High Risk

by Simona Ahrnstedt

  She could see the men and the two girls. Clenched men’s fists and thin children’s arms.

  “In the name of Christ, I command you to come out.” The voice belonged to Uno Aalto.

  He pressed a cross to the girl’s forehead. She was crying silently. The other girl started to scream. Esaias raised his Bible in the air and brought it down on her head. The other men were making faint sounds, as though they were saying mass.

  Ambra didn’t want to remember, but she couldn’t prevent the memories of her own torment from washing over her. Abuse with the Bible, the hitting, the beatings with the belt. The total power Esaias held over her. She breathed in, breathed out. Focus on the here and now. Not on then. With shaking hands, she fumbled for her phone, had to try to take pictures.

  “Hello?”

  The voice came from behind her, and it gave Ambra such a shock that she dropped her cell phone, which clattered to the ground. She turned around and stared at the gray-haired woman who had snuck up behind her without a sound. It was Rakel Sventin.

  “Who are you? What are you doing here?” Rakel asked.

  Ambra tried to bend down to grab her phone, but Rakel moved closer and she quickly stood up again.

  “How did you get in? What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here for the girls’ sake.”

  “Yes, those poor things. I hope we’ll succeed. The devil is strong in them.”

  Ambra wanted to grab Rakel by the arms, shake her. “They’re children. Don’t you realize what you’re doing to them?”

  Rakel pulled her cardigan tight around her. A stubborn glimmer appeared in her eyes. Ambra remembered it well. Once Rakel made up her mind about something, she wouldn’t change it again, whether that meant forcing foster children to eat rancid blood pudding or believing that someone was possessed. “It’s for their own good. For the sake of their souls.”

  Before Ambra had time to say anything else, she heard another scream from inside the room.

  “Rakel, we have to help them.”

  For a second, Rakel looked doubtful, but then something went out in her eyes. “No,” she said abruptly, moving past her and opening the door into the room. She gave Ambra a push, and Ambra fell into the room. The smell of fear lay heavy in the air.

  “Who is this?” Uno Aalto asked.

  “She was sneaking around down here.”

  Part of Ambra just wanted to run away. But she could see the hope in the terrified girls’ eyes and knew she couldn’t leave them behind. She tried to appear as authoritative as she could.

  “I’ve come for the girls,” she said, looking at them both, trying to communicate with her eyes that she was on their side, that she could save them from the four men now spread out around the room. She sensed Rakel was somewhere behind her, but she didn’t dare turn around. “I’m not alone,” she warned.

  The men were getting closer.

  “Tareq!” she shouted, looking up at the window, wondering whether he was out there, whether he heard her.

  Esaias gestured toward the door with his head. “Rakel, out.”

  The others started to move toward the door, and she tried to work out what they had planned. The room was full of candles, and when Esaias turned his back to her and closed the door, one candle fell to a rug, which caught fire. He was the last to leave the room and had closed the door behind him.

  Ambra quickly stamped on the rug and managed to put out the fire. “Don’t worry,” she reassured the girls. “It’s not on fire anymore.”

  She heard Esaias lock the door from the outside. That damn man. He was completely crazy. What was he hoping to achieve by that?

  “My friend is out there. He’ll let us out. It’ll be okay. My name is Ambra.” She smiled at the girls, who stared at her with terrified eyes.

  “Let’s see,” she said, pulling out a box from one corner. She placed it beneath the window and pulled down the fabric. The window was built into the wall and couldn’t be opened. She pounded on the glass. “Tareq! Are you there?”

  Had Tareq called the police? And if so, had he managed to get through? She banged on the glass again. Tareq’s face suddenly appeared on the other side.

  She almost laughed with relief. Everything would be fine. “I have the girls here. We’re locked in.”

  “Ambra, it looks like there’s smoke coming from the house. Can you get out? You need to hurry.”

  Ambra felt a rush of fear.

  “No, we’re locked in.” She turned around and saw the girls’ terrified faces. “Don’t worry,” she said firmly. They would fix this.

  “I’m coming in,” Tareq shouted. He disappeared, and a minute later she heard him pulling at the handle and banging on the door. “The others have left—we’re the only ones here,” he yelled.

  “Is it still on fire?”

  “I tried to put it out, but it spread too quickly. Could the guy have set fire to his own house? Why would he do that?”

  To kill the demons. Because he hated her. Because he’d panicked.

  “You need to get out. Now!” Tareq yelled.

  “Can you see a key anywhere?” Ambra asked

  There was a long silence. “No! Shit, what are we going to do?”

  “The window,” Ambra said. “Smash the window.”

  Tareq disappeared outside again.

  “We’ll be okay,” Ambra said, praying it was true. Tareq’s face reappeared on the other side of the glass. He was out of breath, sweating. She met his eye and felt the panic grow in her stomach.

  “Get back,” he yelled. A moment later, he kicked in the window. Shards of glass rained down across the floor. Ice-cold air rushed in.

  “You need to get out, quick!”

  He pulled out the girls, one by one. Lifted their too-thin bodies through the hole, heard them whimper as the glass cut them.

  “Come on, Ambra,” he shouted. But there was no way; she had known it all along. The window was too narrow for her.

  “The fire department is on the way,” he said.

  “Where’s the fire?

  “A couch, I think. It’s smoky as hell. But they’ll be here soon.”

  “Yeah. I need to do something, see whether there’s anything I can use to get out. Tareq, promise me you won’t come in. The smoke is dangerous. Promise me.”

  “What the hell, Ambra!”

  “Promise me.”

  “I promise.”

  “And will you tell Jill I love her? That I know she loves me.” Jill had to know that.

  “Ambra, don’t give up. The fire department is coming. They’ll get you out.”

  Right then, they heard an explosion. The heat caused the windows to crack. Fresh oxygen would fuel the fire.

  She hadn’t given up, but panic made her voice tremble. “How are the girls?”

  “They’re fine. How is it going? Did you find anything?”

  She looked around the terrible, familiar room. How was it possible that she was locked up here again, in this basement she hated so much?

  Her eyes scanned the rough shelves. It couldn’t be true. But she couldn’t see a thing, absolutely nothing to open a door with. She ripped open a cardboard box, but there was nothing but old papers inside it. Was she really about to die? Was this it? At least she had saved the girls. But she had wanted to do more, be more. I don’t want to die.

  She should have told Tareq to tell Tom she loved him. If she hadn’t dropped her phone out there, she would have sent messages herself. To Tom. To Jill. And to Elsa. Maybe even to Grace. But there was no one else. How fucking tragic. She heard a hysterical snort and realized it had come from her.

  She spotted a small box in one corner, covered in dust, damaged on one corner. It seemed so familiar. She took a closer look. Could it really be? The box she had put all of Mom and Dad’s things into? Esaias had told her it was gone, but he must have stolen it, kept it for himself, and now it was here.

  She opened it and studied the treasures inside. Saw her parents’ faces in
old pictures. Stroked their wedding rings and the velvet pouch with . . . And then she recognized the little case. Dad’s case, containing the antique watchmaking tools. She opened it. Inside, there was a small knife and a set of tiny screwdrivers. She grabbed the longest of them and stuck it into the lock, coughed, tried to pick it open, the sweat running down between her eyes. She screamed in frustration, took a deep breath, and heard the lock click open. But as she opened the door she realized her mistake. Smoke was curling into the room. As she pushed it shut again, she felt her field of vision blur at the edges, and then she collapsed with the box beneath her.

  Chapter 62

  Tom had got the address of the house Ambra had gone to from Elsa. He’d landed the helicopter in the snow, grabbed the snowmobile, and set off. Could he smell smoke?

  He accelerated as hard as he could, stood up, followed the ups and downs of the terrain as he approached the house. He heard the sirens the moment he turned off the motor, far, far in the distance.

  He recognized the waving, sooty figure meeting him as Tareq, who seemed to have aged ten years. There were two filthy, blood-covered girls standing behind him. Tom glanced around.

  “Where’s Ambra?” he asked, hoping against hope that she had never come here. But of course she had.

  Tareq shook his head; his face seemed frozen. “She’s stuck inside. Locked in the basement. I haven’t heard anything from her for a few minutes, and it’s pitch black.” He shook his head.

  Tom looked over to the house. Smoke was pouring out of the cracked windows.

  “Where?” was all he asked.

  “A room in the basement. I really tried. But the door was locked, and we couldn’t get it open. She was going to try again, but then she just disappeared. I shouted, but nothing. The fire department is on the way.” He covered his face with his hand.

  Tom ran back to the snowmobile and tore a blanket from his bag. He rushed off toward the house.

  “You can’t go in!” Tareq shouted.

  But for Tom there was no choice.

  It was something his father used to say. He was full of sayings and quotes, had one for every occasion. Usually, Tom didn’t listen. But he remembered the very last time they saw one another, the way they sat drinking beer together. His father had probably had a little too much to drink. “Tom, when you want something you’ve never had before, you must do something you’ve never done before to get it. And if you’re not willing to risk everything you have for it, maybe you just don’t want it enough. You understand?”

  Tom looked at the burning house. The question was: What was he willing to risk for Ambra?

  And the answer was easy.

  Everything.

  And so he pulled the blanket over his head and pressed it to his mouth. He hunched down in the compact darkness. “Ambra!”

  No reply. The smoke was filling the house, and so he crouched as he ran. He wouldn’t leave without her—it was that simple. And as though by a miracle, he found the staircase leading down to the basement. He practically flew down the steps, could feel the smoke following him like a snaking, black monster. He held his breath. Tareq had said it was the very end room, so he ran over and found the locked door.

  “Ambra!” he shouted, though he didn’t expect an answer. His throat and eyes were stinging. It was a matter of seconds now. He pushed the door. It was no longer locked, but something was blocking it, and he realized it was Ambra. He bent down, placed the blanket over her unconscious body, picked her up, and ran back up the stairs with her in his arms. His lungs were burning. Finally, he was outside. He dropped to his knees, let go of her, and collapsed flat out, onto his back. Just lay there for a few seconds, filling his lungs with air. Jesus, he’d made it. During all his years as an operative, he’d never done anything even half as crazy as that. You didn’t go into a fire. Ever. But he had made it. Jesus Christ. He started to laugh and then coughed so hard that he threw up. On the ground next to him, Ambra began to cough, too. She had a couple of scratches on her face, and she was covered in soot, but she was alive. It was a miracle.

  He turned his head to her.

  “Tom?” she croaked, and it was the best sound he’d ever heard. “What are you doing here?” she said with a cough.

  “Do you know where you are?” he asked as he got to his knees and pushed the hair from her sooty brow.

  “Kiruna. There was a fire. The girls?”

  “They’re fine.”

  “But you’re here? Why?”

  “You didn’t answer the phone. People were worried.”

  “People? Who?”

  He stroked her forehead, couldn’t stop smiling. She was alive. The relief he felt was like a drug; he was lightheaded and wanted to laugh. “Your sister. And Elsa. She said you were coming out here. She was worried about you. I was worried.”

  “Did you just save my life again?”

  He nodded. “I flew up from Stockholm. Because Elsa seemed so worried.”

  “Wow. Lucky for me.” She rubbed her nose with her hand. The Northern Lights flickered above.

  “Lucky for me. Ambra, I lov . . .”

  But he was interrupted when Ambra caught sight of Tareq. She started to wave and point. “Take pictures!” she screamed. “Tareq—pictures!”

  The moment had passed, but Tom was relieved that Ambra was back to her usual self. He helped her up. The fire had taken on an explosive nature, and Tom found himself thinking that it was as if hell itself had opened up. Maybe that was fitting.

  The area around the house was filling up with fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars. “Come on,” he said, taking her under the arm, supporting her. “I want them to check you out, make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine,” she protested with her smoke-damaged voice.

  “Do it for me,” he pleaded, and she nodded.

  They moved over to the ambulance, where the girls had already been cleaned up. Ambra sat down next to them, and Tom watched while a paramedic shone a light into her eyes, took her blood pressure, and listened to her lungs; they also gave her oxygen. He declined to be examined, felt more alive than he had in a long time, but he took the oxygen.

  “Why aren’t they putting the fire out?” Ambra asked, nodding toward the firefighters, who were just watching the flames.

  “They can’t. It’s so cold that the water freezes in the hose. They’ll let it burn to the ground.”

  “Just as well,” said Ambra.

  A black car was approaching. It squealed to a stop, and a woman threw herself out. It looked like she was wearing pajamas beneath her coat.

  “Lotta,” Ambra said grimly. She wrapped her arms around the girls’ shoulders, pulled them toward her protectively.

  “I came as soon as I heard,” Lotta panted.

  Ambra’s eyes narrowed. She looked like a tigress whose cubs were being threatened. “I have proof. You’ll need to find new homes for them now.” The girls pressed against her.

  “I have an even better solution. I found their mom. She’s healthy now, and desperate to meet them,” Lotta said, and her voice broke toward the end. “So much abuse has happened here. How did we miss it? I’ll have to write up a full report. But first, the girls need to be with their mom.” She looked Ambra straight in the eye. “Thank you. And I’m so sorry for doubting you. I swear, on everything I hold dear, I’ll fix this.”

  She sounded genuine.

  “I’m going to write about this,” Ambra said, and there was a warning in her voice.

  Tom couldn’t help it; he smiled. Ambra was magnificent when she was fighting for those who couldn’t fight for themselves.

  “Do it,” said Lotta. “I’ll give a statement.”

  “With your name?”

  “With whatever you want.”

  “They’ve suffered enough,” said Ambra.

  “I agree.”

  Ambra gave the social worker one last skeptical look. Tom studied the woman whose life he had saved twice. There was nothing he wouldn’t d
o for her; he had literally walked through fire for her. Someone up there clearly thought he deserved her. Now he just hoped they would have the rest of their lives together so he could prove it.

  Chapter 63

  Ambra was inside the Aftonbladet newsroom, standing in front of the online editor’s desk. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins.

  “Ready?” Grace asked from beside her.

  Goose bumps started to appear on Ambra’s arms. She must have published thousands of articles since she’d first begun working as a reporter, but this was different.

  This was big.

  Ambra had been working practically nonstop since the fire, started writing while she was still in Kiruna. There were a couple of scrapes on her forehead, and she was aching all over, but she was otherwise unhurt. A stinging throat and painful lungs, but that was all. As soon as she was done answering the police officers’ questions, she sat down and wrote all night. Talked more with the girls—whose names were Siri and Simone—and spoke on the phone with their mom. Then she left for Stockholm. She’d had a total of four hours’ sleep over the past few days, had produced several shorter pieces while she worked on her larger article. But she wasn’t tired; she was high on excitement and endorphins.

  “Then let’s hit Send,” Grace said, giving the online editor a nod. A second later, and her piece was on the home page. At the same time, a flash update was sent to every news agency in the world, to every TV station and news office in Sweden. To readers’ cell phones and computers.

  Click, click, click.

  They stood in silence for a few seconds. Enjoying the moment. It was, without doubt, the best thing Ambra had ever written. When she’d really started digging into the case, she found a huge number of abuses in the social services system. Children and parents who had been systematically kept apart, children who had suffered, lived in misery, and been abused. It was an important scoop, a story with a fantastic amount of drama. The two defenseless girls who’d suffered so terribly at the hands of social services. The bizarre exorcisms. The terrible conditions living with the Sventin family, stretching way back in time. The head of social services resigned. And then there was the interview with the girls’ biological mother, the reunion, the happy ending. It was the best kind of investigative journalism, the kind that would change lives and laws.