The Preacher

by Camilla Lackberg

  ‘But you’ve already done that,’ she said, looking puzzled.

  ‘We’ve uncovered some new information. I have a team with me, but I’ve asked them to wait a short distance away until you’ve had a chance to take the children with you. It’s not necessary for them to see all the police and be frightened.’

  She nodded mutely. Worrying about Jacob had used up all her strength, and she had no energy left to object. She turned to go and fetch the children, but Patrik stopped her with another question.

  ‘Are there any other buildings on the grounds than the ones we can see in this area?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, just the house, the barn, the tool shed and the playhouse. That’s all.’

  Patrik nodded and let her go.

  Fifteen minutes later the house was empty. They could start their search. Patrik gave some brief instructions in the living room.

  ‘We’ve been here once before without finding anything, but this time we’re going to do a more thorough job. Search everywhere, and I mean everywhere. If you need to tear up boards in the floor or from the walls, then do it. If you need to break up furniture then do that too. Understood?’

  They all nodded. There was a sense that they were about to do something fateful, but everyone was ready to go to work. Before they went in, Patrik had given them a brief rundown of developments in the case. Now they wanted nothing more than to get started.

  After they had worked for an hour with no results, the house looked like a disaster zone. Everything had been torn up and hauled outside. But there were still no leads. Patrik was helping out in the living room when Gösta and Ernst came in the door and looked around wide-eyed.

  ‘What the hell is going on here?’ said Ernst.

  Patrik ignored the question. ‘Did it go well with Kennedy?’

  ‘Yep, he confessed without beating about the bush, and he’s now behind bars. Damned snot-nosed kid.’

  Stressed, Patrik merely nodded.

  ‘So what’s happening here? It feels like we’re the only ones who are in the dark. Annika wouldn’t tell us anything. She just said that we were supposed to come out here and you would fill us in.’

  ‘I can’t explain everything to you right now,’ Patrik said impatiently. ‘For the time being you should know that all indications point to Jacob as the one who kidnapped Jenny Möller. We have to find something that tells us where she is.’

  ‘But then he wasn’t the one who killed the German,’ said Gösta. ‘Because the blood test showed …’ He looked bewildered.

  With growing irritation Patrik said, ‘No, he probably was the one who killed Tanja.’

  ‘Then who murdered the other girls? He was too young back then …’

  ‘It wasn’t him. But we’ll go over all that later. Now lend us a hand here!’

  ‘What are we looking for?’ said Ernst.

  ‘The search warrant is on the kitchen table. There’s a description of the things we’re interested in finding.’ Then Patrik turned and continued searching the bookshelf.

  Another hour passed without anyone finding anything of interest. Patrik began to lose heart. Imagine if they didn’t find anything. He had moved on from the living room and was searching the home office, with no result. Now he stood with his hands on his hips, forced himself to take a few deep breaths and let his eyes wander around the room. The office was small but neat. Shelves with binders and folders, all neatly labelled. No papers lay loose on top of the big antique bureau, and in the drawers everything was in order. Pensively Patrik let his gaze wander back to the bureau. He frowned. An antique. Having never missed a single episode of Antiques Roadshow on TV, his thoughts turned natur ally to secret compartments when he looked at the old piece of furniture. He should have thought of that before. He started in the part above the writing surface, the part that had numerous small drawers. He pulled them out one by one and cautiously stuck his finger in the holes behind them. When he came to the last drawer he felt something. A little metal object was sticking up, and it moved when he pressed on it. With a clack the wall of the cavity behind it fell away and a secret compartment was revealed. His pulse quickened. Inside he found an old notebook in black leather. He pulled on some plastic gloves and carefully lifted out the book. With rising horror he read the contents. There was no time to lose in finding Jenny.

  He remembered a paper he’d seen when he was searching through the drawers of the secretary. He pulled out the correct drawer and found it after leafing through some other documents. A county council routing stamp in one corner showed who the sender was. Patrik skimmed the few lines and read the name at the bottom. Then he took out his mobile and rang the station.

  ‘Annika, it’s Patrik. Listen, I want you to check on something for me.’ He explained briefly. ‘The one you should ask for is Dr Zoltan Czaba. In the cancer unit, yes. Ring me back as soon as you know something.’

  The days had stretched interminably before them. Several times a day Kerstin and Bo Möller would ring the police station in the hope of hearing some news, but in vain. When Jenny’s face appeared on flyers, their mobile phones began ringing almost non-stop. Friends, relatives, acquaintances. Everyone voiced dismay, but in the midst of their own worry they tried to infuse hope in Jenny’s parents. Several had offered to come to Grebbestad to be with them, but the Möllers had declined politely but firmly. They thought it would make the situation seem even worse; they would be unable to forget that something was terribly wrong. If they simply stayed here in the caravan and waited, sitting across from each other at the little table, sooner or later Jenny would walk through the door and everything would go back to normal.

  So there they sat, day after day, cloaked in their own anxiety. This day had been, if possible, more excruciating than any before. All night Kerstin had had horrible dreams. Sweating, she had tossed and turned in her sleep as images that were hard to decipher flickered inside her eyelids. She saw Jenny several times. Mostly as a little girl. At home on the front lawn. On a bathing beach at a campground. But the images were always replaced by dark, strange shapes, and she couldn’t make any sense of them. It was cold and dark, and something was brooding at the periphery of her vision. She could never quite see it, even though in her dream she reached out for the shadow, time after time.

  When she awoke in the morning she had a sinking feeling in her breast. As the hours passed and the temperature climbed inside the little caravan, she sat quietly facing Bo, trying desperately to conjure up the feeling of Jenny’s infant body in her arms. But exactly as in the dream, it seemed just beyond her reach. She remembered the sensation, which had been so strong the whole time Jenny had been missing, but she could no longer feel it. Slowly the realization dawned on her. She raised her eyes from the tabletop and looked at her husband.

  Then she said, ‘She’s gone now.’

  He didn’t question what she said. As soon as she said the words he felt inside himself that it was true.

  12

  SUMMER 2003

  The days merged into one another as if in a haze. She was tortured in a way that she never thought possible, and she couldn’t stop cursing herself. If only she hadn’t been so stupid as to hitchhike, this would never have happened. Mamma and Pappa had told her so many times never to get into a strange car, but she had felt invulnerable.

  It seemed like so long ago. Jenny tried to conjure that feeling again, wanting to enjoy it again, even if only for a brief moment. The feeling that nothing in the world could get the better of her, that bad things might befall others but not her. Whatever happened now, she would never get back that feeling.

  She lay on her side, scratching her fingers in the dirt. Her other arm was unusable, but she forced herself to move the healthier one to keep her circulation going. She dreamt that like a heroine in a film she would cast herself upon him and overpower him the next time he came down here. She would leave him unconscious on the floor and escape out to the waiting crowd, which had been searching for her everywher
e. It was a magnificent but impossible dream. Her legs were no longer any good for walking.

  Life was slowly trickling out of her. She had an image of her life running into the ground beneath her and giving sustenance to the organisms below. Worms and larvae greedily sucking up her vital energy.

  As the last of her strength ebbed away she saw that she would never get a chance to ask her parents’ forgiveness for being so impossible during the past few weeks. She hoped they would understand.

  alt

  He had been sitting with her in his arms all night. She had gradually grown colder and colder. A dense darkness surrounded them. He hoped that she had found the darkness as safe and comforting as he had. It was like a big black blanket enfolding him.

  For a second Jacob saw the children before him. But that image reminded him too much of reality, and he pushed it aside.

  Johannes had shown the way. Johannes and Ephraim and himself. They were a trinity; he had always known that. They possessed a gift that Gabriel could never share. That’s why he would never understand. Johannes and Ephraim and himself. They were unique. They stood closer to God than anyone else. They were special. That’s what Johannes had written in his book.

  It was no accident that he had found Johannes’s black notebook. Something had led him to it, drawing him like a magnet towards what he saw as Johannes’s bequest to him. He had been moved by the sacrifice that Johannes had been ready to make to save his life. He, as much as anyone could, understood what Johannes had wanted to achieve. Imagine the irony that it had turned out to be unnecessary. Grandpa Ephraim was the one who came to save him. It pained him that Johannes had failed. It was a shame that the girls had died. But he had more time at his disposal than Johannes ever had. He would not fail. He would try over and over again until he found the key to his inner light. The light that Grandpa Ephraim had told him that he also possessed, hidden deep within. Just like Johannes, his father.

  Regretfully Jacob stroked the girl’s cold arm. It wasn’t that he didn’t mourn her death. But she was an ordinary person, and God would give her a special place because she had sacrificed herself for one of God’s chosen. A thought occurred to Jacob: perhaps it was that God expected a certain number of sacrifices before He would allow him to have the key. Perhaps it had been that way for Johannes too. It wasn’t that they had failed, it was only that the Lord expected further proof of their faith before He would show them the way.

  That idea brightened Jacob’s mood. That must be the answer. He had always believed more in the God of the Old Testament. The God who demanded blood sacrifice.

  One thing still gnawed at his conscience, however. How forgiving would God be that he hadn’t been able to resist the lust of the flesh? Johannes had been stronger. He had never been tempted, and Jacob admired him for that. Jacob himself had felt the soft, smooth skin against his, and something deep inside him had awoken. For a brief time the Devil had overpowered him and he had given in. But he had deeply regretted it afterwards, and surely God must have noticed this. He who could see straight into his heart must be able to see that his remorse was righteous and grant him the forgiveness that He bestowed on all sinners.

  Jacob rocked the girl in his arms. He brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen in her face. She was beautiful. As soon as he’d seen her by the road, her thumb stuck out for a lift, he had known she was the right one. The first girl had been the sign he’d been waiting for. For years he had read with fascination Johannes’s words in the book. When the girl showed up at his door asking about her mother, the same day that he himself had received the Judgement, he realized that it was a sign.

  He wasn’t disheartened by the fact that he hadn’t been able to find the power with her help. Johannes had been unsuccessful with her mother, too. The important thing was that, with that first girl, Jacob had set out on the path that had been determined for him. To follow in his father’s footsteps.

  Placing the girls together in the King’s Cleft had been a way to demonstrate this to the world. A proclamation that he was now continuing what Johannes had started. He didn’t think that anyone else would understand. It was enough that God understood and found it good.

  If Jacob had needed any final proof of that, he received it last night. When they began talking about the results of the blood tests, he was sure that he would be locked up as a criminal. He had forgotten that the Devil had also made him leave traces on the body.

  But he had laughed the Devil right in the face. To his great surprise the police had told him that the tests exonerated him. That was the final proof he needed to be convinced that he was on the right path and that nobody could stop him. He was special. He was protected. He was blessed.

  Slowly he stroked the girl’s hair once more. He would have to find a new one.

  It took only ten minutes before Annika called back.

  ‘It was like you said. Jacob has cancer again. But this time it isn’t leukaemia, but a big tumour in his brain. He’s been informed that there’s nothing they can do, it’s too far advanced.’

  ‘When did he get the news?’

  Annika looked at the notes she had jotted down. ‘The same day that Tanja went missing.’

  Patrik sank down on the sofa in the living room. He knew it, yet had a hard time believing it was true. The house breathed such peace, such calm. There was not a trace of the evil for which he held the proof in his hands. Only deceptive normality. Flowers in a vase, children’s toys spread across the floor, a half-read book on the coffee table. No skulls, no blood-spattered clothes, no black candles burning.

  Over the mantelpiece there was even a painting of Jesus, on his way up to Heaven after the resurrection, with a halo round his head and people praying on the ground before him, looking up.

  How could anyone justify the most evil of actions with the thought that he had carte blanche from God? Although perhaps it wasn’t so strange after all. Down through the ages millions of people had been murdered in God’s name. There was something tempting about that power, something that intoxicated human beings and misled them.

  Patrik wrenched himself out of his theological musings and found that the team was now standing around looking at him, waiting for more instructions. He had shown them what he’d found, and every one of them was now struggling not to think of the horrors that Jenny might be going through at that very moment.

  The problem was that they had no idea where she could be. During the time Patrik was waiting for Annika to call back, they had continued an even more feverish search through the house. At the same time he had rung the manor and asked Marita, Gabriel and Laine whether there was anywhere they thought Jacob might go. He brusquely brushed off their counter-questions. There was no time for that right now.

  He ruffled his hair, which was already standing on end. ‘Where the hell can he be? We can’t keep searching the whole county, centimetre by centimetre. He could be hiding her near the farm in Bullaren instead, or somewhere in between. What the hell are we going to do?’ he said in frustration.

  Martin felt the same impotence but said nothing. Patrik hadn’t meant it as a question. Then an idea occurred to him.

  ‘It must be here around Västergården somewhere. Think of the trail of the fertilizer. My guess is that Jacob is using the same place that Johannes used. And what would be more logical than somewhere around here?’

  ‘You’re right, but both Marita and her in-laws say that there aren’t any other buildings on the property. Of course it could be a cave or something like that, but do you know how large the Hult family property is? It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.’

  ‘Yes, but what about Solveig and her boys? Have you asked them? They lived here before. They might know something about the place that Marita doesn’t know.’

  ‘That’s a hell of a good idea. Isn’t there a list of numbers in the kitchen by the telephone? Linda has her mobile with her, so maybe I can reach them on that.’

  Martin went and checked. He came bac
k with a list on which Linda’s name was neatly written. Impatiently Patrik let it ring. After what seemed like an eternity Linda answered.

  ‘Linda, this is Patrik Hedström. I need to talk to Solveig or Robert.’

  ‘They’re in with Stefan. He woke up!’ Linda said, sounding elated. With a heavy heart Patrik realized that the joy would soon disappear from her voice.

  ‘Get one of them now, this is important!’

  ‘Okay, which would you prefer?’

  He thought a moment. Who would know the area around the house where he lived better than a child? The choice was easy. ‘Robert.’

  He heard her put down the phone and go to fetch him. She probably couldn’t take the mobile into the hospital room because it might disturb the equipment. Patrik just managed to think of that before he heard Robert’s sombre voice on the line.

  ‘Yes, this is Robert.’

  ‘Hello, it’s Patrik Hedström. I wonder whether you could help us with something. It’s extremely important,’ he hastened to add.

  ‘Yes, okay, what is it?’ said Robert hesitantly.

  ‘I wonder if you know of any buildings on the grounds around Västergården besides the ones located near the house. It doesn’t even have to be a building, actually. More a good place to hide, if you know what I mean. But it has to be fairly big. There has to be room for more than one person.’

  Patrik could clearly sense the question marks piling up in Robert’s brain, but to his relief Robert didn’t challenge the reason for his questions. Instead, after thinking for a moment, he said, ‘Well, the only thing I can come up with is the old bomb shelter. It’s located a good bit up in the woods. We used to play there when we were little, Stefan and I.’

  ‘And Jacob,’ said Patrik, ‘did he know about it?’

  ‘Yes, we made the mistake of showing it to him once. But then he ran straight to Pappa. They came back and told us never to play there again. It was dangerous, Pappa said. So that was the end of our fun. Jacob has always been a little too proper for his own good,’ Robert said sourly as he remembered his childhood disappointment. Patrik thought that proper was perhaps not the word that would come to be associated with Jacob in future.