The Preacher (21 page)

Jacob never understood why Ephraim laughed so heartily when he talked about those days. It must have been a great sadness for Johannes, and a man who stood so close to God as the Preacher did should have understood that. But Jacob loved his grandfather and never questioned anything he said, or the way he said it. In his eyes his grandfather was infallible. After all, he had saved Jacob’s life. Not through laying on of hands perhaps, but by donating his marrow to Jacob and in that way infusing life into him again. Because of that, Jacob worshipped him.

But best of all was the way Ephraim always ended his stories. He would pause dramatically, look his grandson deep in the eye, and say, ‘And you, Jacob, you also have the gift within you. Somewhere, deep inside, it’s waiting to be lured out.’

Jacob loved those words.

He had never succeeded in finding the power, but it was enough for him to know that Grandpa had said it was there. When Jacob lay ill he had tried to close his eyes and call it up, to heal himself, but he had only seen darkness, the same darkness that now held him in an iron grip.

Maybe he could have found the way if Grandpa had only lived longer. He had taught Gabriel and Johannes, after all, so why couldn’t he have taught his grandson too?

The loud screeching of a bird outside woke Jacob from his brooding. The darkness inside him again formed a tight band round his heart, and he wondered if it might grow so strong that it could make his heart stop. Lately, the darkness had come more often and felt tighter than ever before.

He pulled up his legs and wrapped his arms round his knees. If only Ephraim were here. His grandfather could have helped him find the healing light.

‘At this stage we’ll assume that Jenny Möller is not staying away of her own accord. We would also like to have the assistance of the public, and we ask anyone who has seen her to call us, especially anyone who saw her in or near a car. According to the information we have, she was trying to hitchhike to Fjällbacka, and any sightings connected with that are of the greatest interest.

Patrik looked each and every one of the assembled reporters in the eye. At the same time Annika passed around the photograph of Jenny Möller. She would also see to it that all the newspapers were given a copy for publication. This wasn’t always common procedure, but at this stage they felt they could use the press.

To Patrik’s great surprise, it was Mellberg who suggested that he hold the hastily called press conference. Mellberg himself sat in the back of the little conference room at the station and watched Patrik, who stood up front.

Several hands were raised.

‘Does Jenny’s disappearance have any connection with the murder of Tanja Schmidt? And have you found any evidence to link the most recent murder with the deaths of Mona Thernblad and Siv Lantin?’

Patrik cleared his throat. ‘First of all, we haven’t obtained a positive ID on Siv yet, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t write about that. Otherwise I don’t want to comment on what we may or may not have concluded, so as not to hamper the ongoing investigation.’

The reporters sighed at being stymied once again by ‘investigative concerns’, but they still waved their hands in the air to ask questions.

‘The tourists have started to leave Fjällbacka. Are they right to be uneasy about their safety?’

‘There is no reason for concern. We’re working very hard to solve this case, but right now we have to focus on finding Jenny Möller. That’s all I have to say. Thank you.’

Patrik left the room despite protests from the reporters, but out of the corner of his eye he saw that Mellberg had stayed behind. He just hoped his boss wouldn’t say anything stupid.

He went into Martin’s office and sat down on the edge of his desk.

‘Jesus, it’s like sticking your hand in a hornets’ nest.’

‘Sure, but this time they might be of some use.’

‘Yes, someone might have seen Jenny get into a car, if she was hitchhiking as the boy claimed. With all the traffic on Grebbestadsvägen it would be a wonder if nobody saw anything.’

‘Stranger things have happened,’ said Martin with a sigh.

‘You still haven’t got hold of Tanja’s father?’

‘I tried again. Thought I’d wait till this evening. He might be at work.’

‘You’re probably right. Do you know if Gösta checked with the prisons?’

‘Yes, incredibly enough he did. Not a thing. There are no prisoners who’ve been locked up that whole time until now. I don’t suppose you thought there would be, either. I mean, you’d have to shoot the King or something, and even then you’d still get out after a couple of years for good behaviour. In fact you’d probably get probation after a few weeks.’ He tossed his pen onto the desk in irritation.

‘Look, don’t be so cynical. You’re way too young for that. After ten years on the job you’re allowed to start feeling bitter, but until then you have to stay naïve and put your faith in the system.’

‘Yes, old man.’ Martin gave him a limp pretend salute and Patrik got up, laughing.

‘By the way,’ Patrik went on, ‘we can’t presume that Jenny’s disappearance has any connection with the murders in Fjällbacka. So for safety’s sake ask Gösta to check whether there are any known rapists or other sex offenders who were recently released from prison. Ask him to cross-check everyone who’s done time for rape, aggravated assault on women and so on, anyone who might be operating in the district.’

‘Good thought, but it could just as easily be someone from outside who’s here as a tourist.’

‘True, but we have to start somewhere, and this is as good as any.’

Annika stuck her head in the door. ‘Excuse me for disturbing you gentlemen, but Forensics is on the line for you, Patrik. Should I patch it over here, or will you take it in your office?’

‘I’ll take it my office. Give me half a minute.’

He sat down in his office and waited for the telephone to ring. His heart was pounding a little faster. Hearing from Forensics was a little like waiting for Father Christmas. You never knew what surprises were going to be in the package.

Ten minutes later, he was back in Martin’s office, but he remained standing in the doorway.

‘It’s been confirmed that Siv Lantin is the second skeleton, just as we thought. And the soil analysis is ready. We may have something useful there.’

Martin leaned forward in his chair with interest and folded his hands.

‘Okay, don’t keep me on tenterhooks. What did they find?’

‘First of all, the same kind of soil found on Tanja’s body was on the blanket she was lying on as well as on the skeletons. It means that at one time they were located in the same place. Then the Swedish Crime Lab found a fertilizer in the soil that’s only used in agriculture. They also managed to work out what type it was and the name of the manufacturer. But best of all – it’s not sold retail, but purchased directly from the manufacturer. It’s also not one of the more common types on the market. So if you could bounce a reply back to them and ask them to compile a list of the customers who’ve purchased this chemical, we might finally get somewhere. Here’s a note with the name of the fertilizer and the manufacturer. Their number is probably in the Yellow Pages.’

Martin waved his hand dismissively. ‘I’ll take care of it. I’ll let you know as soon as I get the lists.’

‘Great.’ Patrik gave him a thumbs up and drummed lightly on the door jamb.

‘By the way…’

Patrik was already on his way down the corridor and spun round at the sound of Martin’s voice.

‘Yes?’

‘Did they say anything about the DNA they found?’

‘They’re still working on that. SCL is running the analyses, and they apparently have a hell of a back-up. Lots of rapes this time of year, you know.’

Martin nodded dismally. He knew all too well. It was one of the big advantages of the winter half of the year. Lots of rapists thought it was too cold outside to pull down their trousers, but in the summertime it didn’t bother them.

Patrik hummed as he walked back to his office. Finally they had a lead. Even though it wasn’t much, at least they had something concrete.

Ernst treated himself to a hot dog with mashed potatoes on the square in Fjällbacka. He sat down on one of the benches facing the sea and kept an eye on the seagulls circling him. If they had the chance they’d snatch his hot dog from him, so he didn’t take his eyes off them for a second. Fucking dumb birds. When he was a kid he used to amuse himself by tying a fish to a line and holding the other end. When the unsuspecting gull gobbled up the fish, he would have his own living kite, flapping helplessly in the air in panic. Another favourite trick had been to sneak some of his father’s home-made moonshine and dip pieces of bread in it. Then he would fling the bread to the gulls. The sight of them reeling in the sky always made him laugh so hard that he had to lie down on the ground and hold his stomach. He didn’t dare pull any boyish pranks like that any longer, but he wished he could. Fucking rats of the sea is what they were.

Out of the corner of his eye he spied a familiar face. Gabriel Hult pulled up to the kerb in front of the Central Kiosk in his BMW. Ernst straightened up on the bench. He had kept himself up-to-date with the investigation into the murder of the German girl, in sheer fury at being left out of it, so he knew all about Gabriel’s testimony against his brother. Maybe, just maybe, Ernst thought, there was more to be squeezed out of that toffee-nosed fuck. The mere thought of the farm and the fields that Gabriel owned made his mouth water with envy, so it would feel fantastic to squeeze him a little. And if there was the tiniest chance that he could find out something new for the investigation to show up that fucking Hedström, then that would be a real bonus.

He tossed the rest of his hot dog and mashed potatoes in the nearest rubbish bin and sauntered over to Gabriel’s car. The silver BMW gleamed in the sunshine, and he couldn’t resist running his hand longingly over the roof. Damn, this was the car to have. He snatched his hand back when Gabriel came out of the kiosk with a newspaper, giving Ernst a suspicious glance as he stood listlessly by the passenger door.

‘Excuse me, but that’s my car you’re leaning on.’

‘Yes, it is.’ Ernst’s tone was as insolent as he dared. It was best to establish respect at once. ‘Ernst Lundgren, Tanumshede police station.’

Gabriel sighed. ‘What is it now? Have Stefan and Robert been up to something again?’

Ernst laughed. ‘I’m sure they have, if I know those two rotters, but nothing we’ve heard about at the moment. No, I have a couple of questions regarding the women who were found in the King’s Cleft.’ He nodded in the direction of the wooden stairs that wound up the side of the hill to the location that he’d mentioned.

Gabriel crossed his arms with his newspaper anchored under one arm.

‘What in the world would I know about that? I hope it’s not the old story about my brother again. Some of your colleagues have already asked me about that. First of all, it was a hell of a long time ago, and considering the events of the past few days, it should be obvious that Johannes had nothing to do with it. Look at this!’

He unfolded the newspaper and held it up in front of Ernst. The front page was dominated by a photograph of Jenny Möller, next to a blurry passport photo of Tanja Schmidt. The headline, not surprisingly, was pure sensationalism.

‘Do you think my brother rose up from the grave and did this?’ Gabriel’s voice shook with emotion. ‘How much time are you going to waste on interrogating my family while the real killer runs free? The only thing you have against us is testimony I gave over twenty years ago. Back then, I was positive about what I saw, but what the hell. It wasn’t really light outside, I’d been sitting by my ailing son’s sickbed, and maybe I simply made a mistake!’

Furious, Gabriel walked round the car to the driver’s side and pressed the remote control to trip the central lock. Before he got into the car he directed one last agitated harangue at Ernst.

‘If this keeps up, I’ll have to bring in our lawyers. I’m sick of having people staring at me so that their eyes are about to fall out ever since you found those bodies. And I don’t intend to let you keep sparking rumours about my family just because you can’t come up with anything better.’

Gabriel slammed the door and roared off. He drove up Galärbacken at a speed that made pedestrians dive for cover.

Ernst chuckled to himself. Gabriel Hult might have money, but as a policeman Ernst had the power to stir up trouble in his little pampered world. All at once life felt much better.

‘We’re facing a crisis that will affect the entire community.’ Stig Thulin, the most influential citizen in the community, narrowed his eyes at Mellberg, who did not look noticeably impressed.

‘Yes, as I’ve told you and everyone else who has called, we’re working at full speed on this investigation.’

‘I get dozens of calls every day from worried businesspeople, and I understand their concern. Have you seen how the campgrounds and marinas look around here? This is affecting not only business in Fjällbacka, which would have been bad enough. After the latest disappearance, tourists are fleeing from nearby towns as well. Grebbestad, Hamburgsund, Kämpersvik, even all the way up to Strömstad it’s beginning to be felt. I want to know what concrete measures you’re going to take to resolve this situation!’

Stig Thulin, normally sporting a toothy grin, now had a worried frown furrowing his noble brow. He had been the town’s foremost representative for more than a decade, and he even had a reputation as something of a stud in the district. Mellberg had to admit that he could understand why local women were receptive to his charms. Not that Mellberg leaned that way, he was quick to point out to himself, but not even a man could avoid seeing that Stig was in particularly good shape for a gent of fifty, with attractive greying temples combined with boyish blue eyes.

Mellberg smiled soothingly. ‘You know as well as I do, Stig, that I can’t go into detail on how we’re working this investigation. You’ll have to take my word for it when I say that we’re putting all our efforts into finding the Möller girl and the person who has committed this crime.’