by Karin Nordin
Björk held Kjeld’s gaze for a split second longer than necessary and then averted his attention to the photograph. ‘That’s the poor girl from the news, isn’t it?’
‘Louisa Karlsson,’ Esme said. ‘We have reason to believe that one of your residents may have been in contact with her.’
Björk shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. I haven’t seen her.’
‘Are you certain?’ Kjeld took the photo out of Esme’s hand and held it closer to Björk’s face. ‘Look again.’
The muscles around Björk’s jaw tensed, but he looked at the photo again. Longer this time. Afterwards he shot Kjeld an unwavering stare. ‘I haven’t seen her.’
Esme cleared her throat with a cough and Kjeld took a step back from Björk, passing the photo to Esme as he made his way over to a window. There was a light rain outside, but that didn’t seem to stop two women from working in the garden.
‘Would it be possible to talk to your residents and see if any of them have seen Louisa?’ Esme asked. Kjeld could hear in her tone that she was purposefully being extra polite, perhaps to ease any tension Kjeld might have created.
‘Naturally if anyone wants to speak with you, that’s their business. This isn’t a prison. Everyone here is free to speak to whomever they want. But I don’t think you’ll get much out of them. Even if they had seen that poor girl, they wouldn’t have any information about her murder.’
‘What makes you so certain?’
‘Because that’s exactly the kind of thing people here are trying to get away from.’
Kjeld perked his attention back up and glanced at Björk. ‘Are you saying that you’re hiding murderers here?’
‘No,’ Björk said. ‘I’m saying that people who come here are escaping personal traumas and tragedies. Many of them have been abused or in violent relationships. Some have even been victims of unimaginable crimes. They wouldn’t put themselves in the position of getting hurt again. And if they had seen something, they would have already called the police.’
‘Is that one of the tenets you practise? Call the police when you witness something criminal? Because that doesn’t quite jive with what the news has to say about Second Life.’
‘Kind of like what the news has to say about you, Detective?’
A heavy silence fell between them and Kjeld felt his face burn with anger.
‘Thank you for your time, Brother Björk. I’m sorry if we interrupted your day.’ Esme shot Kjeld a look, but he didn’t see it. Then she turned an apologetic expression to Björk. ‘I hope you don’t take my partner’s gruffness personally. We’re anxious to bring some peace to Louisa’s family.’
‘Of course.’ Björk offered a sympathetic smile. ‘There’s nothing more tragic than the loss of a child.’
Chapter 26
When they returned to the station, Esme immediately set about looking into the commune’s history in order to verify the information they’d received from Brother Björk while Kjeld put on a new pot of coffee. He watched the coffee machine absent-mindedly as he rewound the conversation with Björk in his mind. Kjeld couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was about the man that seemed off, but his gut told him Björk had been lying. Whether he’d been lying about the commune or about seeing Louisa, Kjeld couldn’t say. But something about the man felt untrustworthy. And Kjeld was certain he was withholding something.
The coffee maker shuddered and started to fill the carafe when a harsh shove to Kjeld’s arm drove him out of his thoughts.
‘What the hell were you doing at Second Life?’ Kenneth Olsen glared, the tips of his ears red with anger.
A flash of annoyance crossed Kjeld’s expression. ‘I have a better question. Why do you care?’
‘Don’t fuck around with me, Kjeld. You do not want to go head-to-head with me.’
‘Don’t I?’ Kjeld opened the cupboard to remove a clean cup for Esme. Then he rinsed out his own mug, still stained from last night’s multiple-cup marathon, in the sink.
‘You wouldn’t stand a chance. Unlike you I actually have friends in the department.’
‘Friends or cronies?’
‘Just answer the question.’
Kjeld lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. ‘Maybe I was having a crisis of faith.’
‘Cut the crap, Kjeld. What’s your interest in Second Life?’
‘Sounds to me like the answer is in the name. Maybe I’m looking to heal from my past trauma and start anew.’ Kjeld eyed Kenneth closely. ‘What’s your interest in them?’
‘They’ve been under investigation for the last five years on suspicion of drug trafficking with a cartel out of Eastern Europe. We’ve been trying to build a case against them, but every time we get close to proving their involvement we get waylaid.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m investigating a potential double homicide. One of my victims might have been a convert. And the last time I checked murder trumps drugs.’
‘Not when Interpol is involved.’ Kenneth smirked.
‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.’
‘We’re working with Romanian police to bring down the Sandu cartel. We know they’ve been edging into Sweden through the ports for the last couple of years, but we haven’t had the evidence to prove it. Now that we’re close we’re sure as hell not going to lose our edge because you think there might be a connection to your homicide.’ Kenneth paused.
‘Did you say the Romanian police?’
‘Maybe you didn’t hear me. I said stay off my turf, Nygaard.’
‘How did you even know I was there? Are you monitoring my social media check-ins again?’
‘Very funny,’ Kenneth scoffed. ‘The organised crime team has had the commune under surveillance for months. No one gets in or out without our knowing about it. My guys called me as soon as you pulled up on the commune’s borders.’
The coffee maker beeped that it was finished. Kjeld pursed his lips in a disgruntled sneer before removing the carafe and filling up the two mugs, his to the brim and Esme’s enough to still add creamer. ‘Look, I’m not interested in getting between you and your investigation. I just want to find my victims’ killer.’
‘I don’t care what you want. Second Life is off limits. You got a problem with it, you take it up with someone higher up the food chain.’
Kjeld opened his mouth to protest when Esme hurried into the kitchenette. She was slightly out of breath as though she’d just sprinted across the room. And the look on her face told him whatever she was about to say wasn’t good.
‘Your phone is off again. Bengt just called,’ Esme said. ‘Tove’s in hospital.’
Chapter 27
Kjeld rushed into Sahlgrenska Hospital, his hair damp from running through the rain from the car park. After checking in with the receptionist, he jogged down the corridor and made his way to the children’s surgical ward where Tove was registered. His heart beat wildly in his chest, the internal pounding so loud it drowned out his thoughts.
When he stepped into the room he didn’t know what to expect. He’d dialled Bengt multiple times on the drive from the station to the hospital, but it kept going to voicemail. Bengt was always very compulsive about answering his phone. When he didn’t, Kjeld’s nerves responded by twisting into a tangled ball of terror that sat heavy in his gut. And when he saw Tove sitting up on the bed, her face flushed but smiling, he almost threw up from the sheer anxious panic that had tormented him on the drive over.
‘Look, Daddy! It’s pink!’ Tove held up her arm, which was encased in a cast that started at the centre of her palm and stretched halfway up her forearm.
Kjeld’s mind was a buzz of questions, the least of which was the fact that Tove was in this room alone, but before he could ask any of them, Bengt walked in from the hallway. Kjeld whipped his head around and stared at his ex-husband, who appeared inexplicably calm with a cup of hospital coffee in hand. On closer inspection, however, Kjeld noticed that his shirt was untucked, his hair dishevelled, and his eyes puffy. Composed
, but not calm.
‘What happened?’ Kjeld asked. ‘I must have called you a dozen times since Esme gave me your message.’
Bengt stepped up beside him, taking a sip of the coffee before setting the paper cup on the bedside table. ‘I was talking with the doctor and couldn’t answer my phone.’
Kjeld sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to catch his breath.
Tove raised her cast-covered arm close to his face. ‘It’s really heavy! The doctor said I can have the kids in my class write their names on it. Look! Papa already wrote his name on it.’
Kjeld gently held her arm in his hand and glanced down at the pink cast where Bengt had drawn a heart and signed “Papa” beside it with black marker. Then he carefully – as though it were made of glass – placed Tove’s arm back in her lap. He turned his attention back towards Bengt who watched them both with what looked to Kjeld like a kind of desperate longing. He must have been mistaken though. It was probably just sympathy.
‘What happened?’
‘She fell in the school playground and fractured her wrist.’
‘She fell?’
Tove answered before Bengt could continue. ‘Hugo Blum said that girls can’t climb as high as boys can and I said that was stupid. Then he said, “If I’m so stupid why don’t you prove me wrong?” So, I climbed up the big tree behind the school. But one of the branches broke.’
Bengt sighed. ‘The teacher’s aide said she was only out of her sight for a few minutes.’
‘I climbed higher than Hugo. He even said so himself!’
Kjeld tried not to look upset, especially when Tove was so proud of herself. But he still felt like his heart was beating a million miles a minute. ‘You have to be careful, Tove. That was really dangerous. You could have really hurt yourself.’
‘I did hurt myself!’ She knocked her knuckles on the cast. ‘I don’t feel it anymore though.’
‘I told her she’s not allowed to climb trees without telling an adult first,’ Bengt said, pulling up a chair and sitting down across from Kjeld.
‘What did the doctor say?’
‘The cast will probably have to stay on for five to six weeks.’ Bengt reached into his pocket and removed an instructional pamphlet on how to care for the cast and what types of activities to avoid while wearing one. ‘So you know what to do this weekend.’
Kjeld took the pamphlet and frowned. ‘This weekend?’
‘When Tove comes to stay with you. ‘I know you were supposed to pick her up this afternoon, but tomorrow morning might be better. I want her to stay home tonight so Liam and I can keep an eye on her. Just to be safe. Bengt paused. ‘You didn’t forget, did you?’
‘No, of course not. I’m just a little rattled.’
‘You’re not working this weekend, right?’
Kjeld could feel Bengt’s peering eyes upon him. ‘Not if it’s my weekend with Tove.’
Bengt nodded, but didn’t say anything. He took a sip of his coffee. When the silence between them became too uncomfortable he cleared his throat with a cough. ‘I’m glad you came. She was crying for you when I got to the school.’
Kjeld looked up at Bengt, trying to decipher his expression. At first, he couldn’t tell if that was a quiet jab at his lack of presence in Tove’s life or an honest expression of gratitude. But when Bengt failed to meet his gaze he decided it was the latter.
A flutter of anticipation caught in his throat. ‘Bengt, I’ve been meaning to tell you—’
But Kjeld’s comment was cut off by the sound of the door opening. He turned to see Liam stepping through the door, tall and respectably handsome in his white physician’s coat. Kjeld’s heart sank.
‘I just spoke with the surgeon. Everything looks good. Tove is cleared to go home. I’ve asked for the rest of the afternoon off as well.’ His eyes narrowed just a fraction when he glanced at Kjeld. Then he gave him a curt but acknowledging nod. ‘Should I get the car?’
Bengt pursed his lips. There was a distant sadness in his face that Kjeld couldn’t quite place. It tugged at the corners of his mouth. But when he looked up it had been replaced with a forced smile that was almost – but not entirely – convincing. ‘Thanks, Liam. We’ll meet you downstairs.’
Liam left and Kjeld wanted to ask Bengt if everything was all right, but it didn’t feel like his place to intrude. And before he could work out how best to phrase his question, Bengt was getting up and collecting Tove’s shoes and coat.
Tove waved a marker in front of Kjeld’s face. ‘Will you sign my arm, Daddy?’
Kjeld smiled. ‘Of course, sweetheart.’
Chapter 28
Esme stood in front of the vending machine that had recently been installed in the newly renovated corridor that led to the Violent Crimes Division. She’d been on the phone with forensic technicians ever since Kjeld rushed off to the hospital. She hoped the frequent calls might hurry along their processing, but they had nothing new to report. Even ballistics said it would probably be at least another day, maybe even longer, before they could get back to her on the weapon from the Hedebrant case. She didn’t want to think that someone in the department could be responsible for these crimes, but she knew that until they found out if that was truly the gun used to kill Andrea she would be cautious of everyone.
That impatience and suspicion, compounded by concern for Kjeld’s daughter, had her craving something fattening. After a few minutes, she was still debating how much she really wanted to cave in to her sweet tooth when she caught a glimpse of Kjeld heading towards the administrative wing.
‘Kjeld!’
He stopped in his tracks and blinked, as though caught in mid-thought. Then he stepped around two colleagues who were exchanging paperwork in the middle of the corridor before making his way towards her. He glanced at the vending machine contents.
‘Doesn’t look like your usual breed of snack,’ he said.
Esme surveyed the selection of potato crisps, salt liquorice candies and chocolate with inherent boredom. Kjeld was right. Nothing in the machine was tempting her. In fact, most of it didn’t even satisfy her – admittedly halfhearted – attempts at being vegan. She still snuck a bit of creamer into her coffee now and again, after all. But something about these two cases was giving her unhealthy cravings throughout the day. If she wasn’t careful she’d put on five kilos before they caught this damn killer.
‘You’re right, but someone in the office ate my carrots and hummus dip.’
‘My money is on Sixten. That man is always snacking on something.’
‘And not gaining a single pound, by the looks of it.’ Esme shoved her loose change back into her pocket.
Kjeld turned to leave.
‘How’s Tove doing?’ Esme asked before Kjeld could get too far. ‘I didn’t expect you to come back to work afterwards.’
He turned around, holding back the exasperation she knew he felt. ‘She’s okay. Broke her arm falling out of a tree trying to show the class bully that girls can climb better than boys.’
‘Well, at least her intentions were noble.’
Kjeld gave a small chuckle. ‘If this is how she is at six I don’t know if I’ll survive sixteen.’
‘Can’t help you there. I was a teenage terror.’ Esme smiled. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I was going to ask Alice if she might have any insight into the case.’
‘Insight?’
‘Maybe help come up with a profile of Louisa’s killer.’ Kjeld paused. ‘Want to join me?’
Esme’s lips pursed into a thin line. She’d been thinking about introducing herself to the station counsellor for a few weeks now, but every time she had the urge something stopped her. It wasn’t difficult for her to pinpoint that insecurity, however. She’d seen so many counsellors and therapists as a child that they left a dark memory on her past. And she secretly worried that talking to one now might allow her past to come flooding forward from the deep pit of her mind where she buried the truths she wasn’t willing to co
nfront.
She shook her head. ‘No, thanks. But before you go I wanted to ask you something.’
Kjeld quirked a brow. ‘What’s that?’
‘Who’s Emma Hassan?’
Kjeld flinched. Esme was surprised by his reaction. She stepped closer.
‘Where did you hear that name?’ Kjeld asked.
‘Rhodin called me into his office yesterday. Someone from SU wanted to ask me some questions about you. They wanted to know if you’d ever brought up Emma Hassan in conversation.’
‘And what did you say?’
‘The truth. I’d never heard her name before.’ Esme gave Kjeld a moment to respond, but when he didn’t immediately, she continued. ‘Then I was going through the Hedebrant case again trying to figure out if we’d missed something about the weapon and discovered the gun wasn’t found at the crime scene. It was uncovered later after you and Nils were called to a school where one of the students potentially brought a firearm to class. That student is named in the case file as Emma Hassan.’
Kjeld looked down at his feet and ran his fingers back through his hair.
‘What’s going on?’ Esme asked. ‘Who is she and why haven’t you brought her up before?’
Kjeld checked to see if the couple in the corridor were within listening distance, but they’d already split up and gone their separate ways, leaving him alone with Esme.
‘She was part of an investigation that Nils and I worked on. It was years ago. Early in my career. I’d just been promoted to detective. It was one of our first cases together.’
‘What happened?
Kjeld crossed his arms over his chest. ‘You already know about the murder committed by a man named Emil Hermansson. Emma was on our list as a potential witness or unwitting accomplice. She was a teenager, only sixteen at the time. We suspected she might have been tangentially involved because her father, Jan-Erik Hassan, also had some dealings with Hermansson. They were both into drug trafficking. We picked Emma up after someone at her school called the police claiming they saw a gun in her possession. We thought it might be the same gun used in the murder. Turns out our hunch was correct.’