Dark Secrets (37 page)

Beatrice pulled up outside his parents’ house and switched off the engine. She looked at him with a certain amount of surprise.

“Is this where you live?”

“At the moment, yes.”

“It doesn’t look like your style, I have to say.”

“You don’t know how right you are.” He smiled at her and opened the door. The interior light came on, making her freckles look prettier. He leaned toward her. She smelled good. What was he doing? No kiss good night or good morning. He was supposed to be keeping his fucking distance, that’s what he’d decided. She grabbed hold of him and kissed him on the lips, as if to make it even more difficult for him. The car was cramped, but there was a warmth between them. Her hands stroked his hair and the back of his neck. He freed himself. Gently, but even so. He’d achieved something at least.

“I have to go.”

He closed the door quickly, thus extinguishing the treacherous light that made her far too tempting. Beatrice started the car and put it into reverse. The halogen lights dazzled him, but he was able to see her final wave before she turned the wheel and the headlights swept across his parents’ house, then Clara Lundin’s. A pair of eyes and a pale blue padded jacket glimmered in the beam over at the house next door. Clara Lundin was sitting on the steps with a cigarette in her hand, watching him with an expression full of anger and pain. Sebastian nodded in her direction and thought he would test the water.

“Morning!”

No reply. Not that he’d expected one. Clara stubbed out her cigarette
and, with a last long stare at Sebastian, went back inside.
Not good
, he thought. But he was too tired to care. He walked up the path to his parents’ house. In less than forty-eight hours he had acquired a house, a possible child, and a job; he had also met a grower and someone who would probably want her revenge. He had been wrong. Things did happen in Västerås after all.

T
HE PRACTICE
was 650 yards from Palmlövska High in a three-story building, with offices on the ground floor and families living above. Vanja had waited at the station for Sebastian until 8:25 before she got fed up and decided to go to see Peter Westin on her own. She was relieved. Under normal circumstances she usually thought it was better to have two officers present at an interview, however trivial it might be, partly because it was always helpful to have several points of view on any story, and partly because the information could then be shared informally with more members of the team. This meant a reduction in the time spent sitting in lengthy briefings, which Vanja found increasingly tedious. But when it came to Sebastian, things were different. Definitely not boring, but he had the ability to turn most things into a battle. So she hadn’t waited too long for him.

The sign on the glass door said
WESTIN & LEMMEL
, with
ACCREDITED PSYCHOLOGISTS
in smaller letters underneath. Vanja went in. A reassuringly pleasant atmosphere, pale furniture, and better lighting than most traditional doctors’ offices, with small white designer lamps on the coffee table. A lovely sofa to sit on while you were waiting. A glass door led from the waiting room to what Vanja assumed were the examining rooms. She tried it. Locked. She knocked firmly, and after a little while a man in his forties emerged and introduced himself as Rolf Lemmel. Vanja showed her ID and explained why she was there.

“Peter hasn’t arrived yet, but he shouldn’t be long,” said Rolf, inviting
her to sit. Vanja settled down on the sofa and started to glance through the previous day’s
Dagens Nyheter
, which was lying on the table. The waiting room was quiet and peaceful. After a while a girl of about fifteen came in. She was slightly built and had freshly washed hair. Vanja gave her a friendly smile.

“Are you here to see Peter Westin?”

The girl nodded in response.

Good, that meant he should be here soon.

“I need a few minutes of your time.” Sebastian realized at once that something had happened. He knew Torkel and his tone of voice very well. Admittedly Sebastian had gone back to sleep for once when the alarm went off and hadn’t arrived at the station until after nine, but this wasn’t about turning up late. This was something more serious.

“Of course,” Sebastian replied, ambling after Torkel, who marched into one of the three interview rooms on the first floor, waving his hand to hurry Sebastian along. This was serious. Hurrying him along. A private conversation. In a soundproof room. This didn’t bode well. Sebastian slowed down a fraction; as usual he was preparing himself for the worst by pretending to be even more nonchalant. This didn’t impress Torkel.

“Get a move on, I haven’t got all day.”

Torkel closed the door and looked Sebastian straight in the eye.

“The day before you turned up and said you wanted to work with us, you had sex with Leonard Lundin’s mother. Is that true?”

Sebastian shook his head. “No, it was the night before.”

“Enough! Are you out of your mind? She was the mother of our chief suspect at the time!”

“What does that matter? I mean, Leo was innocent.”

“You didn’t know that at the time!”

Sebastian smiled at Torkel. Self-assured.
Self-important
, some might say.

“I did, actually. I was absolutely certain, as you well know.”

Torkel shook his head, pacing angrily around the cramped room.

“It was wrong on every level, and you know it. She’s phoned to tell me about it. Threatened to call the media if I didn’t take appropriate action. You have to be able to keep your dick in your pants, for God’s sake!”

Sebastian suddenly felt sorry for Torkel. He had brought an unknown troublemaker into the investigation against the will of most of the others. No doubt he had had to defend his decision in many ways—not least to himself. One of his rationales was no doubt the old classic, “Don’t worry, he’s different now, he’s changed.” But the truth is that no one changes. Sebastian knew that. We merely revolve around the same axis, so that the sides of ourselves that we show vary, but the basic foundation is always the same.

“Absolutely. But when Clara and I ended up in an intimate situation, I wasn’t working with you, was I?” Torkel looked at him. Couldn’t bring himself to respond.

“Nothing like that will happen again,” Sebastian said as honestly as he could, and added: “I promise.” As if that extra promise could chase away the memory of a naked Beatrice last night. Beatrice Strand, the murder victim’s class teacher. And her son was Roger’s best friend. However you looked at it, it was wrong in every possible way. God, he really was a complete idiot—even he had to admit that.

Why do I always, always have to test everything to destruction?

Torkel looked at him, and for a second Sebastian thought he was going to be asked to leave right there and then. That would have been the right decision. But it was a fraction too long before Torkel spoke; he hesitated, for some reason Sebastian was unable to fathom.

“Are you sure?” he said eventually.

Sebastian nodded, still wearing his most honest expression.

“Absolutely.”

“You don’t have to have sex with every woman you meet,” Torkel went on, his tone slightly softer. Sebastian suddenly worked it out. It
was actually quite simple. Torkel liked him. Sebastian decided to make an attempt; he felt as if Torkel deserved it, somehow.

“I find it difficult to be alone. The nights are the worst.”

Torkel met his gaze.

“Let me make one thing clear: there will be no more chances. Now get out of here. I don’t want to set eyes on you for a while.”

Sebastian nodded and left. Normally he would have felt superior, cocky, and smug. He had tricked his way out of yet another sticky situation. Gotten away with it.

“You put me in the shit,” he heard Torkel’s voice behind him, “and I don’t like it.” If Sebastian possessed any capacity for regret or a bad conscience, he would experience those feelings now. But perhaps there was a hint of those emotions as he headed for the door. Beatrice was a one-off. He promised himself that.

The girl with the freshly washed hair had given up after twenty minutes, when Peter Westin still hadn’t turned up. After a while Vanja had taken a stroll around the outside of the building. It wasn’t in her nature to sit still, and she took the opportunity to call her parents. They were just on their way out but still had time to chat. It was just like the good old days. First of all she had a long chat with her mother, then a shorter one with her father. Oddly enough, they never needed as many words to say the same amount. A certain level of ordinariness had already returned to their conversations after the last few months, when everything had revolved around life and death. Vanja realized how much she had missed this normality and laughed when her mother embarked on one of her favorite topics: Vanja’s love life. Or, rather, the absence of it. As always, Vanja brushed her questions aside, but not as brusquely as before.

Hadn’t she met anyone in Örebro?

Västerås, and no, she hadn’t time.

But what about that nice Billy she worked with? She liked him, didn’t she?

Yes, but it would feel like going to bed with her brother.

And then of course they were back to Jonathan, the inevitable final destination of her mother’s argument.

Was she really not going to get in touch with him again? He was so nice!

A few months earlier Vanja had always adopted a furious defensive stance whenever Jonathan was mentioned. The fact that her mother kept on trying to get her to go back to her ex, without any concept of how this diminished Vanja, used to drive her crazy. Now it just felt gloriously normal. She even allowed the nagging and pleading to go on for a while. Her mother seemed surprised when she didn’t encounter the usual counterattack; indeed, she seemed to lose heart after a little while, and concluded with the point Vanja so often used.

“Oh well, you’re a big girl now. You can make your own decisions.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Her father came on the line shortly after that. He had decided to come up and see her that evening. No excuses. Vanja didn’t even try. She usually made an effort to keep her two worlds apart, but this time she was happy for them to collide. He was catching the 6:20 train, and Vanja promised to pick him up at the station. She ended the call and went back to the psychology practice. She got Peter Westin’s address from his colleague, who was tiring of her by this stage, but Rolf Lemmel did promise that when Peter eventually arrived he’d let him know that the police were looking for him.

Vanja got in the car. Rotevägen 12. She entered it into the GPS. It would take around half an hour to get there. She had promised to be back at the station by ten for a briefing with the rest of the team. Westin would have to wait.

Torkel walked into the conference room. The others were already gathered, and Ursula raised an eyebrow at them, following Torkel inside.

“So what have you done with Sebastian, then?”

Was Torkel just being oversensitive this morning, or was there a difference between “Where’s Sebastian?” and “What have you done with Sebastian, then?” The latter made it sound as if they were inseparable. Tom and Jerry. Yogi Bear and Boo-Boo. Torkel and Sebastian. “So what have you done with Sebastian, then?” A passive-aggressive way of making it clear to Torkel that Ursula had the impression Sebastian was more important to him than she was. As if he needed any further reminders. If she only knew. Right now Torkel was prepared to sell Sebastian for painful medical experiments. But this morning had been bad enough without starting a row with Ursula as well.