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The Lost Boy
The Lost Boy
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The Lost Boy

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‘Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m going to give Nathalie a call. Thank you so much for the coffee and biscuits, and for taking the time to answer my questions.’ Patrik got up and pushed his chair under the table.

‘It was nice to talk about him,’ said Signe softly.

‘Would you mind if I borrowed these for a while?’ Patrik pointed at the photographs from the hospital. ‘I promise to take good care of them.’

‘Go ahead and take them.’ Gunnar handed him the pictures. ‘We have a digital camera, so I have the pictures on my computer.’

‘Thank you,’ said Patrik, carefully sliding the photos into his briefcase.

Signe and Gunnar both went with him to the door. As he got in the car, he replayed in his mind all those images of Mats Sverin as a boy, a teenager, and an adult. He decided to drive home for lunch. He felt an overwhelming urge to give the twins a kiss.

‘How’s Grandpa’s little sweetie-pie today?’

Mellberg had also gone home for lunch, and as soon as he set foot inside the door, he grabbed Leo from Rita and began lifting him high in the air, making the boy shriek with delight.

‘Typical! When Grandpa comes home, Grandma might as well disappear.’ Rita frowned but then a smile took over, and she gave them each a kiss on the cheek.

A special bond had existed between Bertil and Leo ever since Bertil had been present at the baby’s birth, and no one was more pleased about this than Rita. Nevertheless she was relieved when Bertil had been convinced to return to work full-time. It had seemed like a good idea to have him fill in for Paula at home, but no matter how much she adored this unlikely hero of hers, she had no illusions when it came to his judgement, which at times was questionable, to say the least.

‘What’s for lunch?’ Mellberg carefully set the boy in his highchair and tied a bib around his neck.

‘Chicken and my homemade salsa that you like so much.’

Mellberg hummed with pleasure. All his life he had never eaten anything more exotic than boiled lamb with dill sauce, potatoes and carrots, but Rita had managed to change all that. Her salsa was so strong that it practically burned the enamel off his teeth, but he loved it.

‘You got home late last night.’ She placed a dish on the table with some less spicy food that she’d made for Leo, and Bertil began feeding the boy.

‘Yes, we’re all going at full throttle again. Paula and the boys are out doing the footwork, but Hedström pointed out, quite rightly, that someone needed to be at the station to deal with the media. And no one is better suited than me to take on such a big responsibility.’ He shovelled a little too much food into Leo’s mouth, who fortunately just let half of it slide right out again.

Rita suppressed a smile. Clearly Patrik had once more succeeded in out-manoeuvring his boss. She liked Hedström. He knew how to handle Mellberg: with patience, diplomacy, and a certain degree of flattery that could get Bertil to do exactly what he wanted. She did the same in order to ensure that their life together ran smoothly.

‘You poor thing. It sounds as if you’re really busy.’ She put some chicken on his plate along with a generous serving of salsa.

Leo had finished eating, so Mellberg dug into his own food. A couple of servings later, he leaned back and patted his stomach.

‘Delicious. And I know exactly what would be perfect to follow that. What do you think, Leo my boy?’ He got up and went over to the freezer.

Rita knew that she ought to stop him, but she didn’t have the heart. She let him take out three big Magnum ice-cream bars, which he happily handed out. Leo almost disappeared behind the huge bar. If Bertil kept on like this, the boy would soon be as wide as he was tall. For today, however, she decided not to worry about it.

FJÄLLBACKA 1870 (#ulink_09e0a6c2-6307-571d-b9bd-2fe401eb386e)

She moved a little closer to Karl. He was lying on the side of the bed next to the wall, wearing long underwear and a shirt. In a couple of hours he would have to get up to relieve Julian in the lighthouse. Cautiously she placed her hand on his leg, stroking his thigh with trembling fingers. She wasn’t the one who was supposed to take the lead like this, but something was wrong. Why didn’t he ever touch her? He hardly even spoke to her. Merely mumbled his thanks for the food before leaving the table. And he seemed to be always looking past her, as if she were made of glass and barely noticeable, in fact almost invisible.

For that matter, he spent very little time at home. During most of his waking hours he was in the lighthouse or doing work on the boat. Or he was out at sea. She spent all day utterly alone in the cottage, and her housework was soon finished. After that, she had many hours to fill, and she began to think that she might go mad. If she had a baby, she would have someone to keep her company, and other tasks to occupy her time. Then she wouldn’t mind that Karl worked from early morning until late at night, and it wouldn’t matter that he never talked to her. If only they would have a child.

But after living on the farm, she knew that certain things had to happen between a man and a woman before she could end up in the family way. Things that hadn’t yet occurred. That was why she put her hand on Karl’s leg and ran it along the inside of his thigh. Her heart was pounding with nervousness and excitement as she gently slipped her hand inside the fly of his underwear.

Karl sat up with a jolt.

‘What are you doing?’ His expression was darker than she’d ever seen it before, and she yanked her hand away.

‘I … I just thought that …’ She couldn’t find the right words. How was she supposed to explain the obvious? Even he must realize how strange it was that they’d been married for nearly three months, and yet he’d never come near her. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes.

‘I might as well sleep in the lighthouse. I’m not going to get any peace here.’ Karl pushed past her, threw on his clothes, and stomped down the stairs.

Emelie felt as if he’d slapped her face. Up until now he had simply ignored her; this was the first time he’d spoken to her with that tone of voice. Harsh, cold, and contemptuous. And he’d looked at her as if she were some disgusting creature that had crawled out from under a rock.

With tears running down her cheeks, Emelie crept over to the window and looked out. The wind was blowing hard across the island, and Karl had to fight the gusts as he headed for the lighthouse. He tore open the door and went inside. Then she saw him appear in the window of the tower, where the beam of light transformed him into a shadow.

She went back to bed and wept. The house creaked and groaned, almost as if it might rise up and fly over the islands, out into the grey sky. But that didn’t frighten her. She’d rather fly away, to anywhere at all, than stay here.

She felt something caress her cheek, at the very spot where Karl’s words had left a sting, as if he’d slapped her. Emelie sat up with a start. No one was there. She pulled the covers up to her chin and stared into the dark corners of the room. She saw nothing. She lay down again. It was probably just her imagination. Same as all the other sounds that she’d heard since coming to the island. Not to mention the cupboard doors she sometimes found open, although she was certain that she’d closed them. And the sugar bowl that had somehow moved from the kitchen table to the counter. She must have made up all those things. It had to be her imagination, combined with the island’s isolation, playing tricks on her.

She heard a chair scrape downstairs. Emelie sat up, holding her breath. The old woman’s words rang in her ears, the words that she’d managed to push aside during the past months. She didn’t want to go downstairs, didn’t want to know what she might find there, and what had been here in the room, stroking her cheek.

Shaking, she pulled the covers over her head, hiding like a child from unknown terrors. There she lay, wide awake, until dawn came. But she heard no more sounds.

7 (#ulink_96946551-7f21-5973-a000-9ba75811dca2)

‘What do you make of all this?’ asked Paula. Having bought themselves lunch at the Konsum supermarket, she and Gösta had now sat down to eat in the station’s kitchen.

‘It’s certainly a bit odd,’ said Gösta, taking another bite of his fish gratin. ‘Nobody seems to know anything about Sverin’s personal life. And yet everyone has a high opinion of him, telling us that he was a very open and sociable person. It doesn’t make sense to me.’

‘I feel the same way. How can anyone keep everything except his work so secret? Something was bound to come out over coffee or lunch, don’t you think?’

‘Well, you weren’t exactly forthcoming about your own life in the beginning.’

Paula blushed. ‘I see your point. And I suppose that’s exactly what I’m getting at. I kept silent because there was something I didn’t want people to know. I had no idea how all of you would react if you heard that I was living with a woman. So the question is: What was Mats Sverin trying to hide?’

‘That’s what we have to find out.’

Paula felt something brush against her leg. Ernst had smelled the food and was now sitting at her feet, hoping for a handout.

‘I’m sorry, fella. I’m the wrong person to beg from. All I’ve got here is salad.’

Ernst didn’t budge but sat gazing up at her with a pleading look. Paula realized that she’d have to show him what she was eating. She removed a piece of lettuce from the plastic bowl and held it out to him. His tail thumped eagerly against the floor, but after sniffing at the lettuce he looked up at her with disappointment and turned away. Then he went over to Gösta, who reached for a biscuit and discreetly slipped it to the dog.

‘You’re not doing him any favours, you know,’ said Paula. ‘He’ll get fat, and it might even make him ill if you and Bertil don’t stop feeding him treats like that. If it weren’t for Mamma taking him out for long walks, that dog would have died long ago.’

‘I know. But when he gives me that look, I can’t …’

Paula stared at Gösta with a stern expression.

‘We’ll have to hope that Martin or Patrik have come up with a lead or two,’ said Gösta, quickly changing the subject. ‘Because right now we’re not really any wiser than we were yesterday.’

‘You can say that again.’ Paula paused and then went on, ‘It’s so awful thinking about that scene. To be shot in your own flat. The one place where you’re supposed to feel safe.’

‘My guess is that it must have been someone he knew. The door hadn’t been forced, so he must have let the person in of his own accord.’

‘That makes it worse,’ said Paula. ‘To be shot at home by somebody you know.’

‘It doesn’t necessarily have to be a friend or acquaintance. There’s been a lot in the papers lately about people who ring the bell and ask to use the phone and then steal everything in the place.’ Gösta stuck his fork in the last bite of fish gratin.

‘Yes, but they usually target elderly people. Not someone who’s young and strong like Mats Sverin.’

‘True, but that doesn’t mean we should rule it out.’

‘We’ll have to wait and see what Martin and Patrik come up with.’ Paula put down her knife and fork and got to her feet. ‘Want some coffee?’

‘Yes, please,’ said Gösta. He slipped another biscuit to Ernst and was rewarded by a wet tongue licking his hand.

‘Oh, I needed this,’ Erling groaned loudly as he lay on the narrow massage table.

Vivianne’s fingers expertly kneaded the muscles in his back, and he felt the tension gradually disappearing. It wasn’t easy to handle all the responsibilities that went with his job.

‘Is this the type of service that we’re going to be offering?’ he asked, his face resting in the hole of the table.

‘This is a traditional massage, so it will definitely be one of the services. In addition we have Thai massage, and a treatment with hot stones. Clients can also choose between a partial and a total body rub.’ Vivianne continued working on his back as she spoke in a calm, almost hypnotic voice.

‘Excellent. That’s excellent.’

‘Later we’ll offer other treatments besides the basic spa package. Salt and seaweed scrubs, light therapy, algae facials, and so on. We’re going to have a full line of services. But you already know that because it was in the prospectus.’

‘Yes, but it’s still music to my ears. What about the staff? Is everyone on board?’ He could feel himself getting drowsy from the massage, the muted lighting, and Vivianne’s soothing voice.

‘The staff will soon be fully trained. I’ve taken charge of that part myself. We’ve brought in some fantastic people – young, enthusiastic, and ambitious.’

‘Excellent. That’s excellent,’ Erling repeated and then uttered a deep, contented sigh. ‘It’s going to be a massive success. I can feel it.’ He grimaced as Vivianne pressed a tender spot on his back.

‘You have some real knots right here,’ she told him, as she continued to rub the spot.

‘That really hurts,’ he said, suddenly wide awake.

‘It takes pain to get rid of pain.’ Vivianne pressed even harder, and Erling couldn’t hold back a whimper.

‘Why are you so tense?’ she asked.

‘It must be because of what happened to Mats,’ said Erling, his voice sounding strained. His back hurt so much that he felt tears welling up in his eyes. ‘The police came to the office this morning asking questions. The whole business is absolutely ghastly.’

Vivianne abruptly stopped rubbing. ‘What sort of questions?’

Grateful that the pain had stopped, at least temporarily, Erling drew in a long breath.

‘Mostly stuff about Mats and what he was like at work. What we knew about him, and whether he was good at his job.’

‘What did you tell them?’ Vivianne was again massaging his back. Thankfully she had moved on to a different spot.

‘Well, there wasn’t much to say. Mats was so reserved, we never really got to know him. But this afternoon I went through the accounts, and I have to say that he was certainly meticulous. That’s going to make it easier for me to take control of the finances until we can find a replacement.’

‘I’m sure you’ll do a great job.’ Vivianne was now massaging the back of his neck in a way that gave him goose pimples. ‘So he didn’t leave behind any question marks?’

‘No, from what I could see, everything was in perfect order.’ Erling felt himself dozing off again as Vivianne’s fingers continued their work.

Dan was sitting at the kitchen table and staring out of the window. The house was quiet. The children were in school or at the day-care centre. By now he’d usually be at work, but it was his day off. He’d have preferred to be working. Lately his stomach started to hurt the minute he was on his way home, because the whole house reminded him of what they had lost. Not just their baby, but also the life that they’d shared together. In his heart, he had begun to think that it might be gone for ever, and he didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t like him to feel as utterly helpless as he did right now, and he hated the feeling.

His heart ached for Emma and Adrian. They couldn’t understand why their mother refused to get out of bed, why she wouldn’t talk to them or kiss them or even look up when they brought the drawings they’d made to show her. They knew that Anna had been in a car accident and that their little brother had gone to heaven. But they couldn’t comprehend why that would make their mother lie so still, endlessly staring out of the window. And nothing that Dan did or said could make up for the emptiness they felt. They liked him, but they loved their mother.

With each passing day, Emma was becoming more withdrawn while Adrian got more aggressive. Both were reacting in their own way. Dan had talked with the teachers at the day-care centre about the fact that Adrian had begun hitting and biting the other children. And Emma’s teacher had phoned to discuss the changes in her; she’d gone from a lively, cheerful child to one who sat through classes without saying a word. What was Dan supposed to do? They needed Anna, not him.

At least he was able to comfort his own three daughters. They came to him with their questions and seeking hugs. They were sad and upset, but not in the same way as Emma and Adrian. Besides, his girls went to stay with their mother Pernilla every other week, and there they could escape the sorrow that hovered like a heavy blanket over his whole life.

Pernilla had been a great help. Their divorce had not been without its problems, but since the accident she had been amazing. It was largely due to her that Lisen, Belinda, and Malin were coping so well. Emma and Adrian had no one else. Naturally, Erica had tried to help, but she had her hands full taking care of the twins, and it wasn’t easy for her to make time for her niece and nephew. He realized that, and was grateful for the effort she made.

In the end, he and Emma and Adrian were left alone with their paralysing fear about what was going to happen to Anna. Sometimes he wondered if she would spend the rest of her life staring out of the window. The days would become weeks and then years as Anna simply lay there, slowly getting older. He knew that it was his own dark thoughts making him feel this way. The doctors had said that she would gradually come out of her depression, but that it had to run its course. The problem was that he didn’t believe them. Several months had now passed since the accident, and it seemed as if Anna was drifting further and further away.

Outside, a few titmice were pecking at the balls of suet that the girls had insisted on hanging up for the birds, despite the time of year. He watched them, enviously thinking how carefree their lives must be. Concerned only with the basic needs: eating, sleeping, and reproducing. No emotions, no complicated relationships. No sorrow.

Then he thought about Matte. Erica had phoned to tell him what had happened. Dan knew his parents well. Many times he and Gunnar had gone out in the boat, sitting there telling stories, and Gunnar had always talked of his son with such pride. Dan also knew who Matte was because they’d gone to the same school, although Mats had been in Erica’s class, not his. But they’d never really been friends. Gunnar and Signe must be suffering terribly. That thought cast his own grief in a new light. If it felt this bad to lose a son that he’d never had a chance to know, how much worse it must be for them to lose a son that they had followed through life and watched grow into a man.

The titmice suddenly took off. They didn’t fly off together but instead scattered in all directions. The next second Dan saw what had caused such an abrupt departure. The neighbour’s cat had sauntered into the yard and was now looking up at the tree. This time the cat was out of luck.

Dan stood up. He couldn’t just sit here all day. He had to try talking to Anna again, urge her to rouse herself from the dead and rejoin the living. Slowly he headed upstairs.

‘How’d it go, Martin?’ asked Patrik as he leaned back in his chair. They had once again convened in the kitchen to discuss the investigation.

Martin shook his head. ‘I haven’t got much to report. I contacted most of the people that we missed yesterday, but none of them saw or heard a thing. Except maybe …’

‘What?’ said Patrik. Everyone’s attention was fixed on Martin.

‘I don’t know if this is any use. The old guy isn’t quite right in the head.’

‘Let’s hear it.’

‘Okay. There’s a man named Grip who lives on the same floor as Sverin. As I said, he seems a bit nuts.’ Martin tapped his temple. ‘And he’s got a load of smelly cats living in his flat …’ He took a deep breath. ‘Grip said that one of his cats saw a car early Saturday morning. About the same time that the other neighbour, Leandersson, was awakened by a sound that might have been a gunshot.’

Gösta sniggered. ‘His cat saw a car?’

‘Quiet, Gösta,’ said Patrik. ‘Okay, Martin, go on. What else did he say?’

‘That’s all. I didn’t really take him seriously, since he seemed so out of it.’

‘From the mouths of children and fools we will hear the truth spoken,’ murmured Annika as she continued taking notes.

Martin shrugged dejectedly. ‘That’s all I have to report.’

‘Good job,’ said Patrik, wanting to encourage him. ‘Door-to-door enquiries are never easy. People either exaggerate what they might have heard, or they’ve noticed nothing whatsoever.’

‘Yes, this job would definitely be a lot easier without witnesses,’ muttered Gösta.