by Karin Nordin
‘Esme, you have to let me in.’
‘No, Kjeld. I don’t. And I can’t. Aside from the fact that you’re not actively on this case anymore, this just became personal.’
‘It was already personal.’
‘But this is your family.’
‘Where is he?’ Kjeld leaned over her to get a better look at the scene. But between the mess of paintings scattered about the room, and crime-scene technicians scouring the area for evidence, he could barely see a thing. ‘Where is he, Esme? Where’s Bengt?’
‘He’s—’
‘Kjeld!’
Kjeld turned to see Bengt rushing towards him. Bengt wrapped his arms around him in a frazzled embrace that felt more like a need to steady himself than anything else. His fingers dug into Kjeld’s arms and he was shaking. When he pulled away after a few seconds, Kjeld got the first good look at Bengt’s face and his heart leapt into his throat. It was an expression every parent recognised even if they’d never seen it before.
The muscles in Kjeld’s chest tightened. ‘Where’s Tove?’
And that’s when Bengt broke down. He tried to speak but he couldn’t complete a full sentence for his choking sobs.
Kjeld grabbed Bengt by the shoulders and forced him to look at him. ‘Where’s Tove, Bengt?’
‘She’s—’ Bengt cut himself off, gasping for air. ‘She took her! Oh, God. What are we going to do? You don’t think it’s the same person who’s been committing these murders, do you? It’s my fault. I had my back turned. I didn’t see her come in the room.’
‘You didn’t see who came into the room?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t get a good look at her. I felt a sharp prick in my neck and when I woke up, Tove was gone! She must have taken her.’
She? Kjeld’s thoughts jostled in his mind as he tried to process what Bengt was saying. He kept his hands firmly gripped on Bengt’s arms but turned his gaze to Esme. She didn’t look surprised.
‘The paramedics checked him out. We think he was drugged. When we got here he wasn’t very lucid. One of the neighbours saw him stumbling around and called in a wellness check. We want to send him to the hospital for a blood test and to check him for evidence, but he refused to leave until he saw you.’
Bengt grabbed onto the front of Kjeld’s shirt, wrenching his fingers around the fabric. ‘She took Tove!’
Kjeld placed his focus back on Bengt. ‘Okay, Bengt. I need you to tell me everything you remember.’
Bengt sniffled and coughed. ‘I was going through my paintings, looking for something for the exhibit. Tove was drawing in the corner. She tried to get my attention but I wasn’t listening. Then I felt something on my neck. When I turned I saw a woman. It’s hazy. It all happened so fast.’
‘Can you remember anything about this woman? Was she tall? Thin? What colour was her hair?’
Bengt’s face twisted as though in pain. His ragged brows bunched together at the centre of his forehead and his lips turned downward. He looked like he was going to be sick.
‘I don’t remember. I think she was tall.’
‘How tall? Taller than you?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘What about her size?’
‘She was … thin. I think. God, it’s so fuzzy.’
‘What about her hair?’
‘It was …’
Kjeld shook him. ‘Focus, Bengt.’
Tears immediately fell from Bengt’s eyes. ‘I don’t remember. I just remember hearing her scream.’
Bengt’s knees gave out beneath him and he fell to the floor, sobbing into Kjeld’s pant leg. ‘Tove was screaming and I couldn’t do anything.’
Commotion broke out at the end of the corridor and both Kjeld and Esme looked up to see Liam trying to barge his way through the police line. He was being held back by two uniformed officers, but when he saw Bengt on the floor he nearly barrelled right through them.
Kjeld helped Bengt to his feet and led him towards the end of the hall. Liam immediately pulled Bengt close to him, but Bengt was too much of an emotional wreck to speak. Esme carefully explained the situation. Each word brought a new look of terror and fury to Liam’s face.
‘What we need is for Bengt to be checked out properly and processed by a forensic specialist in case he has any evidence of the kidnapper on him,’ Esme said to Liam. Her tone was sympathetic but stern. ‘That’s the most helpful thing you can do for us right now. The faster we can process the scene, the faster we can work towards bringing Tove home.’
Liam shot Kjeld an angry but frantic stare.
‘She’s right, Liam. Time is not on our side. We need to work quickly.’
‘You call me the minute you learn something. Anything,’ Liam said through gritted teeth.
‘We will,’ Esme said.
Liam nodded and then led Bengt back outside.
Esme glanced behind her, ensuring that no one was listening in over her shoulder. Then she turned her attention to Kjeld. ‘Let’s go someplace a little more private.’
There was a seriousness to Esme’s tone that Kjeld knew not to question. He made his way back towards the entrance of the church, Esme following close behind him. It wasn’t until they were both in his car, protected from the flurry of rain and snow outside, that Esme breathed out an exasperated sigh.
Kjeld turned on the ignition but not the engine. The heater immediately began blasting out cold air. He adjusted the fans to a lower setting until it had time to heat up.
‘Tell me what’s going on.’
‘I shouldn’t. This has already gone too far. The chief—’
‘Dammit, Esme! She has Tove.’
And that was enough to get Esme to give in.
‘Forensics came back on the knife that stabbed Sixten.’
‘And?’
‘We got a single fingerprint match.’
‘Whose?’
‘Maja Hassan.’
Kjeld stared at her blankly. ‘What?’
Esme chewed at her lower lip. It was badly chapped. Enough that the skin looked like it was about to peel off. Kjeld hadn’t noticed that the last time he’d seen her and wondered what else could have happened in a few days to increase her stress levels so dramatically.
‘I can’t explain it. We almost missed it. It was a partial.’
‘How did we have Maja’s prints on file?’
‘They were taken to exclude her from unidentified prints found during the Emil Hermansson case.’
‘But Maja Hassan is dead.’
‘Apparently her body was never found. I pulled up the report that was filed after her vehicle was discovered in the river. A search of the river was done, but the water levels were high that week because of rain. There was evidence that she’d been in the car and at least two witnesses saw her drive off the bridge. The officers in charge of the investigation labelled it a suicide because that was the most likely explanation.’ Esme grimaced. ‘And that’s not all. The gun in the evidence box for the Hedebrant case didn’t match either of the bullets used to murder Hedebrant or Andrea.’
‘What? That’s not possible.’
‘Either you had the wrong gun the entire time and someone falsified the ballistics testing in the Hedebrant case or someone replaced it after Hermansson’s trial.’
Kjeld stared at the dash of the car, thoughts scrambling to put the pieces together, but he couldn’t get the image of Maja Hassan out of his head. ‘Maja Hassan wouldn’t have been physically capable of some of these crimes. She never would have been able to drag Louisa’s body into a cellar or carry Jonny into that cabin.’
‘It’s been sixteen years. A lot could change in that time.’
‘But why would she be killing these people? What did they do to her?’
‘I don’t think they did anything to her.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We’ve been looking for someone who’s targeting survivors of violent crimes. But I don’t think that’s all of it.’ Esme turned in the
passenger seat so she was facing Kjeld. ‘I think the killer we’ve been chasing is targeting your survivors of violent crimes.’
‘What?’
‘Louisa was the survivor of one of your first major cases after you were promoted to detective. You were lead investigator on the case involving the graduation homicides, with Jonny being one of the sole survivors. Daniel was also one of your cases. And Andrea—’
‘I never worked a case involving Andrea.’
‘When Sixten and I spoke to Ingrid Nicolescu she mentioned that Andrea’s life was saved by a young police officer shortly after she moved to Sweden. I couldn’t find any documentation of that incident in her file because, according to Ingrid, Andrea ran from the scene. But yesterday at the hospital you mentioned meeting Nils while you were assigned to parking ticket duty. So, I pulled up Nils’s case files from that time. He was the one who first arrived on the scene to find the young officer handcuffing two assailants who’d fired off a weapon at a woman. It was you. That was the first time you met, wasn’t it?’
Kjeld knitted his brows together in confusion. He was trying to catch up with Esme’s breakdown of the events, but he couldn’t believe it. ‘That was Andrea? The woman who was almost shot?’
‘I believe so. The description of the scene matches what we heard from Ingrid. Only we couldn’t verify it as being relevant because there was nothing about it in the records. If she hadn’t fled the scene then we might have realised earlier that her murder was related to Louisa’s.’
‘But how could the killer know that? We didn’t even know who she was at the time. I certainly didn’t know. How could Maja figure that out?’
Esme shook her head incredulously. ‘I don’t know. But they’re all connected. And you’re at the centre of that connection. This entire thing has been about you.’
‘And about Emma …’
‘Possibly,’ Esme offered. ‘The only thing that doesn’t make sense is the drug connection and Second Life. Are they coincidences? Or something meant to lead us astray?’
Kjeld raked his fingers back through his hair. ‘I don’t know what to think anymore.’
‘Did Emma Hassan have a drug connection?’
‘We suspected there might have been something related to drugs at the time. She was mixed up in a bad crowd. And her father had a record. But we never had any solid proof. We were hoping she would tell us when we picked her up, but …’
Kjeld didn’t finish his sentence, but he knew that Esme understood. They’d never made it back to the station. Not with Emma alive.
Kjeld slammed his fist into the steering wheel, inadvertently hitting the horn and scaring a crime-scene technician who was carrying equipment into the building. ‘Goddammit. We’re spinning our wheels.’
And now Tove was gone. Missing. Kidnapped. Potentially by the same person who’d already committed at least two murders, maybe more.
‘If it is Maja and she wanted revenge against me for what happened to Emma then why all the others? Why wait until now to go after me and my daughter?’
‘She might have panicked because we interrupted her last kidnapping attempt. This might be her way of speeding things up. If anything, it’s proof that this has been more than just murdering survivors from old cases. It’s personal. And if it is Maja Hassan then we can assume it has something to do with her daughter’s death. But we’re not out of leads yet. We still have Henny.’
‘You’re right. Her last article proves she’s getting information from somebody. If not the killer than somebody in the department. Either way she must know more than she’s letting on.’
Esme pursed her lips in thought. ‘Do you think Maja could be the one who was tipping her off to the crime scenes?’
‘I don’t know, but I think she might be the one Jonny was seen talking to. She was reporting live from the commune this morning. I tried to drive out there to find her, but I couldn’t locate her. I must have just missed her.’ The heat finally kicked on, but Kjeld was no longer thinking straight enough to adjust it.
‘If we need to we’ll talk to her again. An active kidnapping changes everything. Henny might be a nuisance and she might only be looking out for herself, but I can’t imagine she would hold back information if she knew a child’s life was in danger.’
Esme was right, of course. Kjeld’s bitterness towards Henny made it difficult for him to judge her rationally. It was one thing to post slanderous falsehoods on the internet to gain followers and subscribers. It was another thing entirely to help a murderer continue their killing spree simply to boost one’s career. And as much as Kjeld despised Henny, he didn’t think anyone who had gone through the traumas she had would knowingly put others in that same position. Let alone a child.
He turned back to Esme. ‘What about Daniel Santelmann? Did you get anything from him?’
‘Nothing useful. He didn’t get a good look at Sixten’s attacker.’
‘And we’re sure it was Maja’s fingerprints on the knife?’
‘I had them run the results twice.’
‘How does this help us find Tove? We’ve had no leads to indicate where the killer’s been hiding.’
‘I’ve sent a team out to the house where the Hassans used to live. And Axel is poring over the records hoping to find something in the files.’
Kjeld turned his gaze out the window. It wasn’t raining, but the sky was full of heavy clouds threatening to burst at any moment. How had they missed all of this? How had it gotten this far? And why? Esme’s theory about Maja seeking revenge against survivors wasn’t completely out of the question, but it still left him with so many questions. Why not come for him directly if she considered him responsible for Emma’s death? Why go after innocent victims? And why recreate the scenes with the other victims?
But most of all, how did she find these people? Louisa and Jonny had been front-page news when they were found, but Kjeld’s involvement in Daniel’s investigation had never been publicly announced. Nils had been the lead back then. And what about Tove? Was that something else? Was that payback for Emma?
Esme placed a hand on Kjeld’s arm. ‘We’ll find her, Kjeld. I promise.’
Chapter 63
But Kjeld couldn’t wait to get answers. Nor could he simply leave everything in the hands of his colleagues. His daughter was in trouble. He needed to find her. And there was only one person in his mind who appeared to know just as much as the police about what was going on. One person who was matching their steps in the investigation. One person who seemed to know more than they were letting on.
Henny Engström.
When Esme left to continue coordinating the search for Tove and receive an update from the crime-scene manager, Kjeld checked Henny’s blog for any recent posts. Nothing. He clicked on her YouTube page. No live recordings. Then he logged into his work account and pulled up the report he’d written after their interview with Henny. On the final page was her home address and contact information. It was finally time to pay her a visit. He pulled his rental car out of the parking space, swerved around the forensic vehicles collecting evidence from Bengt’s studio, and sped through the city to Henny’s apartment in Linné.
When Henny opened the door and saw the look on Kjeld’s face, she immediately tried to slam it shut on him. Kjeld shoved his leg into the gap to prevent her from closing the door and when she stepped backwards he pushed his way inside.
She snatched an umbrella from the corner beneath the coat rack and brandished it at him like a weapon. Kjeld barely withheld the urge to roll his eyes.
‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ he said.
She laughed nervously and jabbed the sharp end of the umbrella at his waist. ‘Oh? Says the armed man who just barged his way into my home? You think you can get away with this just because you’re a police officer? That you can do whatever you want to me and sweep it under the rug like the rest of your crimes?’
‘I don’t want to do anything to you.’
‘Then what the hell a
re you doing in my home?’
‘My daughter is missing.’
‘What does that have to do with me?’
‘The murderer. The one you’ve been posting about. She might have her.’
Henny slowly lowered the umbrella. ‘She?’
‘Please, Henny.’ Kjeld held his hands forward, palms up, in a display of goodwill. ‘I need to know whatever you can tell me about this killer or about this person who has been tipping you off to the crime scenes.’
Henny eyed him a moment longer than necessary, no doubt searching his expression for any sign of deception, before she hooked the umbrella back on the rack beneath her coats. Then she turned her back on him and made her way into the apartment.
Kjeld followed her down the hallway and into the large open living space. Henny’s home looked as though it had been plucked out of a magazine. And were Kjeld not desperate to find his daughter, he might have been impressed by the centuries’ old architecture, high ceilings, ornate moulding, and high-end design.
Henny made her way to a large bookshelf where an ordered display of whisky bottles lined the lower shelf. She poured herself a glass, tossed it back in a single gulp, and turned to stare at him.
‘I don’t know anything about a woman. And I’ve already told you what I know about the man who called me.’
‘There must be something more. He called you repeatedly. He must have given some hint as to who he was.’
‘I didn’t lie to you when you asked me if I knew who was giving me those tips. I didn’t know. I still don’t know. But when he continued calling …’ Henny trailed off. ‘I suppose I always suspected that the caller could be the killer. How else could he know where the next body was? How could he know the details about the murders?’