Dark Secrets (24 page)

“You were responsible for Roger moving to this school?” Vanja began.

Beatrice nodded.

“Yes, he and my son Johan are friends.” She realized which tense she had used and corrected herself. “
Were
friends. He often used to come over to our house and I knew he hadn’t been happy in junior high school, but eventually it emerged that things were just as bad, if not worse, at Runebergs.”

“But he was happy here?”

“He was settling in well. It was difficult at first, of course.”

“Why?”

“It was a big adjustment for him. The students here are highly motivated when it comes to their work. He wasn’t used to either the tempo or the level at which we work. But it was getting better. He was staying behind after school, getting some extra tutoring. He really was getting to grips with it all.”

Sebastian didn’t say anything. Beatrice’s attention was focused on Vanja; Sebastian sat there gazing at her profile and caught himself wondering what it would feel like to run his fingers through that thick red hair. Kiss that freckled face. Watch those big blue eyes close with pleasure. There was something about her that was giving off a signal suggesting… loneliness, perhaps? Sebastian wasn’t sure. But she wasn’t like Clara Lundin. She wasn’t as vulnerable. Beatrice was more… secure. More mature. Sebastian had a feeling she would be more difficult to get into bed, but probably worth the effort. He dropped the idea. One woman connected to the investigation was enough. He went back to concentrating on the conversation.

“Did Roger have friends here?”

“Not many. He used to hang out with Johan and sometimes with Erik Heverin, but Erik is in the United States this term. And then there was Lisa, of course, his girlfriend. He wasn’t an outsider, or unpopular. He was just a bit of a lone wolf.”

“No real problems, though?”

“Not here. But sometimes he bumped into people from his old school.”

“Did he seem worried about anything?”

“No. He was just the same as always when he left here. Glad it was Friday, like everybody else. They’d had a Swedish exam and he called by to say he thought it had gone well.”

Beatrice fell silent and shook her head, as if she’d just realized how absurd the situation was. The tears sprang to her eyes once more.

“He was a really lovely boy. Sensitive. Mature. This just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Is your son here?”

“No, Johan is at home. This has hit him very hard.”

“We’d really like to speak to him.”

Beatrice nodded with a resigned expression.

“I realize that. I’ll be home around four.”

“There’s no need for you to be there.” Beatrice nodded again, looking even more resigned. That sounded familiar.
No one needed her.
Sebastian and Vanja stood up.

“We might be back if we need to speak to you again in the future.”

“Fine. I really hope you find out who did this. It’s so… it’s so difficult. For everyone.”

Sebastian nodded, giving every impression of sincere sympathy. Beatrice stopped them.

“There’s something else—I don’t know if it’s important, but Roger called our house. That Friday evening.”

“What time?”

This was completely new information, and the effect on Vanja was clear. She moved closer to Beatrice.

“About a quarter past eight. He wanted to speak to Johan, but he was out with Ulf, his dad. I said he could call Johan’s cell, but according to Johan he never did.”

“What did he want? Did he tell you?”

Beatrice shook her head.

“He wanted to speak to Johan.”

“At a quarter past eight on Friday?”

“Around about then.”

Vanja thanked her and they left. Quarter past eight.

When Roger was with his girlfriend, Lisa.

Vanja was becoming more and more certain he’d never even been at Lisa’s house.

The material was on two LaCie hard drives. They had arrived by courier from the security company an hour ago. Billy quickly linked the first of the steel gray boxes to his computer and started work. The disk was marked
FRI APRIL 23, 6:00AM–12:00AM, CAMERAS 1.02–1.16
. According to the notes Billy had received with them, cameras 1.14 and 1.15 covered Gustavsborgsgatan, or at least parts of it. The last place they knew Roger had been on that fateful evening.

Billy found camera 1.14 in the various subfolders and started the video with a double click. The quality of the video was better than usual: the CCTV system was less than six months old, and the company hadn’t cut corners when it had come to the cost. This cheered Billy up to no end. Most of the time the material from surveillance cameras was so poor and blurry that it was of very little help in their investigations. But this was a different matter.
Practically Zeiss optics
, thought Billy as he scrolled through to 9:00 p.m. After only half an hour he phoned Torkel, who came right away.

Torkel sat down next to Billy. On the ceiling the projector linked to Billy’s computer was whirring away. The images from camera 1.15 were being projected onto the wall. From the angle it was easy to figure out that the camera was located some thirty feet off the ground. It was staring down at an open square, and in the center a road disappeared between two tall buildings. The building on the left was the college, the other a school. The empty open square directly in front of the camera looked cold and windy. A digital clock marked the time in one corner of the screen. The silence was suddenly broken as a moped appeared. Billy froze the image.

“There. Leo Lundin passes by at nine oh two. Shortly afterward Roger appears, walking from the west.”

Billy pressed a key and the recording continued. A minute or so later another figure appeared. He was wearing a green jacket and walking quickly and purposefully. Billy froze the image again and they gazed at the figure. Even though he was wearing a baseball cap with the peak hiding his face, it was definitely Roger Eriksson, without a shadow of doubt. The height, the medium-length hair, and that jacket, the one that was now hanging in the police evidence lockup, brown with dried blood, was undamaged and unmarked.

“He appears at precisely nine oh two and forty-eight seconds,” said Billy, restarting the video. Roger gave a little jump and carried on walking. There was something about moving images of a person who had only hours to live. It was as if the knowledge of the impending catastrophe meant that every step was scrutinized more closely, every movement acquired a greater significance. Death was lurking just around the corner, but in fact this ordinary walk carried nothing of it. The knowledge of what was to come lay with the person watching, not with the sixteen-year-old boy quietly moving past camera 1.15. He knew nothing of what was waiting for him.

Torkel saw Roger stop and look up. A second later the moped reentered the picture. From Roger’s body language Torkel and Billy could see that he knew the rider and was aware that the appearance of the moped would cause him problems. Roger stiffened and looked around, as if seeking a way out. He seemed to decide quickly to ignore the moped, which was now circling around him like an irritating wasp. Roger tried to move on but the circling moped prevented him, coming closer and closer, around and around. Roger stopped, and after a few more circuits, so did the moped. Leo got off. Roger looked at the other boy as Leo removed his helmet and straightened up, as if to make himself look bigger. Roger looked as if he knew there was going to be trouble and was preparing himself. Steeling himself for what he knew was bound to happen.

This was Torkel’s first real encounter with the dead boy, and it gave him some idea of who he had been. He hadn’t run away. Perhaps he hadn’t been just a victim. It looked as if he too was trying to make himself look a little taller. Leo said something. Roger replied, and then came the first shove. Roger stumbled backward and Leo followed. As Roger regained his balance, Leo grabbed hold of his left arm and tugged at the jacket, exposing his watch. Presumably Leo said something, because Roger made an attempt to pull his arm away. Leo responded by punching him in the face.

Hard and fast.

With no warning.

Torkel could see the blood trickling down Roger’s right hand when he raised it to his face. Leo hit him again. Roger wobbled, grabbing Leo’s T-shirt as he fell to his knees.

“That’s how Leo got blood on his T-shirt,” Billy commented briefly. Torkel nodded to himself; that explained it. Seeing the blood on his T-shirt seemed to be the trigger, the impetus Leo needed to justify an increased level of violence. He hurled himself at Roger in a fury. It wasn’t long before Roger was lying on the ground, suffering a barrage of kicks. The clock on the screen mechanically registered the time as Roger lay there curled up in the fetal position, taking what Leo thought he deserved. Eventually, at 9:05, Leo stopped kicking, bent over Roger, and ripped the watch off his arm. With one last look at the boy lying on the ground, he put on his helmet with exaggerated slowness, as if to emphasize his superiority, got back on his moped, and rode out of the picture. Roger stayed where he was for a while. Billy looked at Torkel.

“He wasn’t watching
Let’s Dance
with his girlfriend.”

Torkel nodded. Lisa was lying. But the information Leonard had given during questioning was also incorrect. Roger hadn’t started something by knocking Leo off his moped.

They hadn’t had a quarrel.

As far as Torkel knew, a quarrel required two active participants.

He reached back and put his hands behind his head. They could certainly do Leo Lundin for robbery with violence.

But not murder. At least not there and then. And not later either, Torkel was sure of it. Leo was a thug. But cutting out someone’s heart… No, he didn’t have it in him. In a few years maybe, if his life really went down the pan, but not right now.

“Where does Roger go next?”

“I don’t know. Look.” Billy got up and went over to the map on the wall.

“He carries straight on and reaches Vasagatan, where he can go right or left. If he goes left he eventually comes to Norra Ringvägen. There’s a camera at the junction there, but he never appears on it.”

“So he must have gone right?”

“In that case he would have turned up on this camera here.” Billy pointed to a spot outside the sports ground, a fraction to the north on the map. A couple hundred yards, in reality. “But he doesn’t.”

“So he turned off somewhere before he got there.”

Billy nodded and pointed to a smaller road leading off Vasagatan at an angle.

“Probably here. Apalbyvägen. Straight into a residential area. No cameras. We don’t even know which direction he went in.”

“So check them all. He might reappear on one of the bigger roads. Get a team knocking on doors in the area. Someone must have seen him. I want to know where he went.”

Billy nodded, and both men picked up their phones.

Billy called the slightly hungover birthday boy at the security company to request more CCTV footage.

Torkel called Vanja. She answered immediately, as always.

Vanja and Sebastian were just leaving Palmlövska High when Torkel called. The bell had rung for lunch and many of the students
were outside. Torkel briefed her quickly; he liked to be efficient when he was speaking on the telephone, and the conversation lasted less than a minute. Vanja ended the call and turned to Sebastian.

“They’ve seen the video from Gustavsborgsgatan. Roger was there just after nine.”

Sebastian considered this new information. Vanja had stubbornly maintained that Lisa Hansson, Roger’s sixteen-year-old girlfriend, had lied repeatedly about where Roger was on the night of the murder. Now they had proof that this was indeed the case. It seemed more important to Lisa to hide the truth than to solve the murder of her boyfriend. That kind of secret interested Sebastian. In fact, the whole goddamn case was starting to interest him more and more. He had to admit that a little break from his own brooding had been welcome. He might as well stick with it for as long as he needed to, make the best of the situation. Make new decisions about his collaboration and the future when the opportunity arose.

“Shall we go and have a little chat with Lisa?”