She paused to catch her breath and took a sip of coffee.
‘I don’t know whether you’ve heard,’ Erica hurried to interject, ‘but a little girl from the same farm where Stella lived has been murdered. And her body was found in the same place as Stella’s.’
‘Yes, I heard. Too dreadful.’
Harriet shivered, making her jewellery clink. She wore a wide gold chain necklace, heavy gold bracelets, and a discreet little Chanel brooch on her blouse. It was obvious from the way she carried herself that she had once been a model. Despite her age, she’d maintained her good posture, and her hair had been professionally coloured with blond highlights that hid any hint of grey. She looked closer to fifty than sixty. Erica sat up straighter. She had a tendency to slump like a sack of hay – an occupational hazard, the result of spending so many hours sitting in front of a computer.
Harriet refilled her cup with the weak coffee. Inwardly cringing at the prospect of having to drink it, Erica waited for Harriet to finish pouring and continue the conversation.
‘This latest murder only proves what I was saying: Helen is innocent. It can’t be a coincidence that a little girl dies right after Marie returns. She must be the one who did it.’
She fixed her gaze on Erica.
‘But why do you think Helen confessed?’ asked Erica. ‘Why would a thirteen-year-old girl confess to a murder she didn’t commit?’
Harriet took her time answering. She tugged nervously on her necklace as she stared at Carlsten, the stone fortress on Marstrand. When she turned to face Erica again, she had a strange look in her eyes.
‘Helen was a fragile girl. She’ll always be fragile. And KG spoiled her. We didn’t have any other children, and she was her father’s daughter. He protected her from everything and gave her anything she wanted. I have to admit, sometimes I felt a bit excluded. They could spend hours together, just the two of them. It was as if they had their own little world. I was also my father’s daughter when I was growing up, so I understood and didn’t try to interfere. But when Marie came into the picture, she was like a force that Helen couldn’t resist. I saw how fascinated she was with Marie. That girl was beautiful, and even at the age of thirteen she had a worldly air about her and … I’m not sure what to call it, but she had some sort of survival instinct. I think Helen, who was scared of everything, felt safe with Marie. Helen changed after they met. She withdrew from us. KG noticed it too, and he made an effort to spend more time with her. Neither of us thought they should be friends. After a while, we tried to keep them apart, but Fjällbacka is a small place and it’s hard to separate two people here. What were we supposed to do – keep her company in school all day long?’
Harriet kept on tugging at her necklace, which clinked against her tanned skin at the neckline of her blouse.
‘So why do you think Helen confessed? Was she afraid of Marie?’
Harriet’s reply had strayed from the original question, and Erica was determined to steer her back on track.
‘I think she wanted to go along with whatever Marie did. When the police told her Marie had confessed, she wanted to do the same. That’s how Helen was. Is. She never wants to go against the flow. When Marie later retracted her confession, Helen did too. But the damage had been done.’
Her voice quavered. She pushed a plate of cinnamon buns towards Erica.
‘Help yourself. They’re freshly baked. I bought them at the bakery this morning.’
Erica reached for a bun.
‘Thank goodness the girls couldn’t be sentenced to prison time. The Social Welfare system stepped in and determined what would be in their best interest. As you’d expect, that ghastly Wall family were deemed unsuitable guardians for Marie. But Helen was allowed to come home to us after a brief stay at a youth home. And quite right too. Nothing that happened was our fault, there was absolutely nothing wrong with the way Helen had been brought up or with our parenting methods. If she’d never met that miserable girl, none of this would ever have occurred.’
Her voice was becoming shrill again.
‘You moved away from Fjällbacka soon afterwards, didn’t you?’ asked Erica calmly.
Harriet nodded.
‘Naturally, it was unbearable for us to live there any longer, what with all the whispering and gossiping. It wasn’t nice, suddenly finding ourselves treated like pariahs. They even removed KG as chair of the Rotary Club. As if what happened was in any way his fault!’
She took a few deep breaths. The old wounds had clearly never healed completely. Erica noted that Harriet seemed more upset about her and KG’s fall from the social elite than about the trauma her daughter must have experienced.
‘But Helen chose to move back, didn’t she?’
‘Yes. I’ve never understood why. James, who bought the house from us, didn’t want to move away from Fjällbacka when he married Helen, and KG supported his decision, so what could I say?’
‘From what I understand, James and your husband were close friends. And Helen was very young when she married a man who was the same age as her father. How did you and your husband feel about the marriage?’
Erica leaned forward, eager to hear what Harriet would say. During the months she’d spent doing research for her book, she’d often wondered about this.
‘KG was thrilled. He and James were childhood friends, they’d grown up together in Fjällbacka, and KG had always admired him. So he encouraged the relationship right from the start. Personally, I didn’t see any harm in it. I’ve known James ever since KG and I got married, so he was more or less part of the family. When James brought up the matter right before Helen’s eighteenth birthday, we told him that it was up to Helen, but we had no objection to the marriage.’
Erica thought she caught something in Harriet’s expression that didn’t mesh with her words. Could the woman really have been so positively inclined towards a friend of the family, a man old enough to be her daughter’s father, when he suddenly began courting Helen and then married her? She didn’t buy it. There was something here that didn’t make sense, but she realized she wasn’t going to get anything more from Harriet on that subject, so she changed tack.
‘I’ve tried to contact Helen many times, but she has never replied. I don’t think she wants to be interviewed by me. It would be very valuable for the book, though, if I could hear Helen’s version of the story. Do you think you could persuade her?’
Harriet nodded.
‘Of course she’ll see you. I know she’s afraid that everything is going to be stirred up again, and I had the same thought myself at first. I thought talking to you would bring it all back. But then I realized this is the chance we’ve been waiting for, an opportunity to restore our reputation once and for all. Even after all this time, people still look at me askance, and year after year I feel more excluded from social events here on the island. And I have so much to offer!’
She swallowed hard.
‘So, yes, I’ll talk to Helen. I know she’ll see you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Erica.
‘I’ll ring her today,’ said Harriet, nodding decisively. ‘I don’t want her to miss out on this chance to clear our name.’
When Erica left, Harriet was still sitting on the terrace.
At midday it was always calm. People were out on the water or in town having lunch outdoors in the sunshine. They didn’t feel like walking up and down the aisles of the garden centre, looking at flowers and bushes when the heat was at its height. That suited Sanna fine. She felt happiest inside a greenhouse, so the shimmering heat from the sun at its zenith didn’t bother her, even though her head ached, as it always did in the morning. This pause in the day gave her a chance to tend to her plants. They were really soaking up water these days, and she made sure not to ignore even the smallest thirsty plant.
She also had time to set upright any pots that had been toppled by careless customers, and she could have a little chat with the hydrangeas and gossip with the roses. Cornelia could m
ind the cash register. The quality of summer hires varied from year to year, but Cornelia was a real gem.
If anyone ever asked Sanna who her closest friends were, she would have said they were her plants. Not that there was anyone else to choose from. She had a hard time letting anyone into her life. In secondary school she’d made clumsy attempts to become friends with some of the other students. She’d tried to do what she saw everyone else doing. Drink coffee together, talk about boys, have a light-hearted chat about the shoes she’d recently bought, or try a serious discussion about the greenhouse effect on the climate. She had tried to be normal. But she didn’t understand other people. It was a miracle she’d managed to get together with Niklas. Plants – now there was something she understood. Unlike people, they understood her. They were all the company she needed.
Gently she burrowed her face in a big lavender hydrangea, breathing in its fragrance. It was the best scent in the world. It made her soul feel calm, and for a brief moment she was able to relax. It pushed away all memories, all thoughts, and made room only for a quiet humming.
It was different when she was a child. Stella was the one who had loved the woods and always went there to play. Sanna had kept to the farm, avoiding the woods with all its strange scents.
After what happened to Stella, she’d had even less reason to seek out the woods. After what Helen and Marie had done.
Something stirred inside Sanna every time she thought about Marie. A need to take action. Thirty years of brooding and thinking had piled up, hardening into a rock-solid lump over the years. A pressure in her chest that got stronger with every passing day.
Soon she would have to do something about it.
‘Excuse me, can you tell me where the herbs are?’
Sanna gave a start, her face still buried in the hydrangea. She looked up. A woman with a small child impatiently tugging at her hand was giving her an enquiring look.
‘Let me show you,’ said Sanna, leading the way towards the section she’d reserved for herbs and vegetables.
She had already guessed the woman was a basil type. She was never wrong.
Her life had been like a rollercoaster for many years, but at last Anna felt she had solid ground under her feet. Even so, knowing how fast it could all fall apart, she was scared to take the next step. The years she’d spent married to Lucas had fundamentally changed her. His kicks and punches had eroded her self-confidence to the point that, years later, she was still struggling to find her way back to who she used to be.
Before she met Lucas, she had believed herself to be invincible. Largely thanks to Erica. As an adult, she realized that her sister had been over-protective and had spoiled her, perhaps in an attempt to compensate for everything they’d never received from their parents.
Anna had long ago forgiven their mother, Elsy. It had been painful to find out the secret she’d lived with, yet Anna was glad Erica had discovered the bloodstained garment in the attic of their childhood home. Because of that, they had gained a new family member. Both she and Erica tried to visit their half-brother, Göran, as often as they could.
There’s a reason for everything, thought Anna as she overtook an old tractor. The sun was blinding, so she reached for her sunglasses without taking her eyes off the road. She’d never been a particularly daring driver, but since the accident she was more cautious than ever. Especially when she could hardly fit behind the wheel because of her bulging stomach. Presumably she’d have to give up driving pretty soon. Dan had offered to be her chauffeur today, but she had firmly but politely declined. This was something she wanted to do on her own. She didn’t want anyone interfering. She would make her own decision.
Anna allowed herself to regard this short drive as a relaxing interlude from her daily chores at home. In many ways the summer holidays were a wonderful invention – for the children. Not always for the adults though. At least, not when she was feeling so tired, sweaty, and hugely pregnant. She loved the kids, but trying to keep them occupied all day required a real effort, and since there was such a big age gap between her kids and Dan’s, they had to put up with everything from childish squabbles to teenage outbursts. In addition, she had a hard time saying no whenever Erica and Patrik asked for help. Dan was forever scolding her, saying she needed to think about herself. But she was extremely fond of her sister’s three children, and she also saw it as a chance to repay Erica for everything she’d done for her when they were growing up. Babysitting Maja and the twins once in a while seemed the least she could do, no matter what Dan said. She would always be available to help her big sister.
Anna was playing a Vinyl 107 CD, and she enjoyed singing along. After having kids, she’d completely lost track of the latest music. She knew that Justin Bieber was popular, and she could hum along to some of Beyoncé’s tunes. Apart from that, she was clueless. But when Vinyl played ‘Broken Wings’ with Mr Mister, she would sing along at the top of her lungs.
In the midst of the refrain, she stopped singing abruptly, and swore. Damn it. The car approaching in the oncoming lane was all too familiar. Erica. Anna would recognize her old Volvo estate car anywhere. She considered ducking down behind the wheel but realized Erica would recognize her car. Yet she knew that Erica was hopeless when it came to cars and could hardly tell the difference between a Toyota and a Chrysler, so she was hoping her sister wouldn’t react when she saw a red Renault rushing past.
Her mobile rang. It was fastened to the dashboard with a magnet. Shit, shit, shit. The call was from Erica. So she must have recognized her car. Anna sighed, but since she didn’t like talking on the phone while she was driving, she had a little while to work out what she would say. She didn’t like lying to her sister. She’d done that far too often over the years. But right now she had no choice.
The child’s swing was swaying back and forth, even though Gösta couldn’t feel the slightest breeze in the oppressive heat. He wondered when Nea had last used it. Gravel crunched under his feet. The hopscotch lines were almost gone.
His stomach clenched as he went up to the door, which opened before he could knock.
‘Come in,’ said Bengt.
Bengt gave him a slight smile, but Gösta could sense the aggression below the surface.
Gösta had phoned ahead to warn them he was coming. They were all sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for him. He surmised that Peter’s parents would probably be staying at least until after the funeral, whenever that might be. Until the post-mortem had been completed, Nea could not be laid to rest. Or maybe Eva and Peter would choose cremation. He put the thought out of his mind along with the images it conjured, and said yes to a cup of coffee. Then he sat down next to Peter and placed a hand on his shoulder.
‘How are you holding up?’ he asked, nodding his thanks to Eva when she set a piping hot cup of coffee in front of him.
‘We’re taking it second by second, minute by minute,’ Eva said quietly as she sat down across from him, next to her father-in-law.
‘The doctor gave them some sleeping tablets, and that helps,’ said Peter’s mother. ‘At first they didn’t want to take them, but I persuaded them to try. It won’t help matters if they don’t get any sleep.’
‘Yes, that’s probably a good idea,’ said Gösta. ‘Make use of all the help you can get.’
‘Have you heard anything? Is that why you’re here?’
Peter looked at him with eyes that seemed devoid of all life.
‘No, I’m afraid not,’ said Gösta. ‘But we’re working nonstop and doing everything we can. I’m here to find out if anyone could possibly have slipped inside the house while you were sleeping. Did you notice any windows open?’
Eva looked at him.
‘It’s been so hot, and we always sleep with the windows open. But they were fastened on the inside. Everything was as usual.’
‘Okay,’ said Gösta. ‘The last time I was here, you said the front door was closed and locked. But maybe there are other ways for someone to get in. A ba
sement door, for example, that you might have forgotten to lock?’
Peter slapped his forehead and pointed at the door.
‘Oh my God, I forgot to mention it to you last time! We have a security system. We switch it on every night before we go to bed. We once had a break-in at our flat when we lived in Uddevalla. That was before we had Nea. Someone tossed a tear-gas canister through the letter box, and broke down the door. We didn’t have any valuables worth stealing, but it didn’t feel safe knowing that somebody had the nerve to come into our flat when we were home and asleep in bed. Since then, we’ve always had a security system. It was one of the first things we installed when we moved here. It seemed a wise precaution, given the remote location …’
His voice faded away, and Gösta knew what he was thinking. Danger had encroached nevertheless. The security system had undoubtedly made them feel protected, but it hadn’t done any good.
‘So you switched it on when you went to bed?’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘And did you switch it on again before you left?’
‘No,’ said Peter, shaking his head. ‘It was morning and bright daylight, so …’
He looked up, realizing what Gösta was saying.
‘So Nea couldn’t have left the house before six thirty.’
‘Exactly. She must have disappeared after that time, otherwise the alarm would have sounded. Does anyone else know the code for turning off the alarm?’
The Girl in the Woods (Patrik Hedstrom and Erica Falck, Book 10) Page 24