The Drowning (41 page)

And he ran, even though he despised himself for complying. In his heart he kept wishing for a miracle, that one day they would simply stop, that they would see him and understand that he was somebody. But he knew this was only a dream. No one saw him. Alice didn’t count. She was a retard. That was what the boys called her, especially Erik. He used to roll the word around on his tongue whenever he saw her. ‘Reeetard …’

Alice was often waiting for him when the bus stopped. He hated it when she did that. She looked perfectly normal as she stood inside the bus shelter with her long dark hair tied back in a ponytail, her cheerful blue eyes eagerly looking for him as the kids from the high school in Tanumshede got off the bus. Sometimes he actually felt a bit proud when the bus pulled up at the stop and he saw her through the window. That long-legged, dark-haired beauty was his sister.

But then came the moment when he stepped out of the bus and she saw him. She would come towards him with that awkward gait of hers, as if she had invisible strings attached to her arms and legs that someone was randomly tugging on. Then she would call his name in her thick voice, and the boys would howl with laughter. ‘Reeetard!’

Alice didn’t understand, and that was actually what embarrassed him most. She merely smiled happily, and sometimes she even waved to them. Then he would take off running, not because anyone was chasing him but in order to escape from Erik’s bellowing taunts that echoed all over town. But he could never escape from Alice. She always thought it was a game. She would easily catch up with him, and sometimes, laughing, she would throw her arms around his neck with such force that he almost fell over.

At those moments he hated her just as much as when she had cried non-stop and taken Mother away from him. He wanted to punch her in the face so she would stop embarrassing him. He would never get to be part of the group as long as Alice stood there in the bus shelter waiting for him, calling his name and throwing her arms around his neck.

He wanted so desperately to be somebody. And not just for Alice.

When she woke up, Patrik was sound asleep. It was seven thirty, but Maja was still asleep too, even though she was usually up before seven. Erica was feeling restless. She had awakened several times in the night, thinking about what she’d heard on the cassette tape. She was anxious for morning to arrive so she could do something about it.

Now she slipped out of bed, got dressed, and went downstairs to the kitchen to make herself some coffee. When the caffeine of the first cup of coffee had kicked in, she glanced with impatience at the clock. It was possible they were already awake. With young children in the house it was even likely.

She left a note for Patrik, explaining in vague terms that she had gone out to take care of an errand. He was going to wonder what she was up to, but she would give him a full report when she got back.

Ten minutes later she drove into Hamburgsund. She had called Information to find out where Sanna’s sister Agneta lived, and she found the place at once. It was a big house built of Mexitegel brick. She held her breath as she entered the long driveway, squeezing her car between two stone pillars positioned close together. It was
going to be tricky backing the car out, but she would worry about that later.

Erica could see people moving about inside, and she was relieved to find that she’d guessed right. They were up. She rang the bell and soon she heard footsteps coming downstairs. A woman who had to be Sanna’s sister opened the door.

‘Hi,’ said Erica, introducing herself. ‘I was wondering if Sanna is up yet. I need to have a few words with her.’

Agneta gave her a quizzical look, but didn’t offer any objections.

‘Sure, Sanna and the little monsters are awake. Come on in.’

Erica stepped inside and hung up her jacket. She followed Sanna’s sister up a steep flight of stairs to another hallway. Then they turned left and entered a big open space that served as kitchen, dining room, and living room.

Sanna and the boys were eating breakfast with the cousins, a boy and a girl who looked a few years older than both of Sanna’s sons.

‘I’m sorry for interrupting your breakfast,’ said Erica, looking at Christian’s wife. ‘I just need to ask you about one thing.’

At first Sanna made no motion to get up. She was holding a spoon halfway to her mouth, looking as if thoughts were whirling through her head. But then she put down the spoon and stood up.

‘Why don’t you go downstairs and sit on the veranda so you can talk in peace,’ said Agneta.

Erica followed Sanna down the stairs, through a few more rooms, and into a glass-enclosed veranda that looked out on the lawn and the small centre of Hamburgsund.

‘How are you and the boys doing?’ Erica asked as they sat down.

‘All right, I suppose.’ Sanna looked pale and haggard, as if she hadn’t had much sleep. ‘The boys keep asking about their father, and I don’t know what to tell them. I also don’t know whether I should try to get them to talk about what happened or not. I was thinking of phoning Child Psychiatric Services today, to ask for advice.’

‘That sounds like a good idea,’ said Erica. ‘But kids are tough. They can handle more than we think.’

‘You may be right.’ Sanna stared into space, her expression blank. Then she turned to Erica and said:

‘What was it you wanted to talk about?’

Like so many times before, Erica wasn’t sure how to begin. She had no authority to be here, no mandate to ask questions. All she had was her curiosity. And her concern. For a moment she pondered what to say. Then she leaned down and took the drawings out of her purse.

Sven-Olov Rönn was up at dawn. That was something he was enormously proud of, and he seized every opportunity to mention it. ‘There’s no use lying in bed, practising for the nursing home,’ he liked to say with satisfaction, and then he’d explain that he was always up by six at the latest. His daughter-in-law sometimes teased him about the fact that every night he went to bed by nine. ‘And you don’t call that practising for the nursing home?’ she’d ask with a smile. But he chose to ignore those kinds of remarks. He always made good use of his daytime hours.

After a solid breakfast of oatmeal, Sven-Olov sat down in his favourite armchair and took his time reading the newspaper as the dark slowly faded outside the window. By the time he finished, it was usually light enough for him to make his morning survey. It had become a ritual over the years.

He got up, fetched the binoculars hanging on a hook,
and sat down in front of the window. His house stood on the slope across from the boathouses, with the church behind him, and he had an excellent view of Fjällbacka’s harbour approach. He raised the binoculars to his eyes and began his inspection, moving from left to right. First the neighbours. Yes, they were up too. These days not many people lived here in the wintertime, but he was lucky enough to have one of the few permanent residents in the area as his neighbour. And as a bonus, the man’s wife liked to walk around in nothing but her underwear in the morning. She was about fifty, but had a damned nice figure, he noted as he moved the binoculars to continue his survey.

Empty houses, one empty house after another. Some were completely dark, others had lights with timers, so here and there he saw lights on. He sighed as he always did. It was terrible how things had changed. He could still remember when all of the houses were occupied and filled with activity year round. By now the summer visitors had bought up almost everything, and they didn’t bother to spend more than three months a year in Fjällbacka. Then they would return to the cities with a flattering suntan, which they enjoyed talking about at parties and dinners well into the autumn: ‘Oh, yes, we were at our house in Fjällbacka all summer. Just imagine living there all year round. What peace and quiet that would be. We could really unwind.’ But of course they didn’t mean a word of it. They wouldn’t last twenty-four hours out here in the winter, when everything was closed up and quiet, and it was way too cold to be lying on the rocks, trying to bask in the sun.

The binoculars moved on, crossing Ingrid Bergman Square, which was deserted. Sven-Olov had heard that the people in charge of Fjällbacka’s website had installed a camera so it was possible to log on to the computer and
see what was happening in town. Anybody who does that must not have enough to do, he thought. Because there certainly wasn’t much to see.

He swung the binoculars onward, letting them glide over Södra Hamngatan, past Järnboden, and over towards Brandparken. For a moment he paused at the coast guard boat, admiring it as he always did. Simply magnificent. He’d loved boats all his life, and the
MinLouis
always gleamed so beautifully when she was in dock. Then he followed the path towards Badholmen. Memories from his youth always came back to him whenever he saw the wooden buildings with the high fence, which was where people changed their clothes. Men on one side, women on the other. When he was a boy, he and his pals were always trying to find a way to peek in at the ladies. Though rarely with any success.

Now he could see the rocks and the trampoline that the kids used so much in the summer. Then the tower, looking a bit worn these days. He hoped that they would fix it up and not just tear it down. In a way it was an essential part of Fjällbacka.

Sven-Olov moved past the tower to look out over the water towards Valön. Then he gave a start, and moved the binoculars back a bit. What on earth? He adjusted the focus and then squinted his eyes in an attempt to see more clearly. If he wasn’t mistaken, something was hanging from the tower. Something dark, swaying slightly in the wind. Again he squinted his eyes. Maybe some kids had been up to no good and decided to hang a doll or something from the tower. He couldn’t really see what it was.

His curiosity got the better of him. He put on his coat and stuck his feet in a pair of shoes, attaching snow cleats to the soles. Then he went outside. He’d forgotten to put sand on the top step, and he held on tight to the railing
so he wouldn’t land on his backside. Down on the road it was easier, and he headed off as fast as he dared in the direction of Badholmen.

The whole town seemed asleep as he passed Ingrid Bergman Square. He wondered whether he should flag down a car if he saw one drive by, but decided not to. It was silly to cause a commotion if it turned out to be nothing.

As Sven-Olov came closer, he slowed down even more. He usually tried to take a long walk at least a couple of times a week, so he was still in fairly good condition. Even so, he was breathing hard by the time he reached the buildings at Badholmen.

He stopped for a moment to catch his breath. At least he pretended that was the reason for stopping. The truth was that he’d had a bad feeling ever since he saw that dark silhouette in his binoculars. He hesitated, but then took a deep breath and stepped through the entrance to the swimming area. He couldn’t bring himself to look up at the diving tower yet. Instead, he stared at his feet, setting them down carefully on the rocks so he wouldn’t fall and then not be able to get up. But when there were only a few yards left to the tower, he raised his head and slowly let his eyes move upwards.

Patrik sat up with a jolt. Something was buzzing. He looked around and at first couldn’t tell where he was or identify where the sound was coming from. Finally he woke up enough to reach for his mobile. He’d turned off the ringer, but the vibrate function was on, and the phone was frantically hopping around on the bedside table, with the display glowing in the dim light of the room.

‘Hello?’

He was instantly wide awake and started getting dressed as he listened and asked follow-up questions. A few
minutes later he was fully dressed and on his way out the door when he saw the note that Erica had left, and he realized that she hadn’t been lying in bed next to him. He swore and ran back upstairs. Maja was in her room, but she had climbed out of bed and was sitting on the floor, playing quietly. What the hell was he going to do? He couldn’t leave her home alone. Annoyed, he tried Erica’s mobile, but it just kept ringing until her voicemail took over. Where could she be this early in the morning?

He ended the call and instead punched in Anna and Dan’s number. Anna answered, and he sighed with relief as he quickly explained his dilemma. Then he stood in the front hall, impatiently shifting from one foot to the other during the ten minutes it took Anna to jump in her car and drive over.

‘I can’t believe all the emergency calls I’ve been getting from the two of you lately. First Erica needing to make a trip to Göteborg yesterday, and now you call, sounding as if there’s a fire somewhere.’ Anna laughed as she swept past Patrik and came into the house.

He quickly thanked her and then ran for his car. Not until he was behind the wheel did Anna’s remarks sink in. A trip to Göteborg? Yesterday? He didn’t understand. But it would just have to wait. Right now he had other things to think about.

The whole police force was on site by the time he reached Badholmen. He parked his car in front of the Coast Guard boat and jogged out to the island. Torbjörn Ruud and the other techs were already at work.