Unwanted

by Kristina Ohlsson

  ‘Let’s hope you find that evil person before he murders any more children,’ Hugo Paulsson said darkly as he took his leave of Alex.

  ‘Murders more children?’ repeated Alex.

  ‘Yes, why should he stop now? If he sees that he can get away with it, I mean,’ said his colleague.

  That little conversation hardly did anything to dispel Alex’s sense of disquiet.

  He landed in Stockholm an hour or so later and went straight back to HQ.

  Fredrika, Peder, Ellen, the National Crime Squad analyst and two people Alex had never seen before, but assumed to be the new backup staff, were waiting for him in the Den.

  ‘Well, my friends,’ began Alex as he sat down. ‘Where shall we start?’

  It was late. He wanted a short, efficient meeting. Then he wanted to go home and think the case through, undisturbed.

  ‘What do we know? Let’s start there.’

  Most of the information that had come to light that day had already been shared among the team members by telephone. Alex had not, however, heard the latest details about Gabriel Sebastiansson’s email and telephone activities. He saw Peder and Fredrika exchange a few quick looks when he asked someone – anyone, as long as they were quick – to update him on that point. Then he would run through what little he had not already told them about what had happened in Umeå.

  Peder gathered his thoughts for a moment and then told them. He handed out copies of the email correspondence between Gabriel and ‘Daddy-Long-Legs’ to all those present. Then, to Alex’s genuine amazement, he showed them an overhead transparency showing two timelines.

  Alex glanced at Fredrika.

  This must have been her idea, he thought.

  To judge by the look of satisfaction on her face, he had guessed correctly.

  It wasn’t a bad idea, just a bit different. Sometimes it was good to have something different, Alex admitted to himself.

  ‘So,’ said Peder, indicating the timelines. ‘We, well, that is, Fredrika and I, have come up with two possible theories on the basis of what we now know.’

  He ran rapidly through his own theory. Then he handed over to Fredrika, who spoke without leaving her seat.

  ‘The alternative to the theory that Gabriel drove to Kalmar and back with Lilian, which is fully possible if a bit tight time-wise, is that we’re dealing with two completely different stories here, two completely unconnected crimes.’

  Alex frowned.

  ‘All right, let me clarify,’ Fredrika said quickly. ‘We know Gabriel has abused Sara, we know he looks at child porn at work, and I think we can assume from this email traffic that he’s an active paedophile. He’s part of a paedophile network we know nothing about, and he’s been meeting up with them regularly since the start of the year. Then an extra event is suddenly announced, in Kalmar. He applies for some leave straight away and – understandably enough – decides to lie about it to his mother and tell her he’s going on a business trip on the days in question. He promises to be back in time for dinner with Lilian when Sara and Lilian get back to Stockholm from Gothenburg.’

  Fredrika paused for a moment to assure herself everyone had followed so far. Nobody sitting at the table looked confused.

  ‘So,’ she said, aware of being so worked up that she was blushing. ‘So, he drives to Kalmar some time on Tuesday morning. Just after two, Lilian goes missing. An hour or so later, people start ringing to ask him about it. His mobile is turned off. Gabriel happens to be unavailable just then, and stays unavailable until ten that evening, when he switches his phone back on.’

  Fredrika paused for added effect.

  ‘The man’s just been committing the most disgusting crime our society can conceive of when his daughter goes missing and he’s wanted by the police in connection with that. He probably knows we’ve already found the records of his reported abuse of his wife, and imagines we’ll also have had contradictory statements from his mother and his company about where he is. It’s late and he’s hours from home. Maybe it’s panic, pure and simple. He doesn’t want to drive home and he doesn’t want to talk to the police. He knows he didn’t take Lilian, but he really doesn’t want to say where he was when she disappeared.’

  Fredrika took a deep breath before going on.

  ‘But he’s wedged himself into a really tight corner, because his old mum who usually conjures up alibis for him finds it tricky this time, because he lied about where he was going to be. Naturally it’s still her he rings; there’s nobody else who’ll offer him such unconditional help. It’s hard to say exactly what plan they cook up between them, and exactly how much he tells his mother, but presumably they decide to assume Lilian will soon be found and they’ll lie low until then.’

  ‘And when Lilian’s safely back, the police won’t be interested in where he’s been?’ Alex added.

  ‘Just so,’ said Fredrika, taking a drink of water after her long exposition.

  The room fell silent.

  Alex looked through the emails Peder had handed out, reading a passage here and there.

  ‘Christ almighty,’ he said, putting the papers aside.

  He leant forward across the table.

  ‘Has anyone come up with information of any kind to make Fredrika’s version seem unfeasible?’ he asked softly.

  Nobody said anything.

  ‘In that case,’ Alex said slowly, ‘I’m inclined to believe that our friend Gabriel, who we’ve been hunting so frantically, most probably isn’t the one who took Lilian.’

  He looked at Peder, who was now sitting beside Fredrika.

  ‘I agree it’s not impossible for Gabriel to take Lilian and pay his visit to Kalmar all on the same day, but as Fredrika pointed out: it would be a terrifically tight schedule.’

  Alex shook his head.

  ‘But in that case,’ Peder said, ‘what about Ingrid Strand’s evidence? The woman who was sitting by Sara and Lilian on the train. I mean, she saw Lilian being carried off . . .’

  ‘ . . . by someone who “must have been her daddy”,’ Alex supplied calmly. ‘I know, it’s all as clear as mud. Who else would Lilian let herself be taken by? Unless she was already drugged, but we’ll have to wait for the tests before we can know that.’

  Fredrika swallowed.

  ‘Was she . . . ,’ she started. ‘Could the pathologists tell if she’d been assaulted in any way?’

  Alex shook his head.

  ‘They think probably not, but that’s something else we’ll get a formal report on tomorrow morning.’

  Alex lapsed into silence. Regardless of whether Gabriel Sebastiansson could be linked to Lilian’s disappearance, a whole bundle of information about a paedophile network had suddenly landed on his desk. Goodness knows it wasn’t his problem; it would have to be handed over to the regional or even national crime squad.

  ‘Does this mean we’re right back to square one?’ asked Peder doubtfully.

  Alex smiled.

  ‘No,’ he said, pondering. ‘It just means that the information we’ve got doesn’t hang together quite the way we first thought. But as I said, I do think we can write off Gabriel as chief suspect, at least for the time being.’

  Peder sighed and Alex held up a warning finger.

  ‘But,’ he added, ‘that doesn’t necessarily mean Gabriel didn’t know whoever took his daughter. We can’t rule that out, knowing the circles he moved in.’

  Fredrika raised a tentative hand to request permission to speak.

  Alex gave her a nod.

  ‘But we do know,’ Fredrika said softly, ‘that the person who took Lilian directed his attentions to Sara and not – as far as we know – to Gabriel. The hair was sent to Sara’s address, not his.’

  ‘So you think the murderer has links to Sara rather than Gabriel?’ interpreted Alex.

  ‘Yes,’ came Fredrika’s straight answer.

  ‘Have we got any other information to back that up?’ Alex asked, surveying those assembled.

  Fredrika asked
to speak again.

  ‘Yes, we have,’ she said, and flushed. ‘You see, I went on a little visit to Flemingsberg today.’

  Alex and the others listened to Fredrika’s brief account of what she had found out in Flemingsberg and from Swedish Railways. She concluded by assuring them she didn’t think any of this was proof, but she still maintained that too many things had happened at the same time for it to be pure coincidence.

  Alex absorbed this in silence. Then he furrowed his brow.

  ‘I ought really to say you shouldn’t be sending yourself off on little missions of your own when I specifically asked you to do other things, but I’ll let that pass for now.’

  Fredrika gave a sigh of relief.

  ‘If we assume the information you gathered to be true in the sense that it indicates this was a minutely planned series of actions, directed at Sara, then we’re dealing with a real sadist,’ Alex said quietly. ‘And a very intelligent and successful one, at that. There’s just one thing I wonder: why haven’t we found an explanation for this? Why isn’t Sara aware of who she could have upset to that degree?’

  ‘Maybe because she didn’t notice,’ Peder put in. ‘If it was some real psycho who took Lilian, and it seems like it, the reason might well not seem logical to anyone except the perpetrator himself.’

  ‘We’ll have to sift through all the information again,’ said Alex, with audible tension in his voice. ‘We must have missed something. When will the identikit of the woman with the dog be ready?’

  ‘It already is,’ said Fredrika, ‘but we just want the girl at the ticket window to see if it needs tweaking, and she’s doing that tonight.’

  ‘Right, let’s move on,’ said Alex, thanking Fredrika with a quick nod.

  Fredrika tried to interrupt, but Alex stopped her.

  ‘Can I just run through what I found out from Sara and her parents in Umeå?’

  Fredrika nodded, as curious as everyone else.

  Alex was aware he was disappointing them.

  He repeated what had been said in his interview with Sara and her parents after the formal identification. He saw Fredrika giving him a penetrating look as he told them about Sara’s time in Umeå after she left school.

  When he had finished, Fredrika was the first to comment.

  ‘I’ve been talking to quite a few of Sara’s friends and colleagues today,’ she said, ‘and it’s struck me that she basically has none of her old friends left.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Alex. ‘I understand she broke off with them when she met her husband.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Fredrika eagerly, ‘but it means that when we try to chart her social network, our timeline’s starting quite late. That is, we’re not taking account of anything that might have happened in Sara’s life before she met Gabriel.’

  ‘And you mean that might be it? That someone who might have been brooding and plotting vengeance for decades snatched Lilian?’

  ‘I mean we can’t rule it out,’ clarified Fredrika. ‘And I mean that if that is the case, we’ve no chance of unearthing it as things stand, because we’re looking at completely the wrong timespan.’

  Alex nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘Right, my friends,’ he said, ‘let’s rest our brains tonight. Everybody go home and do something they enjoy. And when we meet tomorrow, we’ll start again in the sense that we’ll go through our material again. All of it. Even calls from the public we discounted previously. Okay?’

  Alex had surprised himself by using the word ‘friends’ twice in one meeting. The thought made him smile.

  Ellen Lind was feeling a touch disappointed as she left work. She’d really been working hard since the girl went missing, and though she was only an assistant, the boss ought to remember to give her credit for her contribution, too. Alex wasn’t always very good at that. Not to mention the way he treated the poor analyst. Did he even know that Mats’s name was Mats?

  All such thoughts evaporated when she got out her mobile and saw she had several missed calls from the man she loved. He had left her a short, concise voicemail message saying he would very much like to see her that evening at Hotel Anglais, where he was staying the night. He also apologized for the stupid way things had gone between them last time.

  Ellen’s heart missed a beat for sheer joy.

  At the same time she felt a little stab of irritation. She didn’t like these sudden temperature changes in the relationship.

  For a price, Ellen’s niece agreed to look after the children in the end. She was actually already round at Ellen’s to lend a general hand, since Ellen had had to work late.

  ‘Do they really need a babysitter?’ asked the girl, who was nineteen and had just left school.

  Ellen’s thoughts went to Lilian Sebastiansson and she said a firm:

  ‘Yes.’

  Then she hurried home so she would at least have time to say goodnight to the kids and change.

  Ellen’s niece watched her as she dashed around in her underwear looking for something to wear.

  ‘You look like a teenager who’s just fallen in love,’ she giggled.

  Ellen smiled and blushed.

  ‘Yes, I know it’s a bit silly, but I feel so happy every time he says he can see me.’

  The girl gave her a warm smile back.

  ‘Wear the red top,’ she said. ‘Red really suits you.’

  Before long, Ellen was in a taxi on her way to the hotel. She didn’t realize how tired she was until she sank into the back seat of the taxi. It had been hard work and tough going these past few days. She hoped Carl wouldn’t mind listening while she told him about all that dreadful stuff, because she really needed to get it out of her system.

  Carl met her in the lobby. His face broke into a warm smile when he saw her.

  ‘Just think, twice in one week,’ Ellen murmured as they embraced.

  ‘Some weeks are easier than others,’ replied Carl, holding her tight.

  He stroked her back, praised her choice of top and said she looked radiant, even though she felt shattered.

  The hours until they fell asleep passed in a haze. They drank wine, had a bite to eat, and a long, earnest talk about all that had happened, and then made passionate love until they decided it was time for some sleep.

  Ellen relaxed in his arms and was almost dropping off as she whispered:

  ‘I’m so glad we met, Carl.’

  She could feel his smile tickle the back of her neck.

  ‘I think exactly the same,’ he said.

  Then his hand cupped her left breast, and he kissed her shoulder and said:

  ‘You truly give me all I need.’

  PART II

  Signs of Anger

  FRIDAY

  It was dark in the flat when Jelena came to. She opened her eyes and found she was lying on her back. One eye didn’t want to open at all. She just had time to wonder why that eye was so heavy before the wave of pain washed through her. Through her and crashing against her. Impossible to ward off, impossible to endure. It coursed through her body and made her shake. When she tried to turn in the bed, the sheet stuck to the skin of her back in the places where the blood had clotted and dried.

  Jelena almost immediately abandoned her efforts not to cry. She knew the Man would not be at home. He never was after a Reprimand.

  The tears could run freely down her cheeks.

  If only he had let her speak, if only he had listened and not rushed straight at her.

  Such fury.

  Jelena had never seen anything like it.

  How could he do this? she thought as she cried into the stained pillow.

  That was a forbidden thought, really. She was not to question anything about the Man, those were their rules. If he reprimanded her, it was only for her own good. If she could not understand that, their relationship was doomed to be weakened and destroyed. How many times had he told her?

  But still.

  Jelena was a woman who had lost her faith in herself and those aroun
d her bit by bit. She was alone, and that was because she deserved to be. That was why she had become the person who felt grateful and cherished when someone like the Man wanted her.

  But there was still a vestige of strength in her that the Man had not managed to wipe out. Nor had that been his intention: without strength, she could never become his ally in the war that lay ahead of them.

  Lying naked on the bed, alone and abandoned with wounds all over her body, Jelena used that last drop of strength to dare to sample the salty taste of protest. When she was younger, in a time she and the Man had done everything to make her forget, her whole being had been one big protest. The Man took that out of her. The kind of protest she indulged in was to be condemned. He had told her that the very first time he picked her up in the car. But there were other kinds of protest. If she wanted to and dared to, he could help her move forward.

  Jelena wanted nothing better.

  But the road to perfection, which the Man claimed was imperative for the fight, was far longer and darker than Jelena had ever imagined. Long and painful. It nearly always hurt somewhere. It hurt most of all when he burned her. Though really that had only been a few times, and only right at the start of their relationship.

  Now he had done it again.

  Jelena was hot and feverish. Her chest hurt when she breathed and she had burns on more parts of her body than she dared to think of. The pain was driving her insane.

  A desperate thought flashed through her mind.

  I must get help, she thought. I must get help.

  Summoning all her willpower she slipped off the edge of the bed and slowly began to crawl out of the room. Seeking help for her injuries was another infringement of the rules, but this time she was sure she would die if she didn’t get medical help.

  The Man always came home sooner or later and helped her. But this time Jelena did not have time to wait for him. Her strength was draining away too quickly.

  Got to get to the front door.

  Somewhere inside her, the panic was growing. What would this betrayal mean for the relationship between her and the Man? What would be left of it, in fact, after she had gone behind his back?