Camilla Lackberg Crime Thrillers 4-6: The Stranger, The Hidden Child, The Drowning

‘What about the kids? Did they get off to kindergarten okay?’

‘Yes, it went fine,’ said Erica, choosing not to mention Adrian’s minor tantrum. Anna had so little patience with the children these days. Most of the practical matters fell to Erica, and whenever the kids began to fight, Anna would disappear and let Erica handle it. She was like a wrung-out rag; she shuffled listlessly about, as if trying to work out what had once kept her on her feet. Erica was deeply worried.

‘Anna, don’t get upset, but shouldn’t you go and talk to somebody? We got the name of a psychologist who’s supposed to be excellent, and I think it would –’

Anna cut her off abruptly. ‘I said no. I’ve got to work this out on my own. It’s my fault; I killed a human being. I can’t sit and complain to some total stranger. I have to work through this myself.’ Her hand holding the coffee cup squeezed the handle so hard that her knuckles turned white.

‘Anna, I know we’ve talked about this a thousand times, but I’ll say it again. You didn’t murder Lucas, you killed him in self-defence. And you weren’t only defending yourself, but the children too. No one has any doubt about that, and you were completely exonerated. He would have killed you, Anna. It was you or Lucas.’

Anna’s face twitched slightly as Erica talked, and Maja, sensing the tension in the air, began to whimper in her high chair.

‘I – just – can’t – talk – about – it,’ said Anna between clenched teeth. ‘I’m going back to bed. Will you pick up the kids?’ She got up and left Erica alone in the kitchen.

‘Yes, I’ll collect them,’ said Erica, feeling tears filling her eyes. Soon she wouldn’t be able to stand it anymore. Somebody had to do something.

Then she had an idea. She picked up the phone and dialled a number from memory. It was worth a try.

Hanna went straight to her new office and started getting settled. Patrik continued on to Martin Molin’s cubby-hole and knocked cautiously on the door.

‘Come in.’

Patrik stepped into the room and sat down on the chair in front of Martin’s desk. They often worked together and spent many hours occupying each other’s guest chairs.

‘I heard you drove out to investigate a car crash. Fatalities?’

‘Yes, the driver. Single-car accident. And I recognized her. It was Marit, the woman with the shop on Affärsvägen.’

‘Oh shit,’ said Martin with a sigh. ‘So fucking unnecessary. Did she swerve to avoid a deer or something?’

Patrik hesitated. ‘The techs were there, so their report and the post-mortem will probably give us the definitive answer. But it stank of booze in the car.’

‘Oh shit,’ said Martin for the second time. ‘Drunk driving, in other words. Although I don’t think she’s ever been stopped for that before. Could be the first time she drove drunk, or at least she’s never been in jail for it.’

‘Ye-e-es,’ Patrik drawled. ‘That could be.’

‘But?’ Martin prodded him, clasping his hands behind his head. His red hair shone against his white palms. ‘I can hear there’s something bothering you. I know you well enough by now that I can tell when something’s wrong.’

‘Jeez, I don’t know,’ said Patrik. ‘It’s nothing specific. There was just something that felt … wrong, something I can’t quite put my finger on.’

‘Your gut feelings are usually spot on,’ said Martin with concern, rocking back and forth in the chair. ‘But let’s wait and hear what the experts have to say. As soon as the crime scene techs and the pathologist have looked at everything, we’ll know more. Maybe they’ll come up with an explanation for why something feels strange.’

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ said Patrik, scratching his head. ‘But … no, you’re right, there’s no sense in speculating before we know more. In the meantime we have to focus on what we can do. And unfortunately that means informing Marit’s next of kin. Do you know if she has any family here?’

Martin frowned. ‘She has a teenage daughter, I know, and she shares a flat with a female friend. There’s been some whispering about that arrangement, but I don’t know …’

Patrik sighed. ‘We’ll just have to drive over to her place and then work out what’s best.’

A few minutes later they were knocking on the door of Marit’s flat. They’d checked the telephone book and found that she lived in a high-rise a few hundred metres from the police station. Both Patrik and Martin were breathing hard. This was the most dreaded task in the police force. Only when they heard footsteps inside did they realize that they hadn’t been sure that someone would even be at home at this hour of the afternoon.

The woman who opened the door knew at once why they had come. Martin and Patrik could see it in the way her face blanched and her shoulders drooped in resignation.

‘It’s about Marit, isn’t it? Has something happened?’ Her voice quavered, but she stepped aside to let them into the hallway.

‘Yes, unfortunately we have bad news. Marit Kaspersen was involved in a single-car accident. She … died,’ said Patrik in a low voice. The woman before them stood completely still. As if she were frozen in position and couldn’t manage to send signals from her brain to her muscles. Instead, her brain was busy processing the information she had just heard.

‘Would you like some coffee?’ she said at last, heading robotically towards the kitchen without waiting for their reply.

‘Is there someone we should call?’ Martin asked. The woman looked to be in shock. Her brown hair was cut in a practical pageboy, and she kept tucking it behind her ears. She was very thin, dressed in jeans and a jumper knitted in typical Norwegian style with a lovely, intricate pattern and big elegant silver clasps.

Kerstin shook her head. ‘No, I don’t have anybody. Nobody except … Marit. And Sofie of course. But she’s with her pappa.’

‘Sofie – is that Marit’s daughter?’ asked Patrik, shaking his head when Kerstin held up a carton of milk after pouring coffee into three cups.

‘Yes, she’s fifteen. It’s Ola’s turn this week. Every other week she stays with Marit and me, and the other times with Ola in Fjällbacka.’

‘You were close friends, you and Marit?’ Patrik felt a bit uneasy at the way he asked the question, but he didn’t know how else to broach the subject. He took a sip of coffee as he waited for her answer. It was delicious. Strong, just the way he liked it.

A wry smile from Kerstin showed that she knew what he was asking. Her eyes filled with tears when she said, ‘We were friends the weeks when Sofie stayed here, but lovers when she was with Ola. That was what we …’ Her voice broke and tears started running down her cheeks.

She cried for a while. Then she made an effort to get her voice under control again and went on: ‘That was what we were arguing about last night. For the hundredth time. Marit wanted to stay in the closet, and I was suffocating and wanted to come out. She blamed Sofie, but that was just an excuse. Marit was the one who wasn’t ready to subject herself to gossip and stares. I tried to explain to her that she couldn’t escape it anyway. There was already plenty of gossip and staring. And even if initially people would talk if we made our relationship public, I was convinced it would die down after a while. But Marit refused to listen. She had lived a typical middle-class life for so many years, with a husband and child and a house and camping holidays in a trailer and all that. The idea that she might have feelings for a woman was something she hid deep inside. But when we met it was as if all the pieces suddenly fell into place. At least that’s how she described it to me. She accepted the consequences and left Ola and moved in with me. But she still didn’t dare admit it publicly. And that’s what we argued about last night.’ Kerstin reached for a paper napkin and blew her nose.

‘What time did she leave?’ Patrik asked.

‘Around eight. Quarter past, I think. I realized that something must have happened. She never would have stayed out all night on purpose. But I hesitated to call the police. I thought she might have driven over to a friend’s house, or else she was out walking all night, or … I’m not sure what I thought. When you arrived I was just thinking about ringing round to the hospitals, and if I didn’t find her there I was going to call you.’

The tears had started falling again, and she had to blow her nose once more. Patrik could see how sorrow, pain, and self-reproach were whirling round inside her, and he wished there were something he could say that would at least take away the blame. But instead he was forced to make the matter worse.

‘We …’ he hesitated, cleared his throat, and then went on: ‘we suspect that she was highly intoxicated when the accident occurred. Is that something she … had a problem with?’

He took another sip of his coffee and wished for a second that he was somewhere else, far away. Not here, not in this kitchen, with these questions and this grief. Kerstin gave him a surprised look.

‘Marit never drank. Not as long as I’ve known her, at least, and that’s more than four years. She didn’t like the taste. She didn’t even drink cider.’

Patrik gave Martin a significant look. Yet another odd detail to add to the elusive feeling he’d had ever since he saw the accident site a couple of hours earlier.

‘And you’re quite sure of this?’ It seemed a stupid question; she’d already answered it, but there was no room for ambiguities.

‘Yes, absolutely! I’ve never seen her drink wine or beer or anything like that. To think that she had got drunk and then got behind the wheel … no, that just can’t be. I don’t understand.’ Kerstin looked at Patrik and then at Martin with bewilderment. There was no rhyme or reason to what they had said. Marit didn’t drink, it was as simple as that.

‘Where can we get hold of her daughter? Do you have an address for Marit’s ex-husband?’ Martin asked, taking out a notebook and pen.

‘He lives in the Kullen area of Fjällbacka. I have the address here.’ She took down a note from the bulletin board and handed it to Martin. She still looked confused, but the inexplicable news had made her stop crying for a while.

‘So you don’t want us to ring anyone for you?’ asked Patrik as he got up from the table.

‘No. I … I think I’d like to be alone for now.’

‘Okay. But do call if there’s anything we can do.’ Patrik left her his card. He turned round just before pulling the front door closed behind him and Martin. Kerstin was still sitting at the kitchen table. She sat totally still.

‘Annika! Has the new girl showed up yet?’ Mellberg yelled the question out into the corridor.

‘Yes!’ Annika shouted back without bothering to leave the reception.

‘So where is she?’ Mellberg continued, still shouting.

‘Right here,’ said a female voice, and a second later Hanna popped into the corridor.

‘Ah yes, well, yes, if you’re not too busy perhaps you’d like to come in and introduce yourself,’ he said acidly. ‘It’s customary for a person to say hello to her new boss; usually that’s the first thing one does at a new job.’

‘I beg your pardon,’ said Hanna solemnly, approaching Mellberg with her hand extended. ‘As soon as I arrived Patrik Hedström took me out on a call, and we just got back. I was on my way to see you, naturally. First of all, allow me to say how much I’ve heard about the great work everyone is doing here. It’s certainly to your credit how you’ve handled the homicide investigations in recent years. And there’s a lot of talk about what superb leadership you must have here, to enable such a small station to resolve those cases in such an exemplary way.’

She took his hand in a firm grip, as Mellberg gave her a suspicious glance to see whether he would find any sort of irony in what she’d just said. But her gaze held no sign of mockery, and he quickly decided to swallow the flattery whole. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have a woman in uniform after all. She was easy on the eyes too. A bit too thin for his taste, but not half bad, not half bad at all. Although after the conversation he’d had that morning, with such a fortunate result, he had to admit that he didn’t feel the same tingle in the pit of his stomach at the sight of this attractive woman. To his great surprise his thoughts turned instead to Rose-Marie’s warm voice and the joy with which she had accepted his invitation to dinner.

‘Well, let’s not stand out here in the corridor,’ he said after reluctantly dismissing his recollection of the pleasant telephone call. ‘Let’s take a seat in my office and have a chat.’

Hanna followed him into his office and sat down in the chair facing his desk.

‘So, I see that you’ve already managed to get your feet wet.’

‘Yes, Inspector Hedström took me along to investigate a vehicular accident. A single-car crash. With one fatality, unfortunately.’

‘Yes, that does happen from time to time.’

‘Our first assessment indicates that alcohol was involved as well. The driver reeked of it.’

‘Damn. Did Patrik say it was someone we’d brought in for driving under the influence before?’

‘No, apparently not. He even recognized the victim. Some woman who had a shop on Affärsvägen. Marit, I think he said.’

‘I’ll be damned,’ said Mellberg, contemplatively scratching his hair, which was coiled on top of his scalp. ‘Marit? I never would have believed it.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I hope you didn’t have to inform the next of kin on your first day here.’

‘No,’ said Hanna, looking down at her shoes. ‘Patrik and a short, younger officer with red hair went off to do that.’

‘That’s Martin Molin,’ said Mellberg. ‘Didn’t Patrik introduce you two?’

‘No, he probably forgot. I suspect he must have been thinking about the task at hand.’

‘Hmm,’ said Mellberg. There was a long silence. Then he cleared his throat.

‘Well then. Welcome to Tanumshede police station. I hope you’ll enjoy it here. What sort of living arrangements have you made, by the way?’

‘We’re renting a house, that is, my husband and I are, in the area across from the church. We actually moved in a week ago and have been spending the time getting settled. We’re renting the house furnished, but we want to make it as cosy as possible.’

‘And your husband? What does he do? Did he find a job here too?’

‘Not yet,’ said Hanna, lowering her eyes again. Her hands moved restlessly in her lap.

Mellberg was silently sneering to himself. So, she was married to that sort of man. An out-of-work shit who let himself be supported by his wife. Well, some people could get away with it.

‘Lars is a psychologist,’ said Hanna, as if she could hear what Mellberg was thinking. ‘He’s been looking, but there aren’t many job opportunities around here. So until he finds something, he’s working on a book. A non-fiction book. And he’ll also be working several hours a week as a psychologist for the participants in Sodding Tanum.’

‘I see,’ said Mellberg in a tone that showed he’d already lost interest in what her husband did. ‘Well, once again, welcome to the station.’ He got up to indicate that she could leave now that the formalities had been concluded.

‘Thank you,’ said Hanna.

‘Please close the door after you,’ said Mellberg. For a brief moment he thought he saw an amused smile on her lips. But he was probably mistaken. She seemed to have great respect for him and his work. She had said as much, more or less, and given his deep insight into human behaviour, he could always tell when someone was being honest or not. And Hanna was definitely honest.

‘How’d it go?’ said Annika in a whisper when she entered Hanna’s office a few seconds later.

‘Well now,’ said Hanna, giving her the amused smile that Mellberg imagined he hadn’t seen. ‘A real character, that one,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘Character. Yes, I suppose you could call him that,’ said Annika with a laugh. ‘In any case it looks like you can handle him. Don’t take any shit, that’s my advice. If he thinks he can mess with you, you’re done for.’

‘I’ve encountered a few other Mellbergs in my day, so I know how to handle him,’ said Hanna. And Annika had no doubt that she meant what she said. ‘Flatter him a bit, pretend you’re doing exactly what he says, but then do whatever you think is best. As long as it turns out okay in the end, he’ll pretend it was all his idea from the start – am I right?’

‘Exactly. That’s precisely how to succeed when Bertil Mellberg is your boss,’ said Annika, laughing as she returned to her desk in the reception area. She didn’t have to worry about the new girl. A mind of her own, smart and tough as nails. It was going to be a pleasure to watch her take on Mellberg.

Dejected, Dan began picking up the things scattered around the girls’ room. As usual they had left it looking as though a small bomb had gone off. He knew that he should be stricter about making them pick up after themselves, but his time with them was so precious. Every other weekend he had the girls stay over, and he wanted to extract all he could from their time together, not waste it on nagging and quarrels. He knew it was wrong; he ought to assume his parental responsibility and not dump it all on Pernilla, but the weekend went so fast, and the years also seemed to be passing with frightening speed. Belinda had already turned sixteen and was practically an adult. Malin at ten and Lisen at seven were growing so fast that sometimes it felt as though he couldn’t keep up.

Three years after the divorce the guilt still sat like a block of stone on his chest. If he hadn’t made that fateful mistake he might not be standing here picking up the girls’ clothes and toys in a house that echoed with emptiness. Maybe it had also been a mistake to keep living in the Falkeliden house. Pernilla had moved to Munkedal to be close to her family. But he hadn’t wanted the girls to lose the home they remembered. So he worked, saved, and scrimped so that the girls could feel at home every other weekend when they came to visit. But soon it would no longer be possible. The cost of paying for the house was crushing him. Before six months were over he’d be forced to make a decision. He sat down heavily on Malin’s bed and rested his head in his hands.

The ringing of the telephone roused him from his brooding. He reached for the phone by Malin’s bed.

‘Dan here.

‘Oh, hello, Erica.

‘I’m feeling a bit down. The girls left last night.

‘Yes, I know, and they’ll be back soon. It just feels like a long time in between. So, what’s on your mind?’

He listened intently. The worried furrow that marred his brow even before he answered the phone grew deeper.

‘Are things that bad? If there’s anything I can do, just say the word.’

He listened again as Erica spoke.

‘Well, I could certainly do that. Absolutely. If you think it’ll help.’ Another pause. ‘Okay, I’ll be right over.’

Dan hung up and sat there a moment, deep in thought. He didn’t know if he could really be of any help, but since it was Erica who had asked him, he wouldn’t hesitate to try. Once long ago they had been a couple, but in the years since then they had become close friends. She had helped him when he was getting divorced from Pernilla, and he would do anything for her. Patrik had also become a close friend, and Dan was a frequent guest at their home.

He put on his coat and backed the car out of the driveway. It took him only a few minutes to reach Erica’s house.

She opened the door at the first knock. ‘Hi, come on in,’ she said, giving him a hug.

‘Hi, where’s Maja?’ He looked about eagerly for the little girl who was swiftly becoming his favourite baby. He wanted to think that Maja was fond of him as well.

‘She’s asleep. Sorry.’ Erica laughed. She knew that her charming daughter had far outpaced her when it came to winning Dan’s affection.

‘Well, I suppose I’ll have to try and get along without her, but I’ll miss snuffling her sweet little neck.’

‘Don’t worry, she’ll wake up in a minute. Why don’t you come in? Anna is upstairs sleeping.’ Erica pointed to the ceiling.

‘Do you think this is a good idea?’ said Dan with concern. ‘Maybe she doesn’t feel like it. Maybe she’ll even get mad.’

‘Don’t tell me that a big strong guy like you gets weak at the knees at the mere threat of a woman’s anger,’ Erica teased him, looking up at Dan, who made an imposing sight. ‘And just because I said it once, I don’t want to hear any more about how Maria thought you looked like Dolph Lundgren. Considering how inaccurate she is about most things, I wouldn’t quote her voluntarily if I were you.’

‘But I do look a lot like him, don’t I?’ Dan struck a pose but then laughed. ‘No, you’re probably right. And my hunk days are definitely over. I just had to get it out of my system.’

‘Yeah, both Patrik and I look forward to the day when you find a girlfriend we can actually have a conversation with.’

‘You mean, in view of the high intellectual tone in this house? How’s it going with Paradise Hotel, by the way? Are your favourites still on the show? Who’s going to be in the finals? You’re such a loyal viewer. I’m sure you could bring me up to date on what’s happening on that highly cultural programme that challenges your brain, so hungry for knowledge. And Patrik – he can tell me all about the rankings in the All-Swedish tournaments, can’t he? That’s mathematics on a high level.’

‘Ha ha ha. Point taken.’ Erica punched him in the arm. ‘Now go on upstairs and make yourself useful.’

‘Are you sure that Patrik knows what he’s getting himself into? I think I’ll have a few words with him about how smart it is for him to walk down the aisle with you.’ Dan was already halfway up the stairs.

‘Fantastic idea. Now get on up there!’

Dan’s laugh stuck in his throat as he ascended the last couple of steps. He had scarcely seen Anna during the time she and the kids had been staying with Erica and Patrik. Like everyone else in Sweden he had followed the story of the tragedy in the newspapers, but every time he visited Erica, Anna had stayed out of sight. From what Erica told him, she spent most of her time in the bedroom.

He knocked cautiously on the door. No answer. He knocked again.

‘Anna? Hello? It’s Dan. May I come in?’ Still no answer. He stood there bewildered. He didn’t feel entirely comfortable with the situation, but he’d promised Erica to try and help, so now he had to make the best of it. He took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Anna lay on the bed; he saw that she was awake. She was staring blankly at the ceiling with her hands clasped over her stomach. She didn’t even glance in his direction when he came in.

He sat down on the edge of the bed. Still no reaction.

‘How are things? How are you feeling?’

‘How does it look like I’m feeling?’ said Anna without taking her eyes from the ceiling.

‘Erica’s worried about you.’

‘Erica is always worried about me.’

Dan smiled. ‘You have a point there. She’s a bit of a mother hen, isn’t she?’

‘That’s for sure,’ said Anna, turning her gaze to Dan.

‘But she means well. And she’s probably more worried than usual just now.’

‘Yeah, I get it.’ Anna sighed. A long, deep sigh that seemed to release much more than air from her body. ‘I just don’t know how to snap out of this. It’s as if all my energy is gone. And I don’t feel a thing. Absolutely nothing. I’m not remorseful, and I’m not happy. I feel nothing at all.’

‘Have you talked to anyone about it?’

‘A psychologist or somebody like that, you mean? Erica keeps nagging me about that. But I can’t get myself together to do it. I can’t picture myself sitting there and talking to a complete stranger. About Lucas. About myself. I just can’t face it.’

‘Would you …’ Dan hesitated, squirming as he sat there on the bed. ‘Could you picture yourself talking to me? We don’t know each other that well, but at least I’m not a total stranger.’ He paused and waited tensely for her reply. He hoped that she would say yes. Suddenly he felt a great protective instinct when he saw her body that was much too thin and the haunted expression in her eyes. She was so much like Erica, yet not the same. A more frightened and fragile version of Erica.