Toward the end of his stroll, Martin crossed the bridge from the Old Town to the mainland and took a walk along Strandvägen. There was a quay wall here, and a number of boats of various sizes were either moored there or setting sail for the Baltic Sea. The promenade itself was lined with large trees, and the other side of the street featured a row of strikingly lovely nineteenth-century buildings, each with a unique design but all blending together: their height and style were perfectly harmonized, and everything looked very well maintained.
From these impressions alone, Martin decided to spend a few more days in Stockholm. Of course, his search for Liv was the other reason. Up to now, he had had no luck with that, but after his phone call with Jürgen, he had driven to Liv’s Stockholm address, which his GPS had found right away. The house, which could easily be called a villa, was located north of Stockholm in an area with huge plots of land and a number of ostentatious homes and small castles. The villa itself had its own access road and was three stories high, with numerous small oriel windows and balconies and a gorgeous gable roof. Although the house was constructed of wood, it appeared solid and dignified, and it was in good condition despite its age. The front yard was also large and well cared for, with a spacious lawn and a number of trees.
Martin rang the doorbell several times, but no one answered. It looked as though no one was home. There was no car in sight, although he had no way of checking whether either of the two garages was occupied.
And so, Martin drove back to the hotel empty-handed, and on the way, he made up his mind to follow Jürgen’s advice. The young lady at the hotel front desk was very helpful and promised to call some private investigators for him. And it seemed she succeeded, for the next day, as Martin was standing before the royal palace in the Old Town, his cell phone rang.
Having moved away from a group of chattering Japanese tourists to take the call, he could hear the voice of a man introducing himself in English. It was the head of a security agency that also conducted investigations for private individuals. Martin outlined his concerns, and the man on the other end explained the fee structure to him. The minimum charge would be for two days at 10,000 Swedish kronor per day plus expenses. That was no small sum, but Martin had reckoned on about that amount, and now he had gotten in deep enough that the money was no longer an issue. Besides, he wasn’t exactly poor. Once Martin had agreed to the cost, the man made arrangements for him to meet with an associate that evening. The associate would call on him at the hotel at around 8:00 p.m. Martin was excited about the meeting.
11
She slowly came to and looked around. It was still the same room. Her head ached, and she was awfully thirsty. On the small table beside the bed stood a glass and a bottle of water. Still dazed, she propped herself up. Her hands trembled as she poured the water into the glass.
She was about to drink but then stopped short. Something was making her sleep all the time. Was there something in the water? Or in the food that was sitting there the last time she awoke? She looked about. There was no sink, and the toilet had no flushing mechanism but was a dry toilet instead. She had no choice: drink the water from the bottle, or go thirsty. But she had to drink something. She would see if she went right back to sleep again if she drank. At least, then she would know for sure that there was something in the water.
After drinking two glasses, her thirst was quenched. What day was today? And what time of day? It had to be daytime, because there was light coming through the shafts of the barred window. Even if it wasn’t much, it was noticeably more than the last time she awoke.
She still couldn’t believe that he had done this to her. How could she have been so mistaken about him? All right, she had always known he was ambitious, but that was what had held them together for so long since she, too, wanted to do more with the company. But that he simply wanted to sell it now ... She had fought it for a long time but had then given in. If only she hadn’t signed! Now she sat there, trapped, with the appeal period about to expire. That bastard!
She thought back to how they had met. He had been so charming, always so carefree and easygoing. She had felt so comfortable with him. Her parents had also liked Thomas, even if her father had sometimes nitpicked—but he had done that with all her boyfriends.
The wedding was a dream, with her in that fabulous wedding dress, the festivities on the island in the Archipelago, and Thomas at her side. They had gotten along fine after that as well, always agreeing on everything. So when did it all change? Thomas had long since stopped being carefree. He had grown distant and no longer talked about what he was doing. What had gone wrong? How had it come to this? The children probably thought she was still at the vacation house. Hardly anyone would miss her. Damn! How could she have been so stupid?
She rose and walked over to the steel door. She jiggled the handle, but the door was locked tight. She pounded on the cold metal with both hands and shouted for help. No answer. That hadn’t brought any results the last time, either.
She looked around. There was no way out of there. The window wasn’t an option, and the rest was just concrete wall. The room had to be in a cellar somewhere. At least, it was warm in there. But there was no sound from the outside, and other than the bed, the camping toilet, and a small table, the space was utterly bare. Food and water arrived only while she slept, and she sadly never managed to stay awake for too long. He had to have repeatedly given her some kind of sleep inducer, which would also explain the headaches. But what could she do?
She found it impossible to grasp what he expected to gain from the kidnapping. Even if the appeal period had expired and the company been sold, there was no way he could believe that she would simply return to her life with him.
Or was someone other than him behind the whole thing? Was she abducted for the purpose of extracting ransom? That thought was even more menacing. After all, she hadn’t seen who had drugged her with the chloroform. Still, that would be an odd coincidence that it happened now, of all times, just as the appeal period was about to end. And exactly one day after they had argued and she had announced that she would exercise her right to appeal.
She hardly knew which version she preferred: that her husband had done this to her or that a stranger had abducted her. The first would be the greatest disappointment of her life—what a betrayal! The second was fraught with uncertainty. Would she ever make it out of there in one piece? Would her husband want to pay the ransom money, especially now? That question alone showed her lack of trust in him. In the end, though, it seemed most likely that he was in fact the perpetrator. And if that was so, the relationship was over.
Damn, what a pile of crap! The tears welled up in her eyes. She felt totally sidelined and helpless. Never before had she been so low as now.
She was starting to feel drowsy again. The stuff must be in the water …
12
The door to the elevator opened, and Martin walked up to the front desk. Standing there was a tall man, who now turned around.
“Martin Petzold?”
“Yes, that’s me,” Martin answered in English.
The man replied in German. “I’m Lars Olsson from the company Secure Assist.”
“Oh, you speak German? Very pleased to meet you.”
Lars had large hands, and his handshake was clean and strong.
“Would you like to go sit in the restaurant? Are you hungry?” Martin asked.
“Yes, I’d be glad to. I could use a bite to eat.”
Martin led the way to the restaurant, with the detective walking beside him. He noticed that Lars was dragging his left leg a bit.
“Did you injure your leg?” he asked.
“It was a work-related accident,” Lars answered, “from a long time ago.”
Once inside the restaurant, they found a table in a corner, where they could talk undisturbed. The detective was casually dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. He had hung his leather jacket on an empty chair and now sat down. Even seated, he appeared unusuall
y tall.
After the waiter took their orders, Martin said to Lars, “It’s none of my business, but may I ask what sort of work-related accident it was?”
“No problem. A lot of people ask that.” Lars smiled to himself. “I was with the police force for ten years and was shot during an arrest. My knee has been stiff ever since.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Is that why you now work as a private detective?”
“Yes. After my rehabilitation, I was switched to desk duty, but I didn’t like it. So I looked around for other options. I’ve been with Secure Assist for three years, and it’s a lot more exciting.”
The man came across as honest. He had friendly blue eyes, and his angular chin gave him a straightforward look.
“May I ask what sort of cases you handle for Secure Assist?”
“Oh, it varies a lot,” Lars explained. “Most of our work is with companies that are having security issues or that need the lowdown on private individuals. And then, there’s always one type or other of the standard life partner surveillance to uncover possible infidelity issues.”
“Well, then my case will be different.”
“Could be. So far, I’ve only been given a brief description. From what I understand, a woman has suddenly vanished. We do get that kind of thing once in a while, where we have to track someone down, but it’s usually when the person is in debt and is trying to abscond.”
“I see. No, it doesn’t seem to be that sort of thing.”
“So tell me,” Lars said, “please tell me the whole story—from the beginning.”
Once the waiter had served their drinks, Martin complied with his dinner partner’s wish and told him about his vacation, his acquaintance with Liv, and what had happened after that. He did his best to leave nothing out. The detective paid close attention without interrupting, his blue eyes riveted on Martin the entire time.
“… right, so after I found no one at the house, I decided to get help since I don’t know my way around here at all and I don’t speak the language. And that’s why we’re sitting here now.”
Lars leaned back in his chair and was staring at the wall. Was he skeptical? Did he not want to take the assignment? Martin sat and waited.
After some time, the detective leaned forward again—an impressive movement, given the size of his body—and looked Martin in the eye.
“What I can offer you is to do an Internet investigation and to observe the family at the same time. Depending on how that turns out, we can contact their acquaintances or speak with the family directly. Best case, we find Liv Ulldahl. Does that work for you?”
“Yes, that sounds good. I would also like to be closely involved with the work. Maybe I could even help with certain parts. I don’t have anything else to do.”
“We should be able to swing that.”
“The fact that you know German is also obviously a big plus. How did you come to speak it so well?”
“My mother is German. We spoke her native language a lot at home.”
“Ah, that’s why.”
“So from what I can tell, we’re in business,” Lars said. “My boss has already explained the financial aspect to you. The only thing left for you to do is to sign the contract.”
Lars took a roll of documents from his jacket and laid the contract out before Martin. It consisted of two copies of two pages in English. Martin read through the contents. Everything was in order, and the price was also correct. He signed both copies—Secure Assist had already signed.
Lars took one copy and reached his large hand across the table.
“Here’s to working together!”
Just then, the waiter arrived with the food. Martin had ordered fillet of chicken, and Lars got something cold—it looked like raw ground beef with an egg on top.
“So since we’ll be working so closely together, I have a request.” Lars looked at Martin and paused.
Martin wondered what it could be. “Yes?”
“I think my German is pretty good, but I have a problem. The formal mode of address is hard for me. I’ve never used it correctly, and it doesn’t exist in Swedish. Do you think we could use the informal version of ‘you’ when speaking to each other?”
“Yes, absolutely. I’m not that formal, either.” That was no problem at all for Martin.
“Great, then call me Lars!”
“Martin. Cheers!”
“Skål.”
Now that that was settled, the two men turned to their food. In answer to Martin’s questions about his life, Lars explained that his father came from Norrland, in the northern part of Sweden, where they still had a vacation home. In Lars’s childhood days, his family had spent the summers there, usually with his relatives from Germany. The sun never set there in the summertime. Martin couldn’t begin to imagine that.
Over coffee after dinner, the conversation turned once more to the case.
“Martin, do you have any theories about what happened to Liv?” Lars asked.
“No, I don’t have any real theories. But from the start, it seemed to me that something was off. I mean, would they have knocked me unconscious otherwise? Or am I missing something?”
“No, you’re right. That part of the story struck me the most. If that hadn’t happened, we should definitely be able to find a plausible explanation.”
“You mean something like Liv forgot about her date with me for some reason and suddenly had to go out of town?”
“Yeah, exactly. Maybe someone came by before you were supposed to meet. She rode off with the person, came back afterwards, and then got ready for her trip.”
“Maybe. But what woman leaves the house without her purse, wallet, and cell phone?”
“Yeah, that is strange, but if she didn’t go far and the person was a close acquaintance … No, I’m sticking to the fact that the assault on you is the most striking part.”
“Do you have any doubts about it? I’d be happy to show you my wound.”
“No, no, I have absolutely no reason to doubt it. I’m just trying to analyze the situation. I don’t think you would be taking such a strong stand on the matter otherwise. Or … or have the two of you gotten a little closer than what you’ve let on so far?” Lars gave Martin a piercing look.
Martin could feel himself getting warm as his face flushed red. Why did this question embarrass him? There was absolutely nothing to hide.
“No, honestly, I’ve told you everything. I admit that I took an instant liking to Liv and was looking forward to seeing her again. But that’s all there is to it. And in the meantime, I’ve even learned that she has a family …”
“OK, sorry to ask these questions, but I always like to know how things stand with my clients’ motives. For most of them, the issue is either fear, money, or hurt feelings. In your case, though, none of that fits.”
“That’s true. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure myself why I’ve stuck with it to this extent. On the one hand, I’m sure it has something to do with liking Liv. On the other, the fact that I was assaulted in her house and bound hand and foot in the garden shed—that sort of thing has never happened to me before. I’d love to know the reason for it.”
“Yeah, I can understand that. So let’s go through it one more time. What could have happened?”
Martin thought it over. Lars was good. He didn’t let up.
“Someone could have abducted her,” Martin suggested.
“Yeah, but then why did he come back the next day and knock you down?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the abductor noticed that he had forgotten Liv’s things—her bag, cell phone, and such.”
“That’s possible. But then that doesn’t sound like a pro.”
Lars was right. It was definitely the work of an amateur.
“So, Martin, in essence, we’re saying the following: we don’t believe that Liv knocked you down and tied you up.”
“No, never.”
“Which means that whatever the reason for Liv not be
ing there the first day, there had to be someone else in the house, someone who knocked you unconscious and tied your hands and feet. Since he failed to notify the police, he must have been there illegally. I’m assuming it was a man since the person managed to drag you from the house to the garden shed. After that, he put the house in order, locked the door, and took all of Liv’s personal items with him. If that was in fact the kidnapper, he may have wanted to cover his tracks.”
Martin had to agree. No matter what angle they took, they couldn’t come up with a better explanation.
Lars had to go, but he promised to get in touch the next day. The two men said goodbye.
Martin was pleased. His impression of Lars had been good, and he was eager to see what the following day would bring.
Thursday, September 24
13
The minutes ticked away, but nothing happened. Lars simply sat in the car and watched Liv’s house.
He had been there since seven in the morning. The father—Liv’s husband—had taken the two children to school. That was at about 7:40 a.m., and the school was just five minutes away. After that, the husband had driven to his company in Täby, and Lars had followed. He appeared to be some company bigwig, judging from his reserved parking space right outside the door, which was not the norm in Sweden. Lars had waited there for an hour, and since the man never showed again, he had driven back to the house. For he had noticed something interesting: as the children were leaving the house, a woman briefly appeared and handed them a container to take along. He assumed that it held their sandwiches or whatever kids brought as breaktime snack these days. But that didn’t matter. It was much more important to find out who this woman was. He hadn’t gotten a good look at her, but from what he could see, she had long, dark hair. That was why he had assumed she wasn’t Liv and had decided to follow the father and kids. But now he wanted to know exactly who she was.
Vanished? Page 4