When everyone had gathered, Patrik introduced Petra and Konrad. Then he cleared his throat and slowly began explaining his theory, careful to include those areas that still had major holes. When he was finished, everyone sat in silence for a moment.
‘What would be the motive?’ asked Konrad. He sounded both hopeful and sceptical.
‘I don’t know. That’s what we still have to work out. But the theory holds up, even though there are some gaps that have to be filled in.’
‘How should we proceed?’ asked Paula.
‘I’ve talked to Torbjörn and told him that we’d be sending over a new fingerprint ASAP, so he can compare it with the prints on the door and the paper bag. If it matches, everything else will be easier. Then we’ll have a link to the murder.’
‘The murders,’ said Petra. She looked dubious but at the same time slightly impressed.
‘Who’s going with us?’ asked Konrad, looking at the others. He was starting to get up, as if to head out the door at once.
‘I’ll go with the two of you. That should be plenty,’ said Patrik. ‘Everyone else will keep working on the new leads.’
The minute they stepped out into the sunshine, Patrik’s mobile rang. When he saw that it was his mother calling him, he didn’t want to answer, but finally he decided to take the call. Impatiently he listened to his mother pouring out her worries. She couldn’t get hold of Erica even though she’d tried ringing her mobile several times. When she told Patrik where Erica had gone, he stopped abruptly. Without saying goodbye, he ended the phone call and turned to Petra and Konrad.
‘We have to go. Now.’
Erica opened the door and nearly toppled over backwards. She almost threw up, and she realized that she was right. It was the smell of a corpse. A suffocating and deeply disturbing stench that was impossible to mistake for anything else once you’d smelled it. She stepped inside, holding her arm over her nose and mouth as she tried to shut out the smell. But it was impossible. It was so penetrating, seeming to seep into every pore, just as it had clung to Nathalie’s clothes.
She looked around, her eyes filling with tears from the stench. Cautiously she took a few more steps inside the small house. Everything was quiet and peaceful. Only the distant sound of the sea could be heard. Nausea threatened to overwhelm her, but she fought off the urge to escape into the fresh air.
From where she stood, she could survey the entire ground floor. There were only ordinary things to see. A sweater hanging over the back of a chair, a coffee cup on the table next to an open book. Nothing that could explain the cloying, disgusting smell that hovered like a blanket over everything.
One door was closed. Erica dreaded opening that door, but now that she’d come this far, she knew that she had to do it. Her hands shook and her legs suddenly felt like jelly. She wanted to turn around and run out the front door to the boat and go home. Home to the fragrant scent of her babies’ hair. But she moved closer. She saw her trembling right hand reach out and take hold of the door handle. Still she hesitated to press it down, didn’t dare see what was inside that room.
A sudden gust of wind on her legs made her turn around. But it was too late. Suddenly everything went black.
The guests of honour who had come from further away were chattering happily as they disembarked from the buses arriving from Göteborg. Sparkling wine had been served during the drive to Fjällbacka, with the result that everyone was now in a glorious mood.
‘It’s going to be great.’ Anders put his arm around his sister’s shoulders as they waited to welcome the guests.
Vivianne smiled joylessly. This was the beginning, but it was also the end. And she was unable to enjoy the present moment when it was only the future that mattered. A future that no longer felt as certain as it once had.
She studied her brother’s profile as he stood in the open doorway of Badis. There was something different about him. She’d always been able to read him like an open book, but now he’d retreated to a place where she was unable to reach him.
‘What a splendid day, my darling.’ Erling kissed her on the lips. He looked rested. Yesterday she had given him the sleeping tablet at seven o’clock, so he’d slept for thirteen hours straight. Now he was practically bounding around in his white suit. After giving her another kiss, he hurried off.
The guests began entering the building.
‘Welcome. I hope you have a pleasant stay at Badis.’ Vivianne shook hands, smiling and repeating her words of welcome again and again. She looked as if she’d stepped out of a fairytale, wearing a white, ankle-length gown, and with her thick hair hanging in a plait down her back, as usual.
When everyone had gone inside, and she and Anders were alone for a moment, her smile faded and her expression grew serious. She turned to face her brother.
‘We always tell each other everything, don’t we?’ she said in a low voice. She ached with longing to hear him say what she wanted to hear. She truly wanted to believe him. But Anders looked away, and didn’t say a word.
Vivianne was about to ask him again, but a late-arriving guest was approaching the entrance, so she plastered on her warmest smile. Inside, she felt ice-cold.
‘Why did your wife go out there?’ asked Petra.
Patrik was driving to Fjällbacka as fast as he dared. He explained about the books that Erica wrote and told them that lately she had started researching Gråskär, just for her own amusement.
‘She probably wanted to show Nathalie what she’d found.’
‘There’s no reason to think that she’s in any danger,’ said Konrad, sitting in the back seat and trying to reassure Patrik.
‘No, I realize that,’ said Patrik. At the same time he had a feeling that he needed to get out to Gråskär as fast as possible. He had phoned Peter, who promised to have the Coast Guard vessel ready when they arrived.
‘I’m still wondering what the motive could be,’ said Konrad.
‘Hopefully we’ll find out soon – if Patrik is right, that is.’ Petra didn’t sound completely convinced.
‘So you’re saying that, according to a witness, Mats Sverin had a woman in the car with him when he came home on the night he was shot? How reliable is the witness?’ Konrad leaned forward to stick his head between the front seats. Outside the car windows, the countryside was passing by at breakneck speed, but neither Petra nor Konrad seemed particularly concerned.
Patrik considered how much he should tell them. The truth was that Old Man Grip was not the most reliable of witnesses. For a start, he claimed that it was his cat who had seen the woman. That was the first thing that had occurred to Patrik when he heard that the bullets matched. In Martin’s report, it said that the cat was sitting in the window, hissing at the car, and a few lines above it said: ‘Marilyn doesn’t like women. She hisses at them.’ Martin hadn’t noticed the connection, and Patrik hadn’t either when he first read the report. But combined with the other details that had emerged, it was enough for Patrik to send Martin back to have another talk with Grip. This time he managed to get the man to admit that a woman was seen getting out of the car that had stopped in front of the block of flats in the early hours of Saturday. After hesitating a bit, he had also confirmed that it was Sverin’s car. Unfortunately, Grip continued to insist that it was his cat who had seen all of this. Patrik decided to omit this last detail for the time being.
‘The witness is certain,’ he said, hoping that would satisfy his colleagues. The important thing now was to reach Erica as quickly as possible and have a talk with Nathalie. Everything else could wait. Besides, they had the boat. According to the expert that Gösta had talked to, it was not only possible but very likely that Sverin’s boat had drifted from Gråskär when it ended up stranded in that inlet.
In Patrik’s mind, a plausible chain of events had begun to unfold. Mats had gone out to visit Nathalie, and for some reason she had then accompanied him in his boat to Fjällbacka. They had driven to Mats’s flat, where she had shot him. He had truste
d Nathalie, so he didn’t hesitate to turn his back on her. Then she had gone back to the harbour, taken Sverin’s boat to Gråskär, and let it go from there, causing it to drift off until it got stuck and was later found. That much was crystal clear. Except that Patrik still didn’t have any idea why Nathalie would want to kill Mats and possibly also her husband. And why did they leave Gråskär and go back to Fjällbacka in the middle of the night? Did it have something to do with the cocaine? Had Mats been involved in business transactions with Nathalie’s husband? Did the unidentified fingerprint on the bag belong to her?
Patrik stepped even harder on the accelerator. Now they were racing through Fjällbacka, and he slowed down a bit when he almost ran into an elderly man who was crossing the street near Ingrid Bergman Square.
He parked the car at the harbour near the Coast Guard vessel and jumped out. He was relieved to see that Peter had already started up the motor. Konrad and Petra trotted after him and jumped on board.
‘Don’t worry,’ Konrad said. ‘At this point, it’s all speculation, and there’s no reason to believe that your wife is in danger, even if your theory turns out to be correct.’
Patrik glanced at him as he held on to the railing of the boat, which was speeding out of the harbour faster than was normally allowed.
‘You don’t know Erica. She has a talent for sticking her nose into everyone’s business. Even people who have nothing to hide think that she asks too many questions. You might say that she’s really persistent.’
‘She sounds like a woman after my own heart,’ said Petra, staring with fascination at the archipelago they were traversing.
‘And besides, she’s not answering her mobile,’ said Patrik.
No one said a word for the rest of the crossing. They saw the lighthouse in the distance, and Patrik felt his stomach lurch with fear as they neared the island. He couldn’t stop thinking about the other name for Gråskär, the name that the locals called it: Ghost Isle. And why it had got the name.
Peter slowed down and steered the boat over to the dock, next to the wooden motorboat that belonged to Erica and Patrik. There was no one in sight, either living or dead.
Everything was going to be fine. They were together. She and Sam. And the dead were keeping watch over them.
Nathalie hummed as she stood in the water holding Sam in her arms. It was a song that she had always sung to him when he was younger and couldn’t sleep. He lay in her arms and felt so light because the water was helping to carry him. A few drops splashed upon his face, and she carefully wiped them away. He didn’t like getting water in his face. As soon as he was feeling better, she was going to teach him to swim. He was old enough now to learn to swim and ride a bike, and soon he’d be losing his baby teeth. Then he’d have a big gap in his teeth, showing that he would soon leave the first years of childhood behind.
Fredrik had always been impatient with Sam and demanded too much of him. He thought that she coddled him, claiming that she wanted him to remain a child. Fredrik was wrong. She wanted nothing more than for Sam to grow up, but he had to do it at his own pace.
Then he had tried to take Sam away from her. In that arrogant voice of his, Fredrik had said that the boy would be better off with a different mother. The memory started encroaching, and she hummed louder to make it go away. But those terrible words had already crept into her soul, drowning out the song. The other woman would be better, he had told her. She was the one who would be Sam’s new mother and accompany him and Sam to Italy. Nathalie wasn’t going to be his mother any more. She was going to disappear.
Fredrik’s face had been filled with such smug satisfaction that she hadn’t doubted for a moment that he meant what he’d said. How she hated him. Anger began growing somewhere deep inside of her and then took over her whole body before she could stop it. Fredrik had got what he deserved. He couldn’t hurt them any more. She had seen his rigid expression. She had seen the blood.
Now she and Sam could live in peace here on the island. She looked down at his face. He was sleeping. No one was going to take him away from her. No one.
Patrik asked Peter to wait in the boat. Then he went ashore with Konrad and Petra. On the table in the open-sided boathouse they saw that someone had served coffee there. When they walked past, several seagulls flew up from a plate full of buns.
‘They’re probably in the house,’ said Petra, taking a good look around.
‘Come on.’ Patrik was impatient, but Konrad gently took him by the arm.
‘I think we need to be a bit cautious now.’
Patrik realized that he was right. He headed for the house, walking calmly even though he wanted to run. At the house, they knocked on the door. When no one answered, Petra leaned forward and knocked harder.
‘Hello?’ she called.
Still not a sound from inside. Patrik pushed down the handle, and the door swung open. He took a step forward then nearly backed into Konrad and Petra as the smell overwhelmed him.
‘Shit,’ he said, putting his hand over his nose and mouth. He had to swallow several times in order not to throw up.
‘Shit,’ echoed Konrad from behind him. He too looked as if he were fighting back nausea. Only Petra seemed unperturbed, and Patrik cast an astonished glance in her direction.
‘I’ve got a weak sense of smell,’ she told him.
Then Patrik entered the house and immediately caught sight of the person lying on the floor.
‘Erica?’ He ran over and dropped to his knees. With his heart in his throat, he put out his hand to touch her. She stirred and let out a groan.
He said her name over and over, and she slowly turned her head to look at him. Only then did he see the wound at her temple. With an effort she lifted her hand to touch it, and her eyes opened wide when she saw the blood on her fingers.
‘Patrik? Nathalie … she …’ Erica began sobbing and Patrik stroked her cheek.
‘Is she okay?’ asked Petra.
Patrik motioned with his hand to indicate that she was going to be all right. Then Petra and Konrad went upstairs to see what they could find up there.
‘The place seems to be empty,’ said Petra when they came back. ‘Have you checked in there?’ She pointed at the closed door behind Erica.
Patrik shook his head, so Petra cautiously stepped around them and opened the door.
‘Bloody hell. Come and look.’ She motioned to them, but Patrik stayed where he was and let Konrad follow his colleague.
‘What do you see?’ asked Patrik, glancing at the partially open door, which blocked his view of what was inside.
‘Whatever the smell is, it’s coming from inside this room.’ Konrad came out, holding his hand over his mouth and nose.
‘A dead body?’ For a moment Patrik thought it must be Nathalie lying inside there, but then a thought occurred to him that drained all the colour from his face. ‘Is it the boy?’ he whispered.
Petra came out of the room too. ‘I don’t know. There’s nothing in there now. But the bed is a horrible mess and it stinks to high heaven. Even I can smell it.’
Konrad nodded.
‘It must be the boy. We saw Nathalie a week ago, and I’m guessing that the body must have been here longer than that.’
Erica was struggling to sit up, and Patrik put his arm around her for support.
‘We have to find them.’ He looked at his wife. ‘What happened here?’
‘We were up in the lighthouse. I noticed the smell on Nathalie’s clothes and started to wonder. So I slipped over here to check things out. She must have hit me on the head …’ Erica’s voice faded.
Patrik looked up at Konrad and Petra.
‘What did I tell you? She’s always sticking her nose in things.’ He smiled, but he looked worried.
‘You didn’t see the boy?’ asked Petra, squatting down.
Erica shook her head, then grimaced with pain.
‘No, I never got a chance to open the door. But you have to find them,’ she said, repe
ating what Patrik had said. ‘I’m fine. Go look for Nathalie and Sam.’
‘Let’s carry her down to the boat,’ said Patrik.
He ignored Erica’s protests and the three of them carried her to the dock and then carefully lifted her down to Peter.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Patrik didn’t want to leave Erica when he looked at the bloody wound on her head and saw how pale her face was.
She waved him away. ‘Go on. I’m fine. I told you that.’
Reluctantly Patrik turned away.
‘Where do you think they’ve gone?’
‘They must be on the other side of the island,’ said Petra.
‘Yes, because their boat is still here,’ said Konrad.
They started walking over the rocks. The island seemed just as deserted as when they arrived, and except for the lapping of the waves and the screeching of the seagulls, there wasn’t a sound.
‘They might be up in the lighthouse.’ Patrik leaned back so he could peer up at the tower.
‘Maybe, but I think we should search the island first,’ said Petra. She shaded her eyes with her hand in an attempt to look through the glass panes at the top of the lighthouse. But she didn’t see anyone moving around up there either.
‘Are you coming?’ called Konrad.
The highest point on the island was only a short distance away, and they cast glances left and right as they walked. Once they reached the top of the hill, they’d have a view of almost all of Gråskär. But they were moving cautiously. They didn’t know what sort of state of mind Nathalie was in, and she had a gun. The question was whether she was prepared to use it. The cloying smell of the corpse still clung to their nostrils. They were all thinking the same thing, but none of them dared say it out loud.
They climbed up to the crest of the hill.
They had arrived by boat, just as she thought. She heard voices from the dock, voices from the house. Their escape route from the island was blocked. She couldn’t get to the boat to flee. She and Sam were caught.
Nathalie had thought that Erica was on their side, but then she tried to push her way into their world. So she had been forced to act, and she had done the right thing. She had protected Sam, just as she had promised him she would, the instant he was placed in her arms at the hospital. She had promised not to let anything bad happen to him. For a long time she had been a coward and failed to keep her promise. But ever since that night, she had been strong. She had rescued Sam.
Patrick Hedstrom 07: The Lost Boy Page 44