing window so that Ebba and Felicia wouldn’t overhear.

  “My . . .”

  She broke off. What should she call Wilma? Stepdaughter didn’t sound right; she didn’t even live with Jonas. She tried again.

  “My boyfriend’s daughter didn’t come home last night. Her father’s out looking for her. We’re pretty worried, as I’m sure you can understand.”

  Anna’s frown made Nora realize she’d been hoping for a different reaction. A warm smile, a few reassuring words about teenage girls who went out partying and failed to keep an eye on the time. Nothing to get stressed about.

  Instead, Anna asked, “When did she go missing?”

  “She was supposed to be home by one.”

  “Have you tried calling her?”

  “She’s not answering her cell phone.”

  Anna gave Nora a searching look. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said, “but it would be helpful to know if you’d had an argument before she left. If there’s any reason why she’d want to stay away?”

  “Absolutely not,” Nora said with more force than she’d intended. “She was just going to celebrate Midsummer with some friends.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Definitely.”

  There was nothing accusatory about Anna’s tone, but the question still made Nora feel guilty. As if she should have been more aware.

  Anna went on: “There were no signs of anything unusual? She wasn’t angry or upset for any reason?”

  “No. I’ve already told you.”

  Nora could hear the defensiveness in her voice, but she couldn’t help it.

  “OK,” Anna said. “What does she look like? Does she have any distinguishing features?”

  Nora described Wilma’s appearance as best she could, including her hair color and clothing.

  “I guess the three of them are pretty much alike,” she concluded, glancing over at Ebba and Felicia.

  She thought about the photo of Wilma that Jonas had as the background on his phone: the carefree smile, the blond hair.

  “Their friends are missing, too,” Anna said thoughtfully. “What did you say her name was?”

  “Wilma, Wilma Sköld. Her father’s name is Jonas Sköld, and he’s renting a house from me.”

  Why she added that last piece of information she had no idea; there was no reason to tell the police that Jonas was her tenant.

  “How old is she?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “Does she know her way around the island?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “So she’s only fourteen,” Anna repeated.

  Nora didn’t like her tone.

  CHAPTER 16

  Adrian had told Harry Anjou that he was going to get some sleep, but instead he took a walk over to the pontoon where Ebba’s friends’ boat was moored. He wanted to check it out one last time in case someone had come back by now.

  The boat was almost at the far end. It was a forty-two-foot Sunseeker with a large sundeck and white leather furniture in the stern. The first thing Adrian saw was a stain on the deck, presumably red wine. Ebba had said the vessel belonged to the father of one of her friends; no doubt he would be less than amused when he saw it.

  It looked as if the door was slightly ajar. Was someone there? He climbed on board, pushed the door open, and peered inside.

  “Hello?” he called out.

  No response.

  When his eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, he saw a galley and dining area; the décor was high end, with shining wooden surfaces and a beautiful mahogany floor. There were empty beer cans in the sink and several bottles on the table. An energy drink had rolled into the corner.

  A boy was asleep, lying on his stomach on the generous sofa. He had curly red hair and was fully dressed.

  “Hello,” Adrian repeated, louder this time.

  No reaction.

  After a brief hesitation, he went down and inspected the spacious cabin. A bookcase contained a number of titles associated with sailing, and the floor was strewn with cushions with a design of signaling flags.

  A door with a brass handle led to a double berth in the bow. When Adrian peeped in, he found a couple who were also fast asleep. The girl was wearing only her panties; the sheet had slipped down and was entangled between her legs. The boy next to her was on his back, his mouth open.

  The narrow space stank of booze.

  Adrian backed out and turned around. He went over to the teenager on the sofa and gave him a gentle shake. When nothing happened, he did it again, less gently this time.

  “What the fuck,” muttered the boy, opening his eyes. When he registered Adrian’s uniform, he blinked.

  “I haven’t done anything,” he said immediately. He sat up, totally bewildered, with his red hair sti
cking out in all directions.

  “What do you want? Has something happened?”

  Adrian realized he’d frightened the boy and moved back a couple of steps.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Tobbe. Tobias Hökström.”

  “Do you know a girl called Ebba Halvorsen?”

  The boy nodded, still confused. The rough fabric on the sofa had left stripes on his cheek, where a bruise extended toward one ear.

  “Yeah, we’re in the same class.”

  “Are you aware that she spent all night looking for you and your friends?”

  “Why? She was the one who took off.”

  “But you came here together. Surely the right thing would have been to call her and let her know where you were going? She contacted us because she was so worried.”

  “She went to the cops? Is she crazy?”

  Adrian wasn’t sure how to react to this outburst. “So where have you been?” he asked instead.

  Tobbe yawned and scratched the back of his neck. “We were partying on another boat with some friends of my brother.”

  “Were you there the whole time?”

  “Think so.” Another yawn.

  “It didn’t occur to you to call Ebba?”

  “No,” Tobbe said, looking blank.

  “When did you get back here?”

  “Don’t know. Can’t remember.”

  Adrian jerked his head in the direction of the sleeping couple. “Who are they?”

  Tobbe craned his neck and peered through the half-open doorway.

  “That’s my older brother.”

  “And the girl?”

  “He met her on the other boat.” Yet another yawn. “I haven’t done anything. Can I go back to sleep?”

  Adrian thought for a moment. “We’ve picked up your friend Felicia; according to Ebba, she was looking for her boyfriend, Victor. Any idea where he might be?”