Per waved his hand dismissively.
‘I have no idea where she is, I just know that something bad must have happened to her. She would never run away like this. And since she was going to hitchhike – ’
‘Hitchhike? Where to? When did she hitchhike?’
‘That’s why it’s all my fault.’ Per was speaking with exaggerated patience to Patrik, as if he were a little child. He went on, ‘I started quarrelling with her just as she was going to go and meet Melanie at the bus stop. I got so pissed off because Jenny seemed to think that I was only good enough to hang out with as long as that damn Melanie didn’t know about it. I grabbed Jenny when she walked by and started yelling at her. She looked unhappy but didn’t argue. She just stood there and took it. After a while she said that now she’d missed the bus and she’d have to hitchhike into Fjällbacka. Then she left.’
Per raised his eyes from the bald spot on the lawn and looked at Patrik. His lower lip was quivering, and Patrik could see that he was feverishly fighting to avoid the humiliation of crying in the midst of all the other campers.
‘So that’s why it’s my fault. If I hadn’t started arguing with her about something that now seems totally fucking meaningless, then she would have caught that bus and all this never would have happened. She got picked up hitchhiking by some fucking psycho and it’s all my fault.’
His voice rose an octave and broke into falsetto. Patrik kept shaking his head.
‘It’s not your fault. And we don’t even know that anything’s happened to her. That’s what we’re trying to find out. Who knows, she could show up here anytime. Maybe she was just out getting into some mischief.’
His tone was soothing, but Patrik himself could hear how false it sounded. He knew that the worry he saw in the boy’s eyes was also in his own. Only a couple of hundred metres away the Möllers were sitting in their caravan, waiting for their daughter. Patrik had an icy feeling in his stomach that Per was right, and that they might be waiting in vain. Somebody had picked up Jenny. Somebody who did not have good intentions.
* * *
While Jacob and Marita were at work and the children were at day care, Linda waited for Stefan. It was the first time they were going to meet inside the house at Västergården, instead of in the hayloft in the barn, and Linda thought it was exciting. The knowledge that they were illegally meeting under her brother’s roof added a little extra spice to the rendezvous. Not until she saw the expression on Stefan’s face when he came in the door did she realize that for him it aroused quite different emotions to be back in this house.
He hadn’t been back since they had to leave Västergården right after Johannes died. With hesitant steps Stefan walked about, first in the living room, then in the kitchen, and even to the bathroom. He seemed to want to take in every detail. Much was changed. Jacob had done woodwork and painted the walls. The house no longer looked the way Stefan remembered. Linda followed close behind him.
‘It’s been a long time since you were here.’
Stefan nodded and ran his hand along the mantelpiece in the living room.
‘Twenty-four years. I was only five when we moved away from here. He’s done a lot with the house.’
‘Yes, everything has to be so damned fine for Jacob. He’s always doing carpentry work and fixing things up. It all has to be so perfect.’
Stefan didn’t answer. He seemed to be in another world. Linda began to regret inviting him home. All she was thinking of was a carefree romp in the bed, not a trip through Stefan’s sad childhood memories. She would rather not think about that side of him, the part with feelings and experiences that didn’t include her. He’d been so enchanted with her, almost worshipful. It was affirmation that she wanted from him, not the sight of this pensive, worried grown man who was now walking about the house.
She pulled at his sleeve and he started as if waking from a trance.
‘Why don’t we go upstairs? My room is in the attic.’
Stefan followed her passively up the steep stairway. They passed through the second floor, but when Linda began climbing up the stairs to the attic, Stefan followed more reluctantly. He and Robert had had their room up here, and their parents’ bedroom was up here too.
‘Wait a minute, I’ll be right there. I just have to check on something.’
He didn’t pay attention to Linda’s protests, but opened with a trembling hand the first door in the hall. Inside was his boyhood room. It was still a room for a little boy, but now it belonged to William, with his toys and clothes strewn all over. He sat down on the little bed and saw in his mind’s eye the way the room had looked when he had lived in it. After a while he got up and went into the room next door, the one that had been Robert’s. It was changed even more than his old room. Now it was clearly a girl’s room, painted pink with tulle and spangles as the dominant decoration. He left almost instantly. Instead he was drawn like a magnet to the room at the end of the hall. Many nights he had padded down the carpet his mother had laid in the hall, towards the white door, which he carefully pushed open, and then crawled into his parents’ bed. There he could sleep securely, free of nightmares and monsters under the bed. He would have most liked to curl up next to his father to sleep. He saw that Jacob and Marita had kept the grand old bedstead; this room had been changed the least.
He could feel tears burning beneath his eyelids and blinked to prevent them from spilling out before he turned round to face Linda. He didn’t want to appear so weak in front of her.
‘Are you done looking around yet? There’s nothing here to steal if that’s what you’re thinking.’
Her tone of voice had a nasty ring to it that he’d never heard before. Anger was ignited in him like a spark. And the spark was further kindled by the thought of everything that might have been. Stefan grabbed Linda hard by the arm.
‘What the hell are you talking about? You think I’m checking to see if there’s anything I could steal? You must be crazy. I lived here long before your brother moved in, and if it weren’t for your fucking father, we would still own this house. So shut your damn trap.’
For a second Linda was speechless with shock at the change in Stefan, who was always so gentle. Then she tore her arm away and snarled, ‘You know, it’s not my Pappa’s fault that your father gambled and frittered away all his money. And no matter what Pappa did, he couldn’t help that your father was such a coward that he committed suicide. He was the one who chose to abandon you, and you can’t blame Pappa for that.’
Rage made white spots form in Stefan’s field of vision. He clenched his fists. Linda looked so small and fragile that he wondered if he could snap her in two, but he forced himself to take deep breaths and calm down. In an odd, wheezing voice he said, ‘There’s plenty that I can and will blame Gabriel for. Your father destroyed our lives out of sheer envy. Mamma has told me how it was. She said that everyone loved my father, and they thought Gabriel was nothing but a dried-up sourpuss, and he couldn’t tolerate that. But Mamma was up at the farm yesterday and told him a thing or two. It’s just a shame that she didn’t give him a good thrashing too, but I suppose she doesn’t dare lay a hand on him.’
Linda laughed scornfully. ‘Once upon a time she didn’t seem to mind touching him. It’s disgusting to think of my Pappa together with your filthy mamma, but that’s how it was, at least until she worked out that it was probably easier to milk money out of your father than out of mine. Then she really got friendly with him. You know what they call somebody like that, don’t you? A whore!’
A fine spray of saliva landed on Stefan’s face when Linda, who was almost the same height, threw these words in his face.
Afraid that he wouldn’t be able to control himself, Stefan backed slowly towards the stairs. He would have liked to put his hands around her thin neck and squeeze, just to shut her up, but instead he fled.
Confused over how the situation had suddenly degenerated and angry that she didn’t have the hold over him that she’d imagined, Linda l
eaned over the banister and screamed venomously after him, ‘Go ahead and run away, you fucking loser. You were only good for one thing anyway. And you weren’t even very good at that.’
She flipped him the finger, but he was already on the way out the front door and didn’t see it.
Linda slumped forwards. Subject to the rapid mood swings of a teenager, she was already sorry about what she’d said. She had just been so damned furious.
When the fax from Germany arrived, Martin had just hung up the phone after speaking with Patrik. The news that Jenny had probably been picked up by a stranger in a car didn’t make the situation any better. Anyone could have picked up the girl; the best they could do now was rely on the all-seeing eye of the public. The press had been ringing Mellberg like madmen. With the news coverage that they now expected, Martin hoped that anyone who had seen Jenny getting into a car outside the campground would call in. He hoped they’d be able to sort out the real information from the onslaught of nuisance calls – those that came from mentally disturbed people or those who took the opportunity to make trouble for someone they didn’t like.
It was Annika who brought in the fax, which was brief and concise. He stumbled through the few sentences, able to make out that they were looking for Tanja’s ex-husband as next of kin. It surprised Martin that a woman so young was already divorced, but the fact was there in black and white. After a moment’s hesitation and a quick consultation with Patrik on his mobile, he dialled the number of the Fjällbacka tourist bureau. He couldn’t help but smile when he heard Pia’s voice on the line.
‘Hello, it’s Martin Molin.’ There was silence for a second too long. ‘With the police in Tanumshede.’ It irked him that he had to explain who he was. He could have told anyone her shoe size if they asked him.
‘Oh yes, hi, forgive me. I’m completely hopeless with names, but I’m better with faces. A good thing, with this job.’ She laughed. ‘What can I help you with today?’
Where should I begin? Martin thought, but then reminded himself why he was calling and pulled himself together.
‘I have to make an important call to Germany and I don’t dare try it with my poor grades in high-school German. Could you listen in on a third line and interpret for me?’
‘Absolutely,’ she replied instantly. ‘I just have to ask my colleague to mind the shop while I’m gone.’
He heard her talking to someone in the background, and then her voice was back on the line.
‘All right, I’m ready. How does this work? Will you ring me, or what?’
‘Yes, I’ll patch you in, then just wait by the phone until I call back in a few minutes.’
Exactly four minutes later, he had both Tanja’s ex-husband Peter Schmidt and Pia on the line at the same time. He started cautiously by offering his condolences and saying he was sorry to be calling under such unfortunate circumstances. The German police had already informed Peter of his ex-wife’s death, so Martin didn’t have to break the news to him, but it felt very uncomfortable to be ringing so soon after the man was informed. This was one of the most difficult aspects of Martin’s job. Thank goodness it was a rather rare occurrence in his daily police work.
‘How much do you know about Tanja’s trip to Sweden?’
Pia translated the question fluently into German, and then translated Peter’s reply back to Swedish.
‘Not a thing. Unfortunately we did not part as friends, so after the divorce we hardly spoke to each other. When we were married she never mentioned that she wanted to travel to Sweden. She was more fond of taking sunny holidays in the south, to Spain or Greece. I should think she would have regarded Sweden as a country too cold to visit.’
Cold, Martin thought ironically, looking out the window at the water vapour steaming off the pavement. Okay, and there are polar bears walking the streets … He continued his questioning.
‘So she never mentioned that she had some business to take care of in Sweden, or any other connection here? Nothing about a place called Fjällbacka?’
Peter once again answered in the negative, and Martin couldn’t think of anything else to ask. He still didn’t know what Tanja had told her travelling companion was the purpose of her trip. One last question occurred to him just as he was about to thank Peter and say goodbye.
‘Is there anyone else we could ask? The only relative the German police told us about was you, but perhaps she had a woman friend?’
‘You really ought to ring her father. He lives in Austria. That’s probably why the police don’t have him in their records. Wait a minute, I’ll get his phone number.’
Martin heard Peter walk away and the sound of things being moved about. After a moment he returned. Pia continued translating, speaking extra clearly when she said the numbers he read off to her.
‘I’m not sure whether he can tell you anything either. Two years ago, right after we got divorced, he and Tanja had a real falling-out. She didn’t want to tell me why, but I don’t think they’d spoken in a long time. But you never know. Say hello to him from me.’
The conversation hadn’t produced much, but Martin thanked him for his help and asked if he might ring again if more questions came up.
Pia stayed on the line and anticipated his request by asking whether he wanted to ring Tanja’s father now so that she could help with interpreting.
The phone rang and rang, but there was no answer. But Tanja’s ex-husband’s remark about a quarrel between Tanja and her father had aroused Martin’s curiosity. What would a father and daughter quarrel about that was serious enough to make them completely cut off contact with each other? And did it have any connection with Tanja’s trip to Fjällbacka and her interest in the disappearance of the two girls?
Deep in thought, Martin almost forgot that Pia was still on the line. He hurried to thank her profusely for her help. They agreed that she would help him ring Tanja’s father again the next day.
Martin stared long and hard at the photo of Tanja from the morgue. What was Tanja looking for in Fjällbacka, and what did she find?
Waddling cautiously, Erica made her way along the pontoon wharf in the marina. It was very unusual to see vacant spaces among the boat docks at this time of the year. Usually the sailboats were tied up in rows two and even three deep. But Tanja’s murder had thinned out the crowds and made quite a few sailors look for other harbours. Erica really hoped that Patrik and his colleagues would solve the case soon, otherwise it would be a hard winter for many of those who made their living from the tourists in the summertime.
Anna and Gustav had chosen to go against the flow and stay a couple of extra days in Fjällbacka. When Erica saw the boat, she understood why she couldn’t convince them to stay in the house with her and Patrik. It was magnificent. Dazzling white with a wooden deck, and big enough to house at least two other families, it loomed at the end of the wharf.
Anna waved happily when she saw Erica approaching and then helped her into the boat. Erica was fairly winded when she sat down, and Anna hurried to bring her a big glass of cold cola.
‘I suppose you must be getting sick and tired of this by now, towards the end?’
Erica rolled her eyes. ‘As if. But it’s probably nature’s way of getting us to look forward to the delivery. If only it wasn’t so bloody hot.’ She wiped her brow with a paper napkin, but instantly felt more drops of sweat running down her temples.
‘Poor baby.’ Anna gave her a sympathetic smile.
Gustav came up from the cabin and politely greeted Erica. He was as impeccably dressed as last time, and his teeth gleamed white in his suntanned face. In a disapproving tone of voice he said to Anna, ‘The breakfast dishes are still on the table below decks. I told you I wanted you to keep a little order on the boat. It won’t work otherwise.’
‘Oh, sorry. I’ll take care of it right away.’
The smile vanished from Anna’s face and with a lowered gaze she hurried down below. Gustav sat down next to Erica with a cold beer in his hand.
/> ‘It’s impossible to live on a boat if you don’t keep things orderly and neat. Especially with children, otherwise everything gets so messy.’
Erica wondered to herself why he couldn’t have cleared the breakfast dishes himself, if it was such a big deal. He didn’t look crippled.
The mood was a little oppressive between them. Erica felt the chasm created by differences in background and upbringing begin to widen. She felt that she had to break the silence.
‘She’s a very lovely boat.’
‘Yes, she’s a real beauty.’ He swelled with pride. ‘I borrowed her from a good friend, but now I’m anxious to take the plunge and buy one myself.’
Silence again. Erica was grateful when Anna came back up the companionway and sat down next to Gustav. She set her drink on the other side. An annoyed frown appeared on Gustav’s face.
‘Could you please not put your glass there. It’ll leave a ring on the wood.’
‘Sorry,’ said Anna. Her voice was small and apologetic. She quickly picked up the glass.
‘Emma.’ Gustav switched his attention from mother to daughter. ‘You may not play with the sail, I already told you that. Get away from there at once.’ Anna’s four-year-old daughter played deaf and ignored him. Gustav was about to get up when Anna jumped to her feet.
‘I’ll get her. She didn’t hear you.’
The little girl wailed in fury at being lifted up and she put on her sulkiest face as Anna carried her over to the grown-ups.
‘You’re dumb.’ Emma aimed a kick at Gustav’s shin and Erica smiled to herself.
Gustav took hold of Emma’s arm to scold her, and for the first time Erica saw a spark ignite in Anna’s eyes. She tore Gustav’s hand away and pulled Emma close.
‘Don’t you touch her!’
He held his hands in the air. ‘Excuse me, but your kids are always misbehaving. Somebody has to teach them some manners.’
The Preacher Page 16