The Drowning

by Camilla Lackberg

  ‘Good Lord,’ said Annika, and her eyes filled with tears. Gösta was also blinking away tears, and Martin’s face had turned green. He looked like he was fighting hard not to be sick.

  ‘Unfortunately, Christian’s troubles didn’t end there. He was placed very quickly with a foster family, a couple by the name of Lissander. Paula and I paid them a visit today.’

  ‘Christian couldn’t have had an easy childhood with them,’ said Paula quietly. ‘To be honest, I got the impression that something wasn’t quite right with Mrs Lissander.’

  Gösta felt something flash through his mind. Lissander. Where had he heard that name before? He somehow associated it with Ernst Lundgren, their former colleague who had been fired from the police force. Gösta tried to think what the connection could be. He considered telling everyone that the name sounded familiar, but then decided to wait until the explanation came to him on its own.

  Patrik went on: ‘The Lissanders say that they’ve had no contact with Christian since he turned eighteen. That was when he apparently broke off the relationship with them and left.’

  ‘Do you think they’re telling the truth?’ asked Annika.

  Patrik looked at Paula, who nodded.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Unless they’re very good liars.’

  ‘And they didn’t know of any woman who might bear some sort of grudge against Christian?’ Gösta asked.

  ‘They said they didn’t. But on that point I’m not sure they were being completely truthful.’

  ‘Did he have any brothers or sisters?’

  ‘They didn’t mention any, but maybe you could find out, Annika. That ought to be easy enough to research. I’ll give you all the names and information you need. Could you work on it right away?’

  ‘I can do it now, if you like,’ said Annika. ‘It won’t take long.’

  ‘Okay, great. There’s a yellow Post-it note with everything you need on the folder that’s lying on my desk.’

  ‘I’ll be back,’ said Annika, getting to her feet.

  ‘What about having a chat with Kenneth? Now that Christian is dead, he might decide to start talking,’ said Martin.

  ‘Good idea. So that means we have the following items on our to-do list: talk with Kenneth, and conduct a thorough search of Christian’s house. We also need to find out all the details of Christian’s life before he came to Fjällbacka. Gösta and Martin, I’d like you to talk with Kenneth, okay?’ They both nodded, and Patrik then turned to Paula. ‘You and I will drive over to Christian’s house. If we find anything of interest, we’ll call in the tech team.’

  ‘That sounds good,’ she said.

  ‘Mellberg, you’ll stay here at the station to answer any questions from the media,’ Patrik went on. ‘And Annika will keep digging into Christian’s past. At the moment we have a few facts to go on, at least.’

  ‘More than you thought,’ said Annika, appearing in the doorway.

  ‘Did you find out anything?’ asked Patrik.

  ‘Yes, I did,’ she said, giving her colleagues an excited look. ‘The Lissanders had a daughter two years after they took in Christian as a foster child. So he has a sister. Alice Lissander.’

  ‘Louise?’ Erik called, standing in the front hall. Could he be so lucky that she wasn’t at home? In that case, he wouldn’t have to think up some excuse to get her to leave for a while. Because he needed to pack his suitcase. He felt as if he had a fever, as if his whole body was screaming at him to get out of town.

  He’d taken care of all the practical matters. He’d made a reservation under his own name for a plane departing tomorrow. He hadn’t bothered to set up a false identity. That would take far too much time, and to be honest, he really had no idea how to go about it. But there was no reason to believe that anyone would try to stop him from leaving. And after he reached his destination, it would be too late.

  Erik hesitated outside the upstairs rooms belonging to his daughters. He wished he could go in and have a look around, as his way of saying goodbye. At the same time, he couldn’t get himself to do it. It was easier just to focus only on what he needed to get done.

  He put the big suitcase on top of the bed. It was always stored downstairs in the basement, so by the time Louise noticed it was missing, he would be far away. He planned to leave tonight. What he’d learned from talking to Kenneth had shaken him badly, and he didn’t want to stay here even a minute longer. He’d write a note to Louise saying that he had to leave on an urgent business trip. Then he’d drive to Landvetter airport in Göteborg and get a room at a nearby hotel. Tomorrow afternoon he’d be sitting in a plane, heading for southern climes. Unreachable.

  Erik tossed one item of clothing after another into the suitcase. He couldn’t take much. If the chest of drawers and wardrobe were noticeably empty when Louise came home, she’d know what he was up to. But he took as much as he could. Later he could buy new clothes. Money was not going to be a problem.

  While he packed, he was on the alert for Louise’s arrival, not wanting her to surprise him. If she came home now, he’d have to shove the suitcase under the bed and pretend to be packing the small carry-on bag that he kept in the bedroom. That was the one he always took on business trips.

  For a moment he paused. The memory that had surfaced now refused to sink back into oblivion. He couldn’t say that it particularly upset him. Everybody made mistakes; that was only human. But he was fascinated by the fact that someone could be driven by such a single-minded purpose. After all, it had happened so long ago.

  Then he shook himself. It would do no good to brood over things. The day after tomorrow he would be safe.

  The ducks came rushing towards him. By now they were old friends. He always stopped here, bringing a sack of stale bread. Now they flocked around his feet, eager for what he had to offer.

  Ragnar thought about the conversation with the two police officers, and about Christian. He should have done more. He should have known, even back then. All his life he had been little more than a bystander, weak and silent, watching without intervening. Her bystander. That’s how it had been between them from the very beginning. Neither of them had been able to break the pattern they’d created.

  Iréne had always been preoccupied with her own beauty. She had loved the good things in life: parties, drinks, and men who admired her. He knew all about them. Just because he’d hidden behind his inadequacies didn’t mean that he was unaware of the affairs she’d had with other men.

  And that poor boy had never had a chance. Christian could never measure up, never give her what she wanted. The boy had probably thought that Iréne loved Alice, but he was wrong. Iréne was incapable of loving anyone. She had merely seen her own reflection in her daughter’s beauty. Ragnar wished that he had spoken to the boy before they chased him away like a dog. He wasn’t sure what really happened, or what was the truth. He wasn’t like Iréne, who had accused and condemned him all in one breath.

  Doubt had been gnawing at Ragnar, and it still was. But over the years the memories had faded. They had gone on living their lives. He stayed in the background while Iréne continued to believe that she was still beautiful. No one had dared tell her that her looks were gone, so she kept on behaving as if she could again be the life of the party at any moment. The woman who was both beautiful and desirable.

  But it had to end. At that moment Ragnar understood why the police had come, and he realized that he’d made a mistake. A huge, fateful mistake. And now it was time to put things right.

  Ragnar took Patrik’s business card out of his pocket. Then he got out his mobile and punched in the number on the card.

  ‘Seems like we keep driving this same road over and over,’ said Gösta as he accelerated past Munkedal.

  ‘And we do,’ said Martin. He cast a quizzical look at his colleague, who had been unusually quiet ever since they left Tanumshede. Gösta wasn’t a big talker at the best of times, but right now he seemed more taciturn than ever.

  ‘Is something
wrong?’ Martin asked after a while when he could no longer stand the lack of at least sporadic conversation.

  ‘What? No, it’s nothing,’ said Gösta.

  Martin didn’t press the issue. He knew that it would do no good to try forcing something out of Gösta if he didn’t want to share what was on his mind. He’d reveal whatever it was in his own time.

  ‘What a bloody awful story. Talk about getting a rough start in life,’ said Martin. He was thinking about his little daughter and what might happen if she was subjected to such a terrible experience. It was true what everyone said about becoming a parent. It made a person a thousand times more sensitive to everything concerning children in difficult circumstances.

  ‘That poor little boy,’ said Gösta, and all of a sudden he looked less distracted.

  ‘Don’t you think we should wait to talk to Kenneth until we find out more about the sister, Alice?’

  ‘I’m sure Annika will double-check and triple-check everything while we’re away from the station. The first thing we need to know is where to find Alice.’

  ‘Couldn’t we just ask the Lissanders?’ said Martin.

  ‘Since they never even mentioned her existence when Patrik and Paula were there, I assume that Patrik thinks there’s something fishy about the whole situation. And it won’t hurt to find out as many facts about the family as possible.’

  Martin knew that his colleague was right. He felt foolish for even asking the question.

  ‘Do you think she’s the one behind it all?’

  ‘I have no idea. It’s too early to speculate about that.’

  They drove the rest of the way to the hospital in silence. After parking the car, they went straight to the ward where Kenneth was a patient.

  ‘We’re back,’ said Gösta as they entered his room.

  Kenneth didn’t reply, just looked at them as if he didn’t care who came in.

  ‘How do you feel? Are your wounds starting to heal?’ asked Gösta, sitting down on the same chair as before.

  ‘It’s going to take a lot more time for that,’ said Kenneth, moving his bandaged arms. ‘They’re giving me painkillers. So it doesn’t really hurt much.’

  ‘You heard about Christian?’

  Kenneth nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘You don’t seem particularly upset about it,’ said Gösta, without sounding unfriendly.

  ‘Not everything is visible on the outside.’

  Gösta gave him a puzzled look.

  ‘How’s Sanna?’ asked Kenneth, and for the first time they could see a glint of something in his eyes. Sympathy. He knew what it felt like to lose someone.

  ‘Not so good,’ said Gösta, shaking his head. ‘We were over there this morning. It’s very sad for the boys, too.’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Kenneth agreed, his face clouding over.

  Martin was starting to feel superfluous. He was still standing, but now he pulled a chair over to the other side of the bed, across from Gösta. Then he glanced at his colleague, who nodded, encouraging him to ask his own questions.

  ‘We think that everything that has happened lately is connected to Christian, and so we’ve been delving into his background. One thing we found out is that he had a different last name when he was growing up. Christian Lissander. He also has a stepsister named Alice Lissander. Did you ever hear him talk about any of this?’

  Kenneth paused before answering.

  ‘No. It doesn’t sound familiar.’

  Gösta fixed his eyes on the man, looking as if he’d like to climb into Kenneth’s head to see if he was telling the truth or not.

  ‘I said this before, and I’ll say it again: If you know something that you’re not telling us, you’re putting not only your own life in danger, but Erik’s too. Now that Christian is dead, you must realize how serious this is.’

  ‘I don’t know anything,’ said Kenneth calmly.

  ‘If you’re withholding information, we’re going to dig it up sooner or later.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll make a very thorough job of it,’ said Kenneth. He looked small and fragile as he lay there with his bandaged arms resting on top of the blue hospital blanket.

  Gösta and Martin exchanged glances. They realized that they weren’t going to get any more out of Kenneth, but neither of them believed that he was telling the truth.

  Erica closed the book. She’d spent the last few hours curled up in an armchair reading, interrupted only by Maja, who came over once in a while to ask for something. On such occasions Erica was grateful for her daughter’s ability to play by herself.

  The novel was even better the second time. It was truly amazing. It wasn’t an uplifting kind of book; instead, it had filled her mind with dark musings. But somehow that didn’t seem unpleasant. It dealt with issues that a person needed to think about, issues that required the reader to take a stand and in that way find out what sort of person he or she was.

  In Erica’s opinion, the story was about guilt, about how it could eat up a person from the inside. For the first time she wondered what it was that Christian had wanted to convey through his book, what message he wanted his story to present.

  She placed the book on her lap with a feeling that she’d missed something that was actually right in front of her eyes. Something she was too dense or blind to see. She turned to the back of the book to look at the inside flap of the dust jacket. There was a photo of Christian, in black and white. A classic author pose, and he was wearing wire-rimmed glasses. He’d been handsome in a rather reserved way. There was a loneliness evident in his eyes that made it impossible to know whether he was ever really present. He always seemed to be alone, never in the company of anyone else. As if he were inside a bubble. Paradoxically enough, it was this sense of distance that had exerted such an attraction on others. People always wanted to have what they couldn’t get. And that was exactly how it had been with Christian.

  Erica hauled herself out of the armchair. She was feeling a bit guilty because she’d been so engrossed in the book that she’d ignored her daughter. With great effort she now managed to lower herself to the floor to sit next to Maja, who was overjoyed that her mother was going to join in her games.

  But still hovering in the back of Erica’s mind was the mermaid in the book. She wanted to say something. Christian wanted to say something. Erica was sure about that. She just wished she knew what it was.

  Patrik couldn’t resist taking his mobile out of his pocket again to look at the display.

  ‘Stop that,’ said Paula, laughing. ‘Annika isn’t going to call any sooner just because you keep checking your phone all the time. I promise you’ll hear it when it rings.’

  ‘I know,’ said Patrik, smiling with embarrassment. ‘I just feel like we’re so close now.’ He went back to pulling out drawers and opening cupboards in the kitchen of the house belonging to Christian and Sanna. It hadn’t taken them long to obtain a warrant to search the premises. The problem was that he didn’t know what they were looking for.

  ‘It should be easy enough to find out where Alice Lissander lives,’ Paula consoled him. ‘Annika will probably ring any minute to give us the address.’

  ‘Right,’ said Patrik, looking inside the dishwasher. There was no sign that Christian had received any visitors the day before. Nor had they found any indications of a forced entry or that he might have left the house against his will. ‘But why didn’t the Lissanders mention anything about their daughter?’

  ‘We’ll find out soon enough. But I think it’s wise for us to make our own enquiries about Alice before we talk with her parents again.’

  ‘I agree. But they’re going to have answer a lot of questions.’

  Patrik and Paula went upstairs. Here, too, everything looked the same as it had on the previous day – except in the children’s room. There the text on the wall, the blood-red words, had been replaced by a swathe of thick black paint.

  They stopped in the doorway.

  ‘Christian must have painted over
the words yesterday,’ said Paula.

  ‘I can understand it. I probably would have done the same thing.’

  ‘So what do you really think?’ asked Paula, going into the bedroom next door. She put her hands on her hips as she surveyed the room before starting a meticulous search.

  ‘About what?’ said Patrik as he joined her, going over to the wardrobe and opening the doors.

  ‘Was Christian murdered? Or did he take his own life?’

  ‘I know what I said at the meeting back at the station, but I’m not ruling anything out. Christian was an odd person. The few times we talked to him, I had the feeling that things were going on in his head that simply defied comprehension. But apparently there’s no suicide note, at any rate.’

  ‘People don’t always leave a note. You know that as well as I do.’ Paula carefully pulled out the bureau drawers, putting her hand inside to go through the contents.

  ‘You’re right, but if we’d found one, we wouldn’t have to speculate about what happened.’ Patrik straightened up, pausing to catch his breath. His heart was pounding, and he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

  ‘I don’t think there’s anything here that’s worth a closer look,’ said Paula, closing the last drawer. ‘Shall we go?’

  Patrik hesitated. He didn’t want to give up, but Paula was right.

  ‘Let’s go back to the station and wait for Annika to find something. Maybe Gösta and Martin have had better luck with Kenneth.’

  ‘We can always hope so,’ said Paula, sounding sceptical.

  They were just on their way out the door when Patrik’s mobile rang. He yanked it out of his pocket, but he was disappointed to see it wasn’t the station calling. In fact, he didn’t recognize the number.