by Mikaela Bley
A lone middle-aged man agreed, after some convincing, to answer some questions.
‘Hans Mårtensson, age fifty-eight, jogs in the area every morning. When he was on his morning run at seven o’clock on Monday morning, he was met by police.’ Ellen extended the microphone.
‘I was passed by a police car and realised that something must have happened, but never thought it could be this,’ he said. ‘It is a terrible tragedy.’
In the parking lot a little further away were two fire engines that people were grouping around.
Ellen and Andreas joined them and got the chance to do a short interview with the fire chief who was there.
‘The fire department in Nyköping has reinforced its presence in Stentuna on Wednesdays and Thursdays in order to increase the sense of security for the general public. Tell us about it.’
‘Right now, we are experiencing a lot of concern in the area, so we’re focusing on what we can do to help,’ said Fire Chief Malin Persson. ‘We want to demonstrate that we are taking an active position against violence.’
‘How are you doing that?’
‘We are driving around to make ourselves visible in the community, answering questions, and trying to induce calm. We are also here to show our respect and sympathy.’
Ellen turned to the camera and had to squint so as not to be blinded by the sun. ‘The police are interested in making contact with anyone who was in the area on Sunday evening or during Sunday night.’ She rattled off the tip number and general information. ‘Liv Lind was a happy woman who lived her life just like anyone else, said her sister in an interview with TV4.’ That was all Ellen could use, and it wasn’t a lie, though perhaps a slight embellishment of the truth. But it helped to make the whole thing more personal. ‘Police have not yet arrested a suspect. The murder remains a mystery. No one knows what the murdered woman was doing in Stentuna, so the police need your help …’
Ellen took the mike away from her mouth and looked over at the wall that encircled the churchyard.
‘Jesus, what a racket,’ said Andreas.
A gang of teenagers and children were screaming and shoving each other. It sounded more threatening than playful.
‘They’re at it again, now,’ said Inger Skog, who came out into the parking lot. ‘I heard they were here. I hope they’ll come in so we can talk to them. Even during the middle of summer holidays, we started getting reports of an unruly gang active in the Stentuna area that had been frightening, screaming at, and shoving other children and adults.’
Ellen felt a shiver go through her body. ‘Why?’ She recognised the blond kid with the bowl cut and that Bea. She took out her phone, scrolled back to the photo she’d taken of the girls at Culturum, and noted that several of them were also in this group.
‘Yes, you tell me. Society’s collective undercurrents? I think they’re afraid of the future, but they’re also questioning old norms, and they seem so angry. We’ve tried to talk to the principal at the school. It’s a gang from Nyköping and some children from here who run wild. I don’t know what they do, or what they’re prepared to do. It’s the result of a failed community.’ The minister looked over at the kids. ‘I’ve heard one person say that the police ought to start questioning children in connection with the murder.’
ELLEN
6.20 P.M.
‘Kids? Could that really be a new line of inquiry for the investigators?’ Ellen sat down at one of the three vacant tables at the little pizzeria along Highway 52 in Stentuna. ‘Why haven’t I been told about this?’ She did an online search and couldn’t find anything about it. Not even on the Flashback forum.
Andreas ordered a light beer. ‘Would you like one?’
She shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I don’t drink beer.’
‘I’m so incredibly hungry. Pizza, kebab, schnitzel, falafel, hamburgers. I want it all, but it’ll have to be a banana and curry pizza, please. What were you talking about? Kids? She was raped, wasn’t she?’
They’d asked the police more questions, but no one wanted to comment on the child theory. Ellen had tried in vain to get hold of Börje Swahn to get it confirmed, but he probably didn’t want to answer any more of her questions, and she didn’t want to contact Carola — not so soon after her collapse. She would be back at work the following morning, even though the doctors had recommended that she go on sick leave. Her job was everything to her, and Ellen once again drew a parallel to herself.
She looked at Andreas sitting there in his over-sized T-shirt, baggy jeans, gigantic sneakers, big headphones around his neck, and tattoos on his arms. He was good-looking, she’d always thought that — even after they’d dated a few years ago. At the time, he was called the MTV guy, and he’d been close to tattooing Ellen’s name on his arm. Now he was just a good friend, and the names tattooed on his arm were those of his wife and their two children.
He was light-years ahead of her in everything.
‘So, what do you think?’ she asked him.
‘I don’t know, but kids in gangs can be nasty. We’re the children of our time, we’re the children of our time, are you scared of your own children, Mother dearest?’ he hissed, wrinkling up in his face in an attempt to look scary.
‘What?’
‘Ulf Dageby. You know, Nationalteatern? Sometimes, I wonder where you grew up. You don’t keep up with pop culture.’
Ellen raised her eyebrows.
‘Fine,’ he said, ‘who are we listening to right now?’
She recognised the song, could even sing along with the chorus, but couldn’t think of a single name. ‘Name a Swedish serial killer,’ she countered.
‘Nice try,’ said Andreas. ‘I think the minister had it right. You know how you were when you were their age and blamed everything on society.’ His pizza arrived, and he started wolfing down slice after slice. ‘Will you have a taste?’
Ellen shook her head, got up, went over to the pizza maker, and asked if they’d had problems with youth gangs. The woman was curt and evasive, and said that they hadn’t. It wasn’t clear to Ellen whether she was telling the truth, or whether possibly her own children were involved.
She sat down across from Andreas again. ‘The risk of being attacked the way that Liv Lind was is low. The choice of crime scene is, how can I put it, not so much a choice, but more like something that just happened. Would you agree?’
He nodded with his mouth full of food.
Ellen went onto a popular jewellery website and navigated to the rings. She scrolled down through the various models to find one like the one Liv had owned. It could have been a simple engagement ring, but in that case, she’d been wearing it on the wrong finger.
Her phone buzzed. A new email. It was from Internet, who had done some checking up on the complaints against Ellen. They were sent from two different email addresses. Neither of the emails had specified a street address or given the sender’s name. Whoever had made the complaints had expressed in various ways that if it happened again they would report it to the police. They viewed the matter seriously. Both were signed Anonymous. The emails were formatted differently, but they came from the same IP address.
‘Is this a joke?’ She read the emails to Andreas. ‘The funny thing is that I was actually in both those places that day.’ Ellen leant back in the chair. ‘The complaints must have come from the same person.’ Something that couldn’t be seen by the untrained eye, but which was the only reasonable theory. They were written in two entirely different ways, but the message was the same. Someone who obviously didn’t want anyone to connect them. ‘Could someone be following me?’ She asked Internet to check out the IP address. ‘Did you know, by the way, that his name is Nils?’
‘Who?’
‘Internet.’
‘Yeah, I knew that.’ Andreas wiped his mouth and took out the camera. ‘Should we check over the interview with that
policeman so that we can get out of here sometime?’
Ellen sat down beside him, and together they watched the material through the little display on the camera.
‘It’s routine with serious crimes that we always look for whether there is any surveillance footage. If there is, then we confiscate that material and review it. But in order to go through the files, you also have to know what you’re searching for, if you’re to have any hope of getting results.’
‘Does it become more difficult for the investigators, as more time passes?’
Ellen switched it off.
‘What are you doing?’ Andreas asked in irritation.
‘Sorry.’ It was always the same thing, every time she saw herself on screen or on the display. She couldn’t prepare herself, even though she should have been used to it at this point. This time it had been a long while since she’d seen herself on TV, and she was startled when she saw her face. She sometimes could get the same feeling when she looked in the mirror or walked past a store window. It was as if it wasn’t herself she saw, but Elsa.
‘What’s going on with you?’ Andreas asked, who knew about her behaviour.
‘It’s fine,’ she lied.
He shook his head. ‘Listen, I think …’
‘Turn it back on now!’ She didn’t want to hear what he thought, and he was wise enough to do as she said.
Ellen took a few deep breaths and continued watching.
‘Crime is a perishable commodity, and obviously we are working to solve this as soon as we can. We’re still waiting on analyses and technical evidence that may bring us closer to the truth.’
‘What do you hope will happen now? ’
Ellen was asking, and now she appeared on the screen.
Andreas looked at her carefully. She ignored his worried looks.
‘I hope that there will be evidence and tips that can help to lead us in the right direction. If this isn’t a mentally disturbed person, the chances are that he or she is affected by feelings of guilt and regret, which then makes it easy to make mistakes that can, for example, make neighbours suspicious. It’s important that the general public remember to call in one time too many, rather than doing nothing at all.’
‘Have any relevant tips come in? ’
‘The tips are being processed continually, but so far we haven’t received anything of use.’
‘Do people in the area need to be worried? ’
‘It’s hard to say. We don’t want to cause panic. At the same time, regardless of where you are, you should be alert and observant.’
‘That will be fine,’ said Andreas, turning it off. ‘Did you see how I zoomed in on the wart on his chin?’ He laughed.
‘This is shit, we’ve got nothing new at all. We’ll have to see if they want to include it in the evening broadcasts. Internet will have to run it for now. We’ve got to follow up this thing with the kids.’ Ellen wondered what had led the police onto that track, or maybe it was just a rumour because no one seemed to want to confirm it.
‘I guess I think that there’s something really scary about evil children.’ Andreas said.
‘Children aren’t evil. You have kids yourself. How can you say that?’
‘You’re the one who likes horror films — you should know how scary they can be.’ He ran his hand over his shaved head.
‘Exactly, that’s stuff in horror films. I don’t like the way people use the concept of evil so casually, and I especially don’t like it where children are concerned. Evil is a word you wave around so that everyone will feel better. Everyone is searching for answers and someone to blame so that they can live with what has happened. There’s evil in all of us, and so many different factors that make people do these kinds of things. Nothing is completely black or white.’
‘Sure, I don’t know, I’m just saying Pet Sematary, Lord of the Flies, The Shining. I can list off any number.’
‘In the movies, yes.’
ELLEN
8.10 P.M.
The heat was still palpable, even though it was evening. Ellen only had to run a few hundred metres before the sweat broke out all over her body. Through her earphones, she was playing the hit list at the loudest volume, right on the verge of making her ears hurt. She was trying to focus on the song lyrics so her thoughts wouldn’t rush off. Sometimes, she sang along with them. Loudly. No one would hear her anyway on these deserted roads.
It had been a long day. She needed to clear her head. Internet had called back and confirmed that the emails were sent from Culturum. The library. Could it have been that girl she’d run into there? But why would she have sent them? The word choice made it seem more likely that they had been written by an adult. She couldn’t make it all fit.
Ellen ran towards the gravel pit, alongside which there was a little beach. It was a long time since she’d been there. They used to bicycle there when they were little, even though they knew the gravel pit was a dangerous place to play. It could suddenly turn into a death trap if they fell and large quantities of gravel slid down and buried them.
She increased her pace and tried to wave off the flies and other insects that were hitting her face. Ran past the pigsty and the Scepter fuel tanks and marvelled at how she’d gotten used to the stench. Not a soul as far as the eye could see. The evening feeding was done. The farmhands that took care of the pigs had probably already gone to bed because they got up so early.
She left the settlement and ran onto the gravel road, past fields, and into the forest. Breathed in the air of dry forest and freshly mown hay.
A snake slithered across the road right in front of her. She was about to step on it and let out a yell. A little viper, the most poisonous kind. She tried stamping on the ground so that it would wriggle away. It was sluggish and seemed to be affected by the heat. It felt like it was staring at her. She waited until the viper had slithered away before she continued.
Now she was running even faster, but trying to keep track of the ground so as not to tread on anything, and wondering why it was that small snakes were the most dangerous.
Suddenly, she heard something. She slowed down and pulled her earphones out. Stopped and turned quickly around.
She let her eyes wander along the road and inspected the forest on either side. Ants were crawling up her leg, and she tried to brush them off and moved her feet.
Maybe it had just been a bird? Ellen got irritated with herself and felt silly to be jumping at the slightest little sound or movement. It was much too long since she’d been out in nature.
But then she heard something again. In the forest. It sounded like a branch breaking. It must have been a deer or a moose, Ellen thought, putting on the earphones again, but she’d only taken a few more steps when she heard something that sounded like a car. She slowed down and turned off the music, but left the earphones in. Looked around several times.
Then it happened quickly.
They were all bicycling around her, screaming and striking sticks on the ground. Their movements were fast and jerky.
Ellen tried to run away, but it was pointless; they chased her and soon caught up. Finally, she stopped and caught her breath, trying to think of how she could get them to calm down. She spun around. It was impossible to make out what they were screaming. They were egging each other on. Someone shoved her.
‘What are you doing? Stop that!’
They were everywhere. Children of all ages. Some she recognised from the churchyard. They cycled around her, screaming. It was still impossible to figure out what they were saying. They were incoherent sounds. It was as if they were governed by a rush of adrenaline, as she’d seen happen with demonstrators and soccer hooligans, not least in the news reports the last few days.
Panic was starting to grow. They were children, but with that many together, she wouldn’t have a chance. She tried to get out of the circl
e, but it didn’t work. And where would she go?
What were they capable of?
She got a shove on the back, or was kicked, and she fell down on the gravel, scraping her knee. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ She tried to conceal the terror in her voice and took out her phone. ‘I’m calling the police.’ It was a threat that she knew wouldn’t save her. It would take at least half an hour for the police to make their way there. In the best case.
They laughed and kept on screaming. They struck their sticks, on the ground and on the bikes, waved them in the air.
Ellen felt dizzy. Tried to stand, but couldn’t get up. Instead she felt yet another whack on her back.
It hurt so much. She wanted to cry, but resisted it. Bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.
Then she heard rumbling and saw two tuned-up mopeds come over the crest of the hill.
Straight towards her.
The other children moved and opened the circle. Yet again she tried to stand up.
‘No, stop!’ she screamed and reached out her hand.
But they accelerated and came closer. The screams got louder and louder around her.
Ellen closed her eyes.
ELLEN
8.30 P.M.
Suddenly, there was total silence. Ellen slowly opened her eyes. Right in front of her, just a few centimetres shy of where her legs were sprawled, the mopeds had stopped short.
Slowly, she raised her eyes. ‘What the hell are you all doing?’ She summoned the last of her energy. She was in a great deal of pain, and she was just realising that she’d survived.
So far.
Someone started striking a stick on the ground again. The others quickly joined in. They were standing around her in a circle, as if performing some kind of ritual.