The Silent Girl (Sebastian Bergman 4)

by Michael Hjorth

  He left the fields and meadows behind and carried on along the gravel track. Ten minutes later he spotted the yellow house behind the trees, and soon he was in the garden. He had enjoyed every single step of the way, but now it was time to return to harsh reality. His phone rang and he glanced at the display: Vanja. It was a brief conversation; she and Erik had just finished with Frank, and were wondering whether to come over to the Torssons. Torkel explained that he was already there; she and Erik could go back to the station, and he would see them later.

  He had only just ended the call when his phone rang again. This time it was Fabian; the search team had more or less finished at the Bengtssons’ place and he could spare two men if Torkel had anything else for them to do. Torkel told him to send them over to the Torssons’. At the same time he picked up the heavy door knocker – a gilded horseshoe. No response. He tried again, a little harder and for longer this time. Nothing. He peered through the nearest window; there were no lights on, no sign that anyone was home. Had the family followed his advice and gone away?

  He called Fredrika at the station and got hold of both Felix and Hannah’s mobile numbers. Felix answered almost right away, and Torkel introduced himself, then asked: ‘Where are you?’

  ‘We’ve gone away for a few days, as you suggested. We’re at Hannah’s sister’s.’

  ‘When will you be back?’

  ‘I don’t know – in a couple of days I should think. Cornelia has to go back to school.’

  Torkel heard a car approaching, and saw Fabian’s car turn into the drive.

  ‘I need to talk to you. Where does Hannah’s sister live?’

  ‘Outside Falun. What do you want to talk to us about?’

  Torkel hesitated. How much should he say? Fabian had got out of the car and was walking towards him; he gestured towards the house, but Torkel shook his head and pointed to his phone. Fabian nodded to show he understood.

  ‘We’ve heard about the mining plans,’ Torkel said to Felix.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You lost a great deal of money when the Carlstens refused to sell and the whole thing fell through.’

  ‘We didn’t lose anything,’ Felix said, as if it was obvious. Torkel didn’t understand. ‘On the contrary, we gained.’

  ‘We were told that everyone except the Carlstens wanted to sell.’

  ‘That’s true, but we don’t own the land or the house. We rent the place, and the fact that the Carlstens said no meant we could stay.’

  Slowly Torkel realised the significance of what he had just been told, and he cursed Erik and his colleagues. This was something that should have emerged as soon as the four landowners affected by FilboCorp’s plans became relevant to the investigation. He shouldn’t be finding out over the phone from someone else. Still, better late than never, he thought, taking care to keep the anger out of his voice as he asked for the information he should already have had.

  ‘So who owns the land?’

  ★ ★ ★

  ‘Thomas Nordgren,’ Erik said, putting up a picture of a man in his forties. It was an enlargement of a passport photograph, and like ninety-five per cent of the population, he didn’t look his best in it. Poor focus, harsh lighting, a desire to look relaxed that actually achieved the opposite effect and a manic stare which was the result of being afraid to blink as the shutter clicked combined to produce an image that could have been taken from a criminal records database.

  However, Thomas Nordgren was not on a criminal records database.

  They had no idea where he was.

  When his name came up, Torkel tried the two numbers they had – a mobile and a landline. The mobile barely rang once before a message came on: The person you are trying to reach cannot take your call at the moment. Please try later.

  The landline rang four times, then a male voice with a broad Värmland accent spoke: Thomas Nordgren. I’m not at home. Leave a message.

  When they eventually got hold of his employer, they were informed that Thomas had been off for just under a week, and wasn’t due back until after the weekend. She had no idea what he was doing, or who might know.

  So the closest they had got to Thomas Nordgren was the photograph on the wall.

  Vanja and Torkel stared at it as Erik consulted his notebook.

  ‘As you know, he works as a gardener in Rottneros Park and lives alone in a two-room apartment in Sunne. He and his wife bought the land where the Torssons now live back in 2001. They divorced in 2009, no children.’ Erik looked up, his expression almost apologetic. ‘That’s all we’ve got so far.’

  ‘The Torssons moved in in 2009,’ Torkel said. ‘On their contract Thomas appears as the sole owner.’

  ‘He probably bought out his ex-wife,’ Vanja speculated.

  ‘That must have cost quite a bit,’ Torkel went on. ‘How much does a gardener earn? Twenty thousand a month? Twenty-two maybe?’

  ‘But in 2009 the plans for the mine were still viable,’ Vanja pointed out, realising where Torkel was going with this. ‘So he must have counted on getting his money back, and then some.’

  ‘We haven’t finished looking into his finances yet,’ Erik said. ‘We’ll know more tomorrow.’

  ‘I want to know about everyone’s finances,’ Torkel said, getting up and walking over to the display board. ‘Everyone on this list,’ he said, tapping the names Billy had written up. ‘We’ll all work on it in the morning. I still think money is our motive.’

  Vanja and Erik both nodded. Vanja glanced at her watch and stood up, interpreting Torkel’s final comments as an indication that the working day was over. Wrong.

  ‘One more thing, Vanja,’ he said as she started to gather up her things. ‘I want you to go back to Stockholm.’

  ‘Now?’ Vanja asked, automatically checking her watch even though she knew what it said.

  ‘As soon as possible. It’s time we contacted FilboCorp.’

  ‘Are they based in Stockholm?’

  ‘That’s where they have their Swedish HQ,’ Erik interjected helpfully.

  ‘And I want you to talk to him.’ Torkel pointed to the last name on the list: Stefan Andrén.

  ‘I thought he lived in London?’

  ‘He’s on a business trip to Oslo – he’ll be in Stockholm tomorrow evening,’ Erik informed her, clearly pleased to have so much information at his fingertips. ‘I’ve got his number here.’

  ‘Sebastian’s already in Stockholm – can’t he do it?’

  Torkel sighed. What the hell was wrong with everybody? Why couldn’t they just go where he sent them, where he needed them most?

  ‘Sebastian isn’t a police officer, and if he was he would be a very bad police officer, and I need someone good.’

  ‘Flattery will get you nowhere,’ Vanja said with a little smile that she hoped would hide her genuine annoyance at being packed off to the city.

  ‘I don’t need to flatter you, because I can give orders,’ Torkel said, returning her smile as he left the room and any further objections.

  ★ ★ ★

  Erik mopped up the last of the dip from his plate with a piece of bread and sat back. He didn’t usually eat this late, but he had been starving when he got home, and he had found a salmon kebab and a pot of wasabi dip left over from dinner on Saturday. He had warmed the kebab in the microwave while he put together a simple salad, and had washed down his impromptu meal with a low-alcohol beer. The recipe was from a TV cookery programme, and he actually thought it tasted better now than when it was freshly made. The chilli and ginger marinade had intensified, and the fish had taken on the flavour of the lemongrass stalks he had used as skewers.

  He put his plate and cutlery in the dishwasher, connected his phone to the stereo in the kitchen and started up his playlist while he filled the sink with water. Neither Pia nor Alma had sussed out how the combination of sink, hot water, washing-up liquid and brush actually worked, and Erik was the one who always dealt with anything that didn’t go in the dishwasher. He didn’t
mind; sometimes he enjoyed the sense of achievement as he listened to music and produced a spotless sink, draining board and hob. He much preferred this task to vacuuming and ironing, for example, which he found tedious beyond belief.

  He had almost finished and was looking forward to settling down on the sofa with the Discovery channel for an hour or so before bed when he felt a pair of hands slide around his waist.

  ‘You could scare a person, doing that kind of thing,’ he said as he turned.

  ‘How was your day?’ Pia asked, standing on tiptoe to kiss him on the lips.

  ‘Good. I’ve just been out to see Frank.’

  ‘Because of this business with FilboCorp?’

  ‘Yes. Torkel thinks that’s where the motive lies.’

  ‘Does he suspect Frank?’ Both Pia’s expression and her tone made it clear how absurd she found the very idea.

  ‘I don’t think so. The other two, Vanja and Billy, are looking into the company right now, so I reckon that’s their main focus. That and Thomas Nordgren.’

  ‘Thomas Nordgren?’ Pia raised an eyebrow.

  Erik shook his head, slightly annoyed with himself. He really ought to be more careful about what he shared with regard to the case, but he couldn’t help himself. Not when it came to Pia. She always got what she wanted.

  ‘He owns one of the properties up there, but we can’t get hold of him, and he’s been away since last week, so …’

  ‘So he’s a suspect,’ Pia finished the sentence for him.

  ‘I shouldn’t really be discussing this with you,’ Erik said with a smile, then gave her a kiss.

  ‘So don’t,’ Pia said, taking a step back and looking as if she was trying to suppress a smile. ‘Ask me about my day instead.’

  ‘How was your day?’

  ‘Pretty ordinary – I’ve fixed a date for the memorial service and set up a working party to sort it out. Things were quite boring, actually, until half an hour ago.’

  She paused, gazed expectantly at him. She was obviously waiting. Whatever she was going to tell him, she was determined to spin it out for as long as possible. She seemed happy, relaxed and fully present in a way that he didn’t see her very often, so he had no problem playing along.

  ‘What happened half an hour ago?’

  ‘I got a phone call.’

  ‘Who from?’

  ‘From Stockholm.’ She couldn’t hold back any longer; a great big smile spread across her face. ‘They want me to go down there. They want to see me at Sveavägen sixty-eight.’

  Erik knew exactly what that meant. Sveavägen 68 was an almost legendary address in the Flodin household, a kind of political Shangri-La. The headquarters of the Social Democratic Party.

  ‘Why do they want to see you?’ he asked obligingly, even though he thought he knew the answer.

  ‘Why do you think? They want to talk to me about a seat on the executive committee.’ Pia was bubbling over with joy and anticipation. She probably didn’t even know she was doing it, but she was actually jumping up and down, and her smile couldn’t get any broader. Her girlish, unaffected joy was infectious. ‘I called Mia in the district admin office and she said it’s more or less a formality – they’ve already decided.’

  She threw her arms around him, hugged him tight and ran her hands over his back.

  ‘So if you like you can have sex with an aspiring member of the executive committee.’

  To his surprise Erik discovered that the offer sounded considerably more arousing than he would have expected.

  Maria was bathing Nicole while Sebastian cleared away after dinner. They had decided on sandwiches; none of them had the energy to cook a meal, and Nicole didn’t seem to mind. Quite the reverse; she had eaten three cheese-and-pickle sandwiches. There had been no more drawings since the one where the Carlstens’ house was just visible to one side, and neither of them had pushed her. They both knew what was waiting in there. They were all happy to stay outside for a little while longer. Sebastian was impressed by the speed with which Nicole was working backwards. The trickiest thing was when trauma patients got stuck, brooding on a particular event, and were unable to move either backwards or forwards. Nicole didn’t seem to have that problem; she was demonstrating an impressive inner strength and maturity. She had the courage to remember.

  Sebastian went into the living room, gathered up the drawings and placed them in the middle of the table. He heard the bathroom door open and went to meet his guests. Maria was carrying Nicole, who was wrapped in a big white towel. The scent of soap and warm dampness followed them from the bathroom.

  ‘Could you get my case?’ Maria asked.

  ‘It’s already in your room,’ Sebastian said, leading the way. Maria put her daughter down on the bed and dug a pair of blue-and-white pyjamas out of her big black suitcase. They were kind of old-fashioned; stylish in a classic way.

  ‘Do you need anything before you go to bed?’

  ‘Just a glass of water, please.’

  ‘No problem.’

  When he came back, Nicole was already tucked up in bed. Maria was lying next to her with her arms around her. Sebastian placed the glass on the chest of drawers and turned to say goodnight. Nicole looked up at him with her big dark eyes.

  ‘I just want to say that you’ve been such a good girl today, Nicole,’ he said, perching beside her. ‘Both your mum and I are very, very proud of you.’

  Nicole nodded; she looked proud too. He smiled at her and gently stroked her cheek, then got to his feet and turned to Maria.

  ‘You only have to say if you need anything else – I’m just out there.’

  ‘There is one thing …’ she began tentatively.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s just … Nicole is much calmer when you’re in the room.’

  Sebastian waited for her to go on; he had known that ever since they were at the hospital in Torsby. Maria took a deep breath.

  ‘I think she’d like it if you lay down next to her while she falls asleep,’ she went on shyly, almost as if she had made an indecent suggestion.

  ‘Is your mum right?’ Sebastian wondered, glancing over at Nicole. A faint nod, but that was enough.

  He lay down cautiously on the narrow bed. He immediately noticed Nicole’s reaction. He looked up at Maria, but this time he was frowning.

  ‘There’s only one problem,’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘There’s no room. Come with me.’

  ★ ★ ★

  It was a strange feeling. As if someone had ripped a hole in the curtain of time, transporting him back ten years.

  He had a family again. A woman lying on one side of the double bed in his room, with him on the other side.

  A child between them.

  He had had many women in his bed over the past ten years.

  But never a ten-year-old girl.

  And yet it felt perfectly natural. That was the strangest thing of all. Perhaps it was because Nicole reminded him more and more of Sabine. Perhaps it was because for the first time in an eternity he understood what the trust of a child meant.

  A trust that demanded nothing more than to be reciprocated.

  A trust that had no hidden purpose, no ulterior motive.

  A trust that, unlike him, was totally honest.

  Perhaps it was because he was experiencing love. Tenderness. Without any trace of sex or lust.

  He had felt much of the same tenderness towards Vanja, at least when things were going well between them. But the lies were always there, always in the way.

  She didn’t know. He did.

  It was perfectly simple, and immensely complicated.

  He realised he wasn’t going to be able to sleep, so he simply lay there, enjoying Nicole’s closeness and her soft, even breathing.

  It felt wonderful.

  Maria’s voice came through the half-light: ‘Are you asleep?’

  He didn’t want to answer her. He wanted to stay where he was, in the waking dream, but s
he was a part of it. An important part, so he had to respond.

  ‘No,’ he said quietly.

  He heard her turn slightly; she obviously wanted to talk. Let the words and the thoughts come. She had kept everything inside for so long.

  ‘Things haven’t been easy for Nicole and me,’ she began tentatively. ‘She has virtually no contact with her father, so there haven’t been many men in her life.’

  He didn’t say anything. There was no need.

  ‘That’s why I felt it was important for her to spend time with her cousins, to see how a family works.’

  She paused. It was painful to contemplate what she had lost.

  ‘It’s really strange,’ she went on, speaking even more quietly. Sebastian wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t want to wake Nicole, or because the emotion was taking its toll on her voice. ‘I was so envious of Karin. So angry. We didn’t even speak to each other for years. I thought she always got what she wanted. I thought she was selfish and spoilt.’

  Maria turned a little more, and for the first time she met his gaze above the sleeping child’s head.

  ‘But she didn’t get anything for free. She worked hard, but I think she made me feel …’ Maria hesitated, groping for the right words. ‘I don’t know … I suppose I was envious because she seemed so happy.’

  A glint of tears in her eyes.

  ‘Are you ashamed of feeling that way?’

  ‘A little, maybe. But mostly I’m sad for Nicole. Now she’s all alone again. The way I’ve always felt.’

  She fell silent.

  Sebastian didn’t say a word.

  ‘Why don’t you have any children?’

  The question took him by surprise. He had been expecting and looking forward to finding out more about the woman in his bed, not this sudden change of subject, with the conversation focused on him.