Dark Secrets (5 page)

“We got this one wrong from the start. There’s a risk the whole thing might blow up in our faces, so I really do need your help,” she said, as if she had picked up on his hesitation.

“What’s it about?”

“A sixteen-year-old. Missing for a week. Found dead. Murdered. Brutally.”

“If you e-mail me all the material I’ll take a look at it,” Torkel replied, looking at Vanja, who had moved to the other phone and picked it up.

“Billy, can you come to Torkel’s office? We’ve got a job,” she said before hanging up. It was as if she already knew what Torkel’s response would be in the end. She always did, apparently. Torkel felt proud and slightly annoyed at the same time. Vanja Lithner was his closest ally on the team. She had only just turned thirty, but in spite of her tender age she had developed into a fine murder investigator in the two years she had worked with him—he found her almost irritatingly good. If only he had been as good when he was her age. He smiled at her as he ended the conversation with Kerstin Hanser.

“I’m still the boss here,” he began.

“I know. I’m just getting the team together so that you can hear what we think. Then it’s your decision, as always,” she said with a glint in her eye.

“Oh yes, as if I had a choice once you get your teeth into something,” he replied, getting to his feet. “I might as well start packing—we’re off to Västerås.”

Billy Rosén was driving the van up the E18. Too fast as usual. Torkel had stopped commenting on it long ago. Instead he concentrated on the material about the murdered boy, Roger Eriksson. The report was rather short and sparse, and Thomas Haraldsson, the investigating officer, didn’t seem to be the kind of man who overexerted himself. They would probably have to start all over again from the beginning.

Torkel knew that this was exactly the kind of case the tabloids loved to get hold of. It didn’t help that the preliminary cause of death—established where the body was found—indicated an extremely violent assault, with countless stab wounds to the heart and lungs. But that
wasn’t what bothered Torkel the most. It was the short final sentence in the report, a statement made by the pathologist at the scene.

A preliminary examination indicates that most of the heart is missing.

Torkel looked out of the window at the trees flying by. Someone had removed the heart. He hoped for everyone’s sake that the boy hadn’t been a fan of hard rock or too much of a dedicated World of Warcraft player. If so, the speculation in the press would be completely crazy.

Crazier than usual
, he corrected himself.

Vanja looked up from her folder. She had probably just seen the same sentence.

“Perhaps we ought to bring Ursula in as well,” she said, reading his mind as usual. Torkel gave a brief nod. Billy glanced over his shoulder.

“Do we have an address?”

Torkel gave it to him and Billy quickly entered it into the GPS. Torkel didn’t really like Billy doing other things while he was driving, but at least he slowed down while he was keying in their destination. Which was something.

“Another thirty minutes.” Billy put his foot down and the big van responded. “We may do it in twenty, depending on traffic.”

“Thirty is fine. I always find it so unpleasant when we break the sound barrier.”

Billy knew exactly what Torkel thought of his driving, but he just smiled at his boss in the rearview mirror. Good road, good car, good driver. Why not take full advantage? He increased his speed even more.

Torkel picked up his phone and called Ursula.

T
HE TRAIN
left Stockholm’s Central Station at 4:07 p.m. Sebastian settled down in first class. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes as they left the city.

In the past he had never been able to stay awake on trains. But now, even though his body was telling him how welcome an hour’s sleep would be, he couldn’t find the necessary peace of mind.

Instead he took out the letter from the funeral director, opened it, and read it. He already knew what it said. One of his mother’s former colleagues had called and told him she had passed away. It had been quiet and dignified, she said.
Quiet and dignified
—his mother’s life in a nutshell. There was nothing positive in this response, at least not if your name was Sebastian Bergman; no, for him life was a battle from the first moment to the last. Those who were quiet and dignified had no place in his world.
Dead and boring
—that’s what he usually called them. People who lived with one foot in the grave. He was no longer quite so sure. How would his life have turned out if he had been quiet and dignified?

Better, presumably.

Less painful.

At least, that’s what Stefan Hammarström, Sebastian’s therapist, had tried to get him to believe. They had discussed the matter at a recent session, when Sebastian mentioned that his mother had died.

“How dangerous can it be to be like other people?” Stefan had
asked when Sebastian made it clear what he thought about “quiet and dignified.”

“Extremely dangerous,” Sebastian had replied. “Lethal, in fact. Evidently.”

They had then spent almost an hour discussing mankind’s genetic predisposition for danger. It was a subject Sebastian loved.

He had realized how important danger could be as a driving force, partly through his own life, partly because of his research into serial killers. He explained to his therapist that there are two real motivators for a serial killer: fantasy and danger. The fantasy is the engine humming away: a constant presence, but simply idling.

Most people have fantasies. Dark, sexual, brutal, always affirming our own ego, always destroying whatever or whomever might be standing in our way. In our fantasies we are powerful. Very few people actually live out their fantasies. Those who do have found the key.

The danger.

The danger of being caught.

The danger of doing the unmentionable.

The adrenaline and the endorphins released at that moment provided the turbo charge—the fuel, the explosion that made the engine function at the peak of its capacity. That was why thrill-seekers sought new thrills, why serial killers became serial killers. It’s difficult to go back to idling once you’ve revved the engine. Felt the power. Discovered what it is that makes you feel alive.
The danger.

“Is it really danger you’re talking about? Isn’t it excitement?” Stefan leaned forward as Sebastian fell silent.

“Is this a language lesson?”

“No, this is you giving a lecture.” Stefan poured a glass of water from a carafe on the table beside him and passed it to Sebastian. “Didn’t you used to get paid for doing that, instead of paying out yourself?”

“I’m paying you to listen. To whatever I say.”

Stefan smiled and shook his head.

“No, you know why you’re paying me. You need help, and these
small digressions mean we have less time to discuss what we should really be talking about.”

Sebastian didn’t reply. Didn’t change his expression one iota. He liked Stefan. No bullshit.

“So let’s get back to your mother. When’s the funeral?”

“It’s already taken place.”

“Were you there?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I thought it should be a ceremony for people who actually liked her.”

Stefan had looked at him in silence for a few seconds.

“There you are, you see—we’ve got lots to talk about.”

Outside the swaying carriage lay an attractive landscape. The train forged ahead through the fresh green meadows and forests northwest of Stockholm. It was just possible to catch a glimpse of Lake Mälaren in all its sparkling glory through the trees. For any other passenger this might have stirred thoughts of life’s possibilities. For Sebastian, exactly the opposite was true. He saw no possibilities in the beauty around him. He turned his gaze up to the ceiling. All his life he had been running away from his parents. His father, against whom he had battled ever since his youth, and his mother, quiet and dignified but never on his side.
Never on his side.
That was how he felt.

Sebastian’s eyes filled with tears for a moment. This was something that had developed in recent years. Tears.
Strange
, he thought,
that I should have to discover something as simple as tears at my age.

Emotional.

Irrational.

Everything he had never wanted to be. He went back to the only thing he knew that was capable of numbing his emotions: women. Another promise Sebastian had broken. He had kept to the straight
and narrow from the moment he met Lily and had vowed to remain faithful to her. But with the excoriating dream that haunted him at night and the empty, meaningless days, he could see no other way out. The hunt for fresh conquests and the few short hours with different women filled his life, and his thoughts managed to overcome the feeling of powerlessness—for a while, at least. As a man, a lover, a predator, constantly on the hunt for new women, he was able to function. This was a skill he had retained in spite of everything. This both pleased and frightened him. The fact that he was everything he was. A lonely man who filled his time with the young and old, students, colleagues, married or unmarried. He didn’t discriminate against anyone. For him there was just one rule: she was going to be his. She would prove that he wasn’t worthless, that he was alive. He knew exactly how destructive his behavior was, but he welcomed it and pushed away the knowledge that one day he would probably have to find a way out.

He started to look around the carriage. It was half full. A brunette a short distance away caught his eye. Around forty, grayish blue blouse, expensive gold earrings.
Not bad
, he thought. She was reading a book. Perfect—women in their forties reading a book only notched up a three on the difficulty scale, in his experience. It depended to a certain extent on what they were reading, but even so… He got up and walked over to her seat.

“I’m just going to the buffet car—can I get you anything?”

The woman looked up from her book with an inquiring expression. Unsure if he was speaking to her. Evidently he was, as she realized when she met his gaze.

“No, thanks, I’m fine.” She went back to her book.

“Are you sure? Not even a cup of coffee?”

“No, thank you.” She didn’t even look up.

“Tea? Hot chocolate?” This time she took her eyes off the book, looking up at Sebastian with a certain amount of irritation. Sebastian gave her his smile, which was practically patented.

“You can even get wine these days, but maybe it’s too early?”

The woman didn’t reply.

“Perhaps you’re wondering why I’m asking,” Sebastian went on. “I have no choice. I feel it’s my duty to save you from that book. I’ve read it. You’ll thank me one day.” The woman looked up and met his eyes. Sebastian smiled. The woman smiled back.

“A cup of coffee would be nice. Black, no sugar.”

“Coming up.” Another quick smile, which grew wider as Sebastian made his way along the carriage. Perhaps the trip to Västerås wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The Västerås police station was buzzing with activity. Kerstin Hanser glanced at the clock, her expression slightly stressed. She had to go. God knows she didn’t want to. She could easily come up with a hundred and one things she would rather do than go to the mortuary to meet Lena Eriksson. But it had to be done. Even though they were 100 percent certain that the boy they had found was Roger Eriksson, his mother still wanted to see him. Hanser had advised against it, but Lena Eriksson insisted. She wanted to see her son.