The Preacher (8 page)

‘Things certainly seem to be heating up out there in the sticks.’

Forensic doctor Tord Pedersen was referring to the autopsy he had done a year and a half ago on Alex Wijkner, which led to one of the very few homicide investigations that Tanumshede police station had ever conducted.

‘Yep, we’re starting to wonder whether it’s something in the water. Pretty soon we’ll be catching up with Stockholm in the murder statistics.’

The light, bantering tone was a way for them – and many other professionals who often came in contact with death and misfortune – to handle the pressures of their daily work. It was not meant to detract from the gravity of their profession.

‘Have you already finished with the autopsy? I thought people were killing each other faster than ever in this heat we’ve been having,’ Martin went on.

‘Well, you’re actually right about that. We can tell that people have a shorter fuse because of the heat, but things have actually slowed down the past few days. So we were able to get to your case sooner than we thought.’

‘Let’s hear it.’ Martin held his breath. Much of the progress of an investigation depended on how much Forensics had to offer.

‘Well, it’s clear that you’re not dealing with a pleasant fellow. The cause of death was easy to determine: she was strangled. But it’s what was done to her before she died that’s really remarkable.’

Pedersen paused, and Martin pictured him putting on a pair of glasses.

‘Yes?’ Martin couldn’t hide his impatience.

‘Now let’s see … You’ll be getting this by fax as well … Hmm,’ said Pedersen, apparently skimming the report. Martin’s hand began to sweat from his tight grip on the receiver.

‘Yes, here it is. Fourteen fractures to various parts of the skeleton. All inflicted before death, judging from the varying degrees of healing that had taken place.’

‘You mean – ’

‘I mean that somebody broke her arms, legs, fingers, and toes over the course of about a week, I would reckon.’

‘Were they broken on a single occasion or on several? Can you tell that?’

‘As I said, we can see that the fractures show a varying degree of healing, so my professional opinion is that they occurred sporadically over the entire period. I’ve made a sketch of the order in which I think the fractures occurred. It’s included in the report I faxed to you. The victim also had a good number of superficial incisions on her body. Also in varying stages of healing.’

‘Good God!’ Martin couldn’t help blurting out.

‘I’m inclined to agree with that opinion.’ Pedersen’s voice sounded dry over the telephone. ‘The pain she experienced must have been unbearable.’

For a moment they contemplated in silence how cruel people could be. Then Martin pulled himself together and continued, ‘Did you find any evidence on the body that might help us?’

‘Yes, we found semen. If you find a suspect, he could be tied to the murder with DNA. Naturally we’re searching our database as well, but it’s rare that we get any hits that way. So far, the register is just too small. We can only dream of the day when we’ll have the DNA of every citizen in a searchable database. Then we’ll be in a totally different position.’

‘Dream is probably the right word. Complaints about infringing on the freedom of the individual and all that will probably stop that plan cold.’

‘If what this woman went through can’t be called restricting an individual’s freedom, then I don’t know what can …’

This was uncharacteristically philosophical for the normally prosaic Tord Pedersen. Martin realized that for once he had actually been moved by the victim’s fate. This was usually not something a pathologist could allow if he wanted to sleep well at night.

‘Can you give me an estimated time of death?’

‘Yes, I got the results from the samples that the techs took on-site, and then I supplemented them with my own observations, so I can give you quite a reliable time interval.’

‘Let’s hear it.’

‘In my estimation she died sometime between six and eleven o’clock, the evening before she was discovered in the King’s Cleft.’

‘You can’t give me a more exact time than that?’ Martin sounded disappointed.

‘It’s standard practice here in Sweden never to give a narrower interval than five hours in such cases, so that’s the best I can do. But the interval’s probability is 95 per cent, so at least it’s very reliable. However, I can confirm what you must have suspected: that the King’s Cleft is the secondary crime scene. She was murdered somewhere else and lay there for a couple of hours after death, which is evident from the livor mortis.’

‘Well, that’s something, anyway.’ Martin sighed. ‘What about the skeletons? Did they give you anything? You got the message from Patrik, I suppose, about who we think they might be.’

‘Yes, I did. And on that we aren’t really clear yet. It isn’t quite as simple as you might think to obtain dental records from the Seventies, but we’re working on it as fast as we can. As soon as we know more we’ll let you know. But I can say that they are two female skeletons, and the age seems to be about right. The pelvis of one women also indicates that she had borne a child, and that agrees with the information we have. The most interesting thing of all is that both skeletons have fractures similar to the recent victim’s. Between us I would even venture to say that the fractures are almost identical on the three bodies.’

Martin dropped a pen on the floor from pure shock. What had actually landed in their laps? A sadistic murderer who let twenty-four years pass between his evil deeds? Martin didn’t even want to think about the alternative: that the murderer might not have waited twenty-four years, and they simply hadn’t found the other victims yet.

‘Were they also stabbed with a knife?’

‘Since there is no soft-tissue material left, that’s more difficult to say, but there are some scrape marks on the bones that might indicate they were subjected to the same treatment, yes.’

‘And the cause of death for them?’

‘The same as for the German woman. Bones that were compressed at the throat correspond to injuries resulting from strangulation.’

Martin was rapidly taking notes during the conversation. ‘Anything else of interest you can give me?’

‘Just that the skeletons were probably buried. There are traces of dirt on them, and we might be able to get something out of them in the analysis. But it isn’t clear yet, so you’ll have to be patient. There was dirt on Tanja Schmidt and the blanket she was lying on also, so we’ll be comparing that to the samples from the skeletons.’ Pedersen paused. ‘Is Mellberg leading the investigation?’

There was some apprehension in his voice. Martin smiled to himself, but he could set the pathologist’s mind at rest on that point.

‘No, Patrik has been given the case. But who will get the credit once we solve it is quite another matter …’

They both laughed at the remark, but it was a laugh that at least on Martin’s part stuck a bit in his craw.

After saying goodbye to Tord Pedersen, he went to collect the pages that had arrived in the station’s fax machine. When Patrik came to work a while later, Martin had done his homework well. After Patrik heard a summary of the forensic report he was just as depressed as Martin. This was developing into a hell of a case.

Erica’s sister Anna let the sunshine bake into her skin as she lay stretched out in a bikini in the bow of the sailboat. The children were taking their afternoon nap in the cabin below, and Gustav was at the tiller. Tiny drops of salt water splashed over her each time the bow hit the water’s surface, and it was wonderfully refreshing. If she closed her eyes she could forget for a moment that she had any cares in the world and convince herself that this was her real life.

‘Anna, phone for you.’ Gustav’s voice woke her from her meditative state.

‘Who is it?’ She shaded her eyes with her hand and saw that he was waving her mobile.

‘He wouldn’t say.’

Damn it all. She knew right away who it was, and feeling hard little knots of anxiety in her stomach she cautiously made her way over to Gustav.

‘Anna.’

‘Who the hell was that?’ Lucas hissed.

Anna hesitated. ‘I told you I was going out sailing with a friend.’

‘So now you’re trying to fool me into thinking that the guy is just a friend,’ he snapped. ‘What’s his name?’

‘That’s none of your – ’

Lucas cut her off. ‘What’s his name, Anna?’

The resistance inside her was breaking down more with each second she heard his voice on the phone. Quietly she replied, ‘Gustav af Klint.’

‘Oh, right. How posh can you get?’ His voice switched from scornful to low and threatening. ‘How dare you take my children on holiday with another man.’

‘We’re divorced, Lucas,’ Anna said. She put her hand over her eyes.

‘You know as well as I do, that doesn’t change a thing, Anna. You’re the mother of my children, and that means you and I will always belong together. You are mine and the children are mine.’

‘So why are you trying to take them away from me?’

‘Because you’re unstable, Anna. You’ve always suffered from weak nerves, and to be honest, I don’t trust you to take care of my children in the manner they deserve. Just look at how you live. You work all day and they’re at day care. Do you think that’s a good life for the children, Anna?’

‘But I have to work, Lucas. And how were you planning to solve the problem if you took care of the children? You have to work too. Who would take care of them then?’

‘There is a solution, Anna, and you know what it is.’

‘Are you mad? Do you think I’d go back to you after you broke Emma’s arm? Not to mention everything you did to me?’ Her voice rose to a falsetto. Instinctively, she knew at once that she had gone too far.

‘It wasn’t my fault! It was an accident! Besides, if you hadn’t been so stubborn and kept fighting me, I wouldn’t have needed to lose my temper so often!’

It was like talking to thin air. There was no use. After all her years with Lucas, she knew that he believed what he said. It was never his fault. Everything that happened was someone else’s fault. Every time he hit her he had made her feel guilty because she couldn’t be understanding enough, loving enough, submissive enough.

Drawing on previously hidden reserves of strength, she had finally managed to divorce him. That had made her feel strong, invincible, for the first time in years. Finally she would be able to regain control of her own life. She and the children would be able to start over from scratch. But everything had gone a little too smoothly. Lucas had actually been shocked that he had broken his daughter’s arm in a fit of rage, and he had been uncharacteristically amenable. His busy bachelor life after the divorce had also meant that he had let Anna and the children live in peace, while he was making one conquest after another. But just when Anna had felt that she had managed to escape, Lucas had begun to tire of his new life, and once again he turned his gaze to his family. When he had no luck with flowers, gifts and entreaties for forgiveness, the silk gloves had come off. He demanded sole custody of the children. To support his claims he had a multitude of baseless accusations concerning Anna’s unsuitability as a mother. None of it was true, but Lucas could be so convincing when he turned on the charm that she still trembled at the possibility that he might succeed in his attempt. She also knew that it really wasn’t the children he wanted. His business life would not function if he had custody of two small children, but his hope was to frighten Anna enough to make her come back. In weaker moments she was prepared to do just that. At the same time she knew that it was impossible. It would destroy her. So she steeled herself.

‘Lucas, it does no good to have this discussion. I’ve moved on since the divorce, and you should too. It’s true that I’ve met a new man, and that’s something that you’ll just have to learn to accept. The children are doing fine and I’m doing fine. Can’t we try to deal with this like adults?’

Her tone was entreating, but the silence on the other end was impenetrable. She knew that she’d crossed the line. When she heard the dial tone and realized that Lucas had simply hung up, she knew that he was going to make her pay in some way. And dearly.

4
SUMMER 1979

The hellish ache in her head made her dig her fingers into her face. The pain of her nails tearing long gashes in her skin was almost satisfying compared with the splitting headache, and it helped her to focus.

Everything was still black, but something had made her wake from her deep, dreamless torpor. A tiny crack of light appeared above her head, and while she was squinting upwards it slowly widened. Unused to light as she was, she did not see but rather heard someone come through the crack that had widened to an opening and climb down the stairs. Someone who came closer and closer in the dark. The confusion made it hard for her to decide whether to feel fear or relief. Both feelings were there, mixed together. First one prevailed, then the other.

The last footsteps coming towards her, where she lay curled up in a foetal position, were as good as soundless. Without a word being spoken, she felt a hand stroke her over the forehead. Perhaps that gesture ought to have been soothing, but the simplicity of the movement made terror take a tight grip on her heart.

The hand continued its way along her body, and she trembled in the darkness. For a second, it occurred to her that she ought to put up some resistance against the faceless stranger. The thought vanished as rapidly as it appeared. The darkness was too overwhelming, and the strength in the hand that caressed her penetrated her skin, her nerves, her soul. Submission was her only option, she knew that with a terrifying insight.

When the hand changed from caressing to prising and twisting, pulling and tearing, she was not at all surprised. In a way she welcomed the pain. It was easier to handle the certainty of pain rather than the terror of waiting for the unknown.

alt

The second call from Tord Pedersen had come just a couple of hours after Patrik spoke with Martin. They had a positive ID on one skeleton. Mona Thernblad, the second girl who disappeared in 1979, was one of the bodies found in the King’s Cleft.