Camilla Läckberg - The Hidden Child

‘I know who my brother is!’ she said. She laughed as the tears ran down her face, repeating: ‘Patrik, I know who my brother is!’

While they were in the car, Martin got a call confirming that the search warrant had been issued. They’d been so confident the prosecutor would grant the request that they’d set off without waiting for an answer. Neither of them spoke. Both were lost in thought, trying to put together all the loose ends and work out the pattern that was starting to emerge.

There was no answer when they knocked on the door.

‘The place seems empty,’ said Paula.

‘How shall we get in?’ asked Martin, studying the solid door, which looked as though it would be difficult to force open.

Paula laughed and reached up to run her hand over one of the beams above the front door.

‘With a key,’ she said, holding up what she had found.

‘What would I do without you?’ said Martin, meaning every word.

‘Probably break your shoulder while attempting to get inside,’ she said, unlocking the door.

They went in. It was eerily quiet, stuffy and hot, and they hung up their jackets in the hall.

‘Shall we split up?’ asked Paula.

‘Sure, I’ll take the ground floor, you can take upstairs.’

‘What exactly are we looking for?’ Paula suddenly sounded uncertain. She was positive they were on the right track, but now that they were so close, she wasn’t convinced they would find anything to prove their theory.

‘I’m not really sure.’ Martin looked equally doubtful. ‘Let’s just take a careful look around, and see what we can find.’

‘Okay.’ Paula nodded and headed upstairs.

An hour later she came back down. ‘Nothing so far. Should I keep looking upstairs, or should we swap for a while? Have you found anything interesting?’

‘No, not yet.’ Martin shook his head. ‘It’s probably a good idea if we change places. But…’ He looked pensive and then pointed to a door in the hall. ‘We could check the basement first. Neither of us has been down there yet.’

‘Good idea,’ said Paula, opening the basement door. It was pitch black on the stairs, but she found the light switch in the hall, just outside the door, and turned it on. She went first, with Martin following, and a few seconds later she stood at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes adjusting to the dim light.

‘What a creepy place,’ said Martin when he joined her. He let his eyes roam over the walls, and what he saw made him gape.

‘Shh…’ said Paula, putting her finger to her lips. ‘Did you hear something?’

‘No,’ said Martin, listening. ‘No, I didn’t hear a thing.’

‘I thought I heard a car door slam. Are you sure you didn’t hear anything?’

‘Yes, I’m sure. It’s probably your imagination.’ Then he fell silent as they suddenly heard footsteps overhead.

‘Imagination, huh? I think we’d better go back upstairs,’ said Paula, putting her foot on the first step. At that moment the basement door closed with a bang, and they heard a key turn in the lock.

‘What the -?’ Paula was on her way up the stairs when the light went out. They were left in pitch darkness.

‘Let us out of here!’ yelled Paula, and Martin could hear her pounding on the door. ‘Do you hear me? It’s the police! Open this door and let us out!’

But when she paused to catch her breath, they clearly heard a car door slam and an engine start up.

‘Shit!’ said Paula as she trudged back down the stairs.

‘We need to phone for help,’ said Martin, reaching for his mobile just as he remembered that it was in his jacket pocket. ‘We’ll have to use your mobile because I left mine in my jacket, which is hanging in the hall,’ said Martin.

The only reply from Paula was silence, which made him nervous.

‘Don’t tell me…’

‘Yes,’ said Paula miserably. ‘I left my mobile in my jacket pocket too.’

‘Damn it!’ Martin climbed the stairs and tried to ram the door open. The only result was a sore shoulder. Discouraged, he went back down to join Paula.

‘It won’t budge.’

‘So what do we do now?’ asked Paula gloomily. Then she gasped. ‘Johanna!’

‘Who’s Johanna?’ asked Martin in surprise.

Paula didn’t reply for a moment. Then she said, ‘My partner. We’re going to have a baby in two weeks. But you never know… and I promised to keep my mobile handy.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Martin, trying to process the information. ‘Babies are usually late when it’s the first one.’

‘I hope so,’ said Paula. ‘Otherwise she’s going to want my head on a platter. It’s a good thing that she can always get hold of my mother. In the worst case…’

‘Don’t even think about that,’ Martin told her. ‘We’re not going to be stuck down here for long. And as I said, if she still has two weeks to go, it’s probably all right.’

‘But nobody knows where we are,’ said Paula, sitting down on the bottom step. ‘And while we’re stuck here, the murderer is getting away.’

‘Look on the bright side. At least we know now that we were right,’ Martin said. Paula didn’t even deign to reply.

Upstairs in the entry hall, Paula’s mobile began ringing frantically.

Mellberg hesitated as he stood on the doorstep. Everything had felt so right at the dance class on Friday, but since then he hadn’t seen Rita, in spite of repeated walks along her usual route. And he missed her. It surprised him that his feelings were so strong, but he could no longer ignore the fact that he really and truly missed her. Ernst seemed to be thinking along the same lines, judging by the way he had tugged on his lead all the way to the building where Rita lived. While Mellberg hadn’t exactly resisted the pull, he was hesitant. Partly because he didn’t know if she’d be at home, partly because he felt uncharacteristically shy and afraid of seeming pushy. But he shook off this feeling and pressed the button on the intercom. No one answered, and he was just about to leave when he heard a crackling sound and a stressed voice gasping into the speaker.

‘Hello?’ he said, going back to the door. ‘It’s Bertil Mellberg.’

At first there was no answer; then came a barely audible ‘Come up.’ Followed by a groan. He frowned. How strange. But with Ernst in tow, Mellberg climbed the two floors to Rita’s flat. The door was ajar. Surprised, he stepped inside.

‘Hello?’ he called. Again no answer until he suddenly heard a groan quite nearby, and when he glanced towards the sound, he caught sight of someone lying on the floor.

‘I’m having… contractions…’ gasped Johanna, who was curled up in a ball as she panted to ride out the pain.

‘Oh, dear God,’ said Mellberg, feeling sweat break out on his forehead. ‘Where’s Rita? I’ll phone her! And Paula. We need to get hold of Paula, and an ambulance,’ he said, looking around the hall for the nearest phone.

‘I tried… couldn’t get… hold of…’ groaned Johanna, but couldn’t go on until the contraction diminished. Then she slowly hauled herself to her feet by holding on to the handle on the nearby wardrobe. She clutched at her stomach, staring panic-stricken at Bertil.

‘Don’t you think I’ve tried to phone them? Nobody is answering! How hard could it be to… Oh shit…’ Her curses were cut off by another contraction, and she dropped to her knees, breathing hard. ‘Drive me to… the hospital,’ she told Mellberg, pointing to a set of car keys lying on the bureau. He stared at them as if they might be transformed into a hissing snake at any moment, but then he saw his hand reach in slow motion for the keys. Without knowing how he did it, he found himself more or less carrying and dragging Johanna out to the car, and then shoving her on to the back seat. Ernst had to stay behind in the flat. Stomping down on the accelerator, Mellberg drove towards NÄL, the Norra Älvsborg County Hospital. He felt panic seize hold of him as Johanna started panting harder, and the drive from Vänersborg to Trollhättan seemed endless. But finally he was driving up to the entrance of the maternity ward, where he stopped and pulled Johanna out of the car. Her eyes were filled with terror as she followed him inside.