The Girl in the Woods (Patrik Hedstrom and Erica Falck, Book 10)

by Camilla Lackberg

  Gösta coughed into his clenched fist and fell silent.

  ‘Despite coming from such different backgrounds,’ Erica continued, ‘the two girls became very good friends. They spent all their time together, even though Helen’s parents didn’t approve. At first they chose to ignore the friendship, hoping it wouldn’t last. But eventually they became more and more annoyed at their daughter’s choice of friend, and they forbade Helen to see Marie. Helen’s father is dead, and I haven’t been able to speak to her mother yet, but I did talk to others who knew them back then. They all say there was a huge row when Helen was told she could no longer see Marie. With two pre-teen girls, you can imagine the drama. But in the end they were forced to comply, and they stopped hanging out with each other in their free time. Helen’s parents couldn’t prevent them from seeing each other at school, of course. They were in the same class.’

  ‘Yet Helen’s parents made an exception when they were asked to babysit Stella,’ said Patrik pensively. ‘I wonder why? Seems odd, given they were so adamant about the girls not seeing each other?’

  Gösta leaned forward. ‘Stella’s father was president of the Fjällbacka bank, which meant he held one of the most prestigious positions in the community. And since he and his wife, Linda, had already asked the girls if they could babysit Stella together, KG Persson probably didn’t want to antagonize Anders Strand. So they made an exception.’

  ‘How long did it take before the girls confessed?’ asked Paula.

  ‘A week,’ said Erica, frowning at the photos on the whiteboard.

  She kept coming back to the same question. Why had the girls confessed to committing a brutal murder if they didn’t do it?

  The Stella Case

  ‘This is crazy. Marie has been through enough!’

  Lenita fluffed her thick blond hair. Marie sat calmly at the table with her hands in her lap, her long hair framing her lovely face.

  ‘These are questions we have to ask. I’m sorry, but it’s necessary.’

  Leif never took his eyes off Marie. Her parents could say whatever they liked, he was convinced the girls were not telling the whole truth. The police had interviewed Anders Strand several times and turned the family history inside out, but they’d found nothing. It was the two girls who would provide an opening in the case. He was certain of it.

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Marie.

  ‘Could you tell me again what happened when you went into the woods?’

  ‘Have you talked more with Helen?’ asked Marie, looking at him.

  Leif was once again struck by what a beauty she was growing into. He wondered how Helen felt about that. From his own daughter, he knew quite a bit about the dynamics of friendships between young girls, and it wasn’t always easy to be the invisible one next to the pretty one. Helen seemed quite plain beside the dazzling looks of Marie, and he was curious as to how that had affected their relationship. They were an odd pair in so many ways, it was hard to see what had drawn them together. Try as he might, he couldn’t understand it.

  Leif put down his pen. It was now or never. He looked at Marie’s parents.

  ‘I’d like to speak to Marie alone.’

  ‘Out of the question!’

  Lenita’s shrill voice echoed off the walls in the small interview room of the police station.

  ‘Sometimes a person’s memory is better if there’s not as much tension, and I think this situation is proving very stressful for Marie,’ said Leif calmly. ‘If I could ask her some questions about their walk in the woods, we might come up with information that would lead to a breakthrough in the investigation. And then this whole matter could be resolved in no time.’

  Larry rubbed one of the many tattoos on his arm as he glanced at his wife.

  ‘In our family, nothing good has ever come from separate conversations with the police,’ snorted Lenita. She turned to her husband: ‘Remember that time Krille came home with a black eye after the police took him to the station?’

  Her voice was growing more shrill by the minute.

  ‘He didn’t do anything. He was out having fun with his pals, and for no reason at all the police picked him up and took him in, and he came home with a black eye.’

  Leif sighed. He knew the incident she was talking about. It was true that Krille had been out having fun with his buddies. But he was drunk as a skunk, and when some guy started flirting with his girlfriend Krille went after him with a broken beer bottle. It took three officers to get the boy into the patrol car, and on the way to the holding cell he’d been throwing punches at the policemen so they’d had to use force to subdue him. That was how he’d ended up with a black eye. But Leif knew it would be useless to argue. Especially if he was to have any hope of getting Marie’s parents out of the room.

  ‘Most unfortunate,’ he said now. ‘If you’d like, I could look more closely into the matter for you. There might even be grounds for some sort of compensation. Payment for pain and suffering. But before I can do that, I need you to allow me to talk to Marie alone. She’s in good hands.’

  He gave them a big smile, noticing that the mention of compensation had made Lenita’s face light up.

  She turned to look at Larry.

  ‘Of course we should allow the police to have a few words with Marie alone. She’s a witness in a murder investigation, after all. I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn.’

  Larry shook his head.

  ‘I’m not sure—’

  Lenita stood up, cutting off any further discussion.

  ‘Come on, we need to let the police do their job. Then we can talk about the other matter as soon as they’re done here.’

  She took Larry by the arm and dragged him out of the room. She paused for a moment in the doorway.

  ‘Don’t disgrace yourself, Marie. You should try to be a little more like your brothers.’

  She looked at Leif.

  ‘The boys are going to do great things some day. But this girl has given me nothing but headaches and problems ever since she was born.’

  Then she left, closing the door behind her, and silence settled over the room. Marie was still sitting with her hands clasped on her lap and her chin resting on her chest. Slowly she raised her head. Her expression was unexpectedly dark.

  ‘We’re the ones who did it,’ she said in that husky voice of hers. ‘We killed her.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  James opened the fridge. He had to give Helen credit: she kept it well stocked and organized. He took out the butter and set it on the kitchen worktop. There was a glass next to the sink. Sam must have forgotten to put it away. James clenched his fist, disappointment flooding through him at the thought of the boy. Sam, who looked like a freak. Sam, who hadn’t managed to find a summer job, who couldn’t seem to do anything successfully.

  But the boy could shoot; that much James had to admit. On a good day, Sam was actually a better shot than he was. Yet Sam was probably going to spend the rest of his meaningless life sitting around and playing computer games.

  When Sam turned eighteen, James planned to throw him out. Helen could say what she liked, but he had no intention of supporting a grown man who was lazy and good-for-nothing. Then Sam would see how hard it was to find work with all that black make-up and dreary clothing he wore.

  Someone knocked on the door, and James gave a start. Who could that be?

  The sun came shining in when he opened the door, and James had to raise one hand to shade his eyes in order to see who it was.

  ‘Yes?’ he said.

  A man who looked to be about twenty-five stood on the front porch. He cleared his throat.

  ‘Are you James Jensen?’

  James frowned. What was this about? He took a step forward, and the other man immediately backed up. James frequently had that effect on people.

  ‘Yes, that’s me. What’s this all about?’

  ‘I’m a reporter from Expressen. And I’m wondering whether you have any comment about your wife’s name be
ing once again linked to a homicide investigation.’

  James stared at the man. He had no idea what this guy was on about.

  ‘What do you mean “again”? What are you saying? If you’re talking about the murder that my wife was unjustly accused of committing, we’ve had absolutely nothing to say about it for years. And you know that!’

  A blood vessel began throbbing at his temple. Why was somebody dredging up that old story again? For years they’d been plagued by requests for interviews, someone would show up wanting to ‘give Helen a chance to present her version of what happened’, but things had died down eventually. It had been at least a decade since they’d been bothered.

  ‘I’m talking about the fact that a little girl who lived on the same farm as Stella was found murdered this morning. The police held a press conference this afternoon, and your wife and Marie Wall were both mentioned.’

  What the hell?

  ‘So, I’m wondering what you think about Helen being considered a possible suspect again after thirty years. I know she has always claimed she was innocent. Is she home, by the way? If I could just have a few words with her as well, that would be great. It’s important to hear her side of the story, before people start rushing to judgement.’

  The blood vessel was throbbing harder. These damn hyenas, couldn’t they leave them alone? Were they going to descend on the house again, like they did when Helen’s parents lived here? KG had told him how the journalists used to sit in their cars with the headlights switched off. They had pursued the family relentlessly, knocking on the door and phoning. Until it was as if the house was under siege.

  James saw the reporter’s lips continuing to churn out words. He assumed the man was asking more questions, trying to persuade him to talk. But James wasn’t hearing a word. The only thing he heard was a loud roaring inside his head, and the only way to silence the sound was to make the mouth in front of him stop talking.

  He clenched his fists harder and took a step towards the reporter.

  They had stopped to have a swim after the morning meeting. They talked about Bill’s enthusiasm and laughed at the thought of the insane project in which they’d agreed to participate. Learning to sail. No one they knew had ever sailed or even been on board a sailboat. And now they were supposed to compete in a race in only a matter of weeks.

  ‘We’ll never do it!’ said Khalil, closing his eyes as they sat in the Jacuzzi.

  He loved heat. In Sweden the warmth was only on the outside; a cold gust of wind might sweep in at any moment and bring goosebumps to his skin. He missed the stifling, dry heat. The heat that never dissipated entirely, merely letting up a bit so that the evenings were blessedly cool. And the heat had a very specific scent. In Sweden the heat smelled of nothing at all. It was as empty and meaningless as the Swedes. But that was not something he dared say aloud.

  Karim was always quick to admonish him whenever he complained about Sweden. Or the Swedes. He said they should be grateful. This was their new homeland; they’d been given refuge here, and they were allowed to live in peace. He knew Karim was right. It was just so hard to like the Swedes. They radiated suspicion and looked at him as if he were of lower status. And it wasn’t only the racists. Those types were easy to deal with. They openly showed how they felt, and their words bounced off him. It was the ordinary Swedes who were more difficult to take. The ones who were basically good people, who considered themselves to be broad-minded and generous. The ones who read the news about the war in Syria and were shocked by how terrible the situation was, who gave money to aid organizations and donated to clothing drives. But they would never dream of inviting a refugee into their homes. Those were the people he would never get to know. So how was he supposed to get to know this new country? He couldn’t bring himself to call Sweden his ‘homeland’ the way Karim did. It was not a home. It was merely a country.

  ‘Hey, check out those girls,’ said Adnan, and Khalil turned to see who he meant.

  A blonde and two dark-haired girls about their own age were splashing noisily at one end of the swimming pool.

  ‘Shall we go talk to them?’ asked Adnan, nodding in their direction.

  ‘It’ll only cause trouble,’ said Khalil.

  During one of the Swedish lessons, Sture had discussed how to behave with Swedish girls. It was actually best not to talk to them at all. But Khalil couldn’t help thinking about nice it would be to meet a Swedish girl. Then he could learn more about this country and improve his spoken Swedish.

  ‘Come on, let’s go talk to them,’ said Adnan, tugging at his arm. ‘What could happen?’

  Khalil pulled his arm away.

  ‘Remember what Sture told us.’

  ‘Oh, that old fogey. What does he know?’

  Adnan climbed out of the Jacuzzi and dived into the swimming pool. With a few quick strokes, he swam over to the girls. Khalil reluctantly followed. This was not a good idea.

  ‘Hello!’ he heard Adnan call, and he realized he had no choice but to go along.

  At first the girls looked suspicious, but then they smiled and answered in English. Khalil relaxed. Maybe Adnan was right and Sture was wrong. The girls didn’t seem offended that they wanted to talk to them. They introduced themselves, saying they were staying in a holiday resort with their families. That’s where they’d met each other.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

  Khalil flinched.

  A man in his fifties came over to them.

  ‘Sorry, no Swedish,’ he said, throwing out his hands. All he wanted was to be far away from here.

  The blonde girl glared at the man and rattled off a few sentences in Swedish. Khalil understood from the way they were talking that he must be the girl’s father.

  ‘Leave the girls alone and go back where you came from!’

  The man was shooing them away, a man wearing swim trunks with the Superman logo, which would have been comical if the situation hadn’t felt so unpleasant.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Khalil, backing away.

  He didn’t dare look at Adnan. His hot temper often got him in trouble, and Khalil could almost feel the anger radiating from his friend.

  ‘We don’t need people like you here,’ said the man. ‘You’re nothing but trouble!’

  Khalil glanced at the man’s face, flushed with anger. He wondered what he would say if he knew they’d been out all night searching for the little girl named Nea. But that probably wouldn’t matter. People like that had already made up their minds.

  ‘Come on,’ he said now in Arabic, pulling Adnan away.

  They might as well leave. The blonde shrugged, looking apologetic.

  It was five thirty by the time Erica had finished discussing her notes on the Stella case at the police station. Patrik had noticed how worn out everybody looked. No one had had any sleep. After hesitating for a moment, he had ordered all his colleagues to go home for the night. It was better for them to be rested and alert the next day so they wouldn’t make any mistakes out of sheer fatigue, mistakes that might be difficult to undo later on. The same applied to himself. He couldn’t remember experiencing such longing for a good night’s sleep.

  ‘Don’t forget the children,’ said Erica as they drove to Fjällbacka.

  She smiled at him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

  ‘Darn, I thought I’d got away with it!’ he joked. ‘Couldn’t we “forget” them until tomorrow, leave them at Dan and Anna’s place for the night? What do you say? I’m completely knackered, and it’s been ages since we’ve had a whole night to ourselves without someone climbing into bed between us.’

  ‘I don’t think this is the right time to forget them,’ said Erica, smiling as she patted his cheek. ‘Why don’t you sleep in the guestroom tonight? I’ll take care of the kids so you can sleep.’

  Patrik shook his head. He hated sleeping without Erica. Besides, there was something so cosy about hearing the approach of little feet in the night, and then one or more of the chil
dren climbing in to cuddle up next to them. Especially now, when he needed to know his family were close by and safe. He was more than willing to give up a bit of sleep for that peace of mind. And considering how tired he was at the moment, they probably wouldn’t wake him anyway.

  They dropped by at Anna and Dan’s and picked up three happy kids who had clearly eaten too much sugar. They were all invited to stay for dinner, but after a quick glance at Patrik, Erica had declined. He didn’t know whether he even had enough energy to eat.

  ‘Pappa, Pappa, we had ice cream,’ said Maja happily from the back seat of the car. ‘And sweets. And cake.’

  She made sure her little brothers were properly strapped in. She seemed to feel that her parents weren’t capable of taking care of her brothers without her help.

  ‘Great, sounds like you’ve had something from all the food groups,’ he replied, rolling his eyes at Erica.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said, laughing. ‘Next time we’re babysitting for Dan and Anna, we’ll take our revenge and stuff their kids with sugar.’

  Oh, how Patrik loved to hear her laugh. In fact, if he was perfectly honest, he loved everything about her. Even her bad habits. Without them, Erica wouldn’t be the same. He’d felt so proud as she carefully and methodically went over all the research she’d done for her book. He would be the first to admit that, in all probability, she was far brighter than he was. She had a brilliant mind, and he couldn’t help but admire her dedication and professionalism. Sometimes he wondered how his life would have turned out if he hadn’t met Erica, but he always dismissed such thoughts. She was here, she was his, and they had three wonderful kids sitting in the back seat. He reached for her hand as he continued driving towards their home in Sälvik. She rewarded him with the smile that always made him feel warm inside.

  When they arrived home, the kids were practically bouncing off the walls from too many sweets. To get them to calm down before bedtime, Patrik and Erica decided to let them snuggle up on the sofa to watch a film. He was prepared for trouble, since choosing a film usually resulted in a battle between three strong-willed children. But apparently Maja had carried out high-level negotiations on the drive home, because she told her father in a sensible tone of voice: