The Drowning (33 page)

He opened his eyes again. Staring up at the ceiling, he felt tears running down his cheeks. She could come and take him now. He wasn’t going to run away.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

16

‘Out of the way, Fatty!’

The boys deliberately bumped into him as they passed in the corridor. He tried to ignore them, to be as invisible at school as he was at home. But it didn’t work. It was as if they had been waiting for someone like him, someone who stuck out, a scapegoat they could pick on. He understood. After spending so many hours reading books, he knew more and understood more than most kids his age. He excelled in all his classes, and the teachers loved him. But what good was that when he couldn’t kick a ball, run fast, or spit far? Those were the sorts of skills that counted, the talents that mattered.

Slowly he made his way home. He kept looking around to see if anyone was waiting to ambush him. Luckily he didn’t have a long walk to school. The route was filled with dangers, but at least it was short. All he had to do was go down the slope of Håckebacken, head left towards the wharf that faced Badholmen, and there was his house. The house they had inherited from the Old Bitch.

Mother still called her by that name. She had said that name with great satisfaction every time she discarded any of the old woman’s possessions, tossing them into the big rubbish bin they had placed in the yard when they moved in.

‘If only the Old Bitch could see this. Here go all her fancy chairs,’ said Mother, cleaning and clearing things out as if she’d gone mad. ‘Now I’m throwing away your grandmother’s china. See that?’

He had never heard why she’d been given that name: the Old Bitch. Or why Mother was so angry with her. Once he had timidly asked Father, but he had merely muttered a few vague words in reply.

‘You’re already home?’ Mother was combing Alice’s hair when he came in.

‘School was out the same time as always,’ he said, ignoring Alice’s smile. ‘What’s for dinner?’

‘You look like you’ve already eaten enough for the rest of the year. No dinner for you today. You can just live on your fat.’

It was only four o’clock, and already he could feel how hungry he was going to be. But when he looked at Mother, he could tell that it would do no good to protest.

He went up to his room, closed the door, and lay down on his bed with a book. Filled with hope, he stuck his hand under the mattress. If he was lucky, he might have missed something. But there was nothing there. She was very clever. She always found the food and sweets that he stashed away, no matter where he tried to hide them.

A couple of hours later, his stomach was growling noisily. He was so hungry that he was on the verge of tears. From downstairs came the smell of freshly baked buns, and he knew that Mother was making cinnamon rolls just so that the fragrance would drive him crazy with hunger. He sniffed at the air, then turned on to his side and buried his face in the pillow. Sometimes he thought about running away. No one would care. Alice might miss him, but he didn’t give a damn about her. She had Mother.

Mother devoted all her free time to Alice. So why couldn’t Alice look at her instead of him with those adoring eyes of hers? And why did she take for granted what he would have given anything to have?

He must have dozed off, because he was awakened by a light tap on the door. His book had fallen over his face, and he had been drooling in his sleep, because the pillow was wet with saliva. He wiped his cheek with his hand and groggily got up to open the door. Alice was standing there. In one hand she had a bun, which she held out to him. His mouth watered, but he hesitated. Mother would be angry if she found out that Alice had slipped upstairs to bring him something to eat.

Alice stared at him with her eyes wide. She wanted him to see her, to love her. An image appeared in his mind. An image and the feeling of a baby’s slippery, wet body. Alice staring up at him from the water. The way she flailed about and then lay still.

He grabbed the bun and closed the door in her face. But it didn’t help. The images were still there.

Patrik had sent Gösta and Martin to Uddevalla to see if Kenneth was feeling well enough to talk to them. Torbjörn Ruud’s team of crime techs was on the way. The team would have to split up in order to deal with both the place where Kenneth had fallen and the house belonging to Christian and Sanna. Gösta hadn’t wanted to leave; he would have preferred to stay and have a talk with Christian. But Patrik wanted Paula to stay instead. He thought it would be good to have a woman speak with Sanna and the children. Nevertheless he had been impressed with Gösta’s handling of the situation, and especially his finding the rag and bottle in the basement. With luck, these items would give them the perpetrator’s fingerprints and DNA. Up until now he or she had been too careful to leave a trace.

He stared at the man sitting at the kitchen table facing him. Christian looked worn-out and old. He seemed to have aged ten years since Patrik last saw him. He hadn’t bothered to tie the belt of his bathrobe properly, and his bare chest made him look even more vulnerable. Patrik wondered if he ought to tell Christian, for his own sake, to close up his bathrobe, but he decided not to say anything. His clothing was undoubtedly the last thing on Christian’s mind at the moment.

‘The boys have calmed down. My colleague Paula is going to talk to them and your wife. She’ll be careful what she says and do her best to make sure they won’t be further frightened or upset. Okay?’ Patrik tried to catch Christian’s eye to see if he was listening. At first there was no response, and he considered repeating what he’d just said. But finally Christian nodded.

‘In the meantime, I thought you and I should have a little chat,’ Patrik went on. ‘I know that you haven’t been keen to talk to us before, but this time you really have no choice. Someone came into your house and went into the room where your sons were sleeping. The boys weren’t harmed physically, but it must have been a terribly scary experience for them. If you have any idea about who might be behind this, you need to tell me. Don’t you understand that?’

Again a long pause before Christian finally nodded. He cleared his throat as if to speak, but no words came.

Patrik continued: ‘It was only yesterday that we found out that Kenneth and Erik had also received threatening letters from the same person who sent letters to you. And this morning Kenneth was seriously injured while he was out taking a run. Someone set a trap for him.’

Christian glanced up, looking startled, but then lowered his eyes again.

‘We have no information that Magnus received similar threats, but we’re working from the assumption that the same person was involved with his death. And I have a feeling that you know more than you’re telling us. Maybe because it’s something you don’t want to drag out into the light, or it’s something you think is trivial, but you need to let us decide what’s important. Even the slightest lead could be significant.’

Christian was tracing circles on the table with his finger. Then he raised his head and met Patrik’s glance. For a
moment it looked as though there was something Christian wanted to say. Then he shut down again.

‘I have no idea,’ he said. ‘I don’t know any more than you do who could be doing this.’

‘Are you aware that both you and your family are in grave danger as long as this person is at large?’

An uncanny calm had settled over Christian’s face. All trace of worry or concern had vanished. Instead, his expression was what Patrik could only describe as determined.

‘I understand. And I’m sure that you’ll do your best to find out who the guilty party is. But I’m afraid that I can’t help you. I just don’t know anything.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ said Patrik bluntly.

Christian shrugged. ‘Well, there’s nothing I can do about that. I’m just telling you how it is. I don’t know anything.’ As if suddenly aware that he was practically naked, he closed up his bathrobe and pulled the belt tight.

Patrik felt like shaking the man, out of sheer frustration. He was convinced that Christian was holding something back. He didn’t know what it was, or even if it was relevant to the case. But there was definitely something he didn’t want to discuss.

‘What time did all of you go to bed last night?’ asked Patrik, deciding to move on to another topic, but only for the moment. He wasn’t going to let Christian off the hook so easily. He’d seen how terrified the children were as they sat in the bathtub. Next time it might not be a question of red paint. He had to make Christian understand how serious the situation was.

‘I went to bed late, just after one o’clock. I have no idea when Sanna went to bed.’

‘Were you home all evening?’

‘No, I went out for a walk. Sanna and I are having a few … problems. I needed to get some air.’

‘Where did you go?’

‘I’m not really sure. No place in particular. I just wandered around a bit, and then I walked through town.’

‘Alone? In the middle of the night?’

‘I didn’t want to be in the house. Where was I supposed to go?’

‘So you came back home around one? And you’re sure about the time?’

‘I’m positive. I looked at the clock over on Ingrid Bergman Square, and it said quarter to one. It takes about ten or fifteen minutes to walk home from there. So it should have been just about one o’clock when I got back.’

‘Was Sanna asleep?’

Christian nodded. ‘Yes, she was asleep. And the boys were too. The house was quiet.’

‘Did you look in on the kids when you came home?’

‘I always do that. Nils had kicked off the covers, as usual, so I tucked him in.’

‘And you didn’t notice anything odd or out of the ordinary?’

‘You mean like big red letters on the wall?’ he said sarcastically.

Patrik could feel himself getting annoyed.

‘I’ll repeat my question: You didn’t see anything unusual, anything you reacted to, when you came home?’

‘No,’ said Christian. ‘I didn’t see anything that I reacted to. If I had, do you think I would have just gone to bed?’

‘No, probably not.’ Patrik was sweating again. Why did everyone have to keep their homes so hot? He tugged at his shirt collar. It felt like he wasn’t getting enough air.

‘Did you lock the door after you got home?’

Christian paused to think. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I think so. I usually lock the door. But … but I don’t really recall doing it.’ Now all sarcasm was gone from his voice. He was almost whispering when he said, ‘I don’t remember locking the door.’

‘And you didn’t hear anything during the night?’

‘No, nothing. At least I didn’t. I don’t think Sanna did either. We’re both very sound sleepers. I didn’t wake up until Sanna started screaming this morning. I didn’t even hear Nils …’

Patrik decided to try again. ‘And you have no idea why anyone would do this? Or why someone would send you threatening letters for a year and half? No suspicions at all?’

‘Why the hell aren’t you listening to what I’m saying?’

The outburst came out of the blue, and Patrik actually jumped. Christian had shouted so loudly that Paula called from upstairs:

‘Is everything okay?’

‘We’re fine,’ Patrik called in reply, hoping he was right. Christian looked on the verge of collapse. His face was bright red, and he was vigorously scratching the palm of his hand.

‘I don’t know anything,’ Christian repeated, as if he were trying desperately not to shout. He was scratching so hard that he was leaving marks on his skin.

Patrik waited for Christian to relax a bit, and for the colour of his face to return more or less to normal. When he stopped scratching, he looked in surprise at the marks on the palm of his hand, as if he couldn’t understand where they’d come from.

‘Is there anywhere you and your family could stay until we find out more?’ asked Patrik.

‘Sanna and the boys could go to her sister’s house in Hamburgsund and stay there for a while.’

‘What about you?’

‘I’m staying here.’ Christian sounded as if he’d made up his mind.

‘That doesn’t seem like a good idea,’ said Patrik, his voice equally firm. ‘We can’t offer you police protection
24/7. I’d rather you stayed at a different location where you would feel safer.’

‘I’m staying here.’

Christian’s tone of voice indicated there was no room for discussion.

‘All right,’ said Patrik reluctantly. ‘Make sure that your family leaves as soon as possible. We’ll try to keep an eye on the house as best we can, but we don’t have the resources to –’

‘I don’t need police protection,’ Christian interrupted him. ‘I’ll be fine.’

Patrik fixed his eyes on him. ‘A seriously disturbed person is on the loose. This individual has already committed one murder, possibly two, and seems determined to make sure that you and Kenneth, and maybe Erik, end up dead too. This is not a game. You don’t seem to understand that.’ He spoke slowly, clearly enunciating every word to make sure his message got through.