The Silent Girl (Sebastian Bergman 4)

by Michael Hjorth

  Pia had been very persuasive, and Sebastian could see why the Social Democrats regarded her as a valuable resource. She was committed, personable and persistent, but she knew exactly when to back off and switch to a softer, more emotional approach. He had no doubt that he could have taken her on, but he had chosen not to, even though he felt that Nicole would be better served by peace and quiet. He had more important things to focus on than some pseudo-sentimental crap in Värmland.

  He had started to worry about what was going to happen next.

  Frank Hedén was dead. Maria could decide to move back home at any moment, now that the threat to Nicole’s safely had gone and the case was closed. How long could he keep insisting that her daughter needed him, from a purely therapeutic point of view? What would happen when Nicole’s life had to get back to normal? When she had to return to school? When she started talking? What would happen then? The very thought of the apartment without Nicole and Maria was terrifying.

  Vanja had been both right and wrong. He wasn’t playing at families, not in any way – Nicole and Maria were his family. They had grown close in a very short time. Maria had allowed him to share in every aspect of their lives.

  Right or wrong. Crazy or completely normal.

  Emotionally, they were his family. That was the truth.

  Frank had done everything for his son. All those terrible things, all those deaths, in a bizarre attempt to protect and provide for the person he loved most. However wrong it may have been, Sebastian had a certain amount of understanding for the motive and the driving force behind his actions.

  A human being can do a great deal for those he loves.

  A great deal.

  He had even refrained from seducing Maria. A few times he had been on the point of falling into his old ways, and she had started to approach him over the past few days, but he had controlled himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sleep with her – quite the reverse – but he had a feeling that sex could destroy what they were slowly building up. That it might somehow make her think this wasn’t what he really wanted, in the long term.

  Maria had kissed him on the cheek before he went shopping.

  Nicole had given him a hug.

  However, sometimes he struggled with the idea that this was just a fantasy. A game, as Vanja had hinted. A surrogate for Sabine. It didn’t feel that way; emotions couldn’t lie like that. But he needed to maintain the change; he couldn’t just take what he wanted as he usually did. He had to give back as well, to be there for someone other than himself.

  Become a better man.

  Nicole and Maria made him a better man.

  He wandered aimlessly among the children’s clothes. There were lots of different labels and designers; most things seemed overworked and overcomplicated, and it took a while before he spotted a simple black dress with white lace. It was on a mannequin, hidden away in a corner. It would be perfect for Nicole. He searched for the right size; 146, Maria had said. He realised he was enjoying himself. Buying a dress for a little girl. There was something about holding it up, imagining how it would look. It was easy to imagine that this was the kind of ordinary thing dads did for their children.

  He paid and went down the escalator. He didn’t have much time; Pia would be coming to pick them up soon. She was in the city anyway for some business relating to the Social Democrats, and had offered them a lift to Torsby.

  He wondered if he should inform the rest of the team about his plans to go to the memorial service as part of the family, but he quickly rejected the idea. None of them would understand. One day, perhaps, when they realised that Maria and Nicole were a genuine and important part of his life, but it would be a while before that day came. It made no difference to him; with respect, he couldn’t give a damn what any of them thought.

  Never had done.

  Never would.

  This was his journey, no one else’s, and he intended to enjoy every single moment of it.

  He decided to surprise Maria with a beautiful piece of jewellery. Something a little too expensive – Georg Jensen, perhaps. Something that would show her how special she was to him.

  It was a long time since he had bought a present for a woman. He couldn’t even remember when, but it must have been many years ago.

  For Lily, probably.

  But now it was time to move on.

  Vanja was sitting at her desk, sorting out the case notes. Most of them would be archived, but there were a few duplicates that could be thrown away. She already had a substantial pile in front of her, and Billy and Torkel hadn’t yet passed everything on.

  Erik Flodin had just sent in a final report on the search of Frank Hedén’s property, which had been carried out shortly after Frank had shot himself. Hampus had already been registered as a permanent resident at the care facility where he had periodically stayed on a temporary basis, and social services were considering whether he ought to be relocated. He would probably never see his childhood home again. Vanja couldn’t help wondering whether Hampus knew how far his ailing father had gone to give him a reasonable life, how many lives he had destroyed in order to make sure his son would be all right when Frank was gone. She hoped his disability meant that he didn’t have to experience the guilt that he would otherwise have to live with for the rest of his life. The report was well written; Erik and Fabian seemed to have conducted a very thorough search of the house and surrounding area. A short distance away they had found the burned remains of a Graninge boot in a ditch. Parts of the sole were still visible, and Fabian had been able to confirm that it was a size 44. The Internet history on Frank’s computer showed that he had spent a lot of time following the investigation, and that he had been online for almost four hours on the day after the Carlsten murders. He had been meticulous. An ice-cold killer who had followed their every move, skilfully dealing with any information they made public. If Vanja hadn’t met up with Stefan Andrén, Nicole would probably have been dead by now. Maria and Sebastian too. That was how narrow the margins had been.

  She glanced over at the desk Sebastian normally used. She hadn’t seen him since she left the apartment to go and meet Andrén, and they hadn’t exactly parted as friends. But if he had died that night, she would have missed him.

  Very much.

  More than anyone else in the team.

  Probably more than anyone else in the world.

  He didn’t have many friends, Sebastian Bergman, she knew that. People came and went; no one stayed around for long. Everyone was dispensable.

  Apart from her.

  They had been working together for about a year, and against all the odds they had been good friends – for some of the time at least. For normal people a year was no time at all, but when it came to Sebastian, it was almost an eternity. And in spite of the fact that they were in the middle of a disagreement right now, there was one thing she was sure of: they would find their way back to one another.

  That was how their relationship worked, because she liked him. When he was honest. When he didn’t mess things up for himself. When he wasn’t being an idiot.

  Which was exactly what he was doing right now, unfortunately.

  Nicole’s drawings, which Vanja had brought from Sebastian’s apartment, were on top of one of the piles that still had to be sorted. She picked them up; they were so powerful and emotional that she was as deeply affected every time she looked at them. Trapped vulnerability, captured in a few simple strokes of a felt-tip pen. Nicole might not be able to talk, but she could certainly express herself. It felt wrong to archive them; they were therapeutic and personal, not something that should be stored away for years. She would return them to Sebastian; he could decide what to do with them. After all, he was the one who had enabled Nicole to go all the way back to the house in her memory. He was very good at his job, but he had no idea where the boundaries lay, where his role as a psychologist ended and his personal life took over. That was his fundamental problem, the lack of boundaries.

&nb
sp; He needed help, she could see that. She was his friend. Sometimes friends had to do things that at first glance might seem unkind, but it was for his own good. And for Nicole and Maria’s.

  Vanja put the drawings in her bag. She would return them in person, and take the opportunity to pass on a few home truths at the same time.

  Nicole was sitting in the bedroom wrapped in two big fluffy towels. Maria had given her a bath and washed her hair. Pia was going to pick them up, and Maria was starting to get a little stressed over whether they would be ready on time. It might have been best if they had chosen a dress that Nicole already owned, rather than Sebastian rushing off to buy something new, but he had insisted and she had appreciated the gesture.

  Nicole smelled delicious, a mixture of bubble bath and shampoo, and Maria started to dry her long hair. She loved looking after her little girl; there was something liberating about doing everyday things together.

  Simple tasks, reminiscent of another time.

  Before everything that had happened.

  ‘I love you, Nicole,’ she suddenly felt compelled to say. Those were probably the words she had used most since she got her daughter back, the only words she had found that could act as a bridge between then and now. ‘Mummy loves you, never forget that,’ she added. Nicole nodded and gazed up at her. She was so innocent, so young, but the look in her eyes had aged, become more troubled, more grown up. It was hardly surprising; Nicole had seen people she loved die. Even if she couldn’t put it into words at the moment, she saw the world differently now that she knew how fragile and fleeting life was.

  Maria leaned forward and gently kissed Nicole’s forehead. Her skin was so soft, so smooth. She smelled of life, of the future. Maria wanted to stay exactly where she was, hoping and believing that everything was going to be all right.

  It would be all right. She had decided. She was going to sort out her life, change her job and spend more time at home. Not only for Nicole’s sake, but for her own. She hadn’t been ready for a child when Nicole came along, and she had tried to cope with her work, her commitment to underdeveloped countries and her difficult relationships while fulfilling her role as a single mother. She didn’t think she had been a bad mum, definitely not, but she could have been around a lot more. She could have shifted her priorities.

  And that was what she was going to do now.

  Perhaps Sebastian would be a part of their future. He wasn’t like the other men she had met. He was serious. Decent. And perhaps most importantly of all, he was honest.

  The way he had taken care of Nicole was fantastic. None of her previous boyfriends had shown such love for her daughter. It was hard not to be moved by that. Admittedly he was a little older, but she found his manliness attractive, and he was intelligent and funny. Plus she trusted him. The first time they met she had been falling apart, and he had been an enormous support, without trying to exploit the situation in any way. However, they had grown close; they had begun to touch one another.

  To hold hands. A gentle pat here, a hug there.

  She liked it. She could imagine going further. She smiled to herself; what if something lasting, something good could come out of this tragedy?

  It wasn’t impossible. She was tired of being alone, and of running after men who were complex, dishonest and difficult. They were usually married, and she ended up having to make demands, while still ending up playing second fiddle. Sebastian was different. He always had time, and he asked very little of her. It was a long time since she had felt so secure with anyone.

  A long time since she had trusted someone so completely.

  She passed Nicole a blue T-shirt and a pair of velour sweatpants. Hopefully Sebastian wouldn’t be too long with the new dress.

  She took the wet towels to the bathroom and hung them up. The doorbell rang; she stiffened. Sebastian had his own keys, of course, and never rang the bell. He simply walked in and called out to them.

  There was no sound of a key in the lock. The bell rang again. Maria felt her pulse rate increase, although logically she knew there was no danger. Frank Hedén was dead; the threat to her daughter no longer existed.

  She took a deep breath, tiptoed into the hallway and peered through the spyhole.

  It was Vanja, Sebastian’s colleague.

  Maria opened the door, trying to look pleased, even though she thought Vanja had behaved very oddly the last time they met. Vanja smiled at her.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Sebastian isn’t home,’ Maria said.

  ‘That doesn’t matter – it’s actually you I’ve come to see.’

  Maria looked at Vanja in surprise.

  ‘Me? Why?’

  ‘If that’s OK.’

  Maria nodded and let her in. Closed the door. They stared at one another for a moment.

  ‘I don’t really know where to start,’ Vanja said.

  ★ ★ ★

  Torkel pulled in by the kerb and switched off the engine.

  He leaned forward and looked up at the familiar facade. Was this a bad idea? Probably. What was he actually expecting to get out of the visit? What could they say that hadn’t already been said? He glanced at the bag on the passenger seat; it contained two portions of sushi. He could eat one in the office, throw the other away. But no, he would regret it if he didn’t go through with this. Somehow it had been in his mind ever since yesterday evening, when he dropped off his eldest daughter.

  She was at college out in Johanneshov these days, studying catering and nutrition at the Stockholm Hotel & Restaurant College. She had decided she wanted to be a chef, or rather her previous school had made the decision for her. She had started a course at the John Bauer school, talking vaguely about ‘something to do with tourism’, but the place had gone bust. Thirty-six schools had closed down overnight, and almost 11,000 students had been forced to find new places. The Hotel & Restaurant College had stepped up to help resolve the emergency, and taken a lot of students from Elin’s old school. She couldn’t get onto the hotel and tourism course as she had hoped, and had to settle for catering and nutrition instead. However, according to Yvonne, their daughter had never shown so much interest in her studies as she had since the transfer. She had virtually moved into the kitchen at home, and cooked dinner at least four nights a week.

  The students ran a restaurant at the college, and yesterday Torkel had gone there for a three-course meal; Elin had been involved in the preparation. Before the food was served he had been worried that he would have to come up with suitably flattering comments – after all they were only seventeen-year-olds running the kitchen – but he had been pleasantly surprised. It had been absolutely delicious.

  He had driven Elin home afterwards and thanked her for the evening once again. Before she got out of the car, she turned to him as if something had just occurred to her.

  ‘Have they told you they’re getting married?’

  ‘Who?’ It took a second before Torkel realised who she meant. ‘Mum and Christoffer?’

  Elin nodded.

  ‘When?’

  ‘I don’t know, but they’re engaged.’

  ‘When did that happen?’

  ‘Easter Saturday. I cooked them a special dinner to celebrate their engagement.’

  Torkel merely nodded, waiting to see what emotions would come bubbling up. Would he feel let down? Not because Yvonne was engaged, but because he hadn’t been informed, neither before nor after.

  Would he feel a sense of loss? Jealousy?

  None of the above. He just felt pleased for Yvonne, and both Elin and Vilma really seemed to like Christoffer, so presumably he was pleased for them too.

  Yes, he was pleased, but Elin interpreted his silence as an indication that he was downhearted.

  ‘Are you upset? I said she ought to tell you …’

  ‘No, no, I’m not upset at all. You know I want nothing more than for all three of you to be happy.’ Elin nodded. Torkel placed a hand on her arm, determined to convince her. ‘Give Mum my best wi
shes, and congratulations to both of them.’

  ‘I will. Thanks for coming, Dad.’

  She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, then got out and walked towards the door. Torkel watched her go. She was so tall. Almost grown up. Well on the way to making a life of her own; he hoped he would have the good fortune to continue to be a part of it.

  She turned and waved, then she was gone. He waited a moment before starting the car. He really was happy for Yvonne and the girls.

  But happiness doesn’t last for ever. An old acquaintance was waiting to take over.

  Loneliness.

  More tangible when others found a way out.

  It had still been there when he woke up this morning. When he drove to work. It hadn’t gone away in spite of the fact that there was plenty to do following Frank Hedén’s suicide, and tying up the loose ends of the case in Torsby. There was also the usual pile of admin that had been neglected while he was away, and was now demanding his attention.

  But he had to have lunch, after all.

  So did Ursula.

  She wasn’t expecting him, but she wasn’t likely to throw him out, was she?

  He picked up the bag of sushi and got out of the car.

  ★ ★ ★

  She seemed genuinely pleased to see him, and invited him in. When he wondered if he was disturbing her, she told him that the most exciting thing that had happened in her life in the last week was seeing who went out in the quarter-final of Let’s Dance, so he was more than welcome.

  They set out lunch in the living room, and he told her about the case even though she already knew most of it. She thanked him for keeping her updated throughout; it had saved her from going completely crazy.