Camilla Lackberg - The Lost Boy

‘Incredible,’ said Patrik, clearly impressed.

Petra seemed unfazed. She was used to Konrad’s ability to accomplish minor miracles.

Anna had slowly made her way home from the cemetery. Erica had offered to drive her, but she wanted to walk. Falkeliden was only a stone’s throw away, and she needed to collect her thoughts. Dan would be waiting at home. He was hurt when she told him that she wanted to visit the grave with Erica and not with him. But right now she just didn’t have the energy to take his feelings into consideration. She was hardly capable of examining her own emotions.

The inscription on the headstone would be etched into her heart for ever. Little One. Maybe they should have tried to come up with a proper name. Afterwards. But that hadn’t felt right. They had called him Little One the whole time he was inside of her and loved by them all. So that was what he would always be called. He would never grow up, never be anything except that little mite that she’d never even held in her arms.

She’d been unconscious for so long, and then it was too late. Dan had held him, wrapped up in a tiny blanket. He’d been able to touch the baby and say goodbye. Even though she knew that wasn’t Dan’s fault, it hurt that he’d had that experience and she hadn’t. Deep in her heart she was also angry at him for not protecting them, her and Little One. She knew that she was being ridiculous and irrational. It had been her decision to get in the car, and he’d not been present when the accident occurred. There was nothing he could have done. And yet she was angry that even Dan had not been able to protect her from bad things happening.

Maybe she had allowed herself to be lulled into a false sense of security. After everything she’d been through, after all those awful years with Lucas, she had convinced herself that it was finally over. That her life with Dan would be a long, straight road, without any unexpected bumps or curves. She hadn’t had any high-flying plans or big dreams. All she wanted was an ordinary life in a row house in Falkeliden, with dinner parties, mortgage payments, football practice for the kids, and the ever-present piles of shoes in the front hall. Was that asking too much?

In some sense she had viewed Dan as the guarantor for that sort of life. He was so steady and stable, always calm and with the ability to see beyond any problems that arose. She had leaned on him, without standing on her own two feet. But he had fallen, and she didn’t know how she was going to forgive him for that.

She opened the front door and went in. Her whole body ached after the walk, and her arms felt heavy as she lifted them to take off her scarf. Dan glanced at her from the kitchen and then stood motionless in the doorway. He didn’t say a word, just looked at her with a pleading expression. She averted her eyes.

‘I’m going upstairs to lie down,’ she mumbled.

Anders was slowly packing up everything. He had enjoyed living in this small flat, which had come to feel like a real home. That was not something that he and Vivianne had experienced very often. They’d lived in so many different places, and just when they were settling in and making friends, it would be time to move on. They would have to pack their belongings when people started asking questions, when neighbours and teachers started worrying about them, and when the ladies from social services finally began to see through Olof’s charms.

As adults, he and Vivianne had done the same thing. It was as if the two of them carried a sense of insecurity with them, as if it were in their bones. They were constantly on the move, going from one place to another, just as they’d done with Olof.

He’d been dead for a long time now, yet they still lived in his shadow. The pattern was repeated. Things were different but somehow just the same.

Anders closed the lid of his suitcase. He had decided to suffer the consequences. In his heart, he was already missing her, but it was impossible to make an omelette without cracking some eggs, as Vivianne liked to say. Though he knew she was right, it was going to take years to make this particular omelette, and he wasn’t sure that he could predict the results. But he was going to tell her. There was no use starting something new without admitting to what he’d done. He had spent too many sleepless nights coming to this conclusion, and now he’d made up his mind.

Anders looked around the flat. He felt both relieved and filled with dread. It took courage to choose to stay instead of running away again. At the same time, it was the easiest route to take. He lifted his suitcase off the bed, then set it on the floor. There was no more time for brooding. He needed to tend to the festivities. And he was going to help Vivianne to make sure the party was a huge success. That was the least he could do for her.

The time hadn’t gone as slowly as Patrik had feared. They had discussed both cases while they waited for the phone call from the lab, and Patrik had felt the adrenalin kick in. Although Paula and Martin were highly skilled police officers, he noticed that his Stockholm colleagues had a whole different mindset. Above all, he envied the working partnership that Petra and Konrad shared. Patrik could see that they were made for each other. Petra was excitable, and she was constantly coming up with new ideas and firing out suggestions. Konrad was more tactful and introspective, and he was able to offer insightful comments to Petra’s outpourings.

When the phone rang, all three of them jumped. Konrad answered.

‘Yes? Okay. Hmm … Really?’

Petra and Patrik stared at him. Was he saying so little just to torment them? Finally he ended the conversation and leaned back in his chair. They kept on staring at him until he finally spoke.

‘They match. The bullets match.’

For a moment there was total silence in the room.

‘Are they positive about that?’ Patrik then asked.

‘A hundred per cent positive. There’s no doubt whatsoever. The same gun was used in both murders.’

‘Bloody hell.’ Petra had a big smile on her face.

‘Now it’s even more vital that we talk with Wester’s widow. There must be some link between the victims, and I’m guessing it has to do with cocaine. Considering the type of individuals that might be involved, I wouldn’t feel very safe if I were in Nathalie’s shoes.’

‘Shall we go out there?’ asked Petra, getting up.

Patrik was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he barely heard what she said. Vague suspicions were starting to gel into a pattern.

‘I need to check on a few things first. Could you wait a couple of hours before we go out there?’

‘Okay, we can do that,’ said Petra, but it was obvious that she was impatient.

‘Great. You can make yourselves at home here, or you could take a walk around town. If you’re hungry, I can recommend the food at Tanums Gestgiveri.’

His Stockholm colleagues nodded.

‘We’ll go and have lunch. Just point us in the right direction,’ said Konrad.

After Patrik had told them how to find the restaurant, he took a deep breath and went back to his office. It was important not to be too hasty. He needed to make several phone calls, so he started with Torbjörn. He wasn’t sure he’d get hold of him, since it was Saturday, but Torbjörn answered his phone. Patrik briefly told him what they’d found out about the bullets, and then he asked Torbjörn if he could compare the unidentified fingerprints from the cocaine bag with the prints they’d found on both the inside and outside of Sverin’s front door. Patrik also warned him that he’d be sending over a new fingerprint to compare with the others. Torbjörn started asking questions, but Patrik cut him off. He would explain later.