The Preacher (19 page)

He lost himself among the caravans, which were set so close to each other that they almost looked as if they’d been stacked up. Personally he couldn’t understand why people would voluntarily spend their holidays packed together like sardines with a crowd of other people. But purely intellectually he understood that for many it had become a lifestyle, and what appealed to them was the company of other campers who returned to the same spot every year. Some of the caravans could hardly be called caravans any longer, the way they were built out with tents in every direction. They looked more like small permanent houses, set up in the same spot, year after year.

After asking for directions, Patrik finally found his way to the caravan that Melanie had described. He saw a tall, gangly and extremely pimply young man sitting outside. Patrik felt sorry for him when he saw the red and white pustules. The boy couldn’t seem to keep from squeezing them a bit, despite the fact that he would certainly end up with scars that would last long after the acne was gone.

The sun shone in Patrik’s eyes as he stopped in front of the young man, and he had to shade his eyes with his hand. He’d left his sunglasses back at the station.

‘Hello, I’m with the police. I spoke with Melanie down the way, who said that you know Jenny Möller, is that right?’

The boy nodded mutely. Patrik sat down on the grass beside him and saw that, unlike the teenage Lolita a few caravans away, he looked genuinely worried.

‘My name’s Patrik, what’s yours?’

‘Per.’

Patrik raised his eyebrows to indicate he expected something more.

‘Per Thorsson.’ He was impatiently pulling tufts of grass out of the ground and staring hard at what he was doing. Without looking at Patrik he said, ‘It’s my fault that something happened to her.’

‘What do you mean?’ said Patrik, startled.

‘It was because of me she missed the bus. We’ve been meeting here every summer since we were little, and we always had a great time together. But after she met that little monkey Melanie, she got so damn boring. All she talked about was Melanie this and Melanie that and Melanie says this and on and on. Before, I could talk to Jenny about important things, things that meant something, but now it was just make-up and clothes and shit like that. She didn’t even dare tell Melanie if she was going to meet me, because Melanie obviously thought I was nerdy or something.’

He was pulling up grass at a faster pace now, and a little bald spot was forming in front of him, growing bigger with each tuft he pulled up. The strong smell of food on the grill hovered over their heads, insinuating itself into their nostrils. It made Patrik’s stomach growl.

‘That’s how teenage girls are. It’ll pass, I promise. Then they’ll be regular people again.’ Patrik smiled, but then turned serious. ‘But how do you mean, it was your fault? Do you know where she is? Because if you do, you should know that her parents are terribly worried …’

Per waved his hand dismissively.

‘I have no idea where she is, I just know that something bad must have happened to her. She would never run away like this. And since she was going to hitchhike – ’

‘Hitchhike? Where to? When did she hitchhike?’

‘That’s why it’s all my fault.’ Per was speaking with exaggerated patience to Patrik, as if he were a little child. He went on, ‘I started quarrelling with her just as she was going to go and meet Melanie at the bus stop. I got so pissed off because Jenny seemed to think that I was only good enough to hang out with as long as that damn Melanie didn’t know about it. I grabbed Jenny when she walked by and started yelling at her. She looked unhappy but didn’t argue. She just stood there and took it. After a while she said that now she’d missed the bus and she’d have to hitchhike into Fjällbacka. Then she left.’

Per raised his eyes from the bald spot on the lawn and looked at Patrik. His lower lip was quivering, and Patrik could see that he was feverishly fighting to avoid the humiliation of crying in the midst of all the other campers.

‘So that’s why it’s my fault. If I hadn’t started arguing with her about something that now seems totally fucking meaningless, then she would have caught that bus and all this never would have happened. She got picked up hitchhiking by some fucking psycho and it’s all my fault.’

His voice rose an octave and broke into falsetto. Patrik kept shaking his head.

‘It’s not your fault. And we don’t even know that anything’s happened to her. That’s what we’re trying to find out. Who knows, she could show up here anytime. Maybe she was just out getting into some mischief.’

His tone was soothing, but Patrik himself could hear how false it sounded. He knew that the worry he saw in the boy’s eyes was also in his own. Only a couple of hundred metres away the Möllers were sitting in their caravan, waiting for their daughter. Patrik had an icy feeling in his stomach that Per was right, and that they might be waiting in vain. Somebody had picked up Jenny. Somebody who did not have good intentions.

* * *

While Jacob and Marita were at work and the children were at day care, Linda waited for Stefan. It was the first time they were going to meet inside the house at Västergården, instead of in the hayloft in the barn, and Linda thought it was exciting. The knowledge that they were illegally meeting under her brother’s roof added a little extra spice to the rendezvous. Not until she saw the expression on Stefan’s face when he came in the door did she realize that for him it aroused quite different emotions to be back in this house.

He hadn’t been back since they had to leave Västergården right after Johannes died. With hesitant steps Stefan walked about, first in the living room, then in the kitchen, and even to the bathroom. He seemed to want to take in every detail. Much was changed. Jacob had done woodwork and painted the walls. The house no longer looked the way Stefan remembered. Linda followed close behind him.

‘It’s been a long time since you were here.’

Stefan nodded and ran his hand along the mantelpiece in the living room.

‘Twenty-four years. I was only five when we moved away from here. He’s done a lot with the house.’

‘Yes, everything has to be so damned fine for Jacob. He’s always doing carpentry work and fixing things up. It all has to be so perfect.’

Stefan didn’t answer. He seemed to be in another world. Linda began to regret inviting him home. All she was thinking of was a carefree romp in the bed, not a trip through Stefan’s sad childhood memories. She would rather not think about that side of him, the part with feelings and experiences that didn’t include her. He’d been so enchanted with her, almost worshipful. It was affirmation that she wanted from him, not the sight of this pensive, worried grown man who was now walking about the house.

She pulled at his sleeve and he started as if waking from a trance.

‘Why don’t we go upstairs? My room is in the attic.’

Stefan followed her passively up the steep stairway. They passed through the second floor, but when Linda began climbing up the stairs to the attic, Stefan followed more reluctantly. He and Robert had had their room up here, and their parents’ bedroom was up here too.

‘Wait a minute, I’ll be right there. I just have to check on something.’

He didn’t pay attention to Linda’s protests, but opened with a trembling hand the first door in the hall. Inside was his boyhood room. It was still a room for a little boy, but now it belonged to William, with his toys and clothes strewn all over. He sat down on the little bed and saw in his mind’s eye the way the room had looked when he had lived in it. After a while he got up and went into the room next door, the one that had been Robert’s. It was changed even more than his old room. Now it was clearly a girl’s room, painted pink with tulle and spangles as the dominant decoration. He left almost instantly. Instead he was drawn like a magnet to the room at the end of the hall. Many nights he had padded down the carpet his mother had laid in the hall, towards the white door, which he carefully pushed open, and then crawled into his parents’ bed. There he could sleep securely, free of nightmares and monsters under the bed. He would have most liked to curl up next to his father to sleep. He saw that Jacob and Marita had kept the grand old bedstead; this room had been changed the least.

He could feel tears burning beneath his eyelids and blinked to prevent them from spilling out before he turned round to face Linda. He didn’t want to appear so weak in front of her.

‘Are you done looking around yet? There’s nothing here to steal if that’s what you’re thinking.’

Her tone of voice had a nasty ring to it that he’d never heard before. Anger was ignited in him like a spark. And the spark was further kindled by the thought of everything that might have been. Stefan grabbed Linda hard by the arm.

‘What the hell are you talking about? You think I’m checking to see if there’s anything I could steal? You must be crazy. I lived here long before your brother moved in, and if it weren’t for your fucking father, we would still own this house. So shut your damn trap.’

For a second Linda was speechless with shock at the change in Stefan, who was always so gentle. Then she tore her arm away and snarled, ‘You know, it’s not my Pappa’s fault that your father gambled and frittered away all his money. And no matter what Pappa did, he couldn’t help that your father was such a coward that he committed suicide. He was the one who chose to abandon you, and you can’t blame Pappa for that.’

Rage made white spots form in Stefan’s field of vision. He clenched his fists. Linda looked so small and fragile that he wondered if he could snap her in two, but he forced himself to take deep breaths and calm down. In an odd, wheezing voice he said, ‘There’s plenty that I can and will blame Gabriel for. Your father destroyed our lives out of sheer envy. Mamma has told me how it was. She said that everyone loved my father, and they thought Gabriel was nothing but a dried-up sourpuss, and he couldn’t tolerate that. But Mamma was up at the farm yesterday and told him a thing or two. It’s just a shame that she didn’t give him a good thrashing too, but I suppose she doesn’t dare lay a hand on him.’

Linda laughed scornfully. ‘Once upon a time she didn’t seem to mind touching him. It’s disgusting to think of my Pappa together with your filthy mamma, but that’s how it was, at least until she worked out that it was probably easier to milk money out of your father than out of mine. Then she really got friendly with him. You know what they call somebody like that, don’t you? A whore!’

A fine spray of saliva landed on Stefan’s face when Linda, who was almost the same height, threw these words in his face.

Afraid that he wouldn’t be able to control himself, Stefan backed slowly towards the stairs. He would have liked to put his hands around her thin neck and squeeze, just to shut her up, but instead he fled.

Confused over how the situation had suddenly degenerated and angry that she didn’t have the hold over him that she’d imagined, Linda leaned over the banister and screamed venomously after him, ‘Go ahead and run away, you fucking loser. You were only good for one thing anyway. And you weren’t even very good at that.’

She flipped him the finger, but he was already on the way out the front door and didn’t see it.

Linda slumped forwards. Subject to the rapid mood swings of a teenager, she was already sorry about what she’d said. She had just been so damned furious.

When the fax from Germany arrived, Martin had just hung up the phone after speaking with Patrik. The news that Jenny had probably been picked up by a stranger in a car didn’t make the situation any better. Anyone could have picked up the girl; the best they could do now was rely on the all-seeing eye of the public. The press had been ringing Mellberg like madmen. With the news coverage that they now expected, Martin hoped that anyone who had seen Jenny getting into a car outside the campground would call in. He hoped they’d be able to sort out the real information from the onslaught of nuisance calls – those that came from mentally disturbed people or those who took the opportunity to make trouble for someone they didn’t like.

It was Annika who brought in the fax, which was brief and concise. He stumbled through the few sentences, able to make out that they were looking for Tanja’s ex-husband as next of kin. It surprised Martin that a woman so young was already divorced, but the fact was there in black and white. After a moment’s hesitation and a quick consultation with Patrik on his mobile, he dialled the number of the Fjällbacka tourist bureau. He couldn’t help but smile when he heard Pia’s voice on the line.

‘Hello, it’s Martin Molin.’ There was silence for a second too long. ‘With the police in Tanumshede.’ It irked him that he had to explain who he was. He could have told anyone her shoe size if they asked him.

‘Oh yes, hi, forgive me. I’m completely hopeless with names, but I’m better with faces. A good thing, with this job.’ She laughed. ‘What can I help you with today?’

Where should I begin? Martin thought, but then reminded himself why he was calling and pulled himself together.

‘I have to make an important call to Germany and I don’t dare try it with my poor grades in high-school German. Could you listen in on a third line and interpret for me?’

‘Absolutely,’ she replied instantly. ‘I just have to ask my colleague to mind the shop while I’m gone.’

He heard her talking to someone in the background, and then her voice was back on the line.

‘All right, I’m ready. How does this work? Will you ring me, or what?’

‘Yes, I’ll patch you in, then just wait by the phone until I call back in a few minutes.’

Exactly four minutes later, he had both Tanja’s ex-husband Peter Schmidt and Pia on the line at the same time. He started cautiously by offering his condolences and saying he was sorry to be calling under such unfortunate circumstances. The German police had already informed Peter of his ex-wife’s death, so Martin didn’t have to break the news to him, but it felt very uncomfortable to be ringing so soon after the man was informed. This was one of the most difficult aspects of Martin’s job. Thank goodness it was a rather rare occurrence in his daily police work.