The Hidden Child (5 page)

‘Oops,’ said Dan with a wry expression as he looked up at the ceiling.

‘Yes, “oops” is the right word for it,’ Anna said, pulling out of his arms. ‘This really isn’t easy for her.’ She picked up the clinking plates and put them in the sink.

‘I know, but she’s just going to have to accept that I have a new woman in my life,’ said Dan, sounding annoyed.

‘Just try and put yourself in her position. First you and Pernilla get divorced, then a whole lot of . . .’ – she weighed her words carefully – ‘girlfriends come waltzing through here, and then I appear on the scene and move in with two little kids. Belinda is barely seventeen, which is tough enough, without having to get used to three strangers moving in.’

‘You’re right, I know that,’ said Dan with a sigh. ‘But I have no idea how to deal with a teenager. I mean, should I just leave her alone, or will that make her feel neglected? Or should I insist on talking to her and then risk having her think I’m pressuring her? There should be a manual for situations like this.’

Anna laughed. ‘I think they forgot about handing out manuals back in the maternity ward. But you could try talking to her. If she slams the door in your face, at least you’ve given it a try. And then you should try again. And again. She’s afraid of losing you. She’s afraid of losing the right to be a child. She’s afraid that we’re going to take over everything now that we’ve moved in. And that’s perfectly understandable.’

‘What did I do to deserve such a wise woman?’ said Dan, pulling Anna close again.

‘I don’t know,’ said Anna, smiling as she burrowed her face into his chest. ‘Mind you, I’m not particularly wise. It just seems that way, compared to your previous conquests.’

‘Hey, watch out,’ said Dan with a laugh as he wrapped his arms tighter around her. ‘If you keep that up, I might decide to hang on to the pine bed after all.’

‘So do you want me to stay here or not?’

‘Okay. You win. Consider it gone.’

They both laughed. And kissed. Overhead the pop music continued to pound, turned up to a deafening volume.

Martin saw the boys as soon as he turned on to the drive in front of the house. They were standing off to the side, both of them hugging their arms to their bodies and shivering. Their faces were pale, and they looked visibly relieved when they caught sight of the police cars.

‘Martin Molin,’ he said, shaking the hand of the first boy, who introduced himself as Adam Andersson, mumbling the name. The other boy waved his right hand, offering an apology with an embarrassed expression.

‘I threw up and wiped it off with my . . . Well, I don’t think I should shake hands.’

Martin nodded sympathetically. ‘All right, so what exactly happened here?’ He turned to Adam, who seemed more composed. He was shorter than his friend, with shaggy blond hair and an angry outbreak of acne on his cheeks.

‘Well, the thing is, we . . .’ Adam glanced over at Mattias, who merely shrugged, so he went on. ‘Well, we were thinking of going inside the house to have a look around, since it looked like the old guys had gone away.’

‘Old guys?’ said Martin. ‘So two people live here?’

Mattias replied, ‘Two brothers. I don’t know what their first names are, but my mother probably does. She’s been taking in their post since the beginning of June. One of the brothers always goes away during the summer, but not the other one. Except this time no one was taking in the post from the letter box, so we thought that . . .’ He left the rest of the sentence unspoken and looked down at his feet. A dead fly was still lying on one shoe. He kicked out in disgust, trying to knock it off. ‘Is he the one who’s dead inside the house?’ he said then, looking up.

‘At the moment you know more than we do,’ said Martin. ‘But go on. You were thinking of going inside, and then what happened?’

‘Mattias found a window that was open, and he climbed in first,’ said Adam. ‘Seems funny now, because when we came out we discovered that the front door was unlocked. So we could just as well have walked right in. Anyway, Mattias climbed in through the window and pulled me up after him. When we jumped down on to the floor, we noticed something crunching under our feet, but we didn’t see what it was because it was too dark.’

‘Dark?’ Martin interrupted him. ‘Why was it dark?’ Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Gösta, Paula and Bertil were now standing behind him, listening.

‘All the blinds were down,’ Adam explained patiently. ‘But we rolled up the blind of the window we’d come through. And then we saw that the floor was covered with dead flies. And the smell was horrible.’

‘Really awful,’ Mattias chimed in, looking as if he was fighting off another wave of nausea.

‘Then what?’ Martin said, in an effort to keep them on track.

‘Then we went further into the room, and the chair behind the desk was turned so the back was facing us, and we couldn’t tell what was there. But I had a feeling that . . . well, I’ve seen
CSI
, and with such an awful smell and all those dead flies . . . you don’t have to be Einstein to figure out that something had died in there. So I went over to the chair and turned it around. And there he was!’

Apparently the scene was still all too vivid for Mattias; he turned and threw up on the grass. He wiped off his mouth and whispered, ‘Sorry.’

‘That’s okay,’ said Martin. ‘We’ve all done the same thing at some point when we’ve seen a dead body.’

‘Not me,’ said Mellberg arrogantly.

‘Me neither,’ said Gösta laconically.

‘I never have either,’ Paula added.

Martin glanced over his shoulder and gave them all a stern look.

‘He looked really gross,’ Adam told them. In spite of the shock, he seemed to be taking a certain pleasure in the situation. Behind him Mattias had doubled over and was retching again, but he seemed to have nothing more in his stomach.

‘Could someone take the boys home?’ said Martin, turning to face his colleagues. At first no one answered, but then Gösta said:

‘I’ll take them. Come on, lads, hop in the car.’

‘We only live a few hundred metres from here,’ said Mattias weakly.

‘Then I’ll walk you home,’ said Gösta, gesturing for them to follow. They slunk after him in their typical teenage way – Mattias with a grateful expression, while Adam was obviously disappointed to miss out on what was going to happen next.

Martin watched until they were out of sight round the bend in the road and then said, without any hint of anticipation, ‘Well, let’s see what we have here.’

Bertil Mellberg cleared his throat. ‘I have no problem with dead bodies and the like – absolutely none; I’ve seen quite a few in my day. But somebody ought to check . . . the surrounding area too. Maybe it’d be best if I took on that assignment, since I’m the boss and the most experienced officer here.’ Again he cleared his throat.

Martin and Paula exchanged amused glances, but before replying, Martin was careful to put on a serious expression.

‘You’re got a point there, Bertil. It’d be best for someone with your experience to make a careful inspection of the site. Paula and I can go inside and take a look.’

‘Right . . . exactly. I think that would be best.’ Mellberg rocked back on his heels for a moment before sauntering off across the lawn.

‘Shall we go in?’ said Martin.

Paula merely nodded.

‘Careful now,’ Martin told her as he opened the door. ‘We don’t want to disturb any evidence in case it turns out that this was not a death from natural causes. We’ll just have a quick look around before the techs get here.’

‘I have five years’ experience in the violent crimes division with Regional Criminal Investigation in Stockholm. I know how to handle a potential crime scene,’ Paula replied good-naturedly.

‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t know that,’ said Martin, embarrassed, but then he focused his attention on the task at hand.

An uncanny silence reigned inside the house, broken only by their footsteps on the hall floor. Martin wondered if the silence would have seemed as creepy if they hadn’t known there was a corpse on the premises; he decided it wouldn’t have.

‘In there,’ he whispered, but then realized there was no reason to whisper. So in his normal voice he repeated the words, the sound bouncing off the walls.

Paula followed close behind as Martin took a couple more steps towards the room that was presumably the library and opened the door. The strange smell that they’d noticed as soon as they entered the house got stronger. The boys were right. There were flies all over the floor. Their feet made a crunching sound as he and Paula went in. The smell was intensely sweet, but by now it was only a fraction of what it must have been in the beginning.

‘There’s no doubt that someone died here a good while ago,’ said Paula, and then she and Martin both caught sight of what was seated at the far end of the room.

‘No doubt about it,’ said Martin. There was an unpleasant taste in his mouth. He steeled himself and cautiously headed across the room to the body sitting in the chair.

‘Stay there.’ He raised a hand to warn off Paula, who obediently stayed near the door. She wasn’t offended. The fewer police treading through the room, the better.

‘It doesn’t look like he died of natural causes,’ said Martin as the bile rose up in his throat. He swallowed over and over, fending off the urge to vomit as he concentrated on the job. In spite of the pitiful condition of the body, there was no doubt at all. A big contusion on one side of the victim’s head spoke volumes. The person seated in the chair had been the victim of a brutal assault.

Carefully Martin turned around and exited the room. Paula followed. After taking a few deep breaths of fresh air, the urge to throw up faded. At that moment he saw Patrik turn the corner and make his way down the gravel path.

‘It’s murder,’ said Martin as soon as Patrik was within earshot. ‘Torbjörn and his team will have to come out and get to work. There’s nothing more we can do right now.’

‘Okay,’ said Patrik, his expression grim. ‘Could I just . . .’ He stopped and glanced at Maja sitting in her pushchair.

‘Go in and take a look. I’ll watch Maja,’ said Martin eagerly. He went over and picked her up. ‘Come on, sweetie, let’s go and look at the flowers over there.’

‘Flowers,’ said Maja, pointing at the flower bed.

‘Did you go inside?’ Patrik asked Paula.

She nodded. ‘Not a pretty sight. Looks like he’s been sitting there all summer. That’s my opinion, at least.’

‘I suppose you saw your share of things during your years in Stockholm.’

‘Not too many bodies in that state, but a few nasty ones.’

‘Well, I’m going in to have a quick look. I’m actually on paternity leave, but . . .’

Paula smiled. ‘It’s hard to stay away, isn’t it? I understand. But Martin seems to have a good handle on things.’ With a smile she looked over at the flower bed where Martin was squatting down with Maja to admire the blooms.

‘He’s a rock. In every sense of the word,’ said Patrik as he started walking towards the house. A few minutes later he returned.

‘I agree with Martin. Not much doubt about it, given that massive contusion on the victim’s head.’

‘No trace of a suspect.’ Mellberg was huffing and puffing as he came round the corner. ‘So, how does it look? Have you been inside, Hedström?’ he demanded. Patrik nodded.

‘Yes, there’s little doubt that it’s murder. Are you going to call in the techs?’

‘Of course,’ said Mellberg pompously. ‘I’m the boss of this madhouse. And by the way, what are you doing here? You insisted on taking paternity leave, and now that you’ve got it, you pop up here like a jack-in-the-box.’ Mellberg turned to Paula: ‘I really don’t understand the modern generation – men staying home to change nappies and women running about in uniform.’ Abruptly he turned away and stomped back to the police car to summon the techs.

‘Welcome to Tanumshede,’ said Patrik drily, receiving an amused smile in reply.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not insulted. I’ve come across his kind before. If I let all the dinosaurs in uniform bother me, I would have thrown in the towel long ago.’

‘I’m glad you see it that way,’ Patrik said. ‘And the one advantage with Mellberg is that at least he’s consistent – he discriminates against everybody and everything.’

‘That’s comforting to know,’ said Paula with a laugh.

‘What’s so funny?’ asked Martin, who was still holding Maja.

‘Mellberg,’ said Patrik and Paula in unison.

‘What did he say now?’

‘Oh, the usual,’ said Patrik, reaching for Maja. ‘But Paula seems able to handle it, so things should be okay. Right now this little lady and I need to go home. Wave goodbye, sweetheart.’

Maja waved and grinned at Martin, whose face lit up. ‘What, are you leaving me, my girl? I thought we had something special going, you and me.’ He stuck out his lower lip in a pout and pretended to look sad.

‘Maja is never going to be interested in any man but her pappa. Right, sweetie?’ Patrik rubbed his nose against Maja’s neck, making her shriek with laughter. Then he put her in the pushchair and waved to his colleagues. Part of him was relieved that he could walk away. But another part would have liked nothing better than to stay.

She was confused. Was it Monday? Or was it already Tuesday? Britta nervously paced the living room. It was so . . . frustrating. It felt as if the more she struggled to catch hold of something, the faster it evaded her grasp. In more lucid moments, a voice inside told her that she ought be able to control things through sheer force of will. She should be able to make her brain obey her. At the same time, she knew that her brain was changing, breaking down, losing its ability to remember, to hold on to moments, facts, information, faces.

Monday. It was Monday. Of course. Yesterday her daughters and their families had come over for Sunday dinner. Yesterday. So today was Monday. Definitely. With relief, Britta stopped in mid-stride. It felt like a small victory. At least she knew what day it was.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she sat down at one end of the sofa. The Josef Frank upholstery was nice and familiar. She and Herman had bought the fabric together. Or rather, she’d chosen it and he had agreed with her choice. Anything to make her happy. He would have gladly accepted an orange sofa with green spots if that was what she wanted. Herman, yes . . . Where was he? She started picking at the sofa’s floral pattern uneasily. She did know where he was. She really did. In her mind she pictured his lips moving as he explained where he was going. She even remembered that he’d repeated it several times. But just as she’d suddenly forgotten what day it was, that little scrap of information now slipped away too, baffling her, taunting her. She gripped the armrest in frustration. She ought to be able to remember, if only she concentrated hard enough.