Black Ice

by Ian Giles

  He had disappeared into thin air, wearing the clothes and shoes he had been wearing that day, leaving the car, his passport, his toothbrush and suitcase at home—all of them things that could be obtained elsewhere with money. He had created an unsolvable mystery around his disappearance, broken hearts, and left behind fatherless children.

  That was why he had kept her hopes up with his loving promise that they would soon meet. Because he knew that by the time of the meeting, he would already be gone and after that it wouldn’t matter what Jeanette did. Her loyalty made no difference to him—she could go to the police and confess if she wanted, but it wouldn’t affect him. Only her.

  Cynical, ruthless—the betrayal was enormous. How would she manage to go on living after this?

  37

  Kerstin

  NOW SHE WAS truly alone. She had her work as a child minder at a kindergarten in Fårösund, and she got along well with the children and staff alike, but she didn’t have any real friends there. And right now she wasn’t fit for work—and wouldn’t be for a while, since she was struggling to eat and sleep.

  She didn’t have any neighbours in immediate proximity either, although she maintained a polite but distant and impersonal relationship with those who were closest. A flock of chickens and two cats were the flesh and blood that were closest to her—at least while she was signed off sick following Karl-Erik’s death. Otherwise, her current company consisted exclusively of fictitious characters in the books that she read.

  Kerstin was truly alone, for real this time. It was hard to take in, but that was how it was. That was how it was going to be—possibly forever. When Karl-Erik had been inside, she hadn’t felt as abandoned: even if it had felt distant for many years, there had still been an end to the torment. They had talked on the phone several times a week, and she had visited him monthly. Soon enough he had his weekends on partial release, which hinted that his full release was approaching.

  Now there was nothing to anchor herself to, and the absolute loneliness loomed large over her. They had no children, Kerstin’s father had overdosed many years before, and her mother hadn’t wanted to have anything to do with Kerstin since it had become clear that she mixed in criminal circles. Circles that she had left behind long ago, but that had had no impact on her mother’s decision. She had pulled her hand away from her only child once and for all.

  Moving back to Stockholm and her old friends was out of the question—that time was behind her. And she couldn’t stay out here in the countryside. She couldn’t afford it, now that she was going to be the sole provider for her needs. What was more, it was far too desolate, too antisocial. Kerstin was essentially a companionable person, even if that wasn’t the initial impression she gave. She thrived among people and would undoubtedly get cabin fever if she had to stay on her own in a little cottage in the country.

  That was why she decided to move into Visby, where she could live in a cheap rented flat. She would find it easiest to find a job there, and she would be able to get involved in clubs in order to meet people. What kinds of clubs or people she had no idea, but surely there had to be something she could get into? Some people who could take an interest in her, even if she had stigmatising tattoos that lengthened the odds against her?

  BODY FOUND IN WOODS

  A body has been found in a wooded area close to the Digerrojr barrow in Alskogen in the south of Gotland. Emergency services were contacted on Wednesday by a member of the public.

  It has still not been possible to determine the identity or age of the deceased, but the remains are thought to be male. It has also been established that the body was in this location for a relatively long period prior to its discovery.

  The circumstances around the man’s death remain very unclear, and the matter is now in the hands of the police.

  “Whether a crime has been committed in connection with this death is not clear at present,” said the pretrial investigator. He believes it is also possible that the individual got lost, given that the body was found in a location not usually frequented by people.

  Thus far, there are no firm suspicions, but the police have cordoned off the scene and the man’s remains have been sent to the National Board of Forensic Medicine.

  “It’s not yet possible to say whether this is the 41-year-old male who has been missing since 2014,” said the pretrial investigator. “An autopsy is due to be carried out on the body and we hope to identify the body at that stage. However, we have notified the man’s next of kin that it may be him. We do not know at present when identification will be complete,” he added.

  GOTLANDS ALLEHANDA

  JUNE

  2018

  38

  Sandra

  IT HAD BEEN more than a month since Kerstin had last called, and that worried Sandra. Kerstin seemed so burdened by her worries and the loneliness she was experiencing that she might be in the danger zone for ending it all. But Sandra persuaded herself that Kerstin would never take that step without contacting Friends-on-call and Sandra first. It simply couldn’t be any other way. She was attached to Kerstin, inspired by their conversations and the detective work they were doing together. What was more, she needed to talk to Kerstin. Their conversations were therapeutic for Sandra too, and there were questions she needed to ask.

  Kerstin wasn’t the only person keeping their head down. There had been no sign of life from Hallin since that fateful bouquet of flowers had turned up on the porch. Above all, the child support payment she had demanded hadn’t shown up in her bank account, which was unacceptable.

  He’d had a month or so to gather his thoughts and make a sensible decision. To respond by sending a threatening message via the flowers, in practice basically ignoring the problem, wasn’t just thoughtless but was sheer lunacy given that he was risking a rape accusation being pinned on him. Hallin must surely have understood that was the risk he faced if he didn’t do the right thing.

  And Sandra had no intention of giving up. Now that she knew who he was, it was impossible to let him scurry away. Sandra didn’t want to be a weak parent who couldn’t stand up for her child anymore. Even if it wouldn’t be long before Erik understood that he was the result of a rape, both he and the world around them would understand that made him an even more welcomed child. He was assurance personified and would never have to doubt for a moment how loved he was. She intended to fight out this war for her son and for herself. For financial reasons, of course, but also in order to force Hallin to do the right thing, somehow—to admit what he did and suffer for it. And the threats she had issued were ones she could really implement. If she wanted, she could report the rape, even if she wasn’t sure she felt up to taking things that far. But she could indubitably pull herself together and demand a paternity test that would force him to pay her the just level of support. The choice was his to make—would this matter take place in the public eye or not? It was high time she turned the screws a bit more.

  She turned on her mobile and checked that the “Hide my number” option was activated. He obviously already knew who she was and where she lived, but since the rape she had got a new, secret number because she wasn’t cut out for dealing with terror by phone. This time she wasn’t especially nervous—in fact, she could feel the adrenaline pumping through her. Sandra knew that she was better at conversations by phone than face to face, that her uncertainty disappeared when she didn’t have to display her less than appealing outer self. She took a couple of deep breaths and then dialled the number of the Hallin family landline.

  “Hallin,” said a man’s voice.

  “I’d like to speak to Gunilla,” said Sandra.

  “I’m sure that can be arranged. Who should I say is calling?”

  “You can tell her it’s Sandra. You know, the mother of your child.”

  There was silence on the line. Sandra imagined the frustration growing on the other end as her words sunk in.

  “What the fuck are you playing at?” he hissed with rage, his voice low
now.

  So he kept some secrets from his wife then, despite his denials when they had last spoken.

  “Thanks for the flowers by the way,” said Sandra. “Aren’t you worried I’ll report you to the police?”

  “Not really, you know. Aren’t you worried about what the consequences of this kind of blackmail might be for you?”

  “It’s not blackmail—just a request for what corresponds to the regular, statutory level of child support. And to answer your question, I figure that the consequence of this is quite simply that you’ll agree to my demand and deposit the sum I asked for into my bank account. It won’t be any worse than that, and I’m struggling to understand why you’re so dismissive.”

  “Oh really? You are? Then let me inform you that it’s because I don’t appreciate it when some little gold digger barges into my life like this to grab a fuckload of cash.”

  “In that case, allow me to inform you that it’s significantly less than half of what I spend on the boy,” Sandra said combatively. “And it’s not exactly like I asked for this pregnancy.”

  “I definitely didn’t either,” Hallin growled. “It would have been easiest for all concerned if you had got rid of the child.”

  “The easiest thing—beyond doubt—would have been if you had done your thinking with the head that you’ve got up there sitting on your neck. You know, instead of the other one.”

  “You’re out of your fucking mind.”

  “Seriously?” Sandra laughed contemptuously. “It’s me who is crazy when it’s you who runs around raping women?”

  There were a few moments of silence before he spoke again, this time in a more controlled tone.

  “Look, let me put it to you like this. That thing that you’re referring to—it was a bit uncalled for. I admit that. I might have misjudged the situation, and if I did then I’m sorry for that. But child support? I’m not interested in some stupid brat. And you had every opportunity to get rid of it, right? Especially if you can’t afford to look after it. But you chose not to. That was your choice, and I respect that. But don’t get me mixed up in this—I wasn’t asked.”

  Sandra was taken by surprise by the change in tone. It was easier to respond to arrogance and bitterness, that much she now realised. But just because he had toned down his indignation didn’t mean Sandra had to do the same.

  “I wasn’t asked whether I wanted to have sex with you,” she countered. “Which I pretty clearly showed I didn’t want. Wouldn’t it just be easiest if you transferred that money and then the matter will be settled and you’ll be rid of me for good? And no one will ever need to find out about any of this.”

  “No one is going to find out anything anyway.”

  “What do you mean by that? Is that some sort of threat?”

  “You won’t report that so-called rape. You would have done so long ago if you were going to. And there’s no proof of anything like that either.”

  “A paternity test certainly proves something. And reporting a rape would stir things up a bit I should think.”

  “He said, she said—and like I said, there’s no evidence. You’ll never pin anything on me.”

  “Very possibly, but it’ll damage your reputation, and I think that’s something you’d like to avoid. Just pay and the problem will go away. Otherwise I’ll have to take steps that you won’t like.”

  “That sounds like a threat. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

  “I have a pretty good idea of that, actually,” Sandra said truthfully. “I know much more about you than you think.”

  “I think it’s about time we wrapped up this call,” Hallin said with an edge to his voice. “Drop this. Now. That’s my genuine advice to you.”

  “No chance,” Sandra said coolly. “Now can I speak to your dear wife?”

  “You ugly, fat, fucking slut,” Hallin said as a parting shot, and Sandra could hear him frothing at the mouth as he spat out the words.

  Then he slammed the phone down. But judging by the description, at least he still remembered her, Sandra noted with a sad smile.

  39

  Jeanette

  IT WAS HOT and sunny, and there were a lot of people out and about today—the tourists had already started to stream onto the island. Midsummer was approaching and it was obvious that the posh schools in the fancier parts of Stockholm had closed their doors for the season.

  Jeanette was sitting between Lubbi and Kat, watching people rushing past. Everyone seemed to be in such a hurry—they seemed to have important things they needed to do before the next important thing they needed to do. The Stockholmers brought the urgency and stress of the subway with them all the way to Gotland. It was only as Medieval Week approached that they usually began to calm down somewhat, just as their holiday was almost over.

  “The nine-to-fivers, the nine-to-fivers are funny to observe,” Lubbi sang, to the tune of Små Grodorna.

  Kat laughed loudly. Jeanette gave a tepid smile, but at least she recognised the reference, which she was pretty sure Kat didn’t. She was too young to remember Stefan Jarl’s old documentaries about Swedish society and customs.

  Jeanette felt a bit depressed at the thought that she was no longer one of the nine-to-fivers, but one of the misfits, as they were known. When she thought about it, there was a hint of approval in the very words. A certain degree of respect for the people who had chosen an alternative lifestyle, as it could also be termed. Despite it not being something you chose, but a state that you ended up in because you lacked the capacity to make thought-through choices that were good for you in the long-term.

  “Those mainlanders are so stressed they’ll go to an early grave,” Jeanette said.

  “There’ll be a lot of herring needing pickled just now,” Lubbi posited. “A lot of salmon to be cured and bottles and bottles of the hard stuff to be bought. Cheers.”

  Then he raised his plastic bottle and knocked back a couple of gulps of some moonshine he had found and mixed with coke. Jeanette was about to get her own bottle out of her rucksack when she caught sight of two police officers who had changed tack and were heading straight towards them.

  “Look out Lubbi, s’the fuzz,” she said in warning, pulling a cigarette out instead and lighting it.

  Lubbi rapidly put away his bottle and was also in the process of sparking up when they began speaking to him.

  “Are you drinking hooch straight from the bottle, Lubbi?” one of them asked—a fundamentally kind woman, but with a stern expression.

  Lubbi leaned back nonchalantly with his cigarette between his lips.

  “What’s a man supposed to do?” he said, holding out his hands. “Riedel glassware has got so damn expensive. Haven’t you got anything better to do than lurk around here harassing sunbathers?”

  “Apparently not,” said the policewoman. “You be careful you don’t burn yourself, Lubbi. You’re already starting to look a bit rosy.”

  “Thanks for thinking of me,” said Lubbi, crossing his arms over his chest. “But shouldn’t you focus a bit more on that murder and a bit less on the factor of my sun cream?”

  Her male colleague smiled, but the grim policewoman wasn’t to be deterred.

  “Try to be discreet, guys. You don’t need to advertise what you’re up to. And you don’t actually own these benches—there may be other people who want to use them too.”

  “I’d like to see them try!” said Lubbi with feigned indignation.

  “Exactly my point. They won’t. Maybe you could try out some different benches some time? Or settle down on a blanket in the woods somewhere?”

  “We’ll give it some consideration,” said Lubbi, exhaling smoke through tight lips.

  The two officers left them and Jeanette resumed her hunt for the bottle in her rucksack. She took a good long slug from it and then put the bottle away again—it seemed unnecessary to tempt fate.

  “They’re not half annoying, those cops,” Kat said.

  “Meh, they’re just doing th
eir job,” said Lubbi.

  “What does it matter if we’re sitting here?”

  As usual, Kat struggled to see the obvious.

  “Just like they said, we sit here all day so no one else gets a chance to use these benches. They could have driven us away loads of times, but they don’t. They see that we’re drinking, but let us stay even though the consumption of alcohol is illegal in public space. They could have arrested the lot of us, put us in the van and driven us away, but they don’t because they’re all right.”

  “I think they’ve got a nerve ticketing cars and harassing sunbathers instead of catching murderers.”

  “Kat,” Lubbi sighed, which resulted in a cloud of smoke. “Firstly, it was a joke—the thing I said about harassing sunbathers. They’re not doing that. They’re kindly pointing out that we’re not meant to be sitting here getting pissed with everyone else around. Secondly, the police don’t issue parking tickets—that’s the parking wardens employed by Region Gotland. Meter maids—have you heard the term? They’re not police. Thirdly, there are different kinds of police. Those ones were beat cops—they’re not the ones who investigate murders. That’s up to CID.”

  Kat rolled her eyes and made a movement with her head that seemed to express her pain at being surrounded by idiots. Then she cracked open a beer can with a hissing sound.

  “What murder are you talking about?” Jeanette asked.

  “Haven’t you heard?” Kat said excitedly.

  “It’s in no way certain that it’s a murder,” Lubbi said, stubbing out his cigarette with the sole of his shoe. “But they’re ‘not ruling out the possibility a crime has been committed,’ as they so beautifully put it. Likely as not, someone got lost in the woods or had a stroke or something.”