For the Missing

by Lina Bengtsdotter

  Charlie thanked her and stood up. ‘We’ll let you know if we need to speak with you again,’ she said. ‘And if either of you think of anything else concerning Annabelle, anything at all, call us straight away.’

  On her way to the car park, Charlie went over the names of the school staff. Annabelle had three male teachers. Two of them were close to retirement, and one was in his forties. Her eyes continued down to the janitors and miscellaneous staff.

  ‘Maybe you could wait to read that until we get to the car,’ Anders said when she stumbled.

  Back in the car, Charlie took a pen from her bag and marked the people who would be their first priorities.

  ‘Kalle, the Swedish teacher, might be the most interesting prospect,’ Charlie said. ‘He’s the youngest of her male teachers and he teaches a subject she’s very interested in.’ She pulled out her phone and called Adnan, asking him to contact Kalle immediately to set up an interview.

  ‘And what do you think of the librarian?’ Anders said and turned out from the school. ‘He seems to have the same interests as Annabelle too.’

  ‘I know his wife,’ Charlie said. ‘She’s a childhood friend of mine.’

  ‘Okay, but what do you think of him?’

  ‘I don’t think anything,’ Charlie said. ‘I’m just underlining his name. And then there’s Jonas Landell,’ she went on. ‘What is he after, going to a school book club?’

  ‘You heard what the librarian said. Young men with an interest in literature do exist.’

  ‘So you don’t think he was there for Annabelle, that he is in love with her too?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Anders replied, ‘but when they talked to him it seemed like he spent quite a lot of time with her, that he was almost like her private chauffeur. He used to drive her around.’

  ‘Drive her where?’

  ‘Wherever she wanted to go, to friends’ houses, from school sometimes, to the parties in the village shop.’

  ‘But how did he describe their relationship, how he felt about her?’

  ‘He said they were just good friends. After all, she’d been going out with William.’

  ‘We still need to ask him about the book club.’

  A few hours later, when they had all gathered at the station again, Adnan told them Rebecka had confirmed Jonas’s information. Annabelle had been seeing someone. Rebecka had kept it to herself because she’d promised not to tell anybody and because she didn’t want to drive Nora batty for no reason. At first, she’d thought Annabelle would come back and then she’d been scared they’d think she was lying if she told them after the fact. Besides, she didn’t even know who it was. And either way, it was over. Annabelle had promised to tell her everything the night she disappeared, but it hadn’t turned out that way. The only thing Rebecka knew was that he was older. Nor could she recall the nickname Annabelle had used for him once or twice. The best she could manage was that it started with an R and sounded English.

  Micke had interviewed Kalle, the Swedish teacher. He had no substantial relationship with Annabelle. She was the most gifted student he had ever had, but they were not particularly close and had never interacted outside of school. Furthermore, he had a watertight alibi for the night in question since he had taken his mother, who had suffered a stroke, to A&E.

  ‘Convincing enough for you?’ Micke turned to Charlie and Anders.

  ‘And the poem?’ Charlie said and looked at Adnan.

  ‘She didn’t know who had written it on the wall,’ Adnan said. ‘She didn’t recognise the handwriting but it’s not Annabelle’s. Why are you so hung up on this poem?’

  ‘I’m not hung up,’ Charlie said. ‘But whoever wrote it … I’m thinking that person might have deep feelings for Annabelle.’

  ‘Why?’ Adnan asked.

  ‘Didn’t you read it?’ Charlie said.

  ‘Yes.’

  Charlie sighed and recited the second stanza:

  I was a child and she was a child,

  In this kingdom by the sea,

  But we loved with a love that was more than love –

  I and my Annabel Lee –

  With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven

  Coveted her and me.

  Olof, Micke and Adnan stared at her in silence.

  ‘Why did you learn it by heart?’ Adnan said after a long pause.

  ‘Words just tend to stick in my head, that’s all. In any case, I think it’s important to find out who wrote that on the wall.’

  ‘I thought our current priority was finding an older lover,’ Micke said, ‘so surely we shouldn’t be focusing on the people who hang out at the village shop parties?’

  ‘It might not be one of the young people,’ Charlie said. ‘It might be someone Annabelle had secret rendezvous with there.’

  ‘I’m having a hard time keeping up now,’ Micke said.

  ‘What’s the problem?’ Charlie said. ‘Seriously, what’s your problem?’

  ‘What?’ Micke feigned surprise. ‘I’m just saying I’m having trouble keeping up.’

  Not my problem, Charlie thought to herself.

  ‘Besides, it doesn’t sound like something an older person would write,’ Micke pressed on. ‘What with both of them being children in the first lines.’

  ‘Maybe we’d do better not to take it so literally,’ Charlie suggested.

  ‘And maybe we’d do better not to get bogged down brooding over some random words on a wall.’ Micke glared at Charlie.

  ‘How did it go at the school?’ Olof said. ‘Anything new?’

  ‘Annabelle’s been skipping lessons lately and they gave us a list of all the teachers and other staff at the school.’ Charlie put the document on the table. ‘I’ve marked the ones we need to speak to. The Swedish teacher is done already, but there are several others who will need to be interviewed as well. We’re also going to try to find out if any of them use a pay-as-you-go phone. And we discovered that Annabelle ran a book club at the school, which both William Stark and Jonas Landell attended. I think we need to go one more round with Jonas about his relationship with Annabelle. Would you mind doing that?’ She turned to Adnan.

  ‘Sure, I’ll talk to him right now.’

  ‘By the way, did you find anyone to rescue the turtle?’

  ‘Yes. It’ll be in safe hands soon. But there’s a risk it’s been permanently damaged by the filthy water it was in,’ Adnan said with a smile.

  There and then

  ‘One day,’ Rosa says and points up at the house on the hill, ‘one day, I’m going to burn that one down.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it ruins the view of the lake. It ruins the view of the lake and also I’m sick of seeing that stupid grin every time I want to go for a swim.’

  And Benjamin … what had he ever done to her?

  He was a sissy, a teacher’s pet, a nerd. Rosa almost wishes he was dead. And that whiny kid … John-John, what kind of stupid name was that anyway? Wasn’t one John enough?

  ‘Want to go for a swim?’

  ‘You’re supposed to be careful,’ Alice says, pointing at Rosa’s head. She has a bandage around it from falling out of the tree house the day before. She’s really supposed to be resting, the doctor said, because she probably has concussion too. But Rosa doesn’t want to stay home. She says it’s because of her mum, her mum wants to be alone.

  ‘Maybe we should just dip our feet in,’ Alice says.

  But Rosa says dipping their feet isn’t enough, because it’s as warm as hell out. She gets up, runs out onto the jetty and dives in. When Alice get there, Rosa is nowhere to be seen. The ripples on the water subside, but no Rosa breaks the surface. Alice’s heart starts to beat faster. Then she spots Rosa’s hair further out. She’s floating face down, arms out; her bandage has come off her head. Alice jumps in. When she is just a few feet away, Rosa suddenly turns over.

  ‘Did I scare you?’ she says and laughs. ‘Didn’t you get it was a joke?’

  But Al
ice doesn’t laugh. Instead, she points to Rosa’s head where blood is trickling from the taped-up wound and says she’s bleeding again. Back on the beach, Alice wraps her towel around Rosa’s head.

  ‘I didn’t actually scare you, did I?’ Rosa says.

  ‘Yes, you did. You scared me, staying under for so long.’

  And Rosa says that’s one of her talents, holding her breath for a long time. She’s the kind of person who can get by on less air than most.

  ‘Does that feel all right?’ Alice says when she’s done with the temporary bandage.

  ‘It feels like nothing,’ Rosa says. ‘Feels like nothing at all.’

  30

  They left the car outside the station and walked the short distance through the town centre to the motel. They were going to have a late dinner and then catch a few hours of sleep.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Anders said when Charlie stopped and took her shoes off.

  ‘I want to walk barefoot,’ she replied. ‘I never wore shoes as a child, not even in school. You might say I was a barefoot child, like in the poem.’

  ‘I’m starting to understand you better,’ Anders said. ‘You’re a dog person, a barefoot child …’

  ‘Who has lost my paper slip,’ Charlie added, paraphrasing Nils Ferlin.

  When they entered the pub part of the motel, Erik came to meet them. He was waving a key that he gave to Charlie.

  ‘Good news,’ he said. ‘We have a free room, so you don’t have to share.’ Charlie noted the relief that spread across Anders’s face.

  They decided to head upstairs and sort out their rooms and then meet back in the restaurant afterwards.

  ‘I’m glad that worked out so I don’t have to get divorced,’ Anders said as they walked up the stairs. ‘I actually do think Maria was suspecting something.’

  ‘Don’t jealous people always suspect something.’

  ‘She’s not jealous. She’s just a bit of a … worryguts.’

  Charlie laughed and said that was a delightful euphemism. She tossed her suitcase on the bed in her new room. It was upstairs from the wedding suite and had no Bible quotes about the power of love on its walls. She went over to the window and looked out across the meadows, forests, water, all the way to the church in the distance. Where are you? she thought. Where have you gone, Annabelle? Did anyone out there know?

  The phone rang, cutting short her reverie.

  ‘Is this the police?’ The voice on the other end was thick with tears.

  ‘It’s me,’ Charlie said.

  ‘It’s me, Sara, I need to talk to you.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Little Rhodes, I mean … the beach at …’

  ‘I know where it is,’ Charlie said. ‘I’m on my way.’

  She called Anders and told him there was something she had to take care of, could they meet in the restaurant in an hour instead?

  ‘I’m going to die of starvation before then,’ Anders said. ‘What’s this you’re taking care of?’

  ‘I’m going to see the girl I drove home yesterday. Sara Larsson.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘Because she wants to talk to me.’

  ‘I’ll go with you.’

  ‘No need.’

  ‘You’re not supposed to respond to calls on your own.’

  ‘I’m going to see a sad teenage girl,’ Charlie said, ‘and I don’t want to be mean, but I think it’ll be easier if I go on my own.’

  Little Rhodes was a public beach a mile or two outside town. It had few similarities with the beaches of the real Rhodes. Maybe the name had been intended as a joke once upon a time. Charlie took in the changing rooms, the jetty, the swings, the firepit. Sara was nowhere to be seen. It was only when she looked up at the diving tower further down the beach that she spotted her. The girl was perched on the edge of the highest platform. Charlie hurried over and climbed the ladders. Sara must have heard her but didn’t turn around when she got there.

  ‘Sara?’ Charlie said behind her. ‘Are you okay?’

  Sara shook her head.

  ‘Is it all right if I sit down?’

  Sara nodded and moved aside to make room for Charlie.

  ‘I remember it being a lot higher,’ Charlie said.

  ‘What do you mean, remember?’ Sara looked at her.

  ‘I used to live here. But then I moved away. I left when I was fourteen.’

  ‘I’m going to leave too,’ Sara said. ‘This entire place can just … it can go to hell.’

  ‘Did something happen?’

  ‘Yes, it did, but my life’s going to be hell if I tell you about it.’

  ‘And yet you want to tell me,’ Charlie said.

  ‘Yeah. I figure it could hardly get much worse. My life is hell already.’

  Charlie looked down at the water. The little eddies below them indicated that the current had been switched on. She wanted to say something encouraging to Sara. Something about how life can serve up all kinds of surprises, not just bad ones. She wanted to tell her there was help to be had, that things would get better, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  ‘Can I smoke?’ Sara asked.

  ‘Why wouldn’t you be able to?’

  ‘I’m thirteen,’ Sara reminded her. ‘I’m not allowed to buy cigarettes.’

  ‘True,’ Charlie said, ‘but smoking one isn’t against the law, is it?’

  Sara smiled.

  ‘You’re not like the others. You’re … all right.’

  She pulled a packet of cigarettes from her purse.

  ‘They’re hand rolled,’ she said when she noticed the look Charlie gave her. ‘They’re not the other kind of cigarette, if that’s what you’re thinking.’ She held one out to Charlie.

  They smoked in silence for a while.

  ‘The inlet gates are open,’ Sara said. She looked down at the water. ‘If you were to jump in now, you’d be pulled under. There’s really deep parts further out as well. You could disappear down one of those and never come up.’

  ‘What’s on your mind,’ Charlie said. ‘What did you want to tell me?’

  Sara took a deep breath.

  ‘That night,’ she said, ‘that night when Annabelle disappeared, we hadn’t just been drinking. Svante had brought some other things as well. I think that’s why we’re having such a hard time remembering stuff; most of us were completely out of it. Svante told me I couldn’t tell the police. He said we’d all get into trouble if I did, that my dad would get fired. My dad works in the factory, the plywood one, and he’d be absolutely broken if he lost another job. The last time he did …’ Sara pulled out a new cigarette and lit it. ‘I thought he was going to drink himself to death for real.’

  ‘The last time?’ Charlie said. ‘It’s happened more than once?’

  Sara told her it happened all the time. She handed Charlie another cigarette while she talked about all the other times her dad had been let go. He had worked in that damn factory since she was born and they still wouldn’t give him a permanent position. It was something about machines that were supposed to be coming, which made the owners not want to hire the people on the floor.

  ‘The machines,’ Charlie said. ‘They were talking about those machines back when I was your age. My mum worked there. Regardless, Svante can’t just fire your dad for no reason. You know that, right?’

  Sara said she did know, but that even so, she was still scared.

  ‘Something horrible happened that night,’ she said and flicked her glowing butt into the water. ‘I … I even filmed it.’

  ‘What?’ Charlie turned to her.

  ‘You can see for yourself.’ Sara pulled out her phone and pressed play. ‘It’s not the best quality, I mean, you can see the image fading in and out. I even forgot I’d done it. It was only today, when I was looking through my pictures, that I realised what I’d filmed. Luckily, I don’t think anyone noticed.’ She handed the phone to Charlie. ‘You’ll have to watch on your own. I can’t bear to s
ee it again.’

  31

  Nora had fallen asleep again. She was breathing so quietly Fredrik had to lean over her to make sure she was still alive. The floorboards creaked under him when he sneaked out into the hallway and down the stairs.

  The past two nights, he had tortured himself watching video recordings of Annabelle. He had started with the shaky footage from her birth, the black-eyed, wrinkly bundle on Nora’s chest. By now, he had reached her first birthday. Annabelle in a red dress with a clip in her hair. A few friends they were no longer in touch with around the table, the laughs when Annabelle shoved her chubby hands in the cake. Then there was a gap of a few years. Annabelle was on her bed with her hair spread out across her pillow, smiling.

  What did you do today, sweetheart?

  And the little girl’s face that lit up.

  Sweets!

  Yes, you had some sweets. Were they tasty?

  Deep nods.

  But we’re not going to tell Mummy.

  No, no telling Mummy.

  That was the end of the tape. Fredrik went to pour himself a large whisky before putting the next tape in the video camera, which was connected to the television. The case said Summer 2004. A close-up of a child’s hand appeared on the screen.

  It looks like a bird’s eye, Daddy. Can you see it, that my hand looks like a bird?

  Yes, sweetie, I see it. But weren’t you going to go swimming? Wasn’t I supposed to film you jumping off the jetty?

  I’m cold. Can you warm me up.

  Come here then.

  The camera films the sand.

  I love you, Daddy.

  Fredrik hit stop, reversed and pressed play again. He did it over and over.

  I love you, Daddy.

  ‘Come home,’ he whispered with tears streaming down his face. ‘Just come home, sweetheart.’