‘Our hearts bled for her,’ said Tony, his expression darkening. ‘How could anyone treat a child that way?’
‘Did she get more talkative later on? Did she say anything about her parents and what happened?’
‘Eventually she did start talking more,’ said Berit. ‘But I can’t say she ever got to be talkative. And she rarely spoke about herself. She would answer questions, but she avoided looking anyone in the eye, and she never confided in us. She may have told Tess something about what she’d been through. That seems likely. It was as if those two were in their own world.’
‘What sort of background did Tess have? Why was she sent to live with you?’ Erica ate the last bite of her pastry.
‘She was orphaned after a miserable childhood,’ said Tony. ‘Her father was never in the picture, as far as we know, and her mother was a drug addict who died from an overdose. Tess came to us right before Louise did. They were the same age and looked almost like sisters. We were so happy that they had each other. They helped out a lot with the animals, and we needed all the help we could get. We had a couple of bad years with sick animals and things going wrong on the farm. Two extra pairs of hands were worth gold, and both Berit and I believe that work is a good way to heal the soul.’ He reached out to squeeze his wife’s hand. They exchanged a quick smile.
It warmed Erica’s heart to see how strong their love was even though they’d lived together for so long. That was what she wanted in her marriage with Patrik, and she thought there was a good chance their love would remain equally strong as the years passed.
‘They played a lot together too,’ Berit added.
‘Oh, right. They were always playing circus,’ said Tony, his eyes shining at the memory. ‘That was their favourite game. Playing circus. Louise’s father had once been part of a circus, and his stories must have sparked her imagination. They made a little circus ring out in the barn and did all sorts of tricks. Once I found a rope that they’d strung from the loft, and those crazy girls were planning to use it as a tightrope. They’d put hay underneath, but they could have hurt themselves badly, so we had to put a stop to that. Do you remember when the girls wanted to be tightrope artists?’
‘Yes. Those two could certainly get into mischief sometimes. And the animals were very important to them. I remember when one of our cows was sick. They sat up all night with her until she died at dawn.’
‘And they never caused you any problems?’
‘No, not those two. We had other foster children who came and went. And we had a lot more trouble with some of them. But Tess and Louise looked out for each other. Sometimes I thought they distanced themselves from reality a little too much. We never felt that we really reached them. But they seemed to be doing fine. They even slept together. If I looked in on them at night, I’d find them lying in bed face to face with their arms around each other.’ Berit smiled.
‘Did Louise’s grandmother ever come to visit her?’
‘Once. I think Louise was about ten at the time.’ She glanced at her husband, who nodded.
‘How did it go? What happened?’ asked Erica.
‘It was …’ Berit again glanced at Tony, who shrugged and then took over.
‘Nothing special happened. They sat in our kitchen, and Louise didn’t say a word. Her grandmother didn’t say much either. Mostly they just stared at each other. I seem to remember that Tess hovered outside the kitchen door, sulking. Louise’s grandmother wanted to visit with Louise alone, but I insisted on being present, and she reluctantly agreed. By that time Louise had been living with us for three years. We were responsible for her, and I had no idea how she would react when her grandmother suddenly turned up. Her visit could have summoned up bad memories for the girl, but that didn’t seem to happen. Both of them just sat there. To be honest, I don’t know why she came.’
‘Peter didn’t come with her?’
‘Peter?’ said Tony. ‘You mean Louise’s little brother? No, her grandmother came alone.’
‘What about Laila? Did she ever try to get in touch with Louise?’
‘No,’ said Berit. ‘We never heard a peep from her. I had a hard time understanding it. How could she be so cold-hearted and not even wonder how her daughter was doing?’
‘Did Louise ask about her mother?’
‘No, never. As we said, she never talked about her old life, and we never pressured her to do so. We were in constant contact with a child psychologist who recommended that we should let her decide if and when she wanted to talk about things. But of course we did ask her a number of questions. We wanted to make sure she was doing all right.’
Erica nodded, wrapping her fingers around her coffee cup to warm them up. Every time the door to the café opened, an icy gust of wind swept over her.
‘So what happened on the day they disappeared?’ she asked cautiously.
‘Are you cold? You can have my coat, if you like,’ said Berit.
Her concern made Erica realize why this couple had opened their home to so many foster children over the years. They both seemed to be tremendously kind and thoughtful.
‘No, thanks. I’m fine,’ said Erica. ‘But do you feel like you could tell me what happened that day?’
‘It’s so many years ago now, so it’s okay,’ said Tony, but Erica saw a dark shadow pass over their faces as they recalled that fateful summer day. She had read about what happened in the police report, but it was a whole different matter to hear about it from people who had actually been there.
‘It was a Wednesday in July. Not that it’s important what day of the week it was, but …’ Tony’s voice broke, and Berit gently placed her hand on his arm. He cleared his throat and went on.
‘The girls said they wanted to go swimming. We weren’t the least bit worried, because they often went off on their own. Sometimes they’d be gone all day, yet they always came home towards evening when they started to get hungry. But not on that day. We waited and waited, but the girls didn’t turn up. When it was close to eight o’clock, we realized that something must have happened, so we went out to look for them. When we didn’t find them, we rang the police. Not until the next morning were their clothes discovered out on the rocks.’
‘Did the police find their clothes, or did you?’
‘The police had organized a search party, and one of the volunteers found the clothes.’ Berit couldn’t hold back a sob.
‘They must have been pulled down by the strong undertow out there. Their bodies were never found. It was a terrible tragedy.’ Tony looked down. The event had clearly affected them deeply.
‘What happened after that?’ Erica’s heart ached at the thought of those two girls struggling in the water.
‘The police investigated and concluded that it was an accident. We … well, for a long time we blamed ourselves. But the girls were both fifteen years old, and they were used to looking out for themselves. Over the years we’ve come to realize that it wasn’t our fault. No one could have foreseen what happened. The two of them had lived long enough in confined circumstances, so we had allowed them to run free from the moment they came to stay with us.’
‘And that was wise,’ said Erica. She wondered whether the foster children who had lived with Berit and Tony knew how lucky they had been.
She stood up and held out her hand.
‘Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I really appreciate it, and I’m sorry for stirring up difficult memories for you.’
‘You also brought back some nice memories,’ said Berit, shaking Erica’s hand warmly. ‘We’ve had the good fortune to take care of many children over the years, and all of them have left an impression. But Tess and Louise were special, and we’ve never forgotten them.’
It was so quiet. As if the void left by Victoria’s death had filled the whole house, as if it had filled all of them and was threatening to break them apart.
They made clumsy attempts to deal with their grief by trying to talk about Victoria, but in the midst
of recounting a memory, the words would suddenly fade. How could life ever be the same?
Ricky knew it was only a matter of time before the police would pay them another visit. Gösta had already phoned to ask again whether they were certain they hadn’t seen any suspicious person in the neighbourhood in the days before Victoria disappeared. Clearly the police had some indication that somebody had been watching their house during that time. Ricky realized that they would also ask his parents if they knew anything about Victoria’s relationship with Jonas, or about the letters he’d found. That would actually be a relief for him. As he grieved for his sister, it had been a great burden to carry this secret alone, trying to keep his parents from learning about it.
‘Could you pass the potatoes?’ His father held out his hand without looking him in the eye. Ricky picked up the casserole dish and handed it to him.
That was the only sort of conversation they could manage now. Talking about ordinary, practical things.
‘Would you like some carrots?’ His mother handed Ricky the carrots. Her hand brushed against his as he took the dish, and she flinched as if she’d been burned. Their grief was so painful that they could hardly bear to touch each other.
He looked at his parents as they sat at the kitchen table across from him. His mother had cooked the dinner, but the food had been prepared without much thought, and it looked as lacklustre as it tasted. They ate in silence, each of them lost in thought. Soon the police would arrive and destroy the silence, and he knew that he should be the one to tell them first.
‘There’s something I need to tell you. About Victoria …’
His parents froze and stared at him, looking at him in a way they hadn’t done in a long time. His heart began hammering in his chest, and his mouth went dry, but he forced himself to go on. He told them about Jonas and the argument he’d witnessed at the stable, about Victoria running off, about the letters he’d found, about the ugly words and curses.
They listened attentively, and then his mother lowered her gaze. But not before Ricky caught a strange look in her eye. It took a moment before he understood what it meant.
His mother already knew.
‘So he didn’t kill his wife? Or did he?’ Rita frowned as she listened patiently to Paula.
‘He was convicted of murder, but he never stopped claiming he was innocent. I haven’t managed to locate anyone who worked on the case, but I’ve had some of the investigative materials faxed over to me, and I’ve read a number of newspaper articles. The evidence was purely circumstantial.’
Paula walked around the kitchen rocking Lisa in her arms as she talked. For now her daughter was quiet, but that would change at once if Paula stopped moving. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat down to eat a whole meal.
Johanna cast a glance in her direction, and Paula thought to herself that it really was her turn to carry Lisa around. There was no reason she should be considered more suited to the task simply because she’d given birth to the baby.
‘Sit down,’ Johanna reproached Leo, who stubbornly insisted on standing up in his high-chair between bites of food.
‘Good Lord, if we all followed your example we’d be as thin as rails,’ said Mellberg, giving Leo a wink.
Johanna sighed. ‘Please don’t encourage him, Bertil. It’s hard enough trying to teach him some manners.’
‘What difference does it make if the boy wants to get a little exercise between bites? We should all do that. Watch.’ Mellberg took a bite, stood up, sat down, and then did it again. Leo roared with laughter.
‘Can’t you do something?’ Johanna turned to Rita with a pleading expression on her face.
Paula could feel laughter bubbling inside of her. She knew that Johanna would be cross, but she couldn’t hold it in any longer. She laughed so hard the tears ran down her cheeks, and she thought Lisa actually smiled too. Rita couldn’t restrain herself either, and encouraged by the response of their audience, Leo and Mellberg began standing up and sitting down in unison.
‘What sins did I commit in some past life that made me end up with this bunch of lunatics?’ said Johanna with a sigh, but her lips twitched and she had to smile. ‘Okay, do whatever you like. I’ve already given up any hope of this kid growing up to be a responsible adult.’ Laughing, she leaned forward and kissed Leo on the cheek.
‘I want to hear more about the murder,’ said Rita when the raucous mood in the kitchen had subsided. ‘If there’s no proof, how could they convict him? In Sweden we don’t put people in prison for crimes they haven’t committed, do we?’
Paula smiled at her mother. Ever since they’d arrived from Chile in the seventies, Rita had put Sweden on such a high pedestal that the country didn’t always live up to her expectations. She had also adopted all its traditions and celebrated Swedish holidays with a frenzy that even staunchly patriotic Swedes would have considered a bit much. On all the other days she made specialities from her native country, but on Midsummer and other holidays there was hardly ever anything but herring in the fridge.
‘As I said, the evidence was circumstantial, so there were indications that he was guilty, but … How can I explain this?’
Mellberg cleared his throat. ‘Circumstantial evidence is a legal term for something that is less than factual but that may still lead to a suspect being either released or charged with a crime.’
Paula stared at him. He was the last person she’d expected to answer that question, and to do it so well.
‘Exactly. And in this case, we can say that the past behaviour of Ingela’s husband had an influence on his conviction. Former girlfriends as well as Ingela’s women friends all testified that he was often abusive. On several occasions he had beaten Ingela and even threatened to kill her. Since he had no alibi for the time of her disappearance, and since her body was found in the woods near their home, the case against him seemed clear.’
‘But now the police want to change their view?’ said Johanna as she wiped Leo’s mouth.
‘Maybe. It’s hard to say. But the injuries are very specific in both cases. And over the years there have been voices raised to defend Ingela’s husband, claiming that he was telling the truth. They’ve said that because the police were unwilling to investigate any other leads, a murderer was allowed to walk free.’
‘Is it possible that someone heard about this murder case and decided to do the same thing?’ asked Rita.
‘That’s precisely what Martin suggested during our meeting. It’s been almost thirty years since Ingela was murdered, so it’s more likely a copycat killer is at work, rather than the same person deciding to kill again.’ After a quick glance at Lisa, who was sound asleep, Paula sat down at the table. She would eat her dinner while holding her daughter in her arms.
‘At any rate, it’s worth taking a closer look at the old case,’ said Mellberg, helping himself to more food. ‘I was thinking of reading through the investigative materials tonight so I can bring it up at the meeting in Göteborg tomorrow.’
Paula repressed a sigh. Of course Mellberg would take all the credit for her discovery.
Patrik came in and looked around wide-eyed.
‘Did we have a cleaning crew here today? Oh, right, I forgot that Mamma and Mr Fix-it came over.’ He kissed Erica on the cheek. ‘Okay, let’s hear the damage report. How many things did he repair?’
‘You don’t want to know,’ she said and led the way to the kitchen where she was cooking dinner.
‘That bad, huh?’ With a sigh Patrik sat down at the table. The children rushed in and threw themselves at their father, wanting a hug. But the next instant they were gone because Bolibompa was on TV. ‘When did that green dragon get to be more popular than me?’ he said with a wry smile.
‘A long time ago,’ said Erica, leaning forward to kiss him on the lips. ‘But you’re still much more popular with me.’
‘More than Brad Pitt?’
‘Afraid not. You’ll never beat out Brad Pitt.’ She winked and opened
a cupboard to take out some glasses. Patrik got up to help her set the table.
‘So how’s it going? Have you made any progress?’
He shook his head. ‘No, not yet. The technical reports take a while. The only thing we know is that someone has been paying Lasse five thousand kronor at regular intervals.’
‘Blackmail?’
Patrik nodded. ‘Yes, that’s the theory so far. We’re trying not to rule out anything, but the most likely explanation is that he was blackmailing someone who got tired of paying him. The question is, who? At the moment we have no idea.’
‘Are you ready for the meeting tomorrow?’ Erica was stirring something in a saucepan on the cooker top.
‘Yes, I think all of us are prepared. But Paula came up with a new theory today. There may be a connection to an old case from twenty-seven years ago. The victim was Ingela Eriksson. She was murdered in Hultsfred.’
‘The woman who was tortured and then killed by her husband?’ Erica turned around to stare at Patrik. ‘Why would that case be linked to your investigation?’
‘Oh, right. For a minute I forgot that you know so much about the history of Swedish crime. So do you recall how she was tortured?’
‘No. The only thing I remember is that he beat her and dumped her body in the woods near their home. So tell me what the connection is.’ She couldn’t hide the eagerness in her voice.
‘Ingela Eriksson suffered the exact same injuries as Victoria.’
For a moment neither of them spoke.
‘Are you kidding?’ Erica then said.
‘No, I’m afraid not.’ Patrik sniffed at the air. ‘What’s for dinner?’
‘Fish soup.’ Erica began ladling soup into the bowls on the table, but Patrik could tell her thoughts were elsewhere. ‘Either her husband was innocent and the same killer kidnapped the girls, or else you’re dealing with a copycat murderer. Or of course it could just be a coincidence.’
‘I don’t believe in coincidence,’ said Patrik.
Erica sat down at the table. ‘Neither do I. Are you going to mention this at the meeting tomorrow?’
The Ice Child Page 27
