After the vows were said and they were declared husband and wife, Anna turned to look at Erica. And for the first time Erica saw something in her restless sister’s eyes that she’d never seen before. She looked calm. And Erica realized Anna was wordlessly trying to tell her that she could let go now, that she no longer needed to worry. Anna had at last found peace.
The sun was still warm as Marie reclined in the Adirondack chair on the dock. The afternoon sun was making her feel drowsy, as usual. Jessie had gone out an hour ago, so the house was deserted. She was going over to see Sam again, and tomorrow there was some sort of party. Marie was amazed Jessie was going to a party. Things seemed to be improving for her daughter.
Marie was drinking more than usual, but it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be needed on set again until tomorrow afternoon. Greedily she drank the last drops in her glass and then reached for the bottle on the small table. Empty. She tried to get up but immediately dropped back in the chair.
Finally she managed to stand up. Holding the empty bottle, she tottered into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and took out a cold bottle of champagne. The third bottle of the evening. But she needed it to dull the pain.
She’d thought that if she told the police everything, Helen would have to come out of hiding and tell the truth. Instead Helen had once again rejected her, refusing to confirm what she’d said about the two of them.
Marie was surprised that it could still hurt so much to be dismissed and humiliated that way. She had spent thirty years forgetting. She had lived well, shunning the use of brakes, limitations, or blinkers, and in the process she had achieved a level of success that Helen could only dream of. And all the while Helen had hunkered down here in her dreary life with her boring husband and her peculiar son. She’d remained in Fjällbacka where people whispered behind your back if you had a glass of wine on a Tuesday or tinted your hair a brighter shade than a lacklustre ash-blond.
How could Helen reject her?
Marie tumbled into her chair, spilling champagne on her hand, which she licked off. Then she poured herself another glass, adding some peach juice. She was drunk enough for her body to feel comfortably lethargic. She thought about what she’d said to that ginger-haired police officer, about Jessie being a mistake. It was true; she’d never planned to have a child. She’d taken every possible precaution so she wouldn’t end up with a kid. And yet she got pregnant. All because of some short, fat slob of producer. A married man, naturally. All of them were.
She had hated being pregnant and had seriously believed she would die in childbirth. The baby was sticky, red, cranky, and possessed of a voracious hunger. She’d relied on countless nannies, and then sent Jessie off to boarding school as soon as possible. She’d hardly had anything to do with the child at all.
She wondered what would happen to Jessie. According to the settlement, Marie received monthly payments from the fat producer that would continue until Jessie turned eighteen. At that point she would serve no further purpose in Marie’s life. She tried to picture a life without Jessie. She welcomed the solitude and freedom. People were nothing more than disappointments. Love was nothing more than a disappointment.
It would be only a matter of time before the newspapers found out about her and Helen. She had no idea how news could spread so fast here; it was as if everybody shared some sort of collective consciousness. News, information, gossips, facts, lies – everything spread with the speed of the wind.
She wasn’t sure it would be such a bad thing. These days it was actually considered cool. In artist and actor circles, it had could enhance a career if it came out you’d slept with someone of the same gender. It would give her brand a new edge, a sense that she was keeping up with the times. The film investors would be cheering. A controversial star was a financial jackpot. First all the press about the murders. Something taboo, dark, and dangerous. That was always enticing. Then the love story. And the twist. Two young girls forced apart by an uncomprehending adult world. So banal. So dramatic. So effective.
Marie held up her nearly empty glass. The bubbles seductively danced before her eyes. This was the only thing that had stood by her side all these years. Her constant companion.
Again she reached for the bottle. She intended to keep drinking until dark fell and the alcohol had drowned out all her thoughts. About Helen and Jessie. About what she’d had, and about what she’d never had.
‘Hello?’
Mellberg stepped away and covered his ear with one hand. There was such a din he could hardly hear.
‘Yes?’ he said, trying to work out what the person was saying on the phone.
He moved further down the corridor and finally the reception was good enough that he could hear his contact at Expressen.
‘Have you received any tips? We’ve been inundated with calls. Everyone claims to recognize the voice. Everybody from the postman to my neighbour. What? A guy who gave them a ride? When? What? Talk louder!’
He listened intently. Then he ended the call and went back into the restaurant. He found Patrik sitting on a sofa talking to a woman who looked as if she’d passed her expiry date and also seemed to have helped herself to a generous amount of wine.
‘Hedström. Could I have a word with you?’
Patrik gave Mellberg a grateful look and excused himself.
‘Who was that old crone?’
‘I’m not sure. Somebody related to my maternal grandmother’s sister-in-law, or something like that. There are a lot of people here I didn’t even know were part of the family.’
‘That’s the worst part about weddings, and why I’d never dream of getting married,’ said Mellberg. ‘Rita can beg and plead all she likes, it’s never going to happen. Certain souls are too free to be shackled.’
‘So, you had something important to tell me?’ Patrik interjected.
They had gone over to the bar and were leaning against the counter.
‘I got a call from Expressen. A man phoned with some very … interesting information. The night before we got the anonymous tip about Karim, a man gave three teenagers a lift from Fjällbacka. Two boys and a girl. He dropped them off at the refugee centre. And he thought he heard them sniggering about something they planned to do. He didn’t take it seriously. At least not at the time. But now, after what’s been reported in the newspapers, he has begun to wonder.’
‘Okay, that sounds interesting,’ said Patrik, nodding.
‘Wait,’ said Mellberg. ‘It gets better. He recognized one of the boys. It was Bill’s son.’
‘Bill? Sailor Bill?’
‘Yup. Apparently the man’s son had taken Bill’s sailing class, and he recognized the boy.’
‘What do we know about him?’ asked Patrik, holding up two fingers to order beer from the bartender. ‘Is it plausible?’
‘So we’re not going to do anything about it tonight?’ asked Mellberg, pointing at the beers.
‘No, not tonight,’ Patrik confirmed. ‘But on Monday, I’d like to have a talk with those kids. Want to come along?’
Mellberg glanced around. Then he pointed at himself in surprise.
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you,’ said Patrik, taking a couple of swigs from his beer.
‘You never ask me to go with you. You usually ask Martin. Or Gösta. Or Paula.’
‘Well, I’m asking you now. You were the one who sorted this out. I might not have gone about it in the same way, but it worked. So I’d like to have you along.’
‘By God, of course I’ll go!’ said Mellberg. ‘You might need to have someone along with a little experience.’
‘Definitely,’ said Patrik, laughing.
Then he turned serious.
‘Paula told me about Karim and the flat. I just want to say that I think that was bloody well done.’
He raised his glass.
‘Oh, er,’ said Mellberg. He raised his glass in return. ‘Rita insisted. And you know what they say: “Happy wife, happy life!”’
&nbs
p; Bohuslän 1672
Master Anders picked up the bottle of alcohol. He pulled out the cork, and Elin began to pray. She feared that God had abandoned her, but she could not stop praying.
The liquid was poured over her back, and she shuddered as it cooled her skin. But now she knew what was about to happen. She had ceased fighting and struggling, since that merely served to flay the skin from her wrists. She took a deep breath when she heard the sound of the flint and smelled the flame. She screamed at the top of her lungs when her back was set alight.
When the fire eventually went out, she merely whimpered, sensing that unconsciousness was mercifully beginning to dim her mind. She hung from the ceiling like a piece of meat. All that was human about her was seeping away. The only thing she could think about was the pain and trying to breathe, just breathe.
When the door opened she knew without being able to see that it was Lars Hierne coming back to hear whether she was ready to confess. Soon she could bear no more.
But the voice she heard belonged to someone else. It was a voice she knew all too well.
‘Oh, dear God!’ said Preben, and a wisp of hope flickered in Elin’s heart.
Surely he would relent when he saw her like this. Naked and desecrated and subjected to the most horrifying torment.
‘Preben,’ she managed to say, trying to turn her head in his direction, but the chain swung her the other way. ‘Help … me.’
Her voice broke, but she knew he heard her. His breathing was rapid and shuddering, but he said not a word. After a silence that lasted too long, he said:
‘I am here as your vicar, to counsel you to confess to the crime for which you have been sentenced. If you confess to your deeds of witchcraft, you will then atone for your crime, and I promise to personally see to your burial. But you must confess.’
As the words sank in and she heard the anxious tone of his voice, it was as if all sense left her. With a hoarse croaking sound, she slipped into insanity as she hung from the chain, burned and defiled. She laughed and laughed until the door finally closed. She had made her decision. She had no intention of confessing to something she had not done.
A day and a night later, Elin Jonsdotter confessed that she was guilty of witchcraft and carrying out the devil’s work. Master Anders’s skills had proved too much for her. He had tied weights to her feet and placed her face-up on a bed of nails; he had used a steel file between her fingers and crushed her thumbs in a vice; he had stuck pieces of wood under the nails of her fingers and toes. After that Elin could stand no more.
Her sentence was confirmed by the court in Uddevalla and by the Göta court of appeals. She was a witch and was condemned to death. First she would be decapitated and then her body would be burned at the stake.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
‘You need to eat something,’ said Sam.
He opened the fridge and looked inside. Jessie was sitting at the kitchen table. She shrugged.
‘I’ll make us some sandwiches.’
He got out the butter, cheese, and ham. He took some bread from the breadbox and began making the sandwiches. He put two on a plate and set it in front of Jessie. Then he poured her a glass of O’boy chocolate milk.
‘O’boy is for kids,’ she said.
‘O’boy is good.’
He looked at her as she sat leaning over the table, eating a sandwich. She was so beautiful that it hurt. He was prepared to follow her to the ends of the earth and back. He only hoped she felt the same way about him.
‘You’re not having second thoughts?’
Jessie shook her head. ‘We can’t back out now.’
‘We need to double-check that we have everything we need,’ he said. ‘It has to be perfect. It has to be … elegant. Beautiful.’
Jessie nodded and ate the rest of the second sandwich.
Sam sat down next to her and pulled her close. He ran his finger along her jaw and then touched her lips. There was no outward sign that her body had once been covered with black ink, but inside was a different matter. There was only one way to wash it all away. He would help her do that. And at the same time he would wash away the blackness that was clinging to him.
‘What’s the time?’ she asked.
He glanced at his watch.
‘We should leave in half an hour. But almost everything is ready. And I’ve taken care of the guns.’
‘So how does it feel?’ she asked, pulling up her hood. ‘Does it feel good?’
Sam stood up and took a long moment to think about it. In his mind he pictured James’s surprised face.
Then he grinned.
‘It feels fucking great.’
The music was pounding. With an annoyed expression, Sanna went upstairs and yanked open the door. Vendela and Nils were sitting on the bed and flew apart when they saw her.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ shouted Vendela. ‘Can’t I have any privacy in my own room?’
‘Turn down the music. And from now on, leave the door open!’
‘Are you crazy?’
‘Turn down the music and leave the door open, otherwise you can forget about getting a ride to Tanumshede.’
Vendela opened her mouth to say something but then changed her mind. For a moment Sanna thought she almost looked relieved.
‘Is Basse going too?’ she asked.
Vendela shook her head.
‘We don’t hang out with him any more,’ said Nils.
‘Oh? Why not?’
Nils suddenly looked serious.
‘People change. People grow and move on. That’s all part of becoming an adult. Right, Sanna?’
He tilted his head to one side. Then he glanced at Vendela and smiled at her. Vendela seemed to hesitate before smiling back.
Sanna turned away to go back into the hall. She’d never liked Nils. Basse might be slightly stupid, but he seemed nice enough. Whereas there was nothing nice about Nils. It was hard to believe that Bill and Gun could have raised a child who was the very opposite of them in every way; they were such kind, considerate people. The sort of people who’d do anything to help.
She didn’t like Vendela hanging out with him. And today she got the feeling Vendela didn’t especially want to be with Nils either.
‘Turn down the music. Leave the door open. We’re going in ten minutes.’
‘Do you know how to drive?’ asked Jessie as Sam aimed the keys at the car and pressed the button to unlock it.
He opened the boot and put the package inside.
‘Mamma taught me. We’ve driven around the farm.’
‘But that’s not the same thing as driving on the road, is it?’ she asked.
‘What do you suggest? Do you want us to take the bus?’
Jessie shook her head. He was right, of course. Besides, what did it matter?
‘Do we have everything?’
‘I think so,’ said Sam.
‘Did you leave the USB stick in the computer?’
‘Yeah. It’s impossible to miss.’
‘What about petrol?’
‘We’ve got all we need.’ He closed the boot and gave her a smile. ‘Don’t worry. We’ve thought of everything.’
‘Okay,’ she said and opened the passenger-side door.
Sam got in behind the wheel and started up the car. He looked calm and confident as he sat there, and Jessie relaxed. She turned on the radio and searched for a channel playing happy music. She found some old Britney Spears tune, it wasn’t what she’d have chosen, but it was cheerful and upbeat, and today she didn’t really care. She closed her eyes and felt the wind ruffling her hair and caressing her cheeks. She was free. After all these years she was finally free. Free to be who she wanted to be.
Everything was set, planned, and arranged. Sam had carefully sketched it all out in his notebook, and he’d thought of every contingency. He’d spent hours in his room thinking about this particular evening, and he’d googled anything he didn’t know. It turned out it wasn’t all that difficul
t to work out how to do the greatest possible damage.
The destruction would be cleansing; it would reset the balance. Because they had all been participants, each in their own way – everyone who had remained silent all these years and looked on without saying anything. Everyone who had laughed and pointed, who had joined in with the back-slapping and shouting. Even those who had protested, but gone about it so quietly that no one would hear; they just wanted to feel they were good people, they didn’t really give a damn about anyone else.
They too deserved to suffer some sort of consequences.
They arrived early. Inside the building, preparations were under way for the evening disco. No one noticed them. It wasn’t hard to unload the car and hide what they needed without being seen. The jerrycans of petrol were heavy, but they each took one and shoved them in the bushes, pulling branches in front to hide them from view. The approaching twilight would help to conceal everything.
Sam dealt with the exits. He’d thought about this for a long time before deciding on a simple solution. Big padlocks. Of course they could always smash the windows, but he didn’t think anybody would be that enterprising, or daring. They were all such cowards.
Sam and Jessie settled down to wait in the car. They didn’t talk, just held hands. He loved the warmth of her hand in his. He would miss that. But it was about the only thing he would miss. It hurt too much. Life hurt too much.
Finally people began arriving. Sam and Jessie stared out the windscreen, studying who was there. They wouldn’t begin until the most important players were in place.
At last they saw them. First Vendela and Nils. Then a while after that, Basse showed up. The trio seemed to have disbanded. Sam leaned towards Jessie and kissed her. Her lips felt dry and tense, but they softened at his touch.
The kiss didn’t last long. They were ready to start. Everything had been said, everything had been done.
The Girl in the Woods (Patrik Hedstrom and Erica Falck, Book 10) Page 63