‘Yes and no,’ said Anna, all at once looking extremely sad. ‘What I think you’re saying is that you missed the daily life, the security, the predictability. I never had that with Lucas. Ever. But in the midst of the fear, and then the terror, that was probably what I was longing for most. Daily routines, predictability. Ordinary life.’
Dan placed his hand on hers. ‘You don’t have to talk about it.’
‘That’s okay,’ she said, blinking back the tears. ‘I’ve talked so much these past few weeks that I’m getting tired of hearing my own voice. And you’ve listened and listened to all my miseries. You must be sick of hearing my voice.’ She laughed and wiped away her tears with the paper napkin.
Dan still had his hand on hers. ‘I’m not at all sick of listening to you. As far as I’m concerned, you could keep talking twenty-four seven.’
A comfortable silence followed as they looked at each other. The warmth of Dan’s hand spread through Anna’s body, thawing out parts that she hadn’t even known were frozen. Dan opened his mouth to say something, but just then Anna’s mobile rang. They gave a start and Anna pulled away her hand to fish out her phone. She looked at the display.
‘Erica,’ she said, and got up to take the call.
This time Patrik had chosen to meet with his colleagues in the kitchen. What he intended to present was a bit overwhelming, to say the least, and strong coffee and some buns would probably be welcome. He waited for the others to sit down but remained standing. They all looked at him in suspense as they came in. It was plain that something was going on, but Annika hadn’t said a word, so none of the others knew what it was about. Only that it was something big. A bird flew past the kitchen window, and everyone’s eyes reflexively followed the movement but quickly turned back to Patrik.
‘Get yourselves some coffee and buns, then we’ll get started,’ Patrik said, his voice solemn. They’d all poured themselves a cup and murmured to one another to pass around the basket of buns. Then they fell silent.
‘Annika sent out a nationwide query at my request on Monday. Asking about fatalities which showed similarities with the murders of Rasmus and Marit.’
Hanna raised a hand. ‘What exactly did the query say?’
‘What we sent out was a list of items that were common to both murders: the way the victims died and the objects found near the bodies.’
The latter was news to Gösta and Hanna, and they leaned forward to hear more.
‘What sort of objects?’ said Gösta.
Patrik glanced over at Martin and said, ‘When Martin and I went through the knapsack that Rasmus had with him when he died, we found something that was also found near Marit. In her case it was on the seat next to her in the car. We didn’t pay attention to it at first, since we thought it was simply some junk that was in the car. But when we found the same thing in the knapsack, then . . .’ He threw out his hands.
‘Well, what was it?’ Gösta leaned forward even more.
‘A page torn out of a book. A children’s book,’ Patrik said.
‘A children’s book?’ Gösta repeated incredulously. Hanna also looked confounded.
‘Yes, the pages were from Hansel and Gretel. You know, from the Grimms’ fairy tale.’
‘You’re kidding,’ said Gösta.
‘Sadly I’m not. And that’s not all. That information, combined with details about the way Rasmus and Marit died, have led us to two other cases that might be connected to ours.’
‘Two more cases?’ Now it was Martin who sounded incredulous.
Patrik nodded. ‘Yes, the information came in this morning. Two other fatalities that fit the pattern. One in Nyköping and one in Lund.’
‘Two more cases?’ Martin seemed to be having trouble taking in the facts that Patrik was presenting. Patrik understood why.
‘Are you certain that these four cases are related?’ said Hanna. ‘The whole thing sounds too unbelievable.’
‘The victims all died in exactly the same way, and there were pages torn out of the same book placed near each body. We can assume that the cases are related,’ Patrik said dryly. He was surprised and offended at being doubted. ‘In any event, we’re going to proceed with the investigation, or investigations, based on the assumption that there is a connection.’
Martin raised his hand. ‘Were the other victims also teetotallers?’
Patrik shook his head slowly. That was the one thing that bothered him the most. ‘No,’ he said. ‘The victim in Lund was a confirmed alcoholic, and the police had no information about the drinking habits of the victim in Nyköping. But I thought you and I should drive over and talk with them. Check out the details.’
Martin nodded. ‘When do we leave?’
‘Tomorrow,’ said Patrik. ‘If nobody has anything to add, perhaps we can adjourn the meeting and get to work. If there’s anything that seems unclear, I suggest that you read through the summary I’ve prepared. Annika has made copies, so you each can take one on the way out.’
As they broke up, nobody spoke. They were each thinking about the scope of the investigation they were now facing. And they all tried to accept the idea that ‘serial killer’ would have to become part of their vocabulary. That had never been necessary in the history of the Tanumshede police force.
Gösta turned round when he heard someone behind him in the doorway.
‘Martin and I are leaving tomorrow. We should be gone two days,’ said Patrik.
‘Yes?’ said Gösta.
‘I thought you and Hanna could work on some other angles in the meantime. Check through Marit’s file, for instance. I’ve read it so many times now that I think it would be good to have a fresh pair of eyes. And do the same thing with whatever we have on Rasmus Olsson. Martin has started compiling a list of people who own Galgo Español dogs; it would be good if we could keep working on that aspect too. Talk to Martin this afternoon and see how far he’s got. What else? Oh yes, the reporter at the Evening News faxed over some copies from Lillemor’s diary. We’re getting the original too, but it’s coming by mail and we can’t wait for it. I’m taking along a set of copies in the car, but you and Hanna might as well take a look at them too.’
Gösta nodded wearily.
‘That’s it,’ said Patrik. ‘We’re taking off. Will you fill Hanna in?’
Gösta nodded. Even more wearily. It was a pain to have to work so hard. He was going to be exhausted by the time the golf season started.
Chapter 7
The nights were the time when the terror felt the closest. What if they came while he was sleeping? What if he couldn’t wake up? Before it was too late. He and sister each had a bed in the room. She usually tucked them in at night, pulled the covers up to their chins, and kissed first him, then her, on the forehead. A soft ‘good night’, then she turned off the light. And locked the door. That was when the evil had free rein in their minds. But they had invented a form of consolation. With cautious steps he sneaked over to sister’s bed and crept in close beside her under the covers. They never talked, just lay close and felt the warmth of each other’s skin. So close that their breath became one, hot exhaled air that filled their lungs and spread to their hearts, giving them a feeling of security.
Sometimes they lay awake like that. Both saw the fear in the other’s eyes, but couldn’t put words to it. At those moments he felt such love for his sister that he felt he might burst. It filled every part of him and made him want to caress every inch of her skin. She was so defenceless, so innocent, so scared of what was outside. Even more scared than he was. For him the fear was mixed with a longing for whatever was out there. What he might have had access to, if he hadn’t been a jinx, and if the unknown hadn’t been waiting out there.
As he lay there with his sister in his arms, he wondered whether the terror was at all connected to the woman with the angry voice. Then sleep usually overtook him. And with it came the memories.
Martin had suffered his whole life from motion sickness, but he still tried to
read the pages that had been copied from Lillemor’s diary.
‘Who is this “he” she keeps talking about? The person she recognizes?’ he said in bewilderment, reading on to see if he could find more clues.
‘It doesn’t say,’ said Patrik, who had read the copies before they left. ‘She doesn’t seem to be sure that she really saw him or where.’
‘But she writes that he makes her uncomfortable,’ said Martin, pointing to a spot on the page he was reading. ‘So it seems unlikely to be a coincidence that she was then murdered.’
‘Yes, I’m inclined to agree with you,’ said Patrik, speeding up to overtake a truck. ‘But there’s nothing more to go by, not in the diary at least. And it could have been anyone at all. Somebody in town, somebody in the group, somebody on the production team. All we know is that it’s a man.’ He noticed that Martin had begun taking deep breaths. ‘How’s it going? Are you feeling sick?’ One glance at his colleague confirmed it. Martin’s freckles glowed an angry red against his face, which was even whiter than usual, and his chest was heaving as he struggled to breathe.
‘You want me to let in some air?’ said Patrik uneasily. He felt bad for his colleague, but he had no desire to drive all the way to Lund in a car smelling of vomit. Martin nodded, so Patrik pushed the button to open the window on the passenger side. Martin leaned against the door, greedily inhaling, although the air was mixed with a lot of exhaust fumes and didn’t provide as much relief as he was hoping for.
Several hours later they turned into the car park at the Lund police station, their legs numb and their backs aching. They hadn’t allowed themselves more than a brief pause to piss and stretch their legs, since they were both excited about what the meeting with Superintendent Kjell Sandberg might bring. They had to wait only a few minutes in reception before he came down. Actually he was supposed to be off this Saturday, but after Patrik’s phone call he had willingly agreed to come in to the station.
‘How was your trip?’ said Kjell Sandberg, briskly leading the way. He was a very small man – around five foot three, Patrik guessed – but he seemed to compensate for his short stature with an enormous amount of energy. When he spoke he used his whole body and gesticulated wildly. Both Martin and Patrik had a hard time keeping up as he almost ran before them. The double-time march led at last to a break room, and Kjell gestured for Patrik and Martin to go in first.
‘I thought we could sit here instead of in my office,’ said Kjell, pointing to a table with a pile of folders on it. The top one was labelled ‘Börje Knudsen’, which Patrik had learned yesterday was the name of victim number three, or two if viewed chronologically. They sat down and Kjell shoved the stack of files over to Patrik. ‘I spent yesterday looking through everything again. After we got your query, well, I must say I started thinking about a number of cases in a different light than we did back then.’ He shook his head a bit regretfully, as if apologizing.
‘So there weren’t any suspicions back then, six years ago? Any sense that something was not as it should be?’ said Patrik, careful not to sound accusatory.
Kjell shook his head again. His big moustache bobbed comically when he moved his head. ‘No, we honestly had no idea that there was anything odd about Börje’s death. You’ve got to understand that Börje was one of those regulars that we expected to find dead someday. He’d been close to drinking himself to death several times before, but managed to pull through. This time we just thought that . . . Well, we simply made a mistake,’ he said, throwing out his hands. He had a stricken expression on his face.
Patrik nodded consolingly. ‘From what I understand, it was an easy mistake to make in this particular situation. And for a while we thought that our murder was an accident as well.’ This admission seemed to make Kjell feel better.
‘What was it that made you respond to our query?’ asked Martin, trying not to stare at the bobbing moustache. He was still pale from the car ride, and gratefully stuffed a couple of digestive biscuits in his mouth. That helped a bit. Usually it took him an hour or so after a long car trip before he was himself again.
At first Kjell said nothing as he leafed through the pile of folders, looking for something. Then he pulled out a file which he opened and placed in front of Patrik and Martin. ‘Look at this. Here are the photos of Börje when we found him. He’d been dead in his flat for about a week, so it’s not a pretty sight,’ he added. ‘Nobody noticed until the body started to smell.’
It was indeed a horrifying scene. But what caught their attention was something that Börje had in his hand. It looked like a piece of crumpled paper. When they leafed through the photos they saw a close-up of the paper after it was taken from Börje’s hand and smoothed out. It was a page from the same book that Patrik and Martin now recognized so well. Hansel and Gretel by the Brothers Grimm. They looked at each other and Kjell said, ‘Yes, this is something more than mere coincidence. And I remembered it because it seemed so strange that Börje would be holding a page from a children’s book. He didn’t have any kids.’
‘Do you still have the page?’ Patrik held his breath and felt his body tense in anticipation. Kjell didn’t say a word, but a smile played at the corners of his mouth as he took out a plastic bag that had been placed on the chair next to him. ‘A combination of luck and skill,’ he said with a smile.
Patrik reverently took the plastic bag and studied the contents. Then he handed it to Martin, who also scrutinized the page with excitement.
‘What about the rest? The wounds and the way he died?’ Patrik asked, trying to study the photos of Börje’s body more closely. He thought he could make out blue shadows round the mouth, but the body was in such a state of decay that it was hard to tell.
‘Unfortunately we don’t have any information on the trauma. As I said, his body was in no condition to do an autopsy, and Börje was always in a more or less injured state, so the question is, would we have reacted even if . . .’ His voice trailed off and Patrik understood what he meant. Börje had been a drunk who often got into fights. The fact that he had presumably drunk himself to death had not occasioned any reason for a thorough investigation.
‘But he did have a great deal of alcohol in his body?’
Kjell nodded and his moustache hopped. ‘True, he had an abnormally high blood alcohol level, but his tolerance had increased over the years. The ME’s conclusion was that Börje had simply drunk a whole bottle and died from alcohol poisoning.’
‘Does he have any relatives we could talk to?’
‘No, Börje had no one. The only people he had any contact with were police officers and his wino pals. Plus whoever he met during his stints in jail.’
‘What was he in for?’
‘Oh, there were plenty of things. The list is in the top folder there, with the dates. Assault, intimidation, DWI, manslaughter, burglary, you name it. He probably spent more time inside than out, I should think.’
‘Can I take this material with me?’ said Patrik, crossing his fingers.
Kjell nodded. ‘Yes, that was the idea. Promise you’ll let us know if we can be of any further assistance. I’ll see about asking round a bit as well, check out whether we can dig up anything else that might help you.’
‘We really appreciate this,’ said Patrik as they both stood up to go.
On the way out they had to jog to keep up with Kjell.
‘Are you driving back tonight?’ he asked as they reached the front entrance.
‘No, we booked a room at the Scandic. So we can go over the material at our leisure before our next stop tomorrow.’
‘Nyköping?’ All at once Kjell looked very serious. ‘It’s not very common for a killer to strike over such a wide area.’
‘No,’ said Patrik with the same gravity. ‘It’s not very common. Not common at all.’
‘Which one would you like? Tracking down the bow-wows or going through Marit’s file?’ Gösta couldn’t hide his frustration at the work assignments that they’d drawn. Hanna didn’t se
em exactly cheerful either. She’d probably been looking forward to a relaxing Saturday morning at home with her husband. But Gösta reluctantly had to admit that if ever there was a reason to draw overtime, this was certainly it. An investigation involving five murders was not everyday fare at the station.
He and Hanna had installed themselves at the kitchen table to tackle the work that Patrik had asked them to do, but neither of them felt the least bit enthusiastic. Gösta looked at Hanna as she stood at the worktop pouring coffee. By no means plump when she started working at the station, she now looked downright gaunt rather than just slim. He wondered again what her home life was like. There was something about her expression that seemed tense, almost tormented, lately. Maybe she and her husband couldn’t have children, he speculated. She was forty and still childless. He wished he could offer to lend an ear to anything she wanted to tell him, but he had a feeling that such an offer would not be well received. Hanna pushed back a strand of her blonde hair. He suddenly thought there was so much vulnerability, so much uncertainty in that simple gesture. Hanna Kruse was truly a woman of contradictions. On the surface she was strong and brave. At the same time for brief moments, in certain gestures, he could read something else entirely, something . . . broken; that was the closest he could come to describing it. But when she turned to face him he wondered whether he’d read too much into things. Her expression was now stony. No weakness in evidence.
‘I’ll take Marit’s documents,’ she said as she sat down. ‘You take the doggies, okay?’ She looked at him over the edge of her cup.
‘Fine with me. I said you could choose.’
Hanna smiled, and the way it softened her face made him feel even more doubtful about his speculations. ‘It’s a shame that we have to work, don’t you think so, Gösta?’ she said with a wink.
He couldn’t help smiling back. He pushed aside his meditations about her home life and decided simply to enjoy the company of his new colleague.
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