The Ice Child

‘Kjell?’ He pointed to Kjell Ringholm from Bohusläningen, which was the local paper with the most subscribers. Kjell had offered the police valuable assistance on previous cases, so Patrik tended to give him preferential treatment.

‘You mentioned that Victoria had suffered severe injuries. What type of injuries? Were they the result of being struck by the car, or was she injured prior to the accident?’

‘I can’t comment on that,’ replied Patrik. ‘I can only say that she was struck by a car and she died from her injuries.’

‘We have information that she had been subjected to some sort of torture,’ Kjell went on.

Patrik swallowed hard, picturing in his mind Victoria’s empty eye sockets and her mouth, with a stump where her tongue had been. But those were details they didn’t want to release. He cursed whoever hadn’t been able to resist talking to the press. Was it really necessary to divulge such information?

‘Given the ongoing police investigation, we can’t comment on any details or the extent of Victoria’s injuries.’

Kjell was about to say something else, but Patrik held up his hand to stop him, and then called on Sven Niklasson, a reporter for Expressen. He had also dealt with this journalist before, and he knew that Niklasson was always sharp. He did his homework and never wrote anything that might damage an investigation.

‘Was there any indication that she had been sexually abused? And have you found any link to the disappearance of the other girls?’

‘We don’t know yet. The autopsy is scheduled for tomorrow. As far as the other missing girls are concerned, at this time I can’t divulge what we know about any possible links. As I said, we are continuing to work with the other police districts, and I’m convinced that this cooperative effort will lead to the arrest of the perpetrator.’

‘Are you sure that we’re talking about only one perpetrator?’ The reporter from Aftonbladet took the floor without being called on. ‘Couldn’t it be several individuals, or even a gang? Have you looked into possible connections with trafficking?’

‘At the present time we are not ruling out anything, and that also applies to the number of perpetrators involved. Of course we’ve discussed the possibility of a link to human trafficking, but Victoria’s case does not seem consistent with that theory.’

‘Why’s that?’ persisted the reporter from Aftonbladet.

‘Due to the nature of her injuries, it seems unlikely that she was going to be sold,’ Kjell interjected, as he scrutinized Patrik’s expression.

Patrik didn’t comment. Kjell’s conclusion was correct and revealed more than the police wanted to say, but as long as he refused to confirm anything, the newspapers could only print speculations.

‘As I said, we are investigating all possible leads. We are not ruling out anything.’

He allowed the reporters to ask questions for another fifteen minutes, but he was unable to answer most of them, either because he didn’t know the answer or because he didn’t want to release more details. Unfortunately, the more questions thrown at him, the clearer it became just how little the police actually knew. It had been four months since Victoria disappeared, and even longer since the girls in the other districts had gone missing. Yet there was so little to go on. Frustrated, Patrik decided the time had come to stop taking questions.

‘Bertil, is there anything you’d like to say in conclusion?’ Patrik adroitly moved aside to make Mellberg feel that he was the one who had been conducting the press conference.

‘Yes, I’d like to take this opportunity to say it was a blessing in disguise that it was in our district that the first of the missing girls was found, given the unique expertise available at our station. Under my leadership, we have solved a number of high-profile murder cases, and my list of previous successes shows that …’

Patrik interrupted him by placing a hand on his shoulder.

‘I wholeheartedly agree. We’d like to thank all of you for your questions, and we’ll stay in touch.’

Mellberg glared at him, angry at missing an opportunity for a little self-promotion, but Patrik steered him out of the room while the journalists and photographers gathered up their things. ‘Sorry about cutting in like that, but I was afraid they would miss their deadline if we kept them here any longer. After that great presentation you gave, we want to be certain they’ll file their reports in time for the morning editions.’

Patrik was ashamed of the drivel he was spouting, but it seemed to work because Mellberg’s face lit up.

‘Of course. Good thinking, Hedström. You do have your useful moments.’

‘Thanks,’ said Patrik wearily. Handling Mellberg took as much effort as running the investigation. If not more.

‘Why are you still unwilling to talk about what happened? It was so many years ago.’ Ulla, the prison therapist, peered at Laila over the rims of her red-framed glasses.

‘Why do you keep asking me about it? After so many years?’ replied Laila.

Back when she started serving her sentence she’d felt pressured by all the demands to describe everything, to open her soul and reveal the details from that day as well as the preceding period. Now it no longer bothered her. No one expected her to answer those questions; they were both just going through the motions. Laila knew that Ulla had to continue to ask about that time, and Ulla knew that Laila would continue to refuse to answer. For ten years Ulla had been the prison therapist. Her predecessors had stayed for varying lengths of time, depending on their ambitions. Tending to the psychological well-being of prisoners wasn’t particularly rewarding monetarily or in terms of career development or satisfaction at receiving good results. Most of the prisoners were beyond saving, and everybody knew it. Yet someone still had to do the job, and Ulla seemed to be the therapist who felt most content with her role. And that in turn made Laila feel calmer about being with her, even though she knew the conversation would never lead anywhere.

‘You seem to look forward to Erica Falck’s visits,’ said Ulla now, startling Laila. This was a new topic. Not one of the usual, familiar subjects that they danced around. She felt her hands start to shake as they lay on her lap. She didn’t like new questions. Ulla was aware of this and she fell silent, waiting for a reply.

Aware that her usual replies, which she could rattle off in her sleep, wouldn’t suffice, Laila couldn’t decide whether to respond or keep quiet.

‘It’s something different,’ she said at last, hoping that would be enough. But Ulla seemed unusually persistent today. Like a dog refusing to let go of a bone.

‘In what way? Do you mean it’s a break from the daily routines here? Or something else?’

Laila clasped her hands to keep them still. She found the questions confusing. She hadn’t a clue what she was hoping to achieve by meeting with Erica. She could have gone on declining Erica’s repeated requests to visit her. She could have gone on living in her own world while the years slowly passed and the only thing that changed was her face in the mirror. But how could she do that now that evil had forced its way in? Now that she realized it wasn’t simply a matter of taking new victims. Now that it was happening so close.

‘I like Erica,’ said Laila. ‘And of course her visits are a break from all the dreariness.’

‘I think there’s more to it than that,’ said Ulla, pressing her chin to her chest as she studied Laila. ‘You know what she wants. She wants to hear about what we’ve tried to talk about so many times. What you don’t want to discuss.’

‘That’s her problem. No one is forcing her to come here.’

‘True,’ said Ulla. ‘But I can’t help wondering whether deep down you’d like to tell Erica everything and in that way lighten the burden. She seems to have somehow reached you, while the rest of us have failed, in spite of all our attempts.’

Laila didn’t answer. They had tried so often, but she wasn’t sure she could have told them even if she had wanted to. It was too overwhelming. And besides, where should she begin? With their first meeting, with the evil that grew, with that last day when it happened? What sort of starting point could she possibly choose so that someone else would understand what even she found inexplicable?

‘Is it possible that you’ve fallen into a pattern with us, that you’ve kept everything inside for so long that you just can’t let it out?’ asked Ulla, tilting her head to one side. Laila wondered whether psychologists were taught to adopt that pose. Every therapist she’d ever met did the same thing.

‘What does it matter now? It was all so long ago.’

‘Yes, but you’re still here. And I think in part that’s your own doing. You don’t seem to have any desire to lead a normal life outside these prison walls.’

If Ulla only knew how right she was. Laila did not want to live outside of the prison; she had no idea how she would manage that. But that wasn’t the whole truth. She didn’t dare. She didn’t dare live in the same world as the evil she had seen close-up. The prison was the only place where she felt safe. Perhaps it wasn’t much of a life, but it was hers, and the only one she knew.

‘I don’t want to talk any more,’ said Laila, standing up.

Ulla’s gaze didn’t waver, seeming to go right through her. Laila hoped not. There were certain things she hoped no one would ever see.

Normally it was Dan who took the girls to the stable, but today he was busy at work, so Anna had driven them there instead. She felt a childish joy that Dan had asked her to step in, that he had asked her anything at all. But she wished she could have avoided the stable. She had a deep-seated dislike of horses. The big animals frightened her. It was a fear stemming from her childhood when she had been forced to take riding lessons. Her mother Elsy had decided that she and Erica should learn to ride, leading to two years’ torment for both sisters. It had been a mystery to Anna why the other girls at the stable were so obsessed with horses. Personally she found them totally unreliable, and her pulse would still race at the memory of how it felt to cling to a rearing animal. No doubt the horses could sense her fear from far away, but that made no difference. Right now she was thinking of simply dropping off Emma and Lisen and then retreating to a safe distance.

‘Tyra!’ Emma jumped out of the car and rushed over to a girl walking across the yard. She threw herself at Tyra, who gathered her up and swung her around.

‘You’ve grown tall since the last time I saw you! Soon you’ll be taller than me,’ said Tyra with a smile. Emma’s face lit up with joy. Tyra was her favourite of the girls who were always hanging about the riding school. She was devoted to her.

Anna went over to them. Lisen had run straight into the stable as soon as she got out of the car. She wouldn’t reappear until it was time to go home.

‘How are you feeling today?’ she asked, patting Tyra on the shoulder.

‘Awful,’ said Tyra. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she looked as though she hadn’t slept.

From the other side of the yard someone approached in the fading afternoon light, and Anna saw that it was Marta Persson.

‘Hi,’ she said as Marta came closer. ‘How’s it going?’

She had always found Marta to be incredibly attractive, with her sharp features, high cheekbones, and dark hair, but today she looked tired and worn out.

‘Things are a bit chaotic,’ replied Marta curtly. ‘Where’s Dan? You don’t usually come here voluntarily.’

‘He had to work overtime. They’re having teacher evaluations this week.’

Dan was at heart a fisherman, but since fishing could not provide him with a living in Fjällbacka, he had taken a teaching job in Tanumshede years ago to supplement his income. The fishing had gradually become a sideline, but he struggled to earn enough so he could at least hold on to his boat.

‘Isn’t it time for the girls’ lesson?’ asked Anna, glancing at her watch. It was almost five.

‘It’s going to be a shorter lesson today. Jonas and I feel it’s important to tell the girls about Victoria. You’re welcome to stay if you like. It might be nice for Emma to have you here.’

Marta headed indoors. They followed her into the conference room and sat down along with the other girls. Lisen was already there, and she gave Anna a sombre look.

Marta and Jonas stood next to each other, waiting for the buzz of voices to die down.

‘I’m sure you’ve all heard about what happened,’ Marta began. Everyone nodded.

‘Victoria is dead,’ said Tyra quietly. Big tears ran down her cheeks, and she wiped them on her shirt sleeve.

Marta didn’t seem to know what else to say, but then she took a deep breath and went on.

‘Yes, that’s right. Victoria died in hospital yesterday. We know that you’ve all been very worried about her, that you’ve missed Victoria. The fact that it should end like this … well, it’s terrible.’

Anna saw Marta turn to her husband for support. Jonas nodded and then spoke.

‘It’s terribly difficult for any of us to understand how something like this could happen. I suggest that we hold a minute’s silence to honour Victoria and her family. It’s worse for them than for anyone else right now, and I want them to know that we’re thinking of them.’ He fell silent and bowed his head.

Everyone followed his example. The clock in the conference room ticked quietly, and when the minute was up, Anna opened her eyes. All the girls were looking scared and anxious.

Marta took the floor again. ‘We don’t know any more than you do about what happened to Victoria. But the police will probably come here to talk with us again. Then we’ll find out more. And I want everyone to be available to answer the officers’ questions.’

‘But we don’t know anything. We’ve already talked to them several times, and nobody knows a thing,’ said Tindra, a tall blonde that Anna had spoken to on one occasion.

‘I know it may seem like that, but maybe there’s something you don’t realize might help. Just answer the questions the police ask.’ Jonas fixed his eyes on the girls, one after the other.

‘Okay,’ they murmured.

‘Good. We all need to do whatever we can to help,’ said Marta. ‘So now it’s time for the riding lesson. We’re all still feeling the shock, but maybe it would be good to think about something else for a while. So let’s get going.’

Anna took Emma and Lisen by the hand and headed for the stable. The two girls seemed surprisingly calm. With a lump in her throat, Anna watched as they got the horses ready. Then the girls led them into the riding hall and mounted them. She didn’t feel nearly as composed. Even though her son had lived only a week, she knew how desperately painful it was to lose a child.

She went over to sit on a bench. Suddenly she heard someone weeping quietly behind her. When she turned around, she saw Tyra sitting further up, with Tindra beside her.

‘What do you think happened to her?’ asked Tyra between sobs.

‘I heard that her eyes were gouged out,’ whispered Tindra.

‘What?’ Tyra practically shrieked. ‘Who told you that? When I talked with the policeman, he didn’t say anything about that.’

‘My uncle was one of the medics in the ambulance that picked her up yesterday. He said both her eyes were gone.’

‘Oh, no,’ moaned Tyra, bending forward. It looked like she was going to vomit.

‘Do you think it’s someone we know?’ said Tindra with ill-concealed excitement.

‘Are you crazy?’ said Tyra, and Anna realized that she needed to put an end to this conversation.

‘That’s enough,’ she said as she went up to the girls and put her arm around Tyra. ‘It’s no good speculating. Can’t you see that Tyra is upset?’

Tindra stood up. ‘Well, I think it has to be the same madman who murdered those other girls.’

‘We don’t know that they’re dead,’ replied Anna.

‘Of course they’re dead,’ said Tindra boldly. ‘And I bet their eyes were gouged out too.’

Anna shuddered with revulsion as she hugged Tyra’s trembling body even closer.

Patrik stepped inside the warmth of the front hall. He was bone tired. It had been a long work day, but the fatigue he felt had more to do with the responsibility that weighed him down on an investigation of this nature. Sometimes he wished he had an ordinary nine-to-five job in an office or a factory, and not a profession where someone’s fate depended on how well he did his job. He felt a great responsibility for so many people. Especially for the family members who placed their trust in the police to deliver the answers they needed if they were ever to come to terms with what had happened. Then there was the victim, who seemed to plead with him to find the person who had prematurely put an end to her life. But his greatest responsibility was to the missing girls who might still be alive, and for those who might be at risk from the kidnapper. As long as the perpetrator was on the loose and unidentified, more girls might disappear. Girls who lived, breathed, and laughed, unaware that their days were numbered because of some sadistic murderer.

‘Pappa!’ A little human projectile threw himself at Patrik, followed instantly by two more, which meant that they all ended up in a heap on the floor. The melted snow on the doormat was seeping into his trousers, but he didn’t care. It was good to have his children so near. For a few seconds everything was perfect, but then the bickering started.

‘Hey!’ Anton screamed. ‘Noel pinched me!’

‘No!’ cried Noel. And as if to show that he hadn’t, he gave his brother a pinch. Anton howled and flailed his arms about.

‘All right now …’ Patrik separated the boys and tried to look stern. Maja stood off to one side, imitating his expression.

‘No pinching!’ she said, wagging her finger at her brothers. ‘If you keep fighting, you’ll get a dime-out.’ Patrik had to stop himself from laughing. When she was much younger, Maja had misunderstood the expression ‘time-out’, and it had been impossible to get her to say it correctly.

‘Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll handle this,’ he said, getting up and holding the twins by the hand.

‘Mamma, the twins are fighting,’ called Maja as she ran to Erica in the kitchen. Patrik followed with his sons.

‘Really?’ said Erica, her eyes wide. ‘They’re fighting? Never!’ She smiled and kissed Patrik on the cheek. ‘Dinner is ready, so let’s stop all the fuss. Maybe pancakes will improve everyone’s mood.’

That did the trick. After the children had finished eating and settled in front of the TV to watch Bolibompa, Erica and Patrik were able to enjoy a rare moment of peace and quiet at the kitchen table.

‘How’s it going?’ asked Erica, sipping her tea.

‘We’ve hardly begun.’ Patrik reached for the sugar bowl and dumped five teaspoonfuls into his cup. Right now he didn’t want to think about any diet rules. Erica had been watching his food intake like a hawk ever since he’d developed heart problems at the same time the twins were born. But tonight she didn’t say a word. He closed his eyes, savouring the first taste of the piping hot and very sweet tea.

‘Half the town was out in the woods today helping us, but we didn’t find anything. And then there was the press conference this afternoon. Have you already seen the news about it online?’

Erica nodded. She hesitated as if debating her next move, then got up and took the last of Kristina’s homemade buns out of the freezer. She put them on a plate and stuck it in the microwave. A minute later the delicious fragrance of butter and cinnamon filled the kitchen.

‘Isn’t there a risk of destroying evidence with half of Fjällbacka tramping through the woods?’

‘Sure. Of course. But we have no idea how far she walked or where she came from, and by this morning the snow had already obliterated any footprints. I thought it was worth the risk.’

‘So how did the press conference go?’ Erica took the plate out of the microwave and set it on the table.

‘There’s not much we can tell the press. Mostly it was reporters asking questions that we couldn’t answer.’ Patrik reached for a bun but swore and quickly dropped it back on the plate.

‘Let them cool off a bit.’

‘Thanks for telling me.’ He blew on his fingers.

‘Was it because of the ongoing investigation that you couldn’t answer?’

‘I wish that was the reason. But the fact is we haven’t got a clue. When Victoria disappeared it was like she went up in smoke. Not a trace left behind. No one saw anything, no one heard anything, and there were no links to the other missing girls. Then all of a sudden she just reappeared.’

Neither of them spoke as Patrik touched the buns again and decided they had cooled off enough to eat.

‘I heard something about her injuries,’ said Erica cautiously.

Patrik paused before saying anything. He wasn’t supposed to discuss the girl’s injuries, but obviously word had already spread, and he needed to talk to someone. Erica was not only his wife, she was also his best friend. Besides, she had a much keener mind than he did.

‘It’s all true. Although I don’t know what you heard.’ He was buying himself a little time by chewing on a cinnamon bun, but suddenly he lost his appetite, and it didn’t taste as good as it should.

‘I heard she had no eyes.’

‘Yes, her eyes were … gone. We don’t know how it was done. Pedersen is doing the autopsy early tomorrow morning.’ He hesitated again. ‘And her tongue had been cut out.’

‘Good Lord,’ said Erica. Now she lost her appetite too. She set a half-eaten bun back on the plate.

‘How long ago did it happen?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Were the injuries new or had they healed?’

‘Good question. But I don’t know. I hope to get all the details from Pedersen tomorrow.’

‘Could it be some religious thing? Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth? Or some horrible expression of hatred for women? She wasn’t supposed to look at him, and she was supposed to keep quiet.’

Erica waved her hands about as she talked, and as always Patrik was impressed with the shrewdness of his wife’s mind. Such thoughts hadn’t occurred to him when he was trying to speculate about a possible motive.

‘What about her ears?’ Erica went on.

‘What about her ears?’ He leaned forward, getting crumbs on his hands.

‘Well, I was just wondering about something … What if the person who did this, the one who took away her ability to see and speak, also damaged her hearing? If so, she would have been in a sort of bubble, without any means to communicate. Think about what power that would give the perpetrator.’

Patrik stared at her. He tried to imagine what Erica had just described, but the mere idea made his blood run cold. What a horrifying fate. If that was true, then it might have been a blessing that Victoria hadn’t survived, even though it seemed cold-hearted to think such a thing.

‘Mamma, they’re fighting again.’ Maja stood in the kitchen doorway. Patrik glanced at the clock on the wall.

‘Oh, it’s time for bed.’ He got up. ‘Shall we do rock, paper, scissors?’

Erica shook her head and got up to kiss him on the cheek.

‘If you put Maja to bed, I’ll take care of the boys tonight.’

‘Thanks,’ he said and took his daughter by the hand. They headed for the stairs as Maja chattered about what she had done during the day. But Patrik wasn’t listening. His thoughts were on the girl inside the bubble.

Jonas slammed the front door so hard that Marta came rushing out of the kitchen, then stood leaning against the doorjamb with her arms folded. He could tell that she’d been expecting this conversation, and her calm demeanour made him even angrier.

‘I just talked to Molly. What the hell were you thinking? Shouldn’t we be making decisions like this together?’

‘Yes, we should. But sometimes you don’t seem to understand what has to be done.’

He forced himself to take a deep breath. Marta knew that a disagreement about Molly was the only thing that could make him lose his temper.