The Silent Girl (Sebastian Bergman 4)

by Michael Hjorth

  Maria climbed onto the bed and got as close to Nicole as she possibly could, still taking care not to wake her.

  Sebastian decided that he really ought to do what anyone else would, and give Maria her privacy. He wanted to stay, like a stowaway on a voyage he had only dreamt of, but he was beginning to feel like something of a parasite. He had to do the right thing. He turned away and was about to open the door when Nicole woke up.

  She tried to disentangle herself from Maria before she opened her eyes, still heavy with sleep. For a second she seemed disorientated, then she jerked away violently, searching for an escape route. Sebastian came back to the bed; he could clearly see the instincts that were uppermost in her subconscious.

  Escape.

  Flight.

  Run.

  Maria stiffened and let go of her daughter, totally unprepared for the powerful reaction.

  ‘Sweetheart, it’s me,’ she said, trying to calm the child by holding on to her.

  The effect of the words spoken in that familiar voice was instant. Nicole stiffened in surprise, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. It didn’t last long; in seconds she was fully awake, eyes wide open. She turned to Maria, shock written all over her face.

  As if she didn’t believe what she had just heard. Didn’t dare to trust in what she could see.

  Maria gave her a big hug.

  At first Nicole didn’t respond, as if she still couldn’t rely on her senses, but soon her arms were wrapped around her mother. Maria squeezed and caressed her daughter, every movement accompanied by a torrent of words, words of reassurance and love. Safety and security, promises never to leave her again.

  Nicole offered no words in return.

  Not one.

  Sebastian doubted that Nicole would say anything now. The encounter between mother and child had been so emotionally intense that the odd word should have made it across the internal threshold, through the barrier that was preventing Nicole from speaking.

  It was possible that Nicole would abandon her mutism if she spent more time with her mother, but Sebastian was a realist. The trauma was probably more deep-seated than they had thought. He decided to try something: he stepped forward and placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder.

  ‘Nicole? It’s me. Do you remember me?’

  She looked up at him from her mother’s arms. She recognised him, he was sure of it.

  ‘I told you I’d take you to see your mum. I promised. And here she is.’

  Nicole looked deep into his eyes; Sebastian saw trust.

  ‘We’re a bit concerned because you haven’t said anything,’ he went on, squeezing her shoulder. She seemed to be thinking about what he had said. She glanced at her mother, then at Sebastian, then back at her mother.

  ‘I’m here now – you can talk to me, Nicole,’ Maria whispered. Nicole’s expression was tormented; it wasn’t that she was trying to talk and nothing would come, more that she was incapable of even making the attempt. She understood what they were saying, but not what she was supposed to do to please them. She buried her face in her mother’s chest, and a tear trickled down from her left eye. Sebastian decided to leave the room after all. Perhaps his presence was making it harder for Nicole to pluck up the courage to speak, and that was his main reason for being there: to find out what she had seen. That was his job. Nothing else. Even if a part of him wanted to carry on being a stowaway.

  ‘I’ll wait outside,’ he said, heading for the door. Maria nodded, but Nicole’s reaction was astonishing. She twisted free of her mother’s embrace and stared at him, her eyes full of pleading. He stopped.

  ‘Do you want me to stay?’

  She carried on staring, and Sebastian interpreted this as a yes.

  ‘I’ll be back in a minute. I’m just going to fetch something. I won’t be long.’

  He walked out without turning around. It was easier that way.

  He had disappeared very quickly. The man who had saved her.

  He was coming back.

  He had said he was coming back, and she believed him.

  But on the outside she felt unprotected again.

  Unprotected and vulnerable.

  On the inside the walls were holding, in spite of the words. They seeped in, and although she had been afraid, they had in fact strengthened her defences, bathed her in a sense of security.

  But on the outside. The room was too light to hide in.

  The blanket was too thin to conceal her.

  So many people could see her, lying there in the middle of the bed.

  In the middle of the room.

  She was too visible. Too easy to find.

  But her mother had come. Just as the man who had saved her had said. She smelled wonderful, even though she was hot and sweaty.

  She allowed herself to be hugged.

  That made her feel a bit better.

  But she could still be seen. Her mother couldn’t protect her.

  She couldn’t protect her mother.

  She hadn’t even been able to protect Fred, and he was only little.

  No one would be able to protect the two of them if it happened again.

  No one.

  She hoped he would come back.

  The man who had saved her.

  Sebastian.

  Sebastian sent Dennis off to find some drawing paper and coloured pens, then he called Vanja to update her on the situation. She sounded disappointed that Nicole was still mute, in spite of the fact that she had been reunited with her mother.

  ‘They’re alone now. I’m going to leave them for a little while, see if it makes any difference.’

  ‘And if it doesn’t?’ Vanja sounded sceptical.

  ‘Then it’s going to take a while. But I thought I might try and get her drawing.’

  ‘Drawing?’

  ‘It’s a classic method. It can be easier to deal with traumatic memories if you draw what you’ve been through.’

  Vanja managed a humourless laugh.

  ‘So our only hope lies in persuading a ten-year-old to draw pictures?’

  Sebastian understood her frustration; he wished things had been more straightforward.

  ‘Yes. Unless you’ve got a better idea?’

  Vanja didn’t say anything for a moment; he knew her well enough by now to realise that she was trying to come up with a cutting remark, something that would improve the situation and make her feel clever. She obviously failed.

  ‘OK, call me if anything happens,’ she said after a long pause, then hung up. Sebastian slipped his phone back into his pocket and went to the corner to see if Dennis was on his way.

  No sign of him.

  Typical – the guy couldn’t even find a few felt-tips. Sebastian went back to Nicole’s room feeling irritated. He gently pushed open the door and peered in. Nicole and her mother were sitting exactly as he had left them.

  He heard footsteps and closed the door. Dennis appeared with Fredrika; he was carrying a sketch pad and a big box of coloured pens.

  ‘Did it take two of you?’ Sebastian said acidly. Dennis shook his head.

  ‘We’re changing over. I’m taking the night shift.’

  Sebastian took the pad and the pens and turned to Fredrika.

  ‘You don’t let anyone in, OK?’ She nodded in response; he had expected nothing else. She was one of the least sociable individuals he had ever met.

  Maria and Nicole looked up as he went back into the room. He smiled encouragingly.

  ‘Only me!’ he said cheerfully.

  He placed the pad and pens on the bed.

  ‘Do you like drawing, Nicole?’

  He left a space for the answer he knew wouldn’t come, then went on:

  ‘Sometimes it’s nice to draw instead of talking. But maybe it’s not something you enjoy?’

  ‘She loves drawing, don’t you, sweetheart?’ Maria said, doing her best to support Sebastian’s efforts.

  ‘I’ll leave the pad here, then you can use it whenever you feel like
it.’ Nicole looked, but made no move to touch it. Sebastian turned to Maria.

  ‘I’ll have a word with the hospital, tell them you’ll be staying here tonight with Nicole.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Just say if there’s anything you need – food, drink, a change of clothes, whatever. It’s important that you take care of yourself.’

  She nodded gratefully.

  ‘Thank you. I just want my daughter back. The way she was before.’

  ‘It will happen – don’t give up.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘Good, because you’re the most important person in her life. Which is why you must tell me if you need anything.’

  He couldn’t help noticing that Maria looked pretty good now that the worst of the stress had passed and she was beginning to relax. He knew he had already made a good impression; most people found calm assurance in extreme situations attractive. And he had rescued her daughter. If it happened, it wouldn’t be the first time gratitude manifested itself as physical attraction. His expression was tender as he looked at her.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said again.

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  In his peripheral vision he noticed that Nicole had picked up the pad and started sketching.

  ‘What are you drawing, Nicole?’

  The child showed him. She had only just started, but he immediately saw what it was. A yellow vehicle with green markings. The back doors wide open.

  ‘That’s good – is it the ambulance we came here in, you and I?’

  She carried on drawing: a well-built figure in a green coat, carrying someone.

  Nicole was talented; there was no mistaking who the figure was.

  ‘Is that me?’

  The child looked up; he thought he could see a ‘yes’ in her eyes. She bent over her picture, filling in the details on the person being carried.

  Big eyes.

  No mouth.

  Nicole.

  ★ ★ ★

  Sebastian was feeling quite positive by the time he left the hospital.

  Nicole had an impressive visual memory. The drawing of her and Sebastian had been simple, but with a surprising number of accurate details.

  One of the paramedics had tattoos.

  Sebastian was wearing brown shoes.

  There was a police car parked a short distance away from the ambulance.

  It was a good picture, and he and Maria had decided that they would carry on tomorrow.

  In spite of this success, he still felt worn out when he got back to his hotel room. He lay down on the bed and fell asleep, but was woken by someone hammering on the door.

  Sebastian estimated that a maximum of three seconds elapsed between opening the door and Torkel starting to yell at him. No pleasantries, he just marched right in. Sebastian didn’t even have time to ask him what he wanted. Not that it mattered, as it turned out; Torkel got straight to the point.

  ‘Tell me you haven’t slept with the prosecutor.’

  Sebastian closed the door.

  ‘I haven’t slept with the prosecutor.’

  Obviously it sounded just as unconvincing as he had intended. Torkel spun around, and Sebastian could see a small vein throbbing at his temple. That couldn’t possibly be good for his heart.

  ‘What the hell were you thinking?’

  ‘You know me,’ Sebastian said lightly, with a disarming shrug. ‘I don’t think.’

  ‘Well, it’s time you started! You’re working for me now, which means you follow my rules.’

  Torkel looked as if he was a hair’s breadth from a coronary, so Sebastian was prepared to meet him halfway and discuss the matter, in spite of the fact that being yelled at did nothing for him.

  ‘I can understand your being upset when I’ve ended up in bed with witnesses and suspects, but what difference does it make if I screw our prosecutor?’

  ‘It’s unprofessional. And to be perfectly honest, you and all your women, the fact that you just take what you want, you don’t care whether they’re in a relationship, you don’t care about anybody else – it makes me sick.’

  Sebastian stared at his boss, whose dark eyes were fixed on him.

  ‘This is about Ursula,’ he stated matter-of-factly, sitting down on the bed.

  ‘This is about you being totally incapable of keeping your cock in your pants. Your behaviour damages Riksmord, and it damages me.’

  ‘It’s because Ursula was in my apartment …’

  Torkel took a step closer; he seemed to be fighting to stop himself from poking Sebastian in the chest with an accusing finger.

  ‘Stop what you’ve started with Malin Åkerblad right now. Tonight! That’s an order.’

  ‘I’m not very good at taking orders.’

  ‘I could have asked you, for the sake of our friendship, but as you’re constantly demonstrating how little that means to you, I don’t really have a choice.’

  With that he was gone.

  As the door slammed behind him, the room seemed more silent than it had been before he arrived.

  Sebastian exhaled slowly. He really hadn’t expected this. Following their conversation in Torkel’s room he had thought it was all sorted, finished, done. Ursula had been having dinner with a colleague when she was shot. It was a terrible tragedy, the result of a series of unfortunate circumstances, pure chance, nothing more. But it clearly wasn’t over as far as Torkel was concerned. Presumably the only thing that would enable him to put the whole thing behind him would be if Ursula got together with him. Properly. Went public with their relationship. Marriage, even. However, if Sebastian knew Ursula as well as he thought he did, that was never going to happen.

  So now he had to decide what he was going to do with the rest of his evening.

  He had spent quite a lot of time coming up with excuses not to see Malin tonight. She had come back to Torsby a day early and had asked about him as soon as she arrived; that was all a bit too much for Sebastian. He usually tried to avoid a repeat of any sexual encounter, and he couldn’t possibly go anywhere near a woman who was actively seeking out his company.

  Once doesn’t count.

  Twice is once too often.

  Although …

  He was torn between his reluctance to encourage Malin in any way, and his urge to defy Torkel; if Torkel hadn’t been so angry, he would have realised that a direct order was guaranteed to make Sebastian want to do the exact opposite. That was how Sebastian Bergman worked – like an obstinate child. An express ban could make things he didn’t even want seem desirable and important.

  Sebastian made up his mind. He would probably be leaving Torsby and Malin Åkerblad within the next few days, but Torkel would be around all the time. He simply couldn’t let him win.

  Decision made.

  A quick shower and then sex with the prosecutor.

  ‘Who were you talking to?’ Maya asked as soon as Billy answered. ‘I’ve been trying to call you for ages.’

  ‘Jennifer,’ Billy replied as he strolled onto the neatly mown lawn in front of the hotel. He liked to walk around while he was on the phone, and his room felt too small and confined. He glanced at his watch; Maya couldn’t really have been trying for ages, but he was surprised to see that he had been chatting to Jennifer for over an hour.

  ‘What were you talking about for such a long time?’ Maya demanded; if Billy hadn’t known better, he would have thought there was a hint of suspicion in her voice. But that was one of the things he really liked about Maya: there wasn’t a trace of jealousy in their relationship. She knew that his friendship with Vanja was – or at least had been – special. She knew that he met up with Jennifer on a regular basis. She was cool with the fact that female friends from school or the police training academy turned up occasionally, and he had never given her any reason to doubt him. He simply wasn’t the unfaithful type. Never had been.

  ‘I was going over the case – it’s good to have an outsider’s point of view.’

  That
was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth. It had started that way, just catching up; Jennifer had chatted about what she had been doing at work, all completely pointless according to her, while Billy had told her how the mind-numbingly boring hours in the Värmland forests had led to the discovery of the missing girl. Well, to be perfectly honest, Sebastian had worked out where she was and managed to get her out of the cave.

  ‘Do you remember when we first met?’ Jennifer asked. ‘I was looking for a missing child back then – Lukas Ryd.’

  When we first met … Billy thought that sounded like something a girlfriend might say. Or a really close friend. There was something intimate about it, and Billy realised Jennifer had taken over from Vanja as his best friend.

  ‘I do remember, out at the gravel pit,’ he replied; he could have sworn that Jennifer was smiling, just like him. ‘It was so hot, and Vanja had a hangover.’

  ‘How’s she doing after all that business with her dad?’

  ‘OK, I think – she doesn’t say much about it.’

  They had gone on to discuss the case in more detail, and Billy had confessed that he felt inadequate. It was nice to admit it to someone who – unlike Maya – didn’t immediately come up with tips and ideas on how to get over it, how he should alter his mindset, what he should do. Someone who understood him on a personal level, who had been in situations where she felt exactly the same. Not many, of course – most things that happened in Sigtuna were well below Jennifer’s level of competence – but she had been there too. A conversation, mutual understanding, without an insistence on finding ‘solutions’.

  And now he was talking to Maya.

  Or rather listening. She had sent out the save-the-date invitations today, and made decisions with regard to a few more details about the wedding which she hoped he was OK with, otherwise everything, or most things anyway, could be changed. She had looked at a venue she thought was perfect; there were pictures in Dropbox so if he could check them out over the weekend that would be great, she had to give them a definite answer on Monday.

  Billy promised to get back to her. Then they talked about personal matters, how her day had been; they both said how much they missed each other, as usual.