Most of the events of the last few hours had played right into his hands. His guest appearance as a Danish journalist had succeeded beyond his hopes. It had made Risk the centre of everyone’s attention, which would hinder and probably also delay the entire police investigation. As an added bonus, the Danes had set up obstacles for both themselves and the Swedes, for which he was grateful. The fact that a car was pulling out in front of him, leaving an empty parking space right in front of Risk’s row house, was just the cherry on top.
He fastened a little web camera to the inside of the side window with a suction cup, screwed on the antenna, and coupled the power cord to the cable he had run from the car battery. He turned it on and the diode started blinking like a car alarm. He took out his phone and sent a six-digit code to a specific number via text message. About ten seconds later, the video came to life on his phone. He aimed the camera at Risk’s front door and adjusted the focus.
He got out of the rental car and locked the door. He had worn his gloves the entire time he was in the car; he wasn’t about to make that mistake again. He headed left on the sidewalk and counted four doorways before he turned right onto Brommagatan at the corner. Just after he passed the illuminated shop window of Skandia Realtors, which was full of properties not even people moving from Stockholm could afford. He took a right onto a gravel path and walked past a number of waste containers and a sign informing him that the area was for residents only.
The small yards crowded each other behind the row houses, each one fancier than the next. He counted his way to Risk’s and noticed that the previous owners had chosen to stay out of the great yard-furnishing race. He climbed over the half-rotten fence and hid behind a tool shed. From there he could see straight into the house.
*
FABIAN WAS HAVING TROUBLE keeping his eyes open, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. His thoughts wouldn’t grant him any reprieve, and he couldn’t shake the sense that everything he was trying to accomplish was about to crack and collapse into pieces. He was sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop, clicking around Mette Louise Risgaard’s blog. At first he’d thought it wasn’t about anything in particular, since it mostly consisted of a lot of short, uninteresting entries about Mette Louise’s daily experiences. Very occasionally she might offer a thought or reflection.
But the more entries he read about going to work at the gas station, meeting friends, thinking about getting new tattoos, and watching DVDs, the more wrapped up in her life he got. A picture of an intelligent young girl developed, someone who was full of thoughts and ideas but couldn’t do anything with them in the backwoods town where she had grown up. Mette Louise Risgaard hated Lellinge more than anything else, and would rather have killed herself than grow old there.
Fabian couldn’t tell if she had a boyfriend from the blog, but he did get to read about himself: the Swede who had left her with a tire. It was the most exciting thing that had happened to her that week. Only two more posts followed: one about a broken coffeemaker and one about a neighbour who bought porn videos. If you weren’t aware of what had happened, it might take a few days to realize the blog was abandoned. She was dead.
Fabian went to another website, which informed him that the funeral would be held in two days’ time, at one o’clock in the afternoon at Lellinge Church. He decided to attend, whether or not Tuvesson thought he should keep working on the case. It was the least he could do.
He closed the computer and was brushing his teeth in the guest bathroom when the doorbell rang. He looked at his watch — it was just past midnight — and turned off the water. Maybe he was hearing things. He had just rinsed out his mouth when it rang again. It was impossible to miss this time. Someone was standing at his door, ringing the bell.
Fabian dried his face and went to open the door. On his way there, he wondered who it could be, but he couldn’t think of anyone who would visit at this hour. He made a mental note to put in a peephole as soon as he had time. Then he unlocked the door and opened it.
30
HE HAD TO READ the article a few times before he understood what had happened. He had been incapable of taking it in the first time. It felt like news from some parallel reality. But after reading it through twice, the news hit him like a bucket of cold water. Could it really be true? He had searched other news sites, watching as the story got bigger and bigger. It really had happened: Monika Krusenstierna was dead.
“Shit,” he hissed to himself. Everything had gone as planned with Risk and he had just rented a second car to go pick up Monika when he’d glanced through the latest news on his phone. He stopped on the side of the road to read the article a third time. Could it be a different Monika Krusenstierna? He’d searched her name in the White Pages, and only got one hit. And that was in Helsingborg, at an address he’d unearthed during his research. He needed to see it with his own eyes to make sure it wasn’t another trick set up by Risk.
Monika Krusenstierna lived at Dalhemsvägen 69, on the fifth floor of a high rise that had just received new steel siding: yellow had been discarded in favour of grey. He parked the car by Dalhem School and went the last little bit on foot. From the top of the pedestrian bridge across Dalhemsvägen he could see the flashing blue lights reflected on the facades — the parking lot was full of police cars. It definitely was his Monika.
Not only had it cost time and resources to prepare the space for the old homeroom teacher, but it was also to be the crowning glory of his plan, the last piece of the puzzle that would make everything else fall into place. Now none of it would work, and once more he would have to go back to the drawing board.
Time was his biggest problem. He’d already gone over his margins, and couldn’t afford to spend any more days adjusting the plan. Tomorrow’s schedule was already full — he had to go back to Denmark and finish what he’d started. Why he hadn’t done so in the first place, he didn’t know. He hadn’t intended to take the lives of innocent bystanders, and had been taken by surprise: first by the girl, and then by the police officer. He hesitated, choosing to flee instead of finishing the job. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. From now on, he would let nothing stand in his way.
His phone buzzed and the screen lit up. He saw that the camera in the rental car had come to life. He’d programmed a time delay into the motion detector so it wouldn’t react each time someone walked by — only if someone went up the front steps. He entered his code and waited.
He saw Risk opening his door and letting in his visitor. Suddenly it all fell into place. Instead of Monika Krusenstierna, he would give Fabian Risk the main role. Going forward, he would play the central, most crucial part in the whole scenario. The solution was as simple as it was brilliant, and once he thought of it he didn’t know why it hadn’t been part of his original plan.
31
LINA PÅLSSON WAS SITTING on the sofa next to Fabian. Her face was swollen and her eyes were red. He gave her a handkerchief to wipe her face and poured some piping-hot tea. Considering Sonja’s reaction to the article in the paper, he had been hesitant to let Lina in once he realized she was the person at the door, but she’d wanted to come in. Fabian had to ask her twice what she was doing there. She apologized and burst into tears. He couldn’t help but give her a hug.
It was past one thirty in the morning, and they were both drinking tea in the living room. Fabian allowed silence to fill the room; he thought it was up to Lina to break it. Half an hour earlier he had heard Sonja coming down from the studio. She was on her way down the stairs, but she changed her mind and went back up again. Twenty minutes later, she had come down wearing only her Japanese robe, which she knew he loved. She greeted Lina, saying she was sorry for her loss, and then she kissed Fabian goodnight and went back upstairs. He called up that he would be in bed soon. She told him to take all the time they needed.
“To be honest, I don’t even know why I’m crying. I don’t think I ever really loved him.”
“You must have loved him at some
point,” Fabian said, regretting his words immediately. This was not a discussion they should be having.
Lina shook her head.
“Actually, I don’t really understand how Jörgen and I ended up together. To be totally honest, I always thought it would be you and me.” She laughed and took a sip of the hot tea.
“So why Jörgen?” He didn’t want to ask, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Do you remember that class party? The one we had at the start of seventh grade in one of those places near where we lived?”
Fabian recalled it all too well. It had been a masquerade, and he and Stefan Munthe had struggled to sew their own prisoner costumes. They had taken old sheets and added stripes with spray paint and masking tape, and then spent hours sewing. It had taken up their evenings and all of Saturday. They were determined to have the best costumes, like it was a matter of life or death. Fabian had also finally decided to ask Lina out; the time was right for him to tell her how he felt.
Once he and Stefan got to the party, they were the only ones dressed in costumes, and realized that everyone was laughing at them behind their backs. Everything felt wrong and they decided to bike home to change into regular clothes fifteen minutes later.
“Jörgen kissed me that night,” Lina continued, “and told me we were a couple. I had been hoping it would be you, but you didn’t really seem interested in me. You took off and it was a long time before you came back, and... well, I ended up with Jörgen.” She shrugged and stopped speaking.
Fabian nodded mutely, preoccupied by the memory of how much it had hurt. “Lina, is there anything you want to tell me that might help us with the investigation?”
Lina didn’t initially react to his question; instead, she sipped her tea and took her time setting her cup back down. “Glenn and Jörgen did a lot of stupid things. To be completely honest, sometimes I was afraid of Jörgen.”
“Did he hit you?”
“No, but he could be rather rough.”
“In what way?”
“He would go pretty far when we had sex. I tried to talk to him about it, but he just brushed it off, saying that it was all in good fun and he could tell that I liked it. It was mostly just a game for him.” She grew quiet.
“Lina, I understand that you need to talk about this stuff, but I’m not sure I’m the right person for it.”
She nodded and placed a brass key on the coffee table. “This is for a safe at Glenn’s house.”
Fabian picked up the key and studied it. Molander and his men had already gone through Glenn’s house. Nothing of great interest had popped up, so a more thorough search had fallen low on the list of priorities. Fabian would definitely know if they had found a locked safe.
“It’s supposed to be in the kitchen, but I couldn’t figure out where,” Lina said, looking him right in the eyes. “I know it’s in there though.”
“How did you get this key?”
“Glenn didn’t want to keep the key in his own house. He thought having the safe was risky enough.”
“How do you know all this? I have a hard time believing that Jörgen just came out and told you.”
“They weren’t always sober and careful. This key was my insurance in case Jörgen ever went too far.”
“Do you know what’s in the safe?”
Lina responded with a tired smile and stood up. “Thanks for the tea and for taking the time to listen to me. I’ll show myself out.”
“Let me give you a ride.”
“Please don’t trouble yourself. I have the car.”
“I’ll walk you there. It’s the least I can do.” Fabian stood up and followed her into the hall.
“Fabbe, you really don’t have to. It’s pretty far from here.”
“All the more reason I —”
“To be perfectly frank, I don’t think your wife would appreciate it.”
“I guess you have a point there,” Fabian said with a smile, opening the door and accompanying her out of the house.
He took her arm as they walked along the empty sidewalk. Neither of them said a word and the silence felt totally natural. Lina turned to look at him when they arrived at her car.
“Do you remember the time we were playing marbles at recess and I let you borrow my last one after you lost all of yours?”
Fabian nodded. It had been one of the first great moments of his life. He had managed to knock down pyramid after pyramid with Lina’s last marble. His hands had felt magical in that moment. Almost everyone from his class had gathered around to watch him. Soon students from other classes came to watch him, observing his exceptional skill, though it might have been luck. Luck or skill aside, he had won a big bag of marbles, which he’d given to Lina.
“I still have those marbles.” She gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek before opening the car door and climbing in.
*
FABIAN CRAWLED INTO BED as carefully as he could so that he wouldn’t disturb Sonja, but she was already awake. She rolled over to embrace him; her body felt warm and naked. He couldn’t stop thinking about how tired he felt.
“Fabian, do you love me?”
“Of course I do.”
“Are you sure?”
He pressed his naked body against hers and leaned over to kiss her, but she put her hand over his mouth.
“Listen, there’s something I’ve been thinking about.”
He sighed and rolled onto his side. “Sonja, I know this is not what —”
“Please let me finish. I think it would be best if the kids and I go back up to Stockholm for a while, otherwise I’m just going to hang around here getting bitter, which is the last thing we need right now. I suggest we put our fresh start on hold until the case is finished.”
He wanted to protest and promise that from now on everything would be so much better if she decided to stay in Helsingborg.
“I’ve already spoken with Lisen, and we can have the guest house out on Värmdö for the rest of the summer, which would give Matilda a chance to play with her cousins.”
Fabian couldn’t bring himself to do anything but nod.
“As soon as the case is finished and you have time for us, we’ll come down and start over together here — the way we had originally planned.”
“I think we should go somewhere far away together — just the two of us — after everything is finished,” Fabian said.
Sonja agreed.
32
THE DRIPPING LEAVES BETRAYED the quiet rain, a reminder that the beautiful weather of the past week hadn’t been typical in the least. Helsingborg was normally a windy, rainy city. On the other hand, few of the events of the past week could be considered normal, Fabian thought as he walked through Pålsjö forest with Astrid Tuvesson.
She had called him that morning to suggest they take a walk. So far they had spoken about everything but the real reason they were meeting. She’d asked if his family liked Helsingborg and how the children felt about starting at a new school. Fabian had answered all of her questions as honestly as he could, but he made sure not to reveal more than he had to.
The beech forest opened up as they approached Pålsjö Castle. They hadn’t spoken in several minutes and Fabian felt as if the silence were about to take on a life of its own. They walked around to the other side of the castle park, passed the labyrinth, and crossed the wet grass over to the long avenue where the trees formed a dark tunnel. Fabian remembered how he used to play tag here as a kid, and how he’d thought it was so unusual that the trees grew so precisely that they formed that tunnel — until one day he saw a gardener with a chainsaw.
“Fabian, I’m well aware of the fact that if it hadn’t been for your shortcuts, this case would be going nowhere. But the investigation is my responsibility and I can’t continue to defend what happened in Lellinge, otherwise I will be removed from the case, too, and the whole investigation will be moved to Malmö. We both know how things end down there.”
Fabian knew what she was insinuating: Mal
mö was famous for topping the “most unsolved cases” list year after year.
“I want to solve this case as much as you do, and as quickly as we can, but we can’t afford to play such a high-stakes game anymore.”
“I understand what you’re saying. You need a scapegoat.”
“It’s not very hard to find one in this particular case.” She allowed herself to smile for the first time during their walk. “And that’s without mentioning your alleged teenage crush.” Fabian was about to explain, but he stopped talking when she held up a hand to ward him off. “Which I don’t even want to address.”
They emerged from the tree tunnel and noticed that the rain had stopped, the sky already brighter. Tuvesson paused at the scenic outlook and gazed out across the lively, busy sound, where Kronborg Castle was already bathed in light.
“I suggest you return to your vacation and start again on August sixteenth, as we originally planned. If I were in your shoes, I would take care of my family and be glad for the chance to enjoy myself. This weather won’t last for more than a few weeks.”
Fabian nodded and Tuvesson turned to walk away.
“If I’m going to be on vacation, it might be more appropriate if you took care of this.” Fabian dropped the small brass key into her hand. “Apparently it’s to a safe in Glenn’s house.”
Tuvesson looked puzzled.
“All I know is that it’s supposed to be somewhere in the kitchen.”
She thanked him and left.
Fabian looked toward Denmark at the beautiful view, and reflected on what had been said. He’d been expecting Tuvesson to take him off the investigation — it was the only option she had, given what had happened — but deep down Fabian knew it would take a lot more than regular, by-the-book police work to solve this case.
December 24
Hello Diary, and Merry Christmas.
I’ve been trying to act normal but both Mom and Dad noticed that something was up. They thought I didn’t like my presents even though I said I was super happy. I got a keyboard with a stand. Dad wanted to help me set it up, but I didn’t feel like it. I told him I was tired and went to my room even though it wasn’t even eleven o’clock yet.
Victim Without a Face Page 17