Camilla Lackberg - The Lost Boy

Instead she stumbled after Stefan, who still had a tight grip on her arm. They hurried across the field behind the house, over towards the woods. In her mind she conjured up pictures of Kevin and Vilda. Newborn, lying at her breast. And much later, filled with laughter as they played in the Danish courtyard. She chose not to remember the time in between, when their eyes became more dazed and resigned with each day that passed. That was the life they were now going to return to, and she couldn’t bear to think about it. She had failed. She should have protected them, but she had grown soft and weak. Now she was about to receive her punishment, and she accepted that – as long as her children would be spared.

They had entered the woods. Birds were chirping, and sunlight seeped through the crowns of the trees. She stumbled over a tree root and almost fell, but Stefan yanked at her arm and she kept on going. Up ahead she caught sight of a clearing, and for a moment she saw Matte’s face. His handsome, kind face. He had loved her so much, and he too had been punished.

When they reached the clearing, she saw the hole in the ground. A rectangular hole, four or five feet deep. The shovel was still there, sticking out of the heap of dirt.

‘Move over to the edge,’ said Stefan, letting go of her arm.

Madeleine obeyed. She no longer had any will of her own. She stood on the edge of the hole, shaking all over. When she looked down, she saw several fat worms trying to burrow deeper into the dark, moist earth. With one last effort she slowly turned around so she was standing face to face with Stefan. He would at least be forced to look her in the eye.

‘I think I’ll put the bullet right between your eyes.’ Stefan raised the gun, holding his arm out straight, and she knew that he was speaking the truth. He was an excellent marksman.

A flock of birds took off from the trees in fright when the shot was fired. But they soon settled back on to the branches, and their chirping blended with the soughing of the wind.

It was so tedious, ploughing through all the documents: post-mortem reports, interviews with neighbours, notes that they’d made during the investigation. After three hours Patrik realized dejectedly that he was only halfway through. When Annika stuck her head in the door, he welcomed the interruption.

‘The detectives from Stockholm are here. Should I bring them to your office, or do you want to sit in the kitchen?’

‘The kitchen,’ said Patrik, standing up. His back creaked, and he reminded himself that he ought to get up and stretch once in a while. He couldn’t afford any back problems now, especially since he’d only recently returned to work after being on sick leave.

He met them in the corridor and paused to shake hands. The woman, who was tall and blond, gripped his hand so hard that he thought his bones would break. The short man with the glasses had a more relaxed handshake.

‘Petra and Konrad, right? I thought we could sit in the kitchen. How was the drive?’

They chatted some more as they took their seats, and Patrik was struck by what an odd pair these two were. Yet they seemed perfectly at ease with each other, and Patrik suspected that they must have worked together for years.

‘We need to talk with Nathalie Wester,’ Petra finally said, having tired of the small talk.

‘As I said, she’s here. Out on her island. I met her about a week ago.’

‘And she didn’t mention her husband?’ Petra fixed her eyes on Patrik, who felt as if he were being interrogated.

‘No, she never said a word. We went out there to talk to her about an old boyfriend. He was found murdered in Fjällbacka.’

‘We read about the case,’ said Konrad. He turned to look at Ernst, who had come into the kitchen. ‘Is he the station’s mascot?’

‘Yes, you might say that.’

‘This is quite a coincidence,’ Petra went on. ‘We have a husband shot to death, and you have an old boyfriend shot to death.’

‘I was thinking the same thing. But we have a possible suspect in our case.’

He briefly told his colleagues what they’d found out about Stefan Ljungberg and the Illegal Eagles. Both Petra and Konrad looked startled when he mentioned the bag of cocaine found in the litter bin.

‘Yet another connection,’ said Petra.

‘The only thing we know is that Sverin had touched the bag.’

Petra waved away Patrik’s protests. ‘No matter what, we need to look into this. Fredrik Wester mostly dealt in cocaine, and his transactions weren’t restricted to Stockholm. With Nathalie as the common link, maybe they got in contact with each other and started doing business together.’

Patrik frowned. ‘I don’t know … Mats Sverin wasn’t exactly the type who …’

‘I’m afraid there isn’t a specific type,’ said Konrad. ‘We’ve seen it all: upper-class youths, mothers of small children, even a pastor.’

‘Oh, right, that guy,’ laughed Petra. She suddenly looked less intimidating.

‘Yes, I realize that,’ said Patrik, feeling like a real country bumpkin. He knew that he was a novice when it came to this type of crime, and his instincts might be wide of the mark. He needed to trust the experience of his Stockholm colleagues instead of paying attention to what his gut was telling him.

‘Let’s hear what you’ve got, then we’ll fill you in on our case,’ said Petra.

Patrik nodded. ‘Okay. Who wants to start?’

‘Go ahead.’ Konrad got out a pen and paper, and Ernst lay down on the floor, disappointed.

Patrik paused to gather his thoughts and then from memory told his colleagues what they’d found out so far. While Konrad took notes, Petra sat and listened intently, her arms crossed.

‘Well, that’s basically all,’ Patrik concluded. ‘Your turn.’

Konrad put down his pen and gave him a summary of their investigation. They hadn’t been working the case very long, but they’d already amassed a lot of information about Fredrik Wester and the narcotics organization he’d been part of. Konrad added that they’d gone over a lot of the details on the previous day, when Martin Molin had phoned. Patrik knew this, but he had wanted to hear their report himself.

‘As you can tell, we’re working closely with our colleagues in the narcotics division on this investigation.’ Konrad shoved his glasses back into place.

‘Yes, that sounds good,’ murmured Patrik. An idea was starting to take shape in his mind. ‘Have you run the bullets through the police database yet?’

Konrad and Petra both shook their head.

‘I talked to the lab yesterday,’ said Konrad, ‘and they were just getting started.’

‘We haven’t received a report yet either, but …’

Petra and Konrad stared at him. Petra suddenly realized what Patrik was getting at.

‘If we asked the lab to compare the bullets from these two cases …’

‘Then we’d probably get the results back quicker,’ said Patrik.

‘I like the way you think.’ Petra glanced at Konrad. ‘Could you give them a call? You’re on good terms with the lab, whereas they’re not too happy with me lately because of—’

Konrad seemed to know exactly what she meant, because he interrupted her and took out his mobile. ‘I’ll ring them now.’

‘Do that. In the meantime, I’ll go and get the information you’ll need.’ Patrik jumped up and ran to his office. He came back with a document that he set on the table in front of Konrad.

Konrad chatted on the phone for a bit, and then made the request. He listened, nodded, and a smile appeared on his face.

‘That’s fantastic. I owe you one. I owe you big time. Thanks!’ Konrad ended the conversation with a satisfied look on his face. ‘I talked to one of the boys I know over there. He’s going to do a comparison right away. He’ll call back the minute it’s done.’