by Viveca Sten
“I looked into Dino Herco’s story about his missing phone,” Leila said, sitting down opposite Nora. “He didn’t report it to the police.”
As usual Leila had come in much earlier than Nora. She was always there before seven thirty, often after a long walk with Bamse or a visit to the gym. Nora tried not to think about how much exercise Leila did on a daily basis. Or how little she did in comparison.
“He was lying,” Nora said. “No surprise there.”
She could hear how cynical she sounded, and regretted it. She didn’t want to become the kind of prosecutor who’d already seen and heard it all, who was unmoved by any case, however dreadful it might be. It was important to care.
Her phone rang; it was Thomas. She’d considered calling him the previous day, because he’d seemed so down on Saturday, but Sunday had somehow disappeared without her getting around to it. She switched her phone to the speaker function.
“Leila’s here and you’re on speaker,” she warned him.
“I think she’ll be interested in what I have to say. I’ll keep it brief—I have to leave soon.”
She couldn’t tell if he was feeling better; she decided to call him when she got home, after Julia had gone to bed. Leila moved her chair a little closer.
“OK, what have you got?” Nora said.
“I made a few calls to check out Dino Herco, the guy you mentioned the other day.”
Nora hadn’t said anything to Leila, and hoped she wouldn’t have a problem with the fact that Nora had discussed the case with Thomas. The domestic abuse fell within Stockholm South’s mandate, so it shouldn’t be a problem. However, she glanced at her colleague; she didn’t want Leila to feel left out. “And you’ve found something?”
“Dino Herco works closely with Andreis Kovač, just as I suspected.”
Herco had made it sound as if they were no more than passing acquaintances. Why was she surprised?
“The guys in Narcotics knew exactly who he was. He’s Kovač’s driver and his right-hand man. He follows Kovač like a shadow wherever he goes.”
“Good to know,” Leila said.
Nora felt a stab of irritation. They should already have accessed this information; they must look like amateurs to Thomas.
“They’re also childhood friends,” Thomas continued. “They went to the same school in Nyköping, and their families know each other.”
No such thing as a coincidence.
“Dino is Kovač’s creature.” He paused. “My colleagues in Narcotics regard both men as extremely dangerous.”
Nora knew that was directed at her. “Thanks for your help,” she said and ended the call.
“That explains why he didn’t want us to know he was involved,” Leila said. “He was terrified of Kovač finding out that his own man had gone behind his back.”
“How come the link didn’t surface during our own preliminary investigation?” Nora couldn’t hide her irritation.
Leila shifted on her chair. She clearly wasn’t happy either. “We didn’t really look at that kind of thing. We didn’t put Kovač under surveillance, because we were focusing on tax evasion. If the case had involved drugs or blackmail, for example, I’m sure Herco’s name would have come up. Plus we don’t have the resources—you know the situation.”
She was right, but Nora still wished they’d been better informed when they spoke to Herco. He’d been laughing at them all along.
“He saved Mina’s life but didn’t have the nerve to admit what he’d done,” Leila said slowly. “We should be able to use that somehow.”
“Drive a wedge between him and his boss?”
“Why not? Everyone seems to be afraid of Kovač.”
“You ought to bring Herco in and lean on him. See how he reacts if we threaten to tell Kovač about the phone call.”
Leila was already heading for the door. “I’m on it.”
CHAPTER 41
The sun was shining as Nora and Leila made their way along the neatly raked gravel path to the front door of the shelter. The Swedish flag was flying. It wasn’t Anna-Maria who came to let them in this time, but a woman with a plump figure and bleached blond hair. She showed them to the same room as on Saturday. There was a vase of pink tulips on the coffee table, a perfect match with the tiled stove.
Mina was sitting in an armchair opposite a man in a dark-blue suit. He immediately got to his feet when Nora and Leila walked in.
“Herman Wibom—I’ve been appointed as Mina’s counsel,” he said, holding out his hand.
He reminded Nora of a genial uncle, in his three-piece suit with a white handkerchief neatly tucked in the breast pocket. He was in his sixties, gray haired, and not particularly tall. A blue bow tie completed his outfit.
Nora had been hoping for an attorney with a stronger personality, someone who could stand up to Ulrika Grönstedt. However, counsel was appointed by the court, and at least Mina had representation. Hopefully Wibom would give her the strength to testify against her husband.
“I’ve explained to Mina that my role is to support her throughout the legal process until the trial is over,” Wibom said. “Both in police interviews and in court. I’ve also told her that it won’t cost her anything, so she doesn’t need to worry about the financial side of things.”
The state bore the cost of counsel. Deliberations had taken time, but the law was very clear once it had been put in place.
“How are you feeling today?” Leila asked Mina. “Did you manage to get any sleep?”
“Yes.”
Leila sat down on the sofa and tried to make small talk, but Mina didn’t respond. She was busy studying the buttons on her blue cardigan.
“I didn’t mean what I said on Saturday,” she said at last.
“Sorry?”
“About Andreis.” Mina undid a few buttons, then fastened them again. “When I said he’d hit me. I was wrong.”
Nora placed a hand on Leila’s arm. “So what actually happened?” she asked gently.
“I tripped over the vacuum cleaner and hurt myself. Andreis had nothing to do with it.”
Please don’t do this to us, Nora thought. Don’t do this to yourself.
“Mina, you described everything to us in detail,” Leila said. “Are you saying none of that was true?”
Mina began to cry. “I don’t know,” she said, covering her face with her hands. “I’m so confused, I can’t think straight.”
Nora exchanged a glance with Leila.
“I want to go home,” Mina sobbed.
Nora turned to Herman Wibom. “Maybe we should take a break. Do you have a moment?”
They went out into the corridor, leaving Mina in the room.
“I don’t understand,” Nora began. “When we were here on Saturday, she seemed prepared to stand up in court and testify against her husband. She described the assault in detail, and there’s no doubt that he’s guilty.”
“I’m afraid Mina’s had some bad news,” Wibom told them. “Her mother was admitted to the hospital on Saturday night; she’s had a major heart attack. Mina doesn’t dare go and see her because of her husband, but she’s very frightened and upset.” Wibom adjusted his bow tie. “It’s hardly surprising, under the circumstances.”
“Do we know if Kovač had anything to do with it?” Leila asked. “Given the way he’s treated Mina, could he have threatened her parents, too?”
“I’m afraid I have no idea, but Mina is extremely concerned about her mother’s condition. I think she blames herself for what’s happened. I believe her parents have been very worried about their daughter for some time, which of course has taken its toll on her mother’s health.”
“Protecting her husband won’t help,” Leila pointed out. “If she doesn’t testify, things will only get worse.”
Nora took a deep breath. Without Mina’s cooperation, there was no assault case. And Mina wasn’t going to help with the tax case either.
Back to square one.
“Can’t you talk to her?” Leila al
most pleaded. “Get her to open up?”
Wibom looked troubled. “My job is to protect my client’s interests. I can’t try to influence her just because that’s what you want.”
“The best way to protect your client’s interests is to persuade her to testify so that her husband ends up behind bars for many years,” Leila snapped. “Otherwise he’s going to kill her.”
CHAPTER 42
Nora slammed her hands on the steering wheel in frustration. She wished she could pass the slow-moving bus in front of them, but it was impossible on the narrow road from Stavsnäs.
It had been a wasted morning. Mina hadn’t given them anything they could use. Quite the reverse—she’d made it clear that she had no intention of cooperating with the ongoing investigation.
Two steps back instead of one step forward, which was what Nora had been expecting. Now her hopes were pinned on Stefan Talevski, Mina’s father. After some discussion, she and Leila had decided to go and see him. Maybe he could persuade his daughter to change her mind. Or testify himself, since she was too scared.
Leila had received information about a call to the police late on Saturday night in the area where Mina’s parents lived. Apparently one of the neighbors had heard shouting. The window in the front door of Körsbärsvägen 23 had been smashed when a patrol car arrived, but there was no one home.
At almost the same time as that call, Stefan had requested an ambulance for his wife.
Cause and effect.
Leila was nibbling at a thumbnail. She hadn’t said much since they picked up the car, but now she broke the silence. “Kovač must have contacted Mina since we saw her on Saturday. That’s the only possible explanation. I’m guessing he called and called until she felt she had to answer, and that was that.”
Nora had come to the same conclusion. She would have liked to grab Mina’s phone and throw it in the sea. Just by leaving it switched on, Mina made herself a target. It was way too easy to get to her. Nora had spoken to Anna-Maria before they left, asked if she knew whether Kovač had been in touch over the weekend, but her response had been evasive. “You need to ask Mina,” she’d murmured.
“I don’t understand why she continues to protect Kovač,” Nora said now, whizzing past the bus that had pulled in at a stop. “She should have left him a long time ago.”
She sounded her horn at the car in front, which was traveling almost as slowly as the bus—well below the speed limit. Why had all the useless drivers chosen the same stretch of road as her today?
“I don’t understand why she changed her mind. The best way, the only way for Mina to protect herself and her family is to help us put her husband behind bars,” she went on.
“Easier said than done.”
“Sorry?” Nora hadn’t expected that from Leila. When they first spoke to Mina at the hospital, Leila had pushed her almost too hard to testify against her husband. “Are you defending her decision?”
“No woman wants to accept that she’s with a man who hits her,” Leila said. “So she convinces herself that he’ll change, and that’s why she stays.”
“Surely she must realize that’s not going to happen in this case.” Mina’s medical records told their own story.
“Of course she does, deep down.” Leila stroked her long braid. “The men know they’re doing wrong, too. A man shouldn’t hit a woman—most guys learn that when they’re children.”
“And yet they still do it. I don’t know how they can look at themselves in the mirror.”
“They make excuses.” Leila paused. “They develop a range of strategies to justify the violence, because they know the world is judging them. They’re probably judging themselves, too, on some level. Almost all men believe it’s wrong to use violence in a relationship, if you ask them straight out.”
“So why don’t they stop?” Nora slowed down as she approached the bridge. A de-rigged sailboat was moored by the gas station, looking depressingly mutilated.
“The problem is that these men just can’t do it. It takes great courage to confront your own behavior, and violent men are usually afraid.” Leila sounded as if she were quoting from a textbook.
“How do you know all this?” Nora asked.
“I took a couple of subsidiary courses in psychology at college before I applied to the police academy.”
“Did you consider a degree in psychology?”
“No, I . . .”
Nora glanced at Leila. There was more to this than just curiosity.
After a while Leila continued. “My father used to hit my mother when I was little,” she said quietly. “It was horrible. I could hear Mom crying in the kitchen after I’d gone to bed. The more she cried, the angrier he got, as if her distress somehow provoked him, even though he’d caused it.” She tucked her hands under her thighs. “Mom was so lonely; she had no one to turn to. They’d come here from Iran, and she could barely speak Swedish. She had no friends or family around.”
Nora wanted to place a hand on Leila’s arm, but instead she asked: “What happened?”
“They separated when I was five years old. Mom got some help from a women’s organization; she learned Swedish and found a job.” Pride shone through when Leila talked about her mother. Her features softened, and the relief in her voice was unmistakable. “She works as an interpreter today. She’s always been interested in languages, and now she’s fluent in five: Farsi, Swedish, English, French, and Arabic.”
“How did things go for your father?”
“Not too well. He’s never really adapted to life in Sweden. He’s not happy here, but he can’t move back. He doesn’t belong anywhere.”
It had begun to rain.
“He wasn’t like that before we left Iran,” Leila said. “Something changed when we got here. I think he was knocked off balance when he lost his status, if that makes sense. He had a good career in Iran; he was a teacher with a college education, but that counted for nothing in Sweden, and we were always short of money. It was impossible to find a job that matched his qualifications. He’s a cab driver these days.”
“Are you still in touch?”
“Yes, but not much—it’s too hard. I couldn’t accept the way he treated Mom . . .”
The children always suffered, and yet many women stayed because they thought it was best for the kids.
“Did you ever find out why he became violent?” Nora asked after a while, as they passed Fågelbro. The road was deserted now.
“We’ve never talked about it.” Leila’s expression was distant, as if she were half in her childhood, half in the present. “I think he was scared that my mom would leave him. He didn’t feel good enough for her in their new situation, in this new country where everything was so different from home. That was why he used the wrong method to achieve control, even though he was obviously driving her away.” Leila rubbed her index finger under her nose. “He became so desperate that he kind of got stuck, if you know what I mean. It’s indefensible, but it makes it easier to understand. He was so frustrated, and the only person he could take it out on was Mom.”
Nora wanted to say something empathetic, but all the phrases in her head seemed banal and meaningless. Leila must have had a tough time. How could Nora, who had grown up in the most secure environment imaginable, possibly put herself in Leila’s shoes? “Do you think that’s why Andreis Kovač behaves that way toward Mina?” she asked instead.
“I’m sure there are lots of explanations. Who knows what he went through in Bosnia before the family came here, what terrible memories he carries with him? Trauma at an early age can scar a person for life.”
“That’s no excuse.”
The same could be said of Leila’s father. Nora realized how clumsy she’d been as soon as the words left her lips.
“Or it could be a part of his personality,” Leila mused. “It’s impossible to reach a diagnosis without investigation. I learned that much from my courses. Not everything can be explained by looking at the past. There are cou
ntless other factors that come into play, from genetic predisposition to chance events. Human beings are complicated.”
Nora slowed as she approached the roundabout just past Värmdö Golf Club. Mina’s parents lived in Skuru; it shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes to get there. She sincerely hoped it would be possible to make Stefan Talevski see sense. She couldn’t think of any other way to get Mina to change her mind.
CHAPTER 43
Ulrika Grönstedt was on her way to the Svea Court of Appeal, high heels tip-tapping across Birger Jarls Square, when her cell phone rang. She was moving as fast as her black pencil skirt allowed. She was already late, after driving Fiona to the clinic for an injection during her lunch break. The trial was due to begin in fifteen minutes, and she needed a word with her client beforehand.
She dug her phone out of her purse.
“Hello?” she said breathlessly, still heading toward the impressive Wrangel Palace, where the court was housed.
“Have you heard from Mina?”
Andreis Kovač. He hadn’t bothered to introduce himself, even though his number was withheld; he assumed she would recognize his voice. “Who is this?” she said, mainly to make her point.
Without success.
“Do you know where she is?”
“She hasn’t come back yet?”
“If she had, I wouldn’t be ringing you, for fuck’s sake.”
During the weekend Ulrika had pushed aside all thoughts of her hot-tempered client, hoping that his problems with his wife would solve themselves.
Clearly that hadn’t happened. She tightened her grip on her heavy briefcase crammed with documents and her laptop.
“Have you checked with her girlfriends?”
“No one seems to know anything. Including her parents.”
The way he said the last three words gave Ulrika a bad feeling. “When did you speak to her parents?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Has something happened?”
“They don’t know where she is.”
Ulrika had reached the stone steps. Sometimes it was better not to insist on an answer. “Have you tried to speak to her yourself? Isn’t she answering her phone?”