The Invisible Man from Salem (30 page)

‘That was the first time.'

‘It'll be my last visit for a while.'

‘How come?'

‘I've been done for assault. And possession. My sentence starts tomorrow, in Hammargården on Ekerö.'

Hammargården was, like Jumkil, one of the young offenders' institutions that closely resembled prisons. Hammargården wasn't quite as infamous as Jumkil, but not far off. According to the rumours, active criminals worked as guards there, and were therefore able to get drugs and weapons to the residents in exchange for cash.

Assault and possession. That wasn't like Grim.

‘What did you have on you?'

‘Acid tabs. I needed to shift them to pay for more tools.'

‘What sort of tools?'

‘For making ID cards and stuff.'

‘But they don't know about that.'

‘No.' He looked down. ‘They've got no idea about that.'

‘How's Hagsätra?'

‘I'm moving after the stint in Hammargården.'

‘Where to?'

‘Alby. I've got a mate there; he lets me stay over sometimes. I might as well move in. I can't stand living at home any longer. Dad drinks most of the day and night. I try and keep on top of the bills, but the money's not there anymore. And Mum … doesn't live at home.' His eyes moved up to look at the tower again. ‘You have ruined everything. Not Tim. It wasn't him; you were the one who drove him to it. You're a fucking bully. After everything we talked about, just that kind of shit, it turns out you're just like them. And you were the one who got Julia to … she was clever, Leo, she would never have gone that far.'

‘Got her to do what? Get together with me?'

‘And you never said a word,' Grim went on, as though he hadn't listened to me. ‘Not about Tim, nor Julia. You said nothing at all.' He laughed. ‘Jesus, you must have told so many lies. I can't even remember all the times you must have lied, there's that many.'

‘She didn't say anything either.'

I felt a blow to my chest; he grabbed my jacket, and my legs disappeared from underneath me. My neck cracked onto the frozen soil, and the pain streaked through my head. Grim pushed his forearm hard against my throat, his face a hair's breadth from mine and his eyes black. I couldn't move.

‘You don't blame this on her,' he said. ‘You got that?' A second time, screaming: ‘You got that?'

‘Sorry,' I managed, my voice cracked.

Grim's arm made it hard to breathe. He stared at me. Then he blinked once, let go of me, and stood up. I struggled to my feet. My neck was aching. Grim already had his back to me and was on his way. He stopped and turned around, opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out; he let the air go. I stood there, breathless, looking at him.

‘Might see you round, Leo,' he eventually said.

THAT WAS THE LAST TIME
I met Grim. I didn't hear from him again, and I didn't see him either. The summer arrived, and this time I managed to get a job as a cleaner at a local company in Salem. My parents were pleased, but said nothing. I carried on with my therapy, carried on my treatment with Mark Levin. I let people get close to me again. It took time but it worked, and when I realised that it was actually possible to move on, I was astounded. I still dreamt about Julia, and visited her grave. Every time I walked into the graveyard I expected Grim to be there, but he never was. I heard on the grapevine that he'd been kicked out of Hammargården and sent to Jumkil — not the summer camp this time, but the institution itself. It was apparently down to him having stabbed someone, which in turn was the result of an argument that had ended with the other guy telling Grim to fuck his sister.

WHEN I WAS TWENTY
, I left Salem. The next winter, Daniel Wretström, a young skinhead visiting the capital, had his throat slit. I remember wondering whether it was just chance that it had happened in Salem. It didn't feel like it. I recognised several names among the accused. They were my old friends' younger brothers.

I never met Tim again, although I planned to visit him several times. I heard that he was trying to kill himself. The first attempt was the night after the verdict. He'd tried to take an overdose. The second was a few weeks later, this time with a razor blade he'd managed to smuggle in. The third attempt was a month or so later, but again he didn't succeed. He died about a year later, I think, from an overdose.

I think about everyone that's disappeared, like Vlad and Fred. I don't know where they are now, or even whether they're still alive. The same goes for several of the others, the people I knew in Salem: they seem to keep disappearing, as though the ground has opened up and swallowed them.

XXIII

Above the towering hulks of Alby's high-rise blocks, the sky hangs low, as though straining not to lose its grip and fall to the ground. It's late in the evening, and the small rectangular windows are illuminated here and there. I pass the underground's turnstiles and look around as though Josef Abel might appear on my command.

AFTER BIRCK DRAGGED ME
out of the interview with Koll, he confronted me. He asked me to explain what the hell had happened in there. I said I didn't have time to explain, that I had to go.

‘You're staying here,' Birck said, holding my shoulder in a tight grip.

‘How much did you hear?'

‘Of what?'

‘Of what he said.'

‘Not that much, but enough to know that you threatened him.' He looked at me. ‘Why were you trying to hit him?'

‘I don't know,' I mumbled. ‘I lost concentration.'

‘You look like a fucking mess, Leo. That, and everything else …' He shook his head. ‘I don't know what we're going to do.'

‘Can't we deal with this later?'

Birck's stare was icy.

‘The prints on the necklace, Leo. I need to know how they got there.'

‘I can tell you tomorrow. You need to find someone called Daniel Berggren. You should probably call
NOVA
.'

‘Don't tell me what to do.' He took a deep breath. ‘We'll wait till tomorrow.'

‘Why?'

‘If
NOVA
get involved it's not going to end well. Besides, they have no resources. They're busy with the security-van robbery in Länna.'

‘Tomorrow might be too late,' I said and turned to leave.

‘Leo,' Birck said sharply. ‘You go home and wait while I have another go at Koll. I need to get that prick to start talking. I would rather have you here, but it's going to get too late and I have to do this by the book. You come back here tomorrow and tell me what you know.' He looked at his watch. ‘I'm putting a car outside your place. I want to keep an eye on you.'

‘Don't. People on Chapmansgatan have seen enough police cars.'

‘And enough corpses,' Birck said flatly. ‘I'd be happy if they didn't have to see any more. Above all, yours.'

I went home, and my head was spinning. I now realised that it had to be him; there was no doubt. I tried to work out what I was feeling. Grief? Something like that. I felt sad, that he'd gone this far to protect his own identity. But it still didn't explain why he'd got Koll to put the necklace in her hand. I thought about sending him a text, but suddenly I felt unsure. He seemed more unpredictable than ever.

I saw the squad car roll in and park up on the road. One half of the occupants got out and crossed the road, entered my building. I went to the draining board and drank a glass of water, took a Serax, and waited for the knock on the door.

‘Is everything all right here?' he asked — a man with a serious expression and pale-blue, friendly eyes.

I looked at his insignia, embroidered on his shoulder.

‘Are you an inspector?'

‘Have been for two years now. Why do you ask?'

‘Makes me feel important.' I managed a smile. ‘Everything's all right.'

He nodded and left. I waited a little while, ate some food, and left the lights on before leaving through the side door, the same way I'd left after Rebecca Salomonsson had been found dead. Nobody seemed to be following me. I went to Södermalm and passed Sam's studio. She was there, and the lights were on. I looked around, but didn't notice anything unusual. The street was sleepy, and Sam was unhurt. I turned around and walked past the studio again. Sam didn't look up. Instead she sat, needle in hand, bent over a young woman's back. I used to do that a lot, go past her place, especially after the split and Viktor. I've never told my psychologist, never told anyone. I wonder if Sam knows anyway. Probably.

IN THE DISTANCE
, a flashing neon sign:
ALBY CONVENIENCE STORE 24/7
. It doesn't look open, but maybe it's not supposed to.

It's a small shop, packed to bursting point with goods. It stinks, a mix of spices and cleaning products. Somewhere in there I can hear laughter, and someone speaking a language I don't understand. Some of it's Spanish, but mixed with something else. The little shop seems bigger than it is, because the shelves are arranged in a labyrinth-like structure and you have to go right through it to get to the till. There's no belt, just a counter like you'd get in a kiosk. Two young men and two equally young women are standing in a semicircle, as though under the spell of the man I glimpse behind the counter. They seem to spot me.

He's old enough to be their granddad, with big brown eyes, prominent, bushy eyebrows, and tufty, frizzy hair that was once black but is now flecked with grey. The beard is thick and well groomed.

‘Can't find anything you want?' he asks when he sees my empty hands.

‘Not yet,' I say.

‘Are you a cop?'

‘Depends.'

‘Depends on what?' asks one of the young men.

He and his friend are both tall, lanky. One is wearing a leather jacket; the other, a dark-blue hoodie with
RATW
printed across the chest. I wonder what the letters stand for.

‘Does it count if you're suspended?'

The older man squints at me, before he rattles off something quick to the others. One of the women is wearing a bright-green short skirt, tights with holes in, heavy boots, and a short denim jacket covered in safety pins, chains, and badges. She crosses her arms, and when her jacket pulls tight over her breasts, one of the men glances at them.

‘Oi! Stop staring,' she says.

Her mouth clicks as she speaks, like a piercing hitting her teeth.

The man laughs at her.

‘I'm looking for Josef Abel,' I say.