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

by Camilla Lackberg

  ‘Nice camera,’ said Patrik, and Johannes nodded.

  ‘Yeah. It’s the latest Samsung model. The video function is really high quality.’

  ‘Hmm …’

  Gösta squinted as he focused on the video. The camera panned across the whole farmyard and over to the barn, then back to the yard and finally over to the farmhouse.

  ‘There!’ said Gösta, pointing at the image.

  Patrik pressed the pause button, but had to go back a ways since they’d already missed the sequence Gösta wanted to see. At last he was able to pause in the right place, and they both leaned closer to look at the display.

  ‘There,’ said Gösta, pointing.

  Patrik saw what he meant. And it cast everything in a new light.

  The Stella Case

  Life was so empty without Kate. Leif wandered about the house, not sure what to do with himself. All the years that had passed since they had laid his wife to rest had done nothing to ease his sense of loss. His loneliness actually seemed even worse. The children came to visit him – Viola dropped by practically every day. They did their best, but they had their own lives, families to look after and demanding jobs, it wasn’t right that they should be burdened with a grieving old man on top of all that. So he tried to put on a good face for them. He told them everything was fine, talked about how he spent his days taking walks, listening to the radio and solving crossword puzzles. And it was true, he did all those things. But still he missed Kate so much it took everything he had to keep going.

  He missed his job on the police force too. He missed feeling he had a purpose in life.

  Now that he had so much time on his hands, he’d begun to wonder about certain things, both major and minor. About people. About crimes. About things that had been said over the years. And about things that had not been said.

  But above all, he thought about the Stella case. Which was actually rather strange. He’d been so convinced those two girls were guilty. But Kate had sown doubt in his mind; she had always questioned their account of what happened. And towards the end of her life, it became increasingly clear that she had been plagued by doubt. Just as he was now.

  At night when sleep refused to come, he thought about every word, every statement, every detail. And the more he thought about the case, the more he sensed that something wasn’t right. Something had fallen between the cracks, and his eagerness to solve the case, to give the families closure, had meant he’d never looked into what that might be.

  But he could no longer ignore his failure. He still didn’t know the how or where or when. But he knew he’d made a terrible mistake. And somewhere out there, Stella’s killer was still on the loose.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ‘Rita, honey?’

  Mellberg knocked on the door for the fifth time, but the only reply was a lengthy tirade of Spanish swear words. At least, that’s what he thought he was hearing. He had only a passing knowledge of the Spanish language, but judging by Rita’s tone of voice, they were not words of endearment.

  ‘Sweetheart? Sweetie? Rita, honey?’

  He made his voice as gentle as he could and knocked again. Then he sighed. Why did it have to be so hard to apologize?

  ‘Sweetie, could you let me come in, please? Sooner or later we need to talk. Think about Leo. He’s going to miss his grandpa.’

  Mellberg heard a few grumbling noises, but no more harangues. It seemed he’d hit upon the right approach at last.

  ‘Couldn’t we have a little talk? I miss you. I miss all of you.’

  He held his breath. Complete silence inside. Then he heard the lock turn. Relieved, he picked up his bag from the floor and cautiously stepped inside when Rita opened the door. He knew it was possible he might still get hit over the head. Rita’s hot temper could make things fly through the air. But this time she settled for standing there with her arms crossed, glaring at him.

  ‘I’m sorry. I know my behaviour was reckless and stupid,’ Mellberg said, and he had the satisfaction of seeing Rita’s mouth fall open.

  This was probably the first time she’d ever heard him apologize.

  ‘I heard what happened,’ said Rita. The tone of her voice was still harsh and angry. ‘Do you realize that what you did may have led to the fire?’

  ‘Uh, er, yes, I know. And I feel really bad about that.’

  ‘Have you learned anything from all this?’ she asked, studying him intently.

  He nodded. ‘Yes, Rita. And I’ll do anything to put things right.’

  ‘Good! You can start by packing up everything I’ve cleared out of the bedroom.’

  ‘Pack up? I thought you said—’

  Panic surged inside him, and it must have been evident in his expression, because Rita quickly explained:

  ‘I cleared out some of your clothes. And some of mine. To give to the refugees from the centre. You can pack up what’s lying on the bed and then follow me. From what I’ve heard, Bill Andersson is doing a fantastic job getting people to help the refugees who lost their homes.’

  ‘What are you giving—’ asked Mellberg, but he stopped himself in time. Even he understood this was not the time to raise objections. And if some of his favourite clothes had slipped in, he could always discreetly slip them back in the wardrobe.

  As if reading his mind, Rita said: ‘If you put back even one garment that I’ve cleared out, you’ll have to sleep somewhere else again tonight! And every night from now on.’

  Bloody hell. Rita’s always a step ahead of me, he thought as he headed for the bedroom. The pile on the bed was awfully big. And on the very top was his favourite shirt. He could admit it had seen better days, but it was still wearable, and he doubted anybody ever noticed the holes here and there. He picked it up and glanced over his shoulder. Maybe she wouldn’t notice if—

  ‘Give it here!’

  Rita was standing behind him, holding an open bin bag in her hand. With a sigh, he placed the shirt in the sack, and then added the rest of the clothes. Her pile was only half as big as his, but he realized it wouldn’t be a good idea to point that out. He filled two bin bags, tied them closed and set them down in the front hall.

  ‘Okay, let’s go,’ said Rita, coming out of the kitchen with two shopping bags filled with groceries.

  He followed her out the door, setting down the bags so he could lock up behind them.

  ‘By the way,’ she said, ‘we’ll be having guests staying with us as of tomorrow.’

  ‘Guests?’ he said, wondering who she could have invited now.

  Rita was at times too generous.

  ‘Karim’s children are going to stay with us until he’s discharged from hospital. It’s the least we can do, considering all the trouble you’ve caused.’

  Mellberg opened his mouth to say something, but immediately closed it again and picked up the bags. Sometimes it was best to choose his battles.

  ‘Hi, Bill. What an amazing turnout!’ said Paula, looking around the community centre.

  More and more people had arrived, and the old building was bustling with activity. Everywhere she looked there were Swedes and refugees chatting, and the sound of laughter rose to the ceiling.

  ‘I know. I’ve never seen anything like it!’ said Bill. ‘Everyone’s been so generous! So involved! Who would have thought it?’

  ‘Well, it looks as if at least something good has come of this,’ said Paula sternly.

  ‘You’re right. Of course we’re all thinking about those who are still in hospital.’ He bit his lip.

  Bill’s wife, Gun, came over and hooked her arm through his.

  ‘Have you heard anything more?’ she asked.

  Paula shook her head. ‘Last we heard, they’re planning to keep Karim and Amina’s children for observation until tomorrow. Karim will need to stay a couple more days because his hands were badly burned, and Amina … well, the doctors don’t know yet whether she’s going to pull through.’

  Gun clutched Bill’s arm even harder. ‘If th
ere’s anything we can do …’

  ‘You’re already doing more than anyone would have believed possible,’ said Martin, looking around the room.

  ‘I’ve told Karim the children are welcome to stay with me,’ said Paula.

  ‘That’s so good of you,’ said Gun. ‘But if it doesn’t work out, we’d be happy to take them.’

  ‘No, no,’ said Paula. ‘Leo is going to be thrilled to have playmates, and my mother will be helping to look after them when I’m at work.’

  Martin cleared his throat. ‘We need to have a word with some of Karim and Amina’s neighbours. To find out if they heard or saw anything. Do you happen to know who …?’

  He glanced around at all the people.

  ‘Of course,’ said Bill. ‘I’m beginning to figure out who’s who, and that couple you see over there lived next door. Why don’t you start with them, and I’ll find out who else you should talk to.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Paula.

  She and Martin made their way through the crowd to speak to the couple Bill had pointed out. But the conversation proved to be disappointing. As were their talks with other residents of the refugee centre. No one had seen or heard anything. Everyone had been asleep in bed until they were woken by screams and smoke. When they dashed outside, everything was chaos.

  Paula sat down on a chair in the corner, feeling a growing sense of hopelessness. Would they ever catch the person who set the fire? Martin sat down next to her and began talking about what they needed to do next. Suddenly he stopped mid-sentence. Paula saw who he was looking at, and a big smile spread across her face.

  ‘Is that …?’

  She gave Martin a poke in the side, and he nodded. He didn’t need to reply. The crimson on his cheeks was telling enough, and Paula smiled even more.

  ‘She’s cute.’

  ‘Oh, be quiet,’ he said, blushing even more.

  ‘So when are you taking her out?’

  ‘Saturday,’ said Martin without taking his eyes off the woman and her child.

  ‘What’s her name?’ asked Paula.

  She looked very nice. She had lovely eyes, although she had the stressed expression of a toddler’s parent – the same look Paula now saw every time she looked at herself in the mirror.

  ‘Mette,’ said Martin curtly. His face was now so red it nearly matched his hair.

  ‘Martin and Mette,’ said Paula. ‘That has a nice ring to it.’

  ‘Cut it out,’ he said, standing up when Mette glanced in their direction.

  ‘Wave to her,’ said Paula.

  ‘No, no,’ said Martin nervously, but Mette was already on her way over, carrying her son in her arms.

  ‘Hi!’ she said happily.

  ‘Hi!’ replied Paula.

  ‘It’s so awful, what happened,’ said Mette, shaking her head. ‘How could anyone be so evil as to do something like that? With children living there, and everything.’

  ‘Yes, it never ceases to amaze me what people are capable of,’ Paula said.

  ‘Do you know who did it?’ Mette looked at Martin, who blushed again.

  ‘No, not yet. We’ve been talking with some of the refugees, but unfortunately nobody saw anything.’

  ‘Then it might just end up in the statistics as one more burned refugee centre,’ said Mette.

  Neither Paula nor Martin replied. They were afraid she was right. At the moment they had no evidence to go on. All across Sweden, refugee centres had been set on fire, and in most cases no one had been arrested. There was a good chance the same thing would happen here.

  ‘We came over to donate some of Jon’s old toys,’ said Mette, kissing her son’s cheek. ‘We have to go now, but I’ll see you tomorrow evening, right?’

  ‘Yes, absolutely!’ said Martin. Even his throat was crimson.

  He waved to Mette and Jon as they made their way to the door, and Paula also raised her hand to wave.

  ‘You definitely have my approval!’ she said with a grin, and Martin sighed.

  Then it was his turn to grin.

  ‘Hey, looks like Bertil has had his sins forgiven …’

  Paula glanced towards the door and rolled her eyes when she saw her mother and Mellberg come in carrying two grocery bags and two bulging bin bags.

  ‘I thought he’d be in the doghouse for at least a week this time,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Mamma is too nice … But I suppose he doesn’t mean to cause trouble. Not really.’

  Martin grinned. ‘I wonder who’s being too nice now.’

  Paula didn’t reply.

  Sam ignored Jessie’s first five text messages, but then he had to reply. He wasn’t really angry. He understood her. If he hadn’t known Vendela and the others so well, he might have reacted the same way. He was actually more worried than angry. Worried about what they were planning. Worried Jessie would get hurt.

  For a few minutes Sam simply sat there, holding his mobile. Then he texted:

  Meet me in the woods behind my house. By the big oak tree. You can’t miss it.

  After sending the text, he went downstairs. James was sitting at his desk, staring at the computer screen. He glanced up when Sam came in, with the same furrow between his brows that always appeared whenever he looked at his son.

  ‘What do you want?’ he asked.

  ‘I was thinking of doing a little target practice. Could I borrow the Colt?’

  ‘All right,’ said James, getting up and going over to the gun cabinet. ‘I was thinking we could do some target practice this afternoon.’

  ‘I’m going to meet Jessie.’

  ‘So you shoot with your girlfriend?’

  James stood in front of the cabinet so Sam couldn’t see him enter the combination. The lock clicked and he opened the door.

  ‘She’s not like the others,’ said Sam.

  ‘Okay.’ James turned around and handed Sam the gun. ‘You know the rules. Bring it back in the same condition you received it.’

  Sam merely nodded.

  He stuck the gun in his belt and left the room. He could feel his father’s gaze burning the back of his neck.

  When Sam walked past the kitchen, he saw his mother standing at the worktop, as usual.

  ‘Where are you going?’ she asked. Her voice was shrill and quavering.

  ‘Target practice,’ he said, avoiding her gaze.

  They were for ever circling around each other, both of them afraid to speak. Both of them afraid that some word might prove too much. His mother had mentioned that Erica Falck wanted to talk to him, but he hadn’t yet decided what to do. What he wanted to tell her. Or could tell her.

  The air smelled of newly mown grass as he reached the back of their property. He’d mowed the grass last night. James made him mow it three times a week.

  He glanced to the right and saw the barn next to Nea’s house. He’d didn’t particularly care for young children. Most of them were wild with snot running from their nose. But Nea had been different. She’d been like a smiling ray of sunshine. He felt his stomach clench, and he had to look away. He didn’t want to think about it.

  When he entered the woods, his shoulders relaxed. Here he felt calm. Here no one cared what he looked like or how he talked. In the woods he could simply be Sam.

  He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, breathing through his nose. He smelled the leaves and pine needles, he heard birds singing and small animals rustling through the undergrowth. Sometimes he imagined he could even hear the beating wings of a butterfly or the sound of a beetle scuttling up a tree trunk. Slowly, very slowly, he spun around, keeping his eyes shut.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Sam gave a start and almost lost his balance. He opened his eyes.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said.

  Jessie merely smiled, and he felt a warm sensation spread through his chest.

  ‘That looks fun,’ she said, closing her eyes.

  She leaned her head back and slowly began spinning. She giggled and stumbled. Sam stepped forward to ca
tch her.

  He buried his nose in her hair, then put his arms around her, feeling her soft skin under his hands. He wished she would see herself the way he saw her. He wouldn’t change a single thing about her even if he could. The two of them were so alike. Broken inside. And no words could fix that.

  She looked at him with those lovely, serious eyes of hers.

  ‘Are you angry?’ she asked.

  He brushed a lock of hair out of her face.

  ‘No,’ he said, realizing he meant it. ‘I don’t want you to be disappointed, that’s all. Or hurt.’

  ‘I know,’ she said, hiding her face against his chest. ‘I know you’ve had a different kind of experience with Vendela than I have. But she was super nice when I went over to her house. I don’t think it’s an act.’

  Sam didn’t reply. He could feel his hands clench into fists. He knew what Vendela was like. And Nils and Basse too. He’d seen how much they enjoyed tormenting him.

  ‘I’m invited to a party at Basse’s house tomorrow night,’ said Jessie. ‘You’re welcome to come too.’

  Her eyes shone, and Sam wanted to scream at her not to go. But people had been bossing her around her whole life. She didn’t need him to start doing it too.

  ‘Be careful,’ he said, stroking her cheek.

  ‘I’ll be fine. But if you’re worried, you could come with me.’

  ‘I don’t want to see those guys, but you go ahead. I would never tell you what to do. You know that, don’t you?’

  He held her face between his hands and cautiously kissed her on the lips.

  As always, she took his breath away.

  ‘Come on!’ he said, taking her hand and pulling her along.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked, jogging to keep up with him.

  ‘I want to teach you something.’

  He stopped and pointed at the target fastened to a tree a short distance away.

  ‘Are you going to shoot?’ she asked.

  There was a gleam in her eyes that he’d never seen before.

  ‘You are too,’ he said.

  Jessie didn’t take her eyes off the gun when he removed it from his belt.