Grendel's Game (39 page)

Iversen's Search

E
kman pulled up in front of Halmstad police headquarters and walked quickly up the front steps. Pushing open the heavy glass door, he went to the front desk and asked for Iversen, showing his identification to the uniformed sergeant.

“Yes, sir. The Super is in her office down the hall, last door on the right.”

Gunnel Iversen was a tall, thin woman of fifty with mixed blonde and gray hair cut closely around her face. She was casually dressed in a black turtleneck and jeans with knee-high boots. When she looked at Ekman, her light gray eyes had a piercing intensity. This was the way she looks at everyone, thought Ekman.

She came forward around her desk in the small office to shake his hand.

“My officers are in our assembly room, Herr Ekman. I've called in eight constables plus two sergeants and an inspector. My thinking is to organize them into four twoperson teams to cover the route your son took, and have the sergeants speak with neighbors and other people in the area. The inspector will be checking with our local hospital and emergency clinics to see if anyone with his description has been brought in. Does that sound about right to you?”

“Yes, certainly. I appreciate your quick response, Fru Iversen. I have a picture of Erick here,” Ekman said, taking it out of his wallet. “And here is a map. His usual path is marked. Perhaps these could be enlarged and copied.”

“Of course.” She picked up the phone and called. In a moment, a uniformed constable knocked and entered. She handed her the photo and map, telling her what was needed.

Turning to Ekman, she asked, “Do you know if your son has a smartphone?”

“I assume so. Why do you want to know? He's not answering.”

“The newer ones have a built-in GPS. If the phone is turned on, it could pinpoint his location.”

“I'll find out,” Ekman said, calling Disa. He spoke with her for a minute, and then looked at Iversen.

“His phone was a recent model Nokia from Nordisk Mobiltelefon. She doesn't know if it has GPS.”

“It probably does. Let's see if we can use it. You have his number?”

Ekman gave it to her and then sat down heavily in a guest chair as Iversen consulted her computer and then began a series of calls to phone company officials.

After ten minutes of making explanations and getting home phone numbers, she said to Ekman apologetically, “It's Sunday and difficult to reach anyone with authority to try and locate the phone. This may take some time. We won't wait, but will start the search now.”

Ekman pulled himself out of the chair. His mind was foggy, he couldn't focus on what was needed and was glad to leave everything in Iversen's efficient hands.

T
he officers in the assembly room across the hall from Iversen's office were drinking coffee and muttering about having their Sunday ruined for some unknown reason. The talking broke off abruptly as Iversen and Ekman came in.

“Thank you all for coming in so quickly on a Sunday. I apologize for keeping you waiting. This is Chief Superintendent Ekman of Weltenborg. This emergency involves his son, Erick, and the Grendel case he's been investigating that you've all been hearing about. I'll let him explain,” she said, as Ekman stepped forward.

“I want to add my sincere thanks,” Ekman said, looking around the room. “Briefly, what's happened is that there is substantial reason to think my son, Erick, a Halmstad physician, has been kidnapped or assaulted by the person called Grendel who's wanted in connection with one known murder, and probably at least two others. Erick has been missing since about ten this morning. His disappearance is like that in the three instances I just mentioned. My hope is that by moving quickly we may be able to pick up a trail.”

Iversen explained the plan she'd outlined to Ekman and handed out copies of Erick's photo, his phone number, and the route map, assigning teams to different sections of his path.

“As soon as you find anything at all, call me. Herr Ekman and I will be waiting.”

She and Ekman had settled in her office. They'd lapsed into silence as they sipped cups of freshly brewed coffee. It had been more than half an hour since the teams left and there'd been no word. Iversen's desk phone rang and she grabbed at it.

“Yes, thanks for your help,” she said as she jotted down the information.

“That was the phone company. They've given us the location of your son's phone. It's in the wooded area the third team has been searching.” She checked her list of the team members' phones and called.

“The phone's somewhere right near the edge of the woods at the junction of Wrangelsgatan and Enslovsgatan. Ring the number to help locate it. Call me back the moment you find anything.”

Ekman desperately hoped Erick would be found with the phone; unconscious perhaps, but still alive. Five minutes passed. To Ekman it seemed like five hours.

Iversen's phone rang. “Yes, okay. Keep on with the search.”

“They've found the phone, but not your son,” she said to Ekman in a soft voice. He could barely bring himself to speak. He was afraid he'd lose all control.

“We haven't heard from your inspector yet,” he finally brought himself to say in a husky, strained voice. Maybe Erick's been taken to a hospital, he thought, focusing on the last best alternative. As if in answer to his thought, the inspector called and Iversen listened for a minute.

“He's checked every medical facility.” She paused. “No one of Erick's description has been brought in.”

That's it then, thought Ekman. Unless they found him somewhere along the route, he was gone. With every passing minute, discovering Erick grew less likely. His last hope was that someone had seen something that would give them a lead.

Two hours later, the search party had gone over the entire route thoroughly, looking down alleys, and through scrub in the park. The inspector had joined the two sergeants in knocking on house doors. They'd found an elderly man who lived nearby. He'd been walking his dog that morning and saw someone who looked like Erick entering the park. It was the only sighting they'd been able to come up with.

Ekman couldn't think of what else to do. His mind refused to function properly. All he could do was sit slumped in the chair in Iversen's office, overcome by fear. Iversen, however, was not giving up.

“We'll expand the search,” she said to Ekman. “Let's assume he took a somewhat different route that still leads to where his phone was found.” She called the inspector, explaining what she wanted.

“It will be all right,” she said quietly. Ekman just looked at her with dull eyes. She turned away and busied herself with some papers on her desk.

Another two hours passed and then the phone rang, sounding shrilly in the confines of the silent office. It was the inspector in charge of the search teams.

“Yes,” said Iversen. “I understand. Thank you, and give my thanks to the team members. Everyone can go home now. I'll have Dr. Ekman's photo given to the media this evening.”

She turned to Ekman. There was no need to explain; he'd been listening intently to her brief conversation.

“Is there anything else we can do, Herr Ekman?” she asked.

He shook his head. There was nothing more to be done now. With difficulty he pulled himself to his feet.

“Thank you, Fru Iversen, for all you and your people have done. Please give them my personal regards.” It was an effort for him to speak. His voice was shaking.

“I must see my daughter-in-law and the grandchildren.” His palm was damp as he shook her hand and then stumbled out of her office as though through a dense fog.

69

Reaction

H
e couldn't remember later how he found his way back to Erick's. As he pulled up, he saw a blue Volvo parked in front. It was Ingbritt's. He was briefly angry that she hadn't listened to him, but grateful that she was there.

They'd heard him drive up. Ingbritt and Disa were standing in the doorway as he came up the steps. One look at his pale, drawn face and downcast eyes and they knew Erick hadn't been found. Ingbritt and he hugged silently for a long moment.

Seated in the living room, he explained to them what had been done. Only Erick's phone had been found. Apart from the man who saw him entering the park, they'd discovered no witnesses so far.

“But there may be others who have seen something,” Ekman said. “Erick's photo is being given to the media. It should be on television tonight and in tomorrow's papers. Reporters will try to contact you, Disa. Do you want to speak with them?”

“If it will help find Erick, of course. Do you think Grendel took him?” she asked in a cracked voice.

“We don't know,” he replied, although every instinct told him it was Grendel.

T
hey all put on brave faces for the children over a late dinner the adults just picked at, but the two girls sensed something was wrong.

“Will Pappa be home soon from his business trip?” the elder asked.

“We don't know exactly when, dear,” answered Ingbritt. Disa was too upset to speak. Ekman remained silent, his eyes fixed on his plate.

Lying in the guest room at Erick's, Ingbritt and Ekman held hands under the covers.

“I was angry earlier when I saw you hadn't listened to me. Now I'm glad you didn't.”

“I don't know how we'll get through this, but it will be together,” she answered. “You think Erick is dead, don't you?” Her voice broke and she started to cry quietly. Ekman reached out and stroked her hair.

“I don't want to say it, but that's the likelihood.” He stifled a sob. “It's my fault.”

“How can you believe that, Walther? No one can predict what an insane person will do.”

“His victims have all been men. And somehow all of this is related to me. I should have guessed, and protected Erick by getting him out of the way.”

“That's ridiculous. Walther Ekman, you're not infallible, not God. Don't take this guilt on yourself.” She paused, and said with sudden insight, “It's what Grendel wants you to do.”

Ekman was quiet as he mulled this over. “You're right. This is my punishment. First, my reputation, then our son. Jarl warned me it would be personal. I didn't realize how much. And the pain this has caused you, Disa and the girls. That's also been calculated. This is all about revenge. But what have I ever done to deserve this?” He couldn't believe that Carl Stillen was behind this. His friendly interview with him couldn't possibly be a reason for Erick's disappearance.

A ferocious rage was building in Ekman, pushing aside the grief, and making it somehow easier to deal with. So Grendel wants revenge. He'll discover what payback is really like when I find him.

70

Out

M
onday, October 24.
Ekman had an early breakfast and, leaving Ingbritt to look after Disa and the grandchildren, headed back to Weltenborg. Dark clouds had moved in and snow had started to fall. The first heavy storm of the season was predicted.

At six fifteen there were few headlights on the road. He was going well over the speed limit, even in the increasingly slick conditions, but didn't notice. As he came into the city, thick flakes had begun to swirl against the windshield in earnest. By the time he pulled into the garage at headquarters, snow was coming down steadily.

Holm looked up from the newspaper on his desk. Ekman could see deep sympathy in his eyes.

“Chief, I don't know what to say. I . . . we, Gerdi and I . . . were incredibly shocked when we learned on TV about your son's disappearance. I don't know whether you've seen the newspaper yet. It's on the front page,” Holm said, holding up the one he'd been reading.

The headline read, “Chief Superintendent's Son Missing,” directly above facing photos of Ekman and Erick. The byline was Haeggman's.

Ekman's first instinct was to grab the paper and crumple it into a ball. He steadied himself and said in a calm voice, “Thanks, Enar. If you're finished, I'd like to look at it.” Holm handed the paper to him, and Ekman went into his office, closing the door behind him.