Buried Angels (24 page)

‘And your pappa lives here?’ The man scrutinized Dagmar.

‘We’re waiting for Captain Göring,’ she said, drawing Laura close.

‘Well then, you’re going to have a long wait,’ he said, still studying them with interest.

Dagmar felt her heart start to pound in her chest. Had something happened to Hermann? Why hadn’t that miserable woman upstairs said anything?

‘What do you mean?’ she demanded.

The man crossed his arms. ‘An ambulance came to get him. They took him away in a straitjacket.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘He’s in Långbro Hospital.’ The man wearing the elegant coat stepped over to the door, apparently in a hurry now to put an end to this conversation with Dagmar. She tried to take his arm, but he pulled away with a grimace.

‘Please, sir, can you tell me how to find that hospital? I must see Hermann!’

His whole face radiated displeasure, and he opened the door and stepped inside without replying. When the heavy door closed behind him, Dagmar sank down to the ground. What was she going to do now?

Head resting on her knees, she sobbed as if her heart were breaking. Laura tugged at her mother, trying to get her back on her feet. Dagmar shook her off. Why couldn’t the child leave her alone and go away? What was she going to do with the girl if she couldn’t find Hermann? Laura was not simply
her
child. She was theirs.

Patrik rushed into the station, coming to an abrupt halt in the reception area. Annika was deeply immersed in something and didn’t look up for a moment. When she noticed Patrik standing there, she smiled and then looked down again.

‘Is Martin still sick?’ asked Patrik.

‘Yes,’ said Annika, her eyes fixed on the computer screen.

Patrik gave her a puzzled glance and then turned on his heel. There was only one thing to do.

‘I’ve got an errand to run,’ he said and went back outside. He saw Annika open her mouth, but he didn’t hear what she said.

Patrik glanced at his watch. It was just before nine in the morning. A little too early to appear on somebody’s doorstep, but by now he was so worried that he didn’t care if he woke them.

It took him only a few minutes to drive to the block of flats where Martin lived with his family. Standing in front of their door, Patrik hesitated. Maybe nothing was wrong, maybe Martin really was sick and in bed, and he was going to wake him up for no good reason. He might even be insulted, thinking that Patrik had come over to check up on him. But his gut feeling told him otherwise. Martin should have phoned him by now, regardless how ill he was. Patrik pressed the doorbell.

He waited a long time and considered ringing it again, but he knew that the flat wasn’t very big, so they must have heard the bell. Finally he heard footsteps approaching.

When the door opened, Patrik had a shock. There was no doubt that Martin looked ill. He was unshaven, his hair was dishevelled, and he smelled faintly of sweat, but worst of all was the vacant expression in his eyes. Patrik almost didn’t recognize him.

‘What are you doing here?’ Martin asked.

‘Can I come in?’

Martin shrugged, turned, and shuffled into the flat.

‘Is Pia at work?’ asked Patrik, looking around.

‘No.’ Martin paused near the balcony door in the living room to stare out of the window.

Patrik frowned. ‘Are you sick?’

‘I called the office to say I wasn’t coming in. Didn’t Annika tell you?’ He sounded cross as he turned around. ‘Maybe you want a doctor’s certificate or something? Are you here to make sure that I’m telling the truth and not out sunbathing?’

Normally Martin was the most easy-going and good-natured person. Patrik had never known his colleague to succumb to this sort of outburst before, and he felt even more worried. Something was very wrong.

‘Why don’t we sit down,’ he said, motioning towards the kitchen.

Martin’s anger subsided as swiftly as it had flared up, and the dead look returned to his eyes. He nodded listlessly and followed his colleague. They sat down at the kitchen table, and Patrik studied Martin with real concern.

‘What’s going on here?’

For a moment Martin didn’t speak.

‘Pia is dying,’ he said then, fixing his eyes on the table.

His words made no sense, and Patrik refused to believe what he’d just heard.

‘What do you mean?’

‘She went in for treatment the day before yesterday. She was lucky they could get her in so quickly.’

‘Treatment for what?’ Patrik shook his head. He’d bumped into Pia and Martin over the weekend, and at that time everything seemed fine.

‘Unless there’s some sort of miracle, the doctors say she might have only six months left.’

‘Six months of treatment?’

Slowly Martin raised his head and looked his colleague in the eye. The naked pain in his expression almost made Patrik recoil.

‘Six months until she dies. Then Tuva won’t have a mother any more.’

‘What … How … When did you …?’ Patrik heard himself stammering, but he simply couldn’t find anything sensible to say.

And Martin didn’t reply. Instead, he laid his head on the table and began sobbing so hard that his whole body shook. Patrik got up and went over to put his arms around him. He had no idea how much time passed, but finally Martin stopped crying, and his body relaxed.

‘Where’s Tuva?’ asked Patrik, still holding Martin.

‘With Pia’s mother. I can’t … not right now.’ He started to cry again, the tears running silently down his cheeks.

Patrik stroked his back. ‘It’s okay, just let it all out.’

What a cliché that was, and he felt a bit foolish, but what else was there to say in a situation like this? Was there any right or wrong thing to say? His words really didn’t matter, and it was unclear whether Martin was even listening.

‘Have you eaten?’

Martin sniffled, wiped his nose on the sleeve of his bathrobe, and then shook his head. ‘I’m not hungry.’

‘That doesn’t matter. You have to eat.’ Patrik went over to the fridge to see what he could find. There was plenty of food, but he could tell it wasn’t the right time to cook a proper meal, so he merely took out some butter and cheese. Then he toasted a few slices of French bread that he found in the freezer and made two open-face sandwiches. He thought that was about all Martin could handle at the moment. Then he made another sandwich for himself. He figured it would be easier for Martin to eat if he had company.

‘Now tell me all about it,’ he said after Martin had finished the first sandwich and a little colour had returned to his face.

Haltingly Martin told Patrik all that he knew about Pia’s cancer and the shock they’d had. One day everything was fine, and then only a few days later they found out that she had to be admitted to the hospital and undergo a rigorous course of treatments that might not help her.

‘When does she get to come home?’

‘Next week, I think. I’m not really sure. I haven’t …’ Martin’s hand shook as he lifted his sandwich. He looked ashamed.

‘You haven’t talked to them? Have you gone to see Pia since she was admitted?’ Patrik was doing his best not to sound reproachful. That was the last thing Martin needed right now, and in a strange way he could understand his colleague’s reaction. He’d seen enough people in shock to recognize that vacant stare and the wooden movements.

‘I’m going to make some tea,’ he said before Martin could reply. ‘Or would you rather have coffee?’

‘Coffee,’ said Martin. He was chewing and chewing, and it seemed he was having a hard time swallowing.

Patrik filled a glass with water. ‘Here. Drink some water to wash it down. The coffee will be ready in a few minutes.’

‘I haven’t gone to see her,’ said Martin, as he finished chewing.

‘That’s not so strange. You’re in shock,’ said Patrik as he measured coffee grounds into the filter.

‘I’ve failed her. She needs me so much right now, but I’ve failed her. And Tuva. I couldn’t take her over to Pia’s mother fast enough. As if this isn’t hard for her too. Pia is her daughter, after all.’ He seemed on the verge of tears again, but he took a deep breath and then made an effort to calm his breathing. ‘I’ve no idea where Pia gets her strength. She’s phoned me several times, and she’s worried about me. How crazy is that? She’s getting radiation and chemotherapy and who knows what the hell else. She must be scared to death and feeling really sick. But she’s worried about me!’

‘That’s not so strange either,’ said Patrik. ‘Now here’s what we’ll do. You go take a shower and shave, and when you’re done with that, the coffee will be ready.’

‘No, I …’ Martin began, but Patrik held up his hand.

‘Either you take a shower this minute, or I’m going to drag you in there and scrub you myself. That’s not something I’d particularly like to do, so I’m hoping you’ll take care of it on your own.’

Martin couldn’t help laughing. ‘You’re not getting anywhere near me with a towel. I’ll do it myself.’

‘Good,’ said Patrik and turned around to hunt for coffee mugs in the cupboards. He heard Martin get up and go off to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later he was a new man when he came back into the kitchen.

‘Now you’re starting to look like yourself,’ said Patrik, pouring steaming hot coffee into his mug.

‘I feel better. Thanks,’ said Martin, sitting down. His face was still haggard and pale, but there was more life in his green eyes. His damp red hair was sticking straight up. He resembled an older version of Kalle Blomkvist from Astrid Lindgren’s stories.

‘I have a suggestion,’ said Patrik, who’d been thinking about things while Martin was in the shower. ‘You need to spend as much time as you can supporting Pia. And you also need to take over responsibility for Tuva. So why don’t you take a holiday, starting now, and then we’ll see how things go and how much more time you might require.’

‘I only have three weeks of holiday left.’

‘We’ll work it out,’ said Patrik. ‘Never mind about the practical details right now.’

Martin gave him a dazed look and nodded. Patrik was suddenly reminded of Erica and the car accident she’d been involved in. It could have been him sitting here. He had come so close to losing everything.

She’d been lying in bed thinking all night long. After Patrik left for work, she had sat on the veranda, gathering her thoughts in peace and quiet. For once the children were playing on their own. She loved the view of the Fjällbacka archipelago, and she was so grateful that she’d managed to save this house where she and Anna had grown up. Now her own children could grow up here too. It was not an easy house to take care of. The wind and salt water took their toll on the wooden siding, and the place needed constant repairs and upkeep.

At the moment they didn’t have any major financial problems. It had taken years of hard work, but these days she brought in a good income from her books. She hadn’t particularly changed her routine, but it was nice to know that she didn’t have to worry about breaking the household budget if she needed a new saucepan or they had to renovate the house.

She was well aware that there were many who did not enjoy the same sort of security. When there was never enough money or redundancy took its toll, it was easy to look for a scapegoat. That accounted, at least in part, for the success of the Friends of Sweden. Ever since her meeting with John Holm, Erica couldn’t stop thinking about him and what he stood for. She had hoped he would be an unpleasant man who was a blatant manifestation of his offensive views. Instead she’d found something much more dangerous. An articulate person who invited trust and was able to provide simple answers. Someone who could help the voters identify a scapegoat and then promise to make it disappear.

Erica shivered. She was convinced that Holm was hiding something. It remained to be seen whether there was any connection to what happened on Valö, but she knew who she would talk to next.

‘Kids, we’re going for a ride!’ she yelled, turning towards the living room. Her words prompted cheers from her children, who loved car rides.

‘Mamma just has to make one phone call. Maja, put on your shoes, and then I’ll come and help Anton and Noel.’

‘I can help them,’ said Maja, taking her brothers by the hand and pulling them out to the front hall. Erica smiled. Maja was becoming more and more like a little mother with each day that passed.

Fifteen minutes later they were all in the car, heading to Uddevalla. She’d called to make sure that Kjell would be in. She didn’t want to take her kids out there for nothing. At first she’d considered explaining everything on the phone, but then she realized that Kjell should see the note with his own eyes.

They sang kids’ songs all the way to Uddevalla, so Erica’s voice was hoarse by the time she announced their arrival to the receptionist. After a moment Kjell came out to greet them.

‘Whoa, did you bring the whole gang?’ he said, eyeing the three children who were shyly peering at him.

Kjell gave Erica a hug, his beard scratching her cheek. She smiled. She was glad to see him. They’d met a few years back when a murder investigation had revealed that her deceased mother, Elsy, and Kjell’s father had been friends during the Second World War. She and Patrik both liked Kjell, and she had a great deal of respect for the work he did as a journalist.