The Preacher (24 page)

Hesitantly she asked, ‘Did you get everything you needed? I think I translated it all correctly.’

‘I’m sure it was fine. And yes, I found out what I needed to know. I know I don’t have to point this out, but …’

‘I know, I can’t tell anyone. I promise not to disclose a word.’

‘That’s great. By the way …’

‘Yes?’

Did he hear right? Was her tone hopeful? But his courage failed him, and he also felt that this wasn’t the time.

‘No, nothing. Some other time.’

‘Okay.’

Now she almost sounded disappointed, but his self-confidence was still much too low after his latest failure on the love front. He must be imagining things.

After he thanked Pia and hung up, his thoughts turned elsewhere. He quickly typed up his notes from the conversation and took the transcript over to Patrik’s office. Finally, they had a breakthrough in the case.

They were both on their guard when they met. It was the first time since the disastrous meeting at Västergården, and both expected the other to take the first step towards reconciliation. Stefan was the one who rang, but Linda was actually feeling guilty for her part in the fight, so she spoke first.

‘You know, I said some stupid things the other day. I didn’t mean it. I was just so damn mad.’

They were sitting in their usual meeting place up in the hayloft of the barn at Västergården. Stefan’s profile looked like it was carved from stone. Then Linda saw his features relax.

‘Oh, let’s just forget about it. I probably reacted a little strongly too. It was just –’ He hesitated and turned away, searching for the right words. ‘It was so bloody difficult to go there with all the memories and everything. It really had nothing to do with you.’

Still a bit cautious, Linda crept up behind Stefan and put her arms round him. Their quarrel had prompted an un expected result. She had gained a certain measure of respect for Stefan. She had always viewed him as a little boy, someone who hung on his mother’s apron-strings and clung to his big brother, but on that day she had seen a real man. That made him more attractive. Incredibly attractive. She had also seen a dangerous side to him, and that too had increased his attraction in her eyes. He had actually been close to striking her, she had seen it in his eyes. Now as she sat with her cheek pressed against his back, the memory made her tingle inside. It was like flying near a candle flame, close enough to feel the heat, but controlled enough not to get burned. If there was anyone who had mastered that sort of balancing act, it was her.

She let her hands wander forwards. Hungry and demanding. She could still feel some resistance from him, but she felt secure that she was still the one who had the power. In spite of everything, their relationship had been defined from a purely physical perspective, and in that respect she felt that women in general, and she in particular, had an advantage. An advantage that she was now using. With satisfaction she noticed how his breathing got deeper and how the resistance inside him melted away.

Linda moved to his lap, and when their tongues met she knew that she had won this battle. She held on to that illusion until she felt Stefan’s hand take a firm grip on her hair and bend her backwards until he could look into her eyes from above. If his intention was to make her feel small and helpless, it worked. For a moment she saw the same gleam in his eyes as during the fight at Västergården. She found herself wondering whether her cry for help would be heard all the way to the main building. Probably not.

‘You know, you better be nice to me,’ Stefan said. ‘Otherwise a little bird might whisper to the police what I saw here at the farm.’

Linda’s eyes grew wide. Her voice came in a whisper. ‘You wouldn’t! You promised, Stefan.’

‘According to what people are saying, a promise from anyone in the Hult family doesn’t mean much. Just so you know.’

‘Don’t do it, Stefan. Please, I’ll do anything you want.’

‘So, it turns out that blood really is thicker than water, after all.’

‘You said yourself that you can’t understand what Pappa did to Uncle Johannes. Are you going to act the same way?’ Her voice trembled. The situation had completely slipped out of her control. In bewilderment she wondered how she could have ended up in such a weak position. She had always been the one who was in control.

‘Why shouldn’t I? In a way you could say it’s karma. Everything would come full circle.’ He gave her a nasty smile. ‘But maybe you have a point. I’ll keep my mouth shut. But don’t forget that I can change my mind at any time, so it’s best if you’re nice to me – darling.’

He caressed her face but still kept a painful grip on her hair. Then he forced her head lower down. She didn’t protest. The balance of power had definitely turned.

7
SUMMER 1979

She awoke to the sound of someone crying in the dark. It was hard to tell where the sound was coming from, but she scooted slowly across the floor until she felt fabric and something moving under her fingers. The heap on the floor began to scream in terror, but she calmed the girl down by shushing her and stroking her hair. Of all people, she knew how fear could rip at your heart until it was replaced by a dull hopelessness.

She was aware that it was a selfish feeling, but she couldn’t help being happy that she was no longer alone. It felt like an eternity since she’d had the company of another person, but she didn’t believe it would last more than a couple of days. It was so hard to keep track of time down here in the dark. Time was something that only existed up above. In the light. Down here, time was an enemy. It made her aware that there was another life which by now might have passed her by.

When the girl’s sobbing ebbed away, a flood of questions began. She had no answers to give her. Instead she tried to explain the importance of submitting, not fighting against the evil. But the girl didn’t want to understand. She cried and asked questions, pleaded and prayed to a God in whom she had never for an instant believed, other than maybe long ago in her childhood. Because for the first time she found herself hoping that she was wrong, that there really was a God. Otherwise how would life seem to the baby, without either a mother or God to turn to? It was for her daughter’s sake that she had given in to the fear, immersed herself in it. The other girl’s urge to fight it began to arouse her anger. Over and over again she tried to explain that it wouldn’t do any good, but the girl wouldn’t listen. Soon the girl would infect her with her fighting spirit, and then it wouldn’t be long before hope also returned and made her vulnerable.

She heard the hatch being opened and the steps approaching. She quickly shoved the girl away, who’d been lying with her head on her lap. Maybe she would be lucky. Maybe he would hurt the other girl instead of her this time.

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The silence was deafening. Jenny’s chatter usually filled the entire small space of the caravan, but now there was only silence. They sat across from each other at the little table, enclosed in their separate bubbles. Each of them lost in a world of memories.

Seventeen years flickered quickly past like in some sort of internal film. Kerstin felt the weight of Jenny’s little newborn body in her arms. Unconsciously she formed her arms into a cradle. The baby grew and after a while everything seemed to go so fast. Much too fast. Why had they spent so much of their precious time bickering and squabbling? If only she had known what was going to happen, she wouldn’t have said a single mean word to Jenny. Sitting at the table with a hole in her heart, she swore that if everything ended well, she would never raise her voice to her daughter again.

Bo looked like a mirror image of his wife’s own internal chaos. In only a couple of days he had aged ten years, and his face was furrowed and dejected. Now was the time when they ought to be reaching out to each other, leaning on each other, but terror had paralysed both of them.

His hands on the table were shaking. Bo clasped them in an attempt to quiet the trembling, but unfolded them quickly because it looked like he was praying. So far he had refused to call on any higher powers. That would force him to admit what he had not yet dared confront. He clung to a vain hope that his daughter was off on some innocent adventure. But deep inside he knew that too much time had passed for that to be plausible. Jenny was altogether too considerate and too loving to inflict such worry on her parents deliberately. They had certainly had their quarrels, especially the past two years, but he had always been secure in the knowledge of the strong bond that existed between them. He knew that Jenny loved them. The only answer to why she hadn’t come home had to be something dreadful. Something had happened. Someone had done something to their beloved Jenny. He tried to break the silence. But his voice failed him and he had to clear his throat before he could go on.

‘Shall we ring the police again and hear if they’ve made any progress?’

Kerstin shook her head. ‘We’ve already called them twice today. We’ll hear from them if they find out anything.’

‘But we can’t just sit here, damn it.’ He jumped up, striking his head on the cabinet above. ‘It’s so effing cramped here! Why did we have to force her to come on a bloody caravan holiday again? She didn’t want to come. If only we’d stayed home instead. Let her hang out with her friends instead of forcing her to sit cooped up here with us in this bloody hole!’

He started pounding on the cabinet. Kerstin let him be. When his rage turned to tears she got up without a word and put her arms around him. They stood there in silence for a long time, united in their terror and a rising sense of grief which they couldn’t ward off, despite all their efforts to cling to hope.

Kerstin could still feel the weight of the baby in her arms.

This time the sun was shining when Patrik walked down Norra Hamngatan. He hesitated a second before he knocked on the door. But then his sense of duty took over and he knocked firmly several times. No one came to the door. He tried again, now even more determined. Still no response. Typical. He should have rung them before he came over. But when Martin arrived and told him what Tanja’s father had said, Patrik reacted on impulse. Now he looked all around. A woman was tending to her plants outside the house next door.

‘Excuse me, do you happen to know where the Struwers are? Their car is here, so I assumed they were at home.’

She broke off what she was doing and nodded. ‘They’re in the boat-house.’ She pointed with a little garden trowel to one of the little red buildings facing the sea.

Patrik thanked her and walked down a short stone staircase leading to the front of the boat-house. A sun chair was set up on the pier, and he could see that Gun was sunbathing in a skimpy bikini. He noticed that her whole body was as ginger-snap brown as her face, and just as wrinkled. Some people apparently didn’t care about the risk of skin cancer. He cleared his throat to get her attention.

‘Hello, please forgive me for bothering you like this in the morning, but I wonder whether I could have a few words with you.’ Patrik had put on his formal tone, as always when he was the bearer of bad news. Assume the role of policeman, not fellow human being – that was the only way to be able to go home and get a good night’s sleep.

‘Not at all. Just a moment, I just have to put something on.’ She vanished inside the boat-house.

Patrik sat down at a table to wait, permitting himself for a second to enjoy the view. The harbour was emptier than usual, but the sea was glittering and the gulls were still flying over the piers in search of food. It took a few minutes, but when Gun finally emerged she was wearing shorts and a top, and she had Lars in tow. He said a solemn hello to Patrik and sat down at the table with his wife.

‘What’s happened? Did you catch the person who killed Siv?’ Gun’s voice was eager.

‘No, that’s not why I’m here.’ Patrik paused and weighed his next words. ‘This morning we happened to talk to the father of the young German woman whose body we found with Siv’s.’ Another pause.

Gun raised her eyebrows quizzically. ‘Yes?’

Patrik told her the name of Tanja’s father and was not disappointed by Gun’s reaction. She jumped and gasped for air. Lars gave her a puzzled look, unaware of what the connection could be.

‘But that’s Malin’s father. What are you telling me? Malin is dead, isn’t she?’

It was difficult to express himself diplomatically. But to be crass, it wasn’t his job to be a diplomat. He decided to give her the unvarnished truth.

‘She didn’t die. It was just as he said. According to him, he clearly viewed your demand for compensation as a bit – how should I say it? – troublesome? So he made up a story that your granddaughter had died.’

‘But the girl who died here was named Tanja, wasn’t she, not Malin?’ Gun looked confused.

‘Obviously he changed her name, to one that sounded more German. But there’s no doubt that Tanja was actually your granddaughter Malin.’

For once Gun Struwer was speechless. Then Patrik saw that rage was beginning to boil inside her. Lars tried to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she shook it off.

‘Who the hell does he think he is? Have you ever heard anything so shameless, Lars? To lie right to my face and tell me that my granddaughter, my own flesh and blood, is dead! All these years she’s been living in the best of health while I went around thinking that my poor darling died a terrible death! And to have the nerve to claim that he did it because I was too troublesome – have you ever heard the like, Lars? Just because I demanded what was rightfully mine, now I’m troublesome!’

Lars again tried to calm her down, but she shook him off. She was so upset that little bubbles of saliva were forming in the corners of her mouth.

‘Well, I’m certainly going to give him a piece of my mind. The police must have his telephone number. I’d like to have it, please. That German devil is going to hear what I think about this whole matter.’

Patrik sighed to himself. He could understand that she had a right to be upset, but in his view she was missing the whole point of what he’d told her. He let her rage on for a few moments and then said calmly, ‘I know this must be difficult to hear, but it’s your granddaughter that we found murdered a week ago. Along with Siv and Mona. So I have to ask you: Have you ever had any contact with a young woman who called herself Tanja Schmidt? She didn’t get in touch with you in some way?’