The Ice Princess

by Camilla Lackberg

  He was finally going to live his life the way he wanted to live it.

  He had been planning this for a long time, for many years. The aches and pains got worse with each passing year, and so did the frustration over his life with Svea. Eilert thought he deserved better. On the Internet, he had found a little boarding-house in a small town on the Costa del Sol. A bit away from the beaches and the tourist area, so the price was reasonable. He had sent e-mails and checked that he could live there year-round if he wanted. In fact, the landlady would give him an even better price if he did. It had taken a long time to save up the money under Svea’s vigilant eye that watched everything he did, but finally he had succeeded. He reckoned that he could support himself for about two years on his present savings if he lived frugally, and after that he would simply have to find a way. Right now nothing could restrain his enthusiasm.

  For the first time in fifty years he felt free, and he found himself giving the old Volvo a little extra gas out of sheer joy. He would leave the car in the long-term car park. Svea would find out where it was soon enough. Not that it mattered. She had never got a driving licence but used Eilert as unpaid chauffeur whenever she needed to drive anywhere. The only thing that weighed on his conscience a little was the children. On the other hand, they had always been more Svea’s children than his, and to his sorrow they had become just as petty and narrow-minded as she was. He was undoubtedly partly to blame, since he worked long hours and then found all sorts of excuses to stay away from home as much as possible. But he had still decided to send them a postcard from Landvetter to tell them that he had left of his own free will and that they didn’t have to worry. He also didn’t want them to instigate any big police hunt to find him.

  The roads were empty as he drove along in the dark, and he didn’t even turn on the radio. He wanted to enjoy the silence instead. Now that his life was beginning.

  ‘I just have a hard time understanding it. I can’t believe that Vera would murder Alex so that she wouldn’t talk about assaults against her and Anders that took place over twenty-five years ago.’

  Erica swirled her wine glass meditatively.

  ‘You should never underestimate the need not to make waves in a small town,’ said Patrik. ‘If the old story about the assaults were to come out, people would have a new reason to point their fingers. On the other hand I don’t believe Vera when she says that she did it for Anders’s sake. Maybe she’s right that Anders didn’t want everyone to know what happened to them. But I think it’s mostly Vera who couldn’t stand the thought of what people would be whispering behind her back. Especially if it got out that Anders wasn’t merely the victim of sexual assault as a child, but that his mother did nothing about it; in fact, she helped cover everything up. I think it was the shame that she couldn’t bear. She killed Alex on the spur of the moment when she realized that Alex wasn’t going to budge. Vera got an impulse, which she carried out in a methodical and cold-blooded way.’

  ‘How is she taking it now? Now that she’s been exposed, I mean?’

  ‘She’s surprisingly calm. I think she was immensely relieved when we told her that Anders wasn’t the father of the child, and so she hadn’t murdered her unborn grandchild after all. Now she doesn’t seem to care what happens to her. And why should she? Her son is dead, she has no friends, no life. Everything has been uncovered, and she has nothing more to lose. Only her freedom, and that doesn’t mean much to her right now, or so it seems.’

  They were sitting in Patrik’s flat sharing a bottle of wine after having dinner together. Erica was enjoying the peace and quiet. She loved having Anna and the kids staying with her, but sometimes it was too much, and today had been one of those days. Patrik was tied up in the interrogation all day, but when he finished he came and collected her along with her little overnight bag. Now they were sitting curled up on the sofa like any hardworking older couple.

  Erica closed her eyes. The moment was wonderful and frightening at the same time. Everything was so perfect, and yet she couldn’t help thinking that this might mean it would be all downhill from here. She didn’t even want to think about what would happen if she moved back to Stockholm. She and Anna had skirted the question of the house for several days; as if by tacit agreement, they had decided not to deal with it yet. And Erica believed that Anna was in no condition to make any big decisions, so she had let it lie.

  But tonight she didn’t want to think about the future. Better not to think about tomorrow at all and instead try to enjoy the moment as much as she could. She pushed away all the gloomy thoughts.

  ‘I talked to the publishers today,’ she told Patrik. ‘I mentioned the book about Alex.’

  ‘So, what did they say?’ The eager look in Patrik’s eyes pleased her.

  ‘They thought the idea sounded brilliant and wanted me to send them the material I have right away. I still have to finish writing the book about Selma Lagerlöf, but they gave me an extra month, so now I’ve promised to have the biography ready by September. I actually think I can manage to work on both of them at the same time. It’s been going fairly well so far.’

  ‘What did your publishers say about the legal aspect? Do they think there’s a risk of being sued by Alex’s family?’

  ‘The law on freedom of the press is quite clear. I have the right to write about her, even without their approval. But of course I hope that they’ll be supportive, after I have a chance to explain the project to them and what I envision for the book. I really don’t want to write a sensational story with no substance. I want to write about what actually happened and who Alex really was.’

  ‘And what about the market? Did they think there would be interest in this sort of book?’

  Patrik’s eyes were gleaming. Erica was pleased that he was so enthusiastic on her behalf. He knew how much this book meant to her and wanted to share her interest.

  ‘We both think there should be quite a lot of interest. In the States, the demand for true-crime books is enormous. The biggest author in the genre, Ann Rule, sells millions of copies. Here in Sweden, it’s quite a new phenomenon. There are a few books along that line, such as the one that was written a couple of years ago about the case of the doctor and the pathologist, but nothing that’s purely true-crime. Just like Ann Rule, I would want to put a lot of effort into the research. Check facts, interview everyone involved, and then write a book that was as true as possible to what actually happened.’

  ‘Do you think that Alex’s family will agree to be interviewed?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Erica twisted a lock of hair round her finger. ‘I really don’t know. But I’m definitely going to ask them, and if they don’t want to participate I’ll have to find a way around it somehow. I have an enormous advantage because I already know a lot about them. I must say I’m a little hesitant to ask them, but I’ll just have to deal with it. If this book sells well, I wouldn’t have anything against continuing to write about interesting legal cases, and then I’d have to get used to being a little pushy with relatives. That’s part of the job description. I also think that people have a need to speak their piece, to tell their story. Both from the victim’s and the perpetrator’s point of view.’

  ‘In other words, you’re going to try and talk to Vera as well.’

  ‘Yes, absolutely. I have no idea whether she’ll agree to it, but I intend to try at any rate. Maybe she’ll talk, maybe she won’t. I can’t force her.’

  She shrugged her shoulders in a gesture of indifference, but clearly it would be a much better book if she could get Vera to participate. What she’d written so far was only an outline; now she had to get busy putting some meat on the bones.

  ‘What about you?’ She turned a little on the sofa and put her legs in Patrik’s lap, who took the hint and obediently began massaging her feet.

  ‘How was your day? Are you the big hero at the station now?’

  The deep sigh from Patrik indicated that this was not the case.

  ‘No, you don
’t think Mellberg would give credit where credit was due, do you? He’s been shuttling back and forth all day between the interrogation room and various press conferences. His most frequent pronoun in conversations with reporters has been “I”. I’d be surprised if he even mentioned my name. But what the heck. Who wants to see their name in print anyway? I arrested a murderer yesterday and that’s enough for me.’

  ‘You’re certainly being noble about it all.’ Erica punched him playfully on the arm. ‘Admit that you would have liked standing up there in front of the microphone at a big press conference, puffing out your chest and telling them about how brilliantly you managed to figure out who the murderer was.’

  ‘All right, it would have been kind of cool to get at least a little mention in the local paper. But that’s not going to happen. Mellberg is going to steal all the glory for himself, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.’

  ‘Do you think he’ll get that transfer he wants so much?’

  ‘If only he would. But I suspect the chiefs in Göteborg are quite pleased to have him where he is. I’m afraid we’ll probably have to put up with him until he retires. And that day seems very remote right now.’

  ‘Poor Patrik.’ She stroked his hair, and he took this as a signal to jump on her and pin her to the sofa.

  The wine had made her limbs heavy, and the heat of his body spread slowly to hers. His breathing changed; he was breathing harder. But Erica still had some questions for him. She struggled up to a sitting position, and with moderate force she shoved him away, back to his own corner.

  ‘But are you satisfied with everything? What about Nils’s disappearance, for instance? You didn’t find out anything more from Vera?’

  ‘No, she claims not to know anything about it. Unfortunately, I don’t believe her. I think she had an even more serious reason for protecting Anders than that people would find out that Nils had assaulted him. I think she knew precisely what happened to Nils, and that secret had to be preserved at all costs. But I have to admit it bothers me that it’s still only speculation on my part. People just don’t go up in smoke. He’s out there somewhere, and there’s somebody who knows where. But I do have a theory.’

  Patrik then went through the probable course of events step by step and explained the circumstances behind his idea. Erica saw that he was shivering, despite the heat in the room. It sounded unbelievable, and yet strangely plausible. She also understood that Patrik would never be able to prove any of what he was saying. And even if he could, it probably wouldn’t do any good. So many years had passed. So many lives had already been destroyed. No good would come of destroying one more.

  ‘I know that this will never lead to anything. And yet I want to know, for my own sake. I’ve been living with this case for several weeks now, and I want to find some sort of resolution.’

  ‘So what are you going to do? What can you do, for that matter?’

  Patrik sighed. ‘I’m simply going to ask for a few answers. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?’

  Erica gave him a searching glance. ‘It doesn’t seem like such a good idea, but I’m sure you know best.’

  ‘I hope so. Could we leave death and sorrow behind for the rest of the evening, and concentrate on each other instead?’

  ‘I think that sounds like a brilliant idea.’

  He crawled over on top of her again, and this time no one pushed him off.

  When he left home Erica was still in bed. He hadn’t had the heart to wake her but quietly got up, dressed and drove off.

  He had sensed a certain surprise but also a cautious anticipation when he booked this meeting. The condition had been that they meet discreetly, and Patrik had no problem going along with that. That’s why he was now up at seven on a Tuesday morning. As he drove towards Fjällbacka in the dark he passed only a few oncoming cars. He turned off at the sign that said Väddö, and drove a little further before parking in the lot. His was the only car there. Then he waited. After ten minutes, another car turned into the lot and parked beside his. The driver stepped out, opened the passenger door of Patrik’s car and got in. Patrik left his car idling so he could leave the heater on, otherwise they would soon be frozen through.

  ‘It seems rather exciting, meeting in secret like this under the cover of darkness. My only question is why.’ Jan was completely relaxed, but he had a puzzled look on his face. ‘I thought the investigation was over. You have Alex’s murderer, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, that’s true. But there are still a few pieces that don’t really fit, and it’s bothering me.’

  ‘I see. What exactly doesn’t fit?’

  Jan’s face betrayed no emotions. Patrik wondered whether it would turn out that he had got up at this ungodly hour for nothing. But now that he was here, he might as well finish what he’d started.

  ‘As you may have heard, Alexandra and Anders were molested by your stepbrother Nils.’

  ‘Yes, I heard that. Terrible. Especially for Mother’s sake.’

  ‘Although it wasn’t really news to her. She already knew about it.’

  ‘Of course she did. She handled the situation in the only way she knew how. With the greatest possible discretion. The family name had to be protected, that’s obvious. Everything else was secondary.’

  ‘And how do you feel about it? About the fact that your brother was a paedophile and that your mother knew about it and protected him?’

  Jan didn’t let the question throw him off balance. He brushed off some invisible flecks of dust on his lapel. Then he merely raised one eyebrow when he replied after thinking for a few seconds.

  ‘Naturally, I understand Mother. She acted the only way she could, and the damage was already done, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose one could look at it that way. But the question is, where did Nils go after that? Has anyone in the family ever heard from him?’

  ‘As far as that goes, we naturally informed the police like good citizens.’ The irony was so expertly blended into his tone of voice that it was hardly noticeable. ‘But I can understand why he chose to disappear. What was left for him here? Mother had already figured out what sort of person he was, and he couldn’t keep working at the school. Mother would have seen to that. So he took off. He’s probably living in some nice hot country with easy access to little girls and boys.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Oh no, why not? Have you found the proverbial skeleton in the closet somewhere?’

  Patrik ignored his bantering tone of voice. ‘No, we haven’t. But I have a theory, you see…’

  ‘How thrilling.’

  ‘I don’t think Nils molested only Alex and Anders. I think that his primary victim was someone he had within close reach. Someone who was most easily accessible. I think that you were molested as well.’

  For the first time Patrik thought he saw a crack in Jan’s shiny, polished exterior, but the next second he once again had control, or at least so it seemed.

  ‘That’s an interesting theory. What do you base it on?’

  ‘Not much, I must admit. But I found a common link between the three of you. In your childhood. I saw a little leather patch in your office when I visited you. I assume it’s fairly important to you, isn’t it? It symbolizes something. A pact, a solidarity, a blood oath. You’ve saved it for over twenty-five years. Anders and Alex saved theirs as well. On the back of all of them there’s a smudged fingerprint in blood, and that’s why I think that you all swore a blood oath in the melodramatic way that children do. Then three letters were burned onto the front of the patch: T.T.M. I haven’t managed to decipher that. Perhaps you could help me out on that point?’

  Patrik could see how two different forces were almost literally struggling within Jan. On one hand, common sense told him not to say anything at all; on the other hand, the desire to share a secret should not be underestimated, the urge to confide in someone. Patrik was confident in Jan’s ego and put his money on the fact that it would be irre
sistible for him to unburden his heart to someone who would listen with interest. He decided to try to facilitate Jan’s decision.

  ‘Everything we say here today will remain between us. I have neither the energy nor the resources to follow up on something that happened twenty-five years ago. And I hardly think I could find any proof if I tried. This is for me personally. I have to know.’

  The temptation was too great for Jan.

  ‘“The Three Musketeers”, that’s what “T.T.M.” stands for. Silly and ridiculously romantic, but that was how we saw ourselves. It was us against the world. When we were together we could forget about what had happened to us. We never talked about it with each other, but we didn’t need to. We understood without words. We made a pact that we would always be loyal to each other. With a piece of broken glass we each made a cut in one finger and mixed our blood and then stamped the emblems with it.

  ‘I was the strongest of the three of us. I was forced to be the strongest. The others could at least feel safe at home, but I was always looking over my shoulder. At night, I lay with the covers pulled up to my chin and listened for the footsteps I knew were coming, first down the hall and then closer and closer.’

  It was as if a dam had burst. Jan talked at a furious pace, and Patrik kept quiet so he wouldn’t interrupt the flow of words.

  Jan lit a cigarette, rolled down the window a crack to let out the smoke, and went on. ‘The three of us lived in our own world. We met when nobody else was looking and sought comfort and consolation with each other. The strange thing was that although we should actually have served as a reminder of the evil for each other, it was only together that we could escape for a while. I don’t even know how we knew. Or why we first sought out each other’s company. But somehow we knew. It was inevitable that we would seek each other out. I was the one who decided that we should solve the problem in our own way. Alex and Anders saw it as a game at first, but I knew it would have to turn serious. There was no other way out.