The Crow Girl (25 page)

‘I’m not convinced that Karl Lundström is simply lying,’ Sofia said, taking a deep drag on the cigarette. ‘That’s one of the reasons why I called you.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I think it’s more complicated than that.’

‘Really? In what way?’

‘I mean it’s possible that he sometimes tells the truth, but that his imagination takes over. Or rather his delusions, his self-deceptions. He’s done something that is strictly taboo: he’s abused his own daughter.’

‘And you mean he needs to find a way to handle the guilt?’

‘Yes. He’s starting to loathe himself to a point where he feels responsible for a series of other assaults that he never actually committed.’

Sofia blew several smoke rings.

‘During our conversations he addressed the concept of wrong several times, in the context of male attraction to young girls, and it’s clear that he regards that attraction as natural. In order to convince himself beyond any doubt, he has invented a series of events so extreme that they can’t be dismissed.’ Sofia put her cigarette out. ‘How’s Linnea?’

Jeanette looked thoughtful. ‘Apart from what they found on Lundström’s computer, they also found a number of VHS cassettes in the basement.’

‘At their home, you mean?’

‘Yes, and on those cassettes they found not only Lundström’s fingerprints, but Linnea’s as well.’

Sofia shuddered. ‘So she’s seen the films too?’

‘Yes, that’s what we’re assuming. According to our analysis they are, if you’ll pardon the phrase, classic child pornography. As far as we’ve been able to determine, they were filmed in Brazil in the late eighties. They’ve been circulating in paedophile circles for a long time, and have – again, sorry about this – legendary status among collectors …’

‘So they’re nothing to do with the Russian mafia?’

‘No, the Russian mafia seems to be entirely innocent in this case, just like Lundström’s imaginary Anders Wikström. But the things that happen in the films do fit with what he said during your conversation with him, with the significant difference that they were actually filmed in Brazil twenty years ago.’

‘That sounds plausible. So his lies about Anders Wikström were inspired by existing child porn films. That would explain why the lies were so detailed.’

‘In one of the drawers of Lundström’s desk they also found a lock of hair and a pair of pants belonging to his daughter. Can you explain what that’s all about?’

‘Well, I recognise the behaviour. He’s collecting trophies,’ Sofia said. ‘The aim is to exercise control over the victim. Using those objects, he can return to the assaults in his imagination, and relive them.’

They sat in silence for a while. Possibly because it was all just so grotesque.

Sofia was thinking about Linnea Lundström and everything she had been through. Victoria Bergman resurfaced in her mind, and Sofia wondered how Linnea was handling her experiences. Victoria had learned to channel what she had been through. How was Linnea dealing with it?

‘How’s the girl now?’

Jeanette held out her hands and looked baffled.

‘Mikkelsen says he recognises her reaction from other kids he’s met. They’re angry, but so incredibly let down. They don’t trust anyone. When she’s not crying, she’s screaming that she hates her father, but at the same time there’s no doubt that she’s missing him.’

Sofia thought about Victoria Bergman again. A grown woman who was still a child.

‘I understand,’ she said.

Jeanette looked out over the artificial turf. ‘Do you have any children?’ she asked, lighting another cigarette.

Sofia was surprised by the question.

‘No … It’s never been the right time. You?’

‘Yep, one boy.’ Sofia noted that Jeanette looked thoughtful. ‘He …’ Jeanette turned serious. ‘He’s the same age as Linnea. They’re so incredibly fragile at that age, if you know what I mean …’

‘I know.’

‘Anyway, according to Mikkelsen this is your specialist area? Traumatised children …’ Jeanette held up her hands and added, ‘To be honest, I have real trouble understanding this sort of criminal. What the hell is it that drives them?’

The question was blunt, and Sofia felt that a similarly blunt answer was required, but didn’t know what to say at first. Jeanette’s intensity and presence both interested and distracted her.

‘It’s not always easy to say,’ she said after a pause. ‘But there were a couple of things that struck me as odd with Karl Lundström.’

‘What?’

‘I don’t know if it means anything, but he kept coming back to castration. Once he asked me if I knew how to castrate a reindeer, then went on to explain that you crush the testicles by biting them. On another occasion he went so far as to say he thought all men ought to be castrated at birth.’

Jeanette sat in silence for several seconds.

‘Everything we discuss here has to stay between us. But what you’ve just said definitely strengthens my suspicions. Because each of the three murdered boys had been mutilated.’

‘Damn …’

Jeanette looked reproachfully at Sofia. ‘Shame you didn’t tell me that the first time we spoke.’

‘There was no reason for me to give up my oath of confidentiality when you first contacted me. I simply couldn’t see a direct connection to your case.’

Jeanette made an apologetic gesture with her hands.

Sofia realised that Jeanette had a fiery temper and, to her surprise, found that she quite liked that.

Jeanette Kihlberg’s face didn’t mask her emotions, and Sofia saw the reproachful look in her eyes fade, to be replaced by melancholy.

‘Well, it’s not worth arguing about. Have you got anything else useful?’

‘Xylocain adrenalin,’ Sofia said.

The smoke from Jeanette’s cigarette caught in her throat, and she was seized with a coughing fit.

Sofia was taken aback by the strength of her reaction, and wasn’t sure at first how to continue, but Jeanette pre-empted her in between coughs.

‘What the hell are you saying?’

‘Well … Karl Lundström said that Anders Wikström usually injected his victims with Xylocain adrenalin. It’s not a substance I’m familiar with. I don’t know if it induces intoxication.’

Jeanette shook her head and took a deep breath. ‘It’s not the sort of thing you take to get high,’ she said in a tone of resignation. ‘It’s an anaesthetic. The same anaesthetic we found in the dead boys. Xylocain adrenalin is used by dentists, and Annette Lundström is a dentist, of course. Need I say more?’

Silence fell once again.

‘That sounds pretty incriminating, I must say,’ Sofia said after a while.

They were interrupted when Jeanette’s mobile phone rang. She excused herself.

Sofia couldn’t hear what was being said at the other end, but it was evidently something that upset Jeanette.

‘Fucking hell. OK … what else?’

Jeanette stood up and began to walk up and down between the rows of seats in the stand.

‘OK, I can see that. But how the hell could it happen?’

She sat down again. ‘OK. I’m on my way …’ Then she snapped her phone shut and sighed in despair. ‘Fuck.’

‘What’s happened?’

‘Well, we were talking about him …’

‘What do you mean?’

Jeanette Kihlberg leaned back and swore silently between drags on the cigarette. Her face was like an open book. Disappointment. Anger. Resignation.

Sofia didn’t know what to say.

‘There won’t be any more conversations with Lundström,’ Jeanette Kihlberg muttered. ‘He’s hanged himself in prison. Anything to say about that?’

THE SNOWSTORM OVER
the eastern seaboard means that Flight 4592 has been diverted to Toronto instead of landing at John F. Kennedy Airport as planned. As a result the airline books them into a four-star hotel and they get allocated seats on the morning flight the next day.

After taking a shower, they decide to stay in the hotel room and share a bottle of champagne.

‘God, how wonderful! Some time off at last!’

Lasse leans back and stretches out on the bed. Sofia, who’s standing in just her underwear and putting her make-up on in front of the mirror next to the bed, picks up a damp towel and throws it at him.

‘Come here and make a child with me,’ he suddenly says, still with the towel over his face. ‘I want to have a child with you,’ he repeats, and Sofia stiffens.

‘What did you say?’

‘I said I want us to have a child.’

‘You mean it? Seriously?’ Sofia can’t tell if he’s joking with her.

Sometimes he says things, only to take back what he’s just said a moment later. But there’s something different in his voice this time.

‘Yeah, what the hell! You’re getting close to forty and it’s starting to get a bit late. Not for me, but for you. And I’ve got a feeling we could keep on … Oh, you know what I mean.’ He removes the towel, and she can see that he’s being completely serious.

Maybe it’s the alcohol or the long, tiring flight that gets to her and makes her start crying. Probably a combination of everything.

‘Hey, are you crying?’ He gets up from the bed and comes over to her. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘No, no, no. I’m just so incredibly happy. Of course I want to have a child with you. You know that’s what I’ve always wanted.’ She looks him in the eye in the mirror.

‘OK, let’s do it then! Now or never!’

She goes over to the bed. He embraces her, kisses the back of her neck, and begins to undo her bra.

His eyes are sparkling the way they used to, and she feels her insides quiver.

Afterwards they go to a nightclub down on Nassau Street. One of the few places along the road where the queue isn’t too long.

The club is dimly lit and consists of a series of different rooms separated by red velvet curtains. In the first one is a small stage, empty when they arrive.

There aren’t many people there, and they take a seat at the bar and order a drink. A couple of hours pass as she gets slowly more intoxicated, more people arrive, and the music from the stage gets louder.

A man and a woman sit down next to them at the bar.

Afterwards she can’t even remember their names, but she’ll never forget what happens next.

To begin with they just exchange looks and smiles. The woman compliments Sofia on some detail of her outfit.

The drinks mount up, and soon the four of them move to some more comfortable seats in a quieter part of the club.

A big room.

Subdued lighting, to match the music. The sofa shaped like a heart.

Then she realises what sort of place Lasse has taken her to.

It had been his idea to go to a club. And hadn’t he seemed to be directing their steps straight to Nassau Street?

She feels rather foolish for taking so long to realise where they are.

Then everything goes so quickly and so easily.

And not just because of the alcohol. But because something happens between her and Lasse in the presence of the two strangers.

He introduces her as his life partner. His body language says they belong together, and she realises that’s because he wants her to feel secure in this situation.

She leaves the table to go to the toilet, and when she returns the woman is sitting next to Lasse, and the seat beside the man is free. She feels her excitement mount at once, and her pulse is racing in her temples as she sits down.

She looks at Lasse and realises that he has worked out that she knows what’s going on, and that she doesn’t have anything against it.

She can certainly imagine sharing him with someone else. After all, she’s there, and she knows he’d never do anything without her consent.

There are no secrets any longer. They will love each other just as much, no matter what happens.

And they’re going to have a child together.

When Sofia wakes up the next morning she has a terrible headache. Even yawning leaves her seeing stars.

‘Wake up, Sofia … Our flight leaves in just over an hour.’

She glances at the clock on the bedside table.

‘Shit, quarter to six … How long have I been asleep?’

‘Half an hour or so,’ Lasse laughs. ‘You should have seen yourself yesterday.’

‘Yesterday?’

She smiles at him, even though her headache makes smiling a painful effort. ‘Just now, you mean? Come here!’

She’s naked, and lets the covers slide off. She lies on her stomach and pulls one leg up beneath her. ‘Come on!’

Lasse laughs again. ‘God, you’re so beautiful lying there like that … You haven’t forgotten that we’ve got visitors?’

She hears the shower running in the bathroom. She can see naked bodies through the gap in the door when she rolls over to kiss him.

‘Is that supposed to put me off?’

Had they done the right thing? Either way, it feels good to her, and he seems happy as well.

‘It’ll have to be a quickie,’ he whispers. ‘Aeroplanes don’t wait for crazy people.’

Her headache now merely feels pleasantly giddy.

‘Sofia? You’ve got to see this. It looks kind of futuristic …’

She’s dozed off against his shoulder, and straightens up stiffly to look out of the plane window. New York, white with snow, split in two by the Hudson River, which cuts like a black line across the view. The street networks of the Bronx and Brooklyn look like narrow lines on a sheet of white paper. The shadows of the skyscrapers look like diagrams.

She feels safe having him there beside her.

When they arrive at the hotel on Manhattan’s Upper West Side, the sun is shining from a clear blue sky. Sofia has been to New York a couple of times before, but her last visit was almost ten years ago and she’s forgotten how beautiful the city can be.

She and Lasse are standing entwined by the window of their hotel room. From the fifteenth floor they have a magnificent view of Central Park, which is lying cocooned in the thick blanket of snow that’s fallen overnight.

She turns and kisses him on the lips.

‘I can feel that I’m giving myself to you, Lasse. You get me, all of me, and I trust you to take care of me.’

‘I …’ He stops himself and gives her a long, hard hug. She gets the feeling that he’s about to tell her something.