Unwanted

by Kristina Ohlsson

  ‘If that’s all right,’ Nora said.

  ‘You’re always welcome here, dear. You know that, don’t you?’ her grandmother replied.

  Safe Grandma. Wonderful Grandma. The one bright spot in a childhood that was otherwise painful to look back on.

  ‘I’ll ring again when I’ve booked the ticket and have a better idea what time I’ll be arriving, Grandma,’ Nora whispered into the telephone, and they hung up.

  Nora tried to get her thoughts in order as she packed. She decided to travel in her red, high-heeled shoes. Shoes like the ones the Man had once said made her look cheap, but she loved wearing them now, and saw them as a badge of her independence. Perhaps it had been a mistake not to give her name to the police, but Nora really didn’t want to let anyone crack open the shell inside which she had successfully built herself a safe existence.

  Nora’s case was packed and she felt ready to leave the flat.

  She stood the suitcase on the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed. It was almost ten o’clock. She ought to ring Grandma to confirm when she’d be arriving, as promised.

  Nora was just keying in the number when a sound from the hall caught her attention. Just a single sound, then it went quiet. Nora blinked. Then the sound came again, the sound of someone taking a step on the creaking floorboards.

  Her mouth went dry with fear when he suddenly appeared in the doorway. Paralysed by the realization that it was all over now, she did not move from her seat on the bed. She had still not keyed in the whole number.

  ‘Hello, Doll,’ he whispered. ‘You going somewhere?’

  The telephone slipped automatically from Nora’s hand and she shut her eyes in the hope that the evil would disappear. The last things she saw were the red shoes, still standing beside her suitcase.

  THURSDAY

  Dr Melker Holm had always enjoyed the night shift in Accident and Emergency. For one thing, he was the sort of man who liked things being on the go, when there was stuff happening, and for another, he found himself irresistibly attracted by the nocturnal calm that always followed the more turbulent hours.

  Maybe when Melker went on duty that night, he already had a premonition that this shift would be different. The emergency ward was buzzing with a level of commotion and activity that could hardly be considered normal. A serious car accident involving several vehicles took a very long time to deal with, while in the waiting room, a group of patients with slightly less acute problems grew increasingly fed up with the long wait.

  Melker heard Sister Anne’s footsteps before he heard her voice. Sister Anne had uncommonly short legs, which meant she took unusually short, quick steps. Apart from that, Melker had not noticed a single defect in her overwhelming physical presence. Though he was never one to listen to or spread gossip, he had – most unintentionally – heard that Sister Anne had not been slow to see how she could capitalize on her beauty.

  He could not have cared less about vulgar women prostituting themselves in their places of work. At the same time, Sister Anne, of all people, was someone in whom he felt a degree of trust. There was something fundamentally stable about her. She was reliable. And there were few personal qualities Melker valued more highly than reliability.

  Sister Anne appeared in the doorway a few seconds after he first heard her.

  ‘I think you ought to come, Doctor,’ said Sister Anne, and Melker noted a tension in her features he had not seen before.

  Asking no questions, he got up and went with her.

  To his surprise, Sister Anne hurried right through the Emergency Department and out of the front entrance. Only then did Melker speak.

  ‘Sorry, but what’s going on?’

  Sister Anne turned her head towards him and her steps faltered a little.

  ‘A woman rang,’ she said. ‘She said she and her husband were on their way here by car. She said it was her first baby and she was afraid they wouldn’t make it in time. Afraid the baby was going to be born on the way. She wanted us to go out ready to meet them.’

  Sister Anne licked her lips and anxiously scanned the drive leading to the Emergency Department. She sensed Melker’s quizzical look and turned back to him again.

  ‘She said they were almost here, and I couldn’t get hold of the obstetrician, so I thought . . .’

  Melker interrupted her with a nod.

  ‘That’s all right. But they aren’t here, are they? And anyway – why would they be coming to A&E? You should have sent them to Maternity.’

  Sister Anne flushed.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to waste your time,’ she said quickly. ‘It was just . . . Well, her voice. There was something about her voice that made me think it was much more urgent than it clearly is.’

  Melker nodded again, graciously this time.

  ‘I understand what you were thinking and I am at your disposal, absolutely. But if they ring again, do tell them to go to Maternity Reception, please.’

  He turned on his heels and went back to his room. He happened to glance at his watch. It was just past midnight. A new day had begun.

  It was just after one o’clock when Melker heard Sister Anne’s footsteps in the corridor once more. He had time to register that it really sounded more as if she was running, and then she was at his door, rain-sodden and wild-eyed.

  ‘You must bloody well come right now,’ she said, and rapidly repeated herself: ‘Bloody well come right now.’

  Melker Holm was taken aback by the strong language, which was totally inappropriate in the working climate of the Emergency Department, and rushed after Sister Anne through the reception area and out into the car park.

  ‘Carry on, to the parking area at the far end,’ Sister Anne exhorted him.

  At the end of the access road, just between the ordinary visitors’ car park and the approach to A&E, in the middle of the pavement, lay a little girl. She did not have a thread of clothing on her body, and her empty, glassy eyes stared unseeing up into the night sky as it pelted her pale, naked body with rain.

  ‘What on earth . . . ?’ mumbled Melker, kneeling down beside the girl and checking her pulse, though he could tell at a glance that she was dead.

  Later, Melker was to envy Sister Anne her ready tears, mixing freely with the rain, for he was unable to shed any himself for several days.

  ‘I popped out to check whether that couple were waiting out here in the car park, because they didn’t ring again,’ he heard Sister Anne say. ‘Oh my God, she was just lying here. Just lying here.’

  Against his better judgment, Melker Holm leant down and stroked the girl’s cheek. His eye fell on her forehead, where someone had written a word, the letters blurred and sprawling. Someone had marked her body.

  ‘We must ring the police right away so we can get the poor little thing into the warm,’ he said.

  Just as he was opening the front door to set off for work, Alex received the call from the police up in Umeå.

  ‘DCI Hugo Paulsson here, from the Umeå Crime Squad,’ bellowed a voice at the other end.

  Alex stopped what he was doing.

  Hugo Paulsson gave a sigh.

  ‘I think we may have found your little girl, the one who went missing from the Central Station,’ he said softly. ‘Lilian Sebastiansson.’

  Found? Alex would remember that moment later as one of the few in his career when time stood utterly still. He did not hear the rain beating on the window, did not see Lena who was watching him from just a few feet away, did not say anything in reply to what he had just heard. Time stopped, and the ground opened up beneath his feet.

  How the hell could I mess up on this one?

  When Hugo Paulsson found himself still getting no reply, he went on.

  ‘She was found at the hospital here in Umeå, outside A&E, at one o’clock last night. It took a while to establish the likely identity, because we had another little girl up here who’d run away, you see, and we had to make sure it wasn’t her first.’

  ‘Lilian didn�
��t run away,’ Alex said automatically.

  ‘No, of course not,’ said Hugo Paulsson grimly. ‘But anyway, now you know where she is. Or to be more accurate – where she probably is. Someone will have to identify her.’

  Alex nodded gently to himself as he stood in his hall, waiting for time to start moving again.

  ‘I’ll get back to you as soon as I can on how we’re going to proceed,’ he said at last.

  ‘Fine,’ said Hugo Paulsson.

  Then he added slowly:

  ‘I don’t know what it means, but the girl’s clothes haven’t been found. And her head’s been shaved.’

  Fredrika Bergman received the news that the case of the missing Lilian had become a murder investigation via her mobile phone. It was Alex who rang, and she could tell from his voice that he was in shock. She herself felt drained of all emotion. Alex asked her to go and see Teodora Sebastiansson again and then try to talk to as many people as possible on the list of names and contacts they had got from Sara’s parents. They would have to try to work out why the child had turned up in Umeå, of all places.

  Only once Fredrika had ended the call and looked out to see that summer had yet another day of rain ahead did she start to cry. She felt profoundly grateful that she was alone in her office, behind a closed door.

  How on earth could the girl suddenly be dead?

  Of all the questions raging in her head, one was more insistent than the rest.

  What the hell am I doing here? she thought. How did I end up working in a place like this on a job like this?

  Fredrika was on the point of ringing Alex back there and then and saying:

  ‘You’re right, Alex. I’m not cut out for this. I’m too weak, too emotional. I’ve never seen a dead person in my life and I hate stories with unhappy endings. And it doesn’t get any unhappier than this one. I give up. I’ve no business being here.’

  Fredrika ran her fingers gently over the scar on her right arm. Time had faded the operation scar to just a couple of white lines, but they were still fully visible to any eye. For Fredrika, they were a daily reminder not only of The Accident, but also of the life that never was. The life she never had.

  Fredrika wiped the corner of her eye and blew her nose. If she carried on thinking like this in her present state, she definitely wouldn’t be able to work properly. She was tired, worn out. It was only a few weeks until her holiday. She gave a stubborn shake of the head. Not now, she told herself, not now. Right now it would do the investigation more harm than good if she got up and left. But later, when the case was over . . .

  Then I’ll leave . . .

  Fredrika blew her nose again. Crumpled the tissue into a ball in her hand. Threw it at the bin. Missed but left it lying on the floor.

  Why was the picture refusing to come into focus?

  Thoughts were flying through Fredrika’s brain at lightning speed as she sat there at her desk, though it was not yet eight o’clock. She was the first to admit that she had not worked on many cases, but she did have a solid amount of analytical experience behind her. Considering the point they had now reached in the case of Lilian’s disappearance, it ought not to be that hard for Fredrika to complete the jigsaw puzzle in front of her. But there was something missing. She could feel it in her whole body, but couldn’t put it into words. Had they missed something? Was it something they should have seen or thought of earlier?

  But then, Fredrika argued to herself, they still hadn’t found a motive for the abduction itself. If it was Gabriel Sebastiansson who had taken Lilian, what was his motive? There was no tedious custody battle going on; there were no reports of his having previously harmed the girl.

  Fredrika’s encounter with Gabriel’s mother had left her in no doubt that he really had physically assaulted Sara. There was something extremely unpleasant about the whole family. Fredrika went to the computer to put together a list of further questions for Mrs Sebastiansson. The mere recollection of that lady’s bony finger pointing to where she was to park the car made her feel tense. No, there was definitely something sick about that family. The only question was: why had someone like Sara chosen to marry into it? After all, unlike her mother-in-law she seemed a straightforward, unpretentious, uncomplicated person. It was certainly going to be interesting to see what Gabriel was like, when the time came.

  Then her mobile rang, forcing her to break off from the list she had barely started to compile. It was a man’s voice on the line.

  ‘Am I speaking to Fredrika Bergman?’

  ‘Yes, you are. And who am I speaking to?’ said Fredrika.

  ‘I’m Martin Ek, from SatCom. We spoke briefly the other evening, when you rang to ask about Gabriel Sebastiansson,’ the man replied.

  SatCom, the company in which Gabriel had been working his way up over the past ten years, and was now one of the top executives.

  Fredrika was immediately alert.

  ‘Yes?’ she said.

  ‘Well,’ Martin Ek began, sounding relieved that she remembered him. ‘You asked me to ring if Gabriel got in touch, so I kept your card.’

  ‘Ah, right,’ said Fredrika with a little gasp. ‘And he’s been in touch now?’

  Martin Ek initially said nothing. Fredrika sensed he was on the verge of hanging up.

  ‘We haven’t heard from him.’

  Fredrika’s shoulders slumped a fraction.

  ‘But I think I may have found something you’d be interested in seeing,’ he gabbled.

  ‘Okay,’ said Fredrika guardedly, pulling paper and pencil towards her. ‘What have you found, exactly?’

  Another pause.

  ‘I’d really rather you came over and saw for yourself,’ he said.

  Fredrika hesitated. She had neither the time nor the inclination to go over there. And anyway, it was really Peder who ought to be dealing with this contact, since he was the one following up Gabriel Sebastiansson’s circle of acquaintances.

  ‘You won’t even give me an idea of what this is about?’ she asked. ‘We’ve got a huge amount on at the moment.’

  Martin Ek was breathing heavily at the other end of the line.

  ‘It’s something I found on his computer,’ he said finally.

  He took a few more deep breaths before he went on.

  ‘Photos. Disgusting photos. I’ve never seen anything so bloody sick. I’d really, really appreciate it if you could come round. Straight away, if possible.’

  Fredrika felt her throat constrict.

  ‘I’ll ask my colleague to get back to you right away. Okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  Fredrika was about to ring off when Martin Ek added:

  ‘But please come quickly.’

  The desert.

  Thirst.

  Pain. A whole head full of pain.

  Peder Rydh was hung over and barely awake when Alex rang to tell him that a little girl who in all probability was Lilian Sebastiansson had been found dead in Umeå. Alex also told him to get round to Sara’s and make sure she, or one of Lilian’s other close relations, caught the ten o’clock flight to Umeå. Alex would be on that plane himself, and would meet whoever was going at the airport. He also instructed Peder to pull out all the stops to work out how Umeå fitted into the picture.

  Peder’s first reaction was one of near panic.

  How the hell could the child be dead?

  She had been missing fewer than forty-eight hours, and since getting the information from the woman sitting beside Sara and Lilian on the train, they’d been looking for the girl’s father, suspecting him of involvement in her disappearance. Had Gabriel Sebastiansson gone off his head? Had he murdered his own daughter and dumped her outside a hospital?

  Then came his second reaction: Where the fuck was he?

  Peder fought desperately against the hangover, which was completely paralysing his powers of thought. Several long seconds passed before it dawned on him that he had fallen asleep at Pia Nordh’s. Heck, this was going to be tricky to explain to Ylva.
>
  The phone had woken Pia, and she lay on her side, watching him. She was naked and her expression was quizzical. She realized from the short call that something very serious had happened.

  ‘They’ve found her,’ Peder said curtly, getting up from the bed far too fast.

  The floor rocked beneath his feet, his head throbbed and his eyes ached. He sat down on the edge of the bed and rested his head in his hands. He’d got to think, pull himself together. He ran his fingers through his hair and reached for his mobile again. He had a missed call from Jimmy and eleven from Ylva, who had admittedly been told to expect him home late, but would hardly have expected him not to come home at all. When had he rung her, exactly? His memories of the previous evening were one big whirl, impossible to separate out. Had he rung at all, when it came to it? The shadow of a recollection flitted by. Peder, half undressed in Pia’s bathroom. One hand on the washbasin for support, keeping himself upright, the other hand holding his mobile, sending a text.

  ‘Don’t wait up. Back later. Speak soon.’

  Peder wanted to crawl out of his own skin. This wasn’t good. Or rather . . . it didn’t get any worse than this. If this wasn’t rock bottom, then he didn’t want to be part of it all any longer.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ he said gruffly, and stood up again.

  His legs carried him all the way from the bedroom, out into the hall, into the bathroom. How much had he drunk? How many beers had it added up to?

  He was just getting out of the shower when he heard his mobile ring again. He raced out of the bathroom, almost skidding on the wet floor tiles. Pia met him in the hall, his mobile in her hand.

  It was Fredrika.

  ‘There was a call from the place where Gabriel Sebastiansson works,’ she said tersely. ‘They want one of us round there at once, to see something they found on Gabriel’s computer. Some horrible photos.’

  Peder retreated into the bathroom so as not to drip all over Pia’s hall floor, but had to come back out again because there was no signal in there. He tried to towel himself one-handed with the towel while he was still on the phone.