‘No, this can’t wait,’ Stubbs replied. ‘So you listen to me and don’t you dare hang up. You hear me? Don’t. Hang. Up.’
‘Fine, but make it quick.’ Fabian shrugged apologetically at Molander, who was now staring at him as though he had no difficulty seeing through his charade.
‘I’ve found the forensic evidence. Do you hear me, Fabian? I’ve found—’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t know if I’m—’
‘The evidence against Milwokh! It’s all right here in front of me in an old freezer compartment.’
‘Right, so you’re saying—’
‘Exactly. So just arrest him. There’s no reason to wait.’
‘I see.’ Fabian nodded and smiled at Molander.
‘And I found Gertrud, too.’
‘Right, well, what do you know. And? Was everything all right with that?’
‘I’m afraid not. The bastard has trapped her in a root cellar, and the problem is that I can’t get down to where she is.’
‘What? I don’t understand—’
‘Fabian, the only thing you need to understand right now is that you have to arrest him. Not in a few hours or a little while, right now.’
There was a click in Fabian’s ear as she hung up.
‘Yes, okay, agreed,’ he said, still holding his phone to his ear. ‘I understand, sounds good. Bye.’ He put his phone back in his pocket without taking his eyes off Molander.
So Gertrud hadn’t left him. She’d been thrown into a root cellar the moment she became a liability. The handwritten letter had just been one more smokescreen so no one would go looking for her.
He almost couldn’t believe it. Not even of Molander. That a person could just sacrifice his own wife like it was nothing.
Neither of them spoke. But it was clear. The looks and the silence carved the situation in stone, hardening it into a memory that would haunt them both forever.
Molander knew. He had figured it out. Maybe not exactly who had broken into his property and found the forensic evidence. But he’d worked out that Fabian wasn’t working alone and now he was busy considering his options. You could almost see it in his face, in his eyes, which although they were still fixed on Fabian were nevertheless turned inward, busy searching for a solution. A way out.
Fabian had nothing to ponder. The moment he had both longed for and dreaded was finally here, and it was up to him to make the first move. He was the one who was going to end the impasse by arresting Molander, his own colleague. He was going to handcuff him in front of his own assistants, in the middle of their crime scene investigation.
But it couldn’t be helped. In time, they, too, would understand. They and everyone else. They would see that no matter how strange it seemed to them, Fabian had right on his side.
If only it were that easy. In reality, it felt more like throwing himself off a cliff blindfolded, with no way of knowing how far he would fall or where he would land.
His handcuffs lay ready and waiting in his right jacket pocket. All he had to do was pull them out and ask Molander to hold out his hands. Maybe it would be exactly that undramatic, over in a few seconds. Now that he thought about it, Molander shouldn’t have any interest in causing a scene. He probably wouldn’t even require handcuffs, just an explanation and a hand on his shoulder.
‘Ingvar,’ he said finally, breaking the silence.
The rest all happened in the wrong order.
The first thing that hit him was how wrong his assumptions had been. The pain came several seconds later, radiating out from his solar plexus. Only then, as he stood doubled over with his hands pressed against his midriff, did he realize Molander had punched him as hard as he could and was now climbing in behind the wheel of the van.
Pain crackled inside him as he hurried towards the cab and he could almost see himself jumping off the edge of the cliff and hurtling through the air.
Without knowing how it happened, he caught hold of Molander’s leg and clung to it as though it were his last lifeline, trying to pull his colleague out of the cab despite kicks raining down on his hands and face. At the same time, the van door was slamming into his head, again and again, as though it had come to life and was taking Molander’s side.
He should have given up and let go. Remembered all the things he had to live for. All the things that really meant something. But he couldn’t. Despite the kicks that left deeper and deeper gashes in his forehead, despite the blood getting in his eyes and making it hard to see, he couldn’t let go.
Maybe because the pain wasn’t getting worse but rather, more distant. As though his body was tuning out all unnecessary distractions, the white noise, and encapsulating itself in the realization that if he let go of Molander’s leg, he would keep falling and lose everything.
He could hear the distant screaming of the two assistants. Whether it was because he was trying to make himself heard over their shouting or if it was just some kind of primal force, he would never know. But suddenly, he could hear nothing but his own roar, and moments later, Molander lay flat on his back on the asphalt in front of him.
He’d managed to pull him out of the van, and for a brief moment, he managed to register that his colleague was flipping onto his stomach in an attempt to get back on his feet, while his assistants tugged and pulled at Fabian from behind. But they were all too late. He had already lunged.
When he landed, he was on top of Molander. The struggle was over, and he pressed his colleague’s face into the asphalt with one hand while reaching for his handcuffs with the other.
‘Hey! Fabian?’ The assistant’s voice started as a vague murmur of disjointed words but quickly became clearer, as though his hearing was being reconnected. ‘Have you lost your mind?’ Soon after, he felt two hands start to tug at him again.
‘Let go of me!’ he bellowed, trying to fend them off and cuff Molander’s hands behind his back at the same time.
‘Bloody hell. What the fuck are you doing?’ said the other assistant, and the two hands became four and together they managed to pull him off Molander and drag him away across the asphalt. They didn’t let go of him until he drew his gun.
‘Listen to me,’ he said as he got to his feet, wiped the blood out of his eyes with his jacket sleeve and glanced over at Molander to make sure he was still on the ground. ‘Odd as it may sound, Ingvar Molander, your boss and my colleague, is suspected of committing a number of murders. I’m respectfully asking you to back away so I can arrest him. Okay?’
The assistants looked from the gun in his hand to Molander and back again.
‘What are you talking about, murders?’ one of them said finally. ‘Are you saying Ingvar—’
‘Yes, I’m afraid so. But this isn’t the time for questions. I can’t say any more about it right now anyway,’ Fabian replied. The blood kept getting in his eyes. ‘So I’ll ask you again. Back off and let me do my job.’
The two assistants didn’t seem to know what to do.
‘Back off!’ he roared, and he aimed his gun at them, which made them raise their hands above their heads and back away while he wiped the blood out of his eyes with his sleeve again. ‘There. Good. Now I want you to—’
‘Drop the gun!’ interrupted a voice that didn’t belong to either of the assistants or to Molander. ‘I said, drop it!’
He recognized it, but couldn’t place it until he turned around and saw Tuvesson approaching with her own gun held firmly in both hands.
‘Astrid, calm down,’ he said, raising his free hand. ‘Let me explain.’
‘I want you to drop your weapon! And I want you to do it now!’ Tuvesson stopped about ten feet from Fabian with her gun pointed straight at him.
‘For fuck’s sake, would you let me explain—’
‘Just do what I say or I’ll shoot!’
Fabian put the gun on the ground and shook his head. ‘This is a mistake, Astrid. Just so you know. Your biggest ever.’
‘Oh yeah? I’m the one making a mistake?’ Tuve
sson nodded. ‘Interesting. So you’re not the one who’s been pursuing his own agenda over the past few weeks, completely neglecting our biggest case ever? It’s not a mistake when you point your gun at the coastguard one day and your own colleagues the next?’
‘Astrid, I can explain,’ Fabian said, while Molander started to get up. ‘If you would just let me…’
‘I don’t know how many times I’ve told you we work as a team,’ Tuvesson cut him off. ‘That we’re honest with each other and share our thoughts and ideas. And yet you continue to lie to my face again and again. You say you need to look after your family but in reality, you’re somewhere else. Or like now, when you promised to come straight to the meeting and instead you drove over here. Yes, you don’t have to look so surprised. I’ve been watching you recently, via a GPS tracker on your car, and it’s been interesting, to say the least.’
‘Are you done?’ Fabian said, mentally going over the last few days in an attempt to understand what it meant that the tracker had been Tuvesson’s and not Molander’s.
‘I don’t know. I’m asking you. Am I? Because honestly, I have no earthly idea what this is all about.’
‘It’s about Molander. Simple as that,’ Fabian replied. ‘He’s not who you think he is. The truth is, he killed both Hugo Elvin and his—’
‘Elvin?’ Tuvesson broke in. ‘Killed? What are you talking about? That was suicide.’
‘No.’ Fabian shook his head. ‘It was just made to look like it, and I’m afraid Elvin’s not Molander’s only victim.’
‘Hold on a minute. Are you seriously standing here accusing Ingvar, a member of our team, of having—’
‘Astrid, if you think I’ve been distracted and you’ve suspected me of having my own agenda, you’re absolutely right. Ever since Elvin’s funeral, I’ve been working on my own investigation, of Molander. An investigation Elvin himself started a few years ago.’
Tuvesson shook her head as though she were unable to take in what he was saying.
‘I swear,’ Fabian went on. ‘I wanted to tell you. But I couldn’t. Not until I had enough proof, and I didn’t, not until just now. Astrid, he’s killed at least five, probably six people. I was about to arrest him when you arrived. Call Hillevi Stubbs if you don’t believe me. She’s been helping me and can confirm every word I’ve just said.’
Tuvesson’s face was ashen and she was holding her gun as though it were the only thing keeping her from falling over. ‘Is this true, Ingvar?’ she said, turning to Molander. ‘Is what he’s saying true? Ingvar, answer me? Is it?’
‘Both yes and no. It’s true Elvin started his own secret investigation. But it wasn’t about me, it was about Fabian, because he suspected Fabian was the one who drugged Ingela Ploghed, his old classmate, and cut out her uterus, which later caused her to commit suicide. He brought it up with me several times, but unfortunately, I didn’t take him seriously until he died.’ Molander swallowed. ‘Don’t ask me how, but somehow Fabian must have found the case file.’ He shook his head and looked as though he was about to burst into tears at any moment. ‘It’s just awful. Elvin was one of my best friends.’
‘Astrid, come on,’ Fabian said. ‘Surely you don’t believe—’
‘You stay where you are!’ Tuvesson shouted at Fabian.
‘For fuck’s sake! He’s just making stuff up! Can’t you tell—’
‘I said shut up! Not another word!’
‘Making stuff up?’ Molander threw his hands up. ‘Why would I make stuff up when I can prove he killed both Elvin and Ploghed?’
Tuvesson looked from Molander to Fabian and back again, still clutching her gun.
‘Think about it,’ Molander continued. ‘Fabian’s been here for two years. That’s as long as any of us have known him. Two years, which coincides with when all these problems began. Right? I don’t know how much you know about his history in Stockholm, but two of his closest colleagues there died under mysterious circumstances. Just a few months later, he moved down here. And then there’s his son, who’s in custody in Denmark on suspicion of being a member of the Smiley Gang?’
‘But Ingvar, I don’t understand? Why didn’t you say something?’ Tuvesson asked. ‘If you knew about all these things, why didn’t you say something?’
Molander turned to Fabian, swallowed, and then looked back at Tuvesson. ‘Gertrud,’ he said finally, his bottom lip trembling. ‘I said she left me, but that’s not true. It’s Fabian… He’s taken her.’ He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. ‘So what was I supposed to do? You of all people should know how much I love her.’
Tuvesson thought about that for several seconds before finally nodding. ‘So that’s why you called in the middle of the night, both last night and on Sunday?’
‘What? What do you mean, called?’ Molander said before realizing Tuvesson had turned to Fabian, who was nodding.
‘Astrid, how long have we worked together, you and me?’ Molander went on. ‘It must be fourteen, fifteen years. Right?’
‘Sixteen this August,’ Tuvesson replied, turning back to him.
‘We’ve been colleagues and friends for almost sixteen years.’
‘Yes, we have.’ Tuvesson nodded and fixed him with a level stare. ‘And yet I’ve never been able to fully trust you.’
‘What? Why wouldn’t you be able to trust me?’ Molander spread his arms.
‘That’s a good question. But I haven’t, now that I think about it. Not ever.’
‘Astrid, when haven’t you been able to trust—’
‘Get back down on the ground, face down, arms and legs out.’
‘Are you serious? Are you going to—’
‘Ingvar, I’m begging you,’ Tuvesson cut him off, looking like she was fighting to hold it together. ‘Don’t make this harder than it already is.’
Molander thought about it for a moment before finally gritting his teeth and lying back down. Tuvesson nodded for Fabian to go over and handcuff his arms behind his back.
After everything Fabian had been through, it went surprisingly smoothly and when he was done, he and Tuvesson pulled Molander to his feet and started to walk him towards the car park in silence.
No one spoke. Not even Molander’s assistants. It was as though every word they might need had suddenly gone missing, replaced by silence. A vacuum-like silence that spread to everything around them. To the tourists who suddenly stopped chattering and the cars that stopped passing by on the street. To the dogs that were no longer barking and even the gravel underneath their feet, which no longer made a sound. It was as though the world was holding its breath.
The sound that suddenly broke the stillness made them all stop and turn to each other.
Three different sounds from three different pockets at once.
Fabian and Tuvesson pulled out their phones.
The message was from Lilja and had been sent to the whole team, including Molander. It looked like it contained quite a lot of information. But Fabian only needed to see the words Milwokh and Tivoli in the subject line to know Tuvesson was going to have to take Molander back to the station by herself.
63
GERTRUD MOLANDER HAD waited forever. Through a hell of grief and pain, she’d waited for it to come. Longed for it. But it was only after she’d given up all hope of surviving. Of anyone coming to rescue her before it was too late. It was only then it had finally appeared.
The light. The light above her. So high above her.
It looked just like she’d imagined it would, and it made everything feel feather-light and wonderful. Gone were her hunger and thirst. Gone were all the things that hurt and all the thoughts of how stupid and naive she’d been. Of how she should have known. Of how, under all the protective layers, maybe she had guessed. None of it mattered any more.
The uneasy conscience, the tightness in her chest and the constant stomach ache had faded away and all she could feel now was an intoxicating harmony that made her so light she was on the verge of soaring up off the
dirt floor.
That a drop of water fell from somewhere high above meant nothing to her. Nor that it landed on her top lip and trickled into her mouth. It was too late. Her body had finally given up and was on its way to somewhere else. That the drop was soon followed by another and then another made no difference.
It had been different before. When she’d lain there dreaming the same dream over and over again in an attempt to think of something that hurt less. The one in which it began to rain. In which the sky suddenly opened, releasing torrents of water that flooded the land and found its way through all the minute cracks in the ground, all the way down to her parched throat.
But no rain had come. So that drop must have been just another dream, conjured by some part of her that was still refusing to give up.
And yet she felt another one. She did. She felt it land on her nose and trace its way uselessly down her cheek. But it couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t.
Actually yes, something was happening, she realized now. It was as though everything was moving in the wrong direction. Backwards and away from the light somehow. She’d only just noticed. She hadn’t even realized she’d been moving forwards. Or had she imagined the whole thing? Like when you think the train you’re on is moving when in reality it’s standing still and it’s the train next to yours that’s leaving the station.
No, there could be no doubt now that she was being pulled back to where she’d come from, even though she’d lain in the same spot all along. She didn’t know if it was a good thing. But she’d always preferred to travel forwards rather than backwards.
No, she didn’t want to go backwards. Not back to the cold hardness. To the pain and hunger. To the humiliation and horror. The fear. She didn’t want it.
She could remember what it had felt like. The pain must have subsided gradually; there was no other explanation for why she hadn’t noticed the shift that eventually made her let go and let herself be lifted up towards that blinding, warm, lovely light. And now she was descending again. Down towards all the things that hurt so badly.
X Ways to Die Page 33