The Stonecutter (13 page)

Patrik spread out his papers on his desk and took a deep breath. The full force of what it meant to head a homicide investigation suddenly struck him. This wasn’t the first time, but still he was nervous. He didn’t like being the center of attention, and the gravity of the task was intimidating. But the only other option was for Mellberg to take charge, and, for Charlotte and Sara’s sake, Patrik wanted to avoid that at all costs. So it was just a matter of getting started.

‘As you know, we’ve now received confirmation that Sara Klinga’s death was not an accident, but a murder. She did drown, but the water in her lungs was fresh, not saltwater, which indicates that she was drowned somewhere else and then dumped in the sea. I know this is nothing new, but all the details are in the report from Pedersen, the M.E. Annika has made copies for you.’ He passed a stack of stapled reports around the table, and they each took one.

‘Can anything be deduced based on the water in her lungs? For example, it says here that there were remnants of soap in the water. Could we find out what sort of soap it was?’ asked Martin, pointing at an item in the autopsy report.

‘Yes, hopefully we can,’ replied Patrik. ‘A water sample was sent off to the National Forensic Laboratory for analysis, and in a few days we’ll know more about what they’ve been able to find.’

‘What about the clothes?’ Martin went on. ‘Can we say whether she was dressed or not when she was drowned in the bathtub? Because we can almost certainly assume it was a bathtub she was drowned in, can’t we?’

‘I’m afraid the answer is the same. Her clothes were also sent off, and until we get the results back I don’t know any more than the rest of you.’

Ernst rolled his eyes and Patrik gave him a sharp look. He knew precisely what was going on inside the man’s head. He was jealous because it was Martin and not him who had thought of some intelligent questions to ask. Patrik wondered whether Ernst would ever understand that they were a team working together to solve a task, and that it wasn’t a contest between individuals.

‘Are we dealing with a sex crime here?’ Gösta asked, prompting Ernst to look even more annoyed. Even his partner in lethargy had managed to come up with a relevant question.

‘Impossible to say,’ replied Patrik. ‘But I’d like Martin to start checking whether there’s anyone on our list who’s been convicted of sex crimes against children.’

Martin nodded and made a note.

‘Then we also have to look more closely at the family,’ Patrik said. ‘Ernst and I had a preliminary talk with them when we informed them that Sara had been murdered. We’ve also spoken with the individual that Sara’s grandmother pointed out as a possible suspect.’

‘Let me guess,’ said Annika acidly. ‘Could it possibly have been a certain Kaj Wiberg?’

‘That’s right,’ said Gösta. ‘I gave Patrik all the documents I have about their contacts with us over the years.’

‘A waste of time and resources,’ said Ernst. ‘It’s completely absurd to believe that Kaj had anything to with the girl’s death.’

‘Oh, right, you two know each other,’ said Gösta, giving Patrik a questioning look to see if he was aware of this. Patrik nodded briefly.

‘At any rate,’ Patrik interrupted when Ernst again tried to say something, ‘we’ll continue to investigate Kaj to decide as soon as possible whether he was involved. And we need to keep all options open at this stage. First we have to find out more about the girl and her family. I thought Ernst and I would begin by talking to the girl’s teachers to see whether they know of any problem concerning the family. Since we know so little, we might need to get some help from the local press as well. Would you be able to help with that, Bertil?’

He got no answer and repeated his question a bit louder: ‘Bertil?’ Still no answer. Mellberg looked to be far away in his own thoughts as he stood leaning on the door jamb. After raising his voice another notch, Patrik finally got a reaction.

‘Oh, sorry. What did you say?’ asked Mellberg. Once again, Patrik couldn’t believe that this man was their chief.

‘I just wondered whether you might consider talking to the local press. Tell them it was a murder and that anyone’s information is of interest. I have a feeling we’re going to need the public’s help on this case.’

‘Oh, uh, of course,’ said Mellberg, looking dazed. ‘Okay, I’ll talk to the press.’

‘All right. That’s about all we can do for now,’ said Patrik, slapping his hands on his desk. ‘Any more questions?’

No one said a word, and after a few seconds of silence everyone began gathering up their things as if on command.

‘Ernst?’ Patrik stopped his colleague just as he was heading out the door. ‘Will you be ready to go in half an hour?’

‘Where?’ said Ernst with his usual grumpiness.

Patrik took a deep breath. Sometimes he wondered whether he only
thought
he was talking. ‘To Sara’s school. To talk to her teachers,’ he said, carefully enunciating each word.

‘Oh, right, that. Sure, I can be ready in half an hour,’ said Ernst, turning his back to Patrik.

Patrik gave him a dirty look. He would give this unwelcome partner of his a couple more days, then, Mellberg be damned, he was going to discreetly take Molin along instead.

9

Strömstad 1924

By now, the pleasure of novelty was truly wearing off. The whole winter had been filled with trysts, and at first Agnes had enjoyed every moment. But now that spring was quietly approaching, she felt boredom beginning to creep in. To be honest, she no longer saw what it was about the stonecutter that she had found so attractive. Of course he was good-looking, she couldn’t deny that, but his speech was crude and uneducated and he constantly smelled of sweat. It had also become harder and harder to sneak down to his place, now that the winter darkness was relinquishing its protective cover. No, she would have to put an end to this, she decided as she sat in front of the mirror in her room.

She attended to the last details of her dress and went down to have breakfast with her father. She had seen Anders yesterday, so her body felt worn out. She sat down at the breakfast table after kissing her father on the cheek and began listlessly cracking open the shell of a soft-boiled egg. In her exhaustion, the smell of the egg turned her stomach.

‘What is it, my heart?’ August asked with concern, gazing at her across the table.

‘Just a little tired,’ she replied miserably. ‘I didn’t sleep well last night.’

‘You poor thing,’ he said in sympathy. ‘See that you eat something, then you can go back to bed for a while. Perhaps we should take you to see Dr. Fern. You’ve been rather out of sorts all winter.’

Agnes couldn’t help smiling, though she had to hide the smile hastily behind her napkin. With a downcast look she answered her father, ‘Yes, I have been a bit worn out. But it was probably mostly because of the winter gloom. Just wait, once spring comes I’ll be more lively again.’

‘Hmm, well, we shall see. But think about it. Perhaps the doctor should have a look at you all the same.’

‘Yes, Father,’ she said, forcing herself to take a bite of egg.

She shouldn’t have done that. The instant she put the boiled egg-white in her mouth, she felt her stomach flip and something rose up in her throat. With her hand to her mouth, she dashed to the nearby bathroom. She had scarcely raised the lid before a cascade of yesterday’s dinner mixed with gall splashed into the toilet bowl. She felt her eyes fill with tears. Her stomach turned inside out several more times. She waited a while, and when there didn’t seem to be any more coming, she wiped her mouth in disgust and left the little room on shaky legs. Outside stood her father, looking worried.

‘Dear heart, how are you?’

She just shook her head and swallowed to get rid of the repulsive taste of vomit.

August put his arm round her shoulders, led her into the parlor, and sat her down on one of the sofas. He put his hand on her forehead.

‘Agnes, you’re in a cold sweat. No, now I’m going to call Dr. Fern at once and ask him to come over and have a look at you.’

She managed only a feeble nod and then lay down on the sofa and shut her eyes. The room was spinning behind her closed eyelids.

It was like living in a shadow world with no connection to reality. Anna hadn’t really had a choice, and yet she was consumed by doubt that she had done the right thing. She knew that nobody else would understand, not even Erica. When she’d finally succeeded in breaking away from Lucas, why had she gone back to him? Especially after he’d done that to Emma. Of course, she went back because she believed it was the only chance for her and her children to survive. Lucas had always been dangerous, yet he used to keep himself restrained. Now it was as though something had snapped inside him, and his self-control had yielded to a brooding insanity. That was the only way she could describe it: genuine insanity. That had always been part of him, she knew: perhaps it was that underlying current of potential danger that had attracted her to him in the first place. But now it had risen to the surface and she feared for her life.

The fact that she had left him and taken the kids wasn’t the only reason that his madness had come to light, though. Several factors had combined to flip that little circuit-breaker inside him. Even his job, which had always been his biggest arena of success, had now betrayed him. A few failed business deals and his career was over. Just before Anna went back to him, she had run into one of his colleagues, who had told her that Lucas was starting to act more and more irrational on the job when things didn’t go well. He gave in to sudden outbursts of anger and aggressive attacks. Finally he had shoved an important client up against the wall, and he’d been fired on the spot. The client had pressed charges, so there would be an investigation as soon as the police had the time.

The reports of Lucas’s mental condition had worried her, but she was free—she had left him and taken the kids and was starting over. But then one day she came home to a totally vandalized flat, and realized she had no choice. He was going to harm her, or even worse, harm the kids, if she didn’t humor him and come back. The only way to create a bit of security for Emma and Adrian was to stay as close to the enemy as possible.

Anna knew this, and yet it felt as though she were going from the frying pan into the fire. Now she was practically a prisoner in her own home, with an aggressive and irrational Lucas as her jailer. He forced her to quit her part-time job at Stockholm Auction House, a job she had loved and found deeply satisfying. He wouldn’t allow her to leave the flat except to shop for food or take the kids to school. He hadn’t been able to find another job, nor did he try. He’d had to give up the big, elegant flat in Östermalm, and now they were squeezed into a little two-room flat outside the city. But as long as he didn’t hit the children, she could put up with anything. She herself once again had bruises on her body, but in a way it felt like putting on an old, familiar dress. She had lived that way for so many years that it was her brief period of freedom that seemed unreal, not her present life. Anna also did her best to hide what was going on from the children. She had managed to convince Lucas that they should keep going to day-care, and she tried to pretend that their daily life was the same as always. But she wasn’t sure that she was fooling them. At least not Emma, who was now four years old. At first she’d been ecstatic that they were moving in with Pappa again, but Anna had begun to notice her daughter giving her puzzled looks.

But even as Anna kept trying to convince herself that she had made the right decision, she knew that they couldn’t live the rest of their lives this way. The more irrational Lucas got, the more frightened of him she became. She was sure that one day he would cross the line and actually kill her. The question was how she could make her escape. She had thought about calling Erica and asking for help, but Lucas watched the telephone like a hawk. And there was something inside her, too, that held her back. She had relied on her big sister so many times before, and for once she felt that she had to tackle this problem herself, like an adult. Gradually she had worked out a plan. She needed to gather enough evidence against Lucas so that the abuse could no longer be denied. Then she and the children would be given safe haven and new identities. Sometimes she was overwhelmed by the desire to take the kids and simply flee to the nearest women’s shelter, but she knew full well that without evidence against Lucas it would only be a temporary solution. Then they would be back in hell again.

So she had started to document everything she could. In one of the department stores on her way to the day-care center, there was a photo booth. She would sneak in there and take pictures of her injuries. She wrote down the date and time when she received them and hid the notes and photos inside the frame of the wedding photo of her and Lucas. There was a symbolism in this that she appreciated. Soon she would have enough material to entrust her fate and that of her children to the authorities. Until then, she simply had to put up with Lucas. And work on surviving.

It was recess when Patrik and Ernst turned into the car park at the school. Crowds of children were outside playing in the fierce wind, bundled up and seemingly unconcerned with the cold. But Patrik shivered and hurried to get inside.