Anders Roslund - Box 21 aka The Vault

The damned pain in her chest.

The children were her weakness and her protection at the same time, little human beings she could not bear to lose and who strangely also made her able to control the panic that almost overwhelmed her.

The detective who had questioned her after Hilding’s body had been found, and who had made her identify that man Lang, DI Sven Sundkvist, had phoned early in the morning when she was still in bed, apologised, explained that they were working hard on the case and asked her to come to the station as soon as she could.

She was waiting in a dark room somewhere inside the main City Police building. She wasn’t alone. Sundkvist was there too and a lawyer, who presumably represented the accused, had just come through the door.

DI Sundkvist told her to take her time. There was no hurry and it was important that she did everything in the correct way.

She went and stood at the window. He assured her that it was a one-way view only. Only those on the police side could see through it. The men on the other side just saw their own images in the mirrored surface.

There were ten of them, all about the same height, roughly the same age, and all had shaved heads. Each man had a label hung round his neck, a large white board with a black number on it.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, staring straight at her. At least that’s how it felt – as if they were waiting and watching to see what she would do.

She looked at them without seeing.

A few seconds for each one, scanning them from their feet to the top of their head. She avoided their eyes.

‘No.’

She shook her head.

‘None of them.’

Sven Sundkvist took a step closer. ‘Are you quite certain?’

‘Yes, I am. He wasn’t one of these men.’

Sundkvist nodded at the window.

‘They’re going to walk in a circle now, one at a time. I want you to watch carefully.’

The man furthest to the left, number 1, took a few steps forward and walked slowly round the relatively spacious room. Her eyes followed him. She saw him this time, his slightly rolling gait, a self-assured way of moving. It was him.

That was Lang all right.

Bugger, bugger Hilding.

She saw him return to the line. It was number 2’s turn. The men ceased to look alike as she watched one after the other do the circuit of the room. They had all looked the same before when they were standing still, and now she saw their differences.

DI Sundkvist had been standing next to her, silently observing the parade. He turned to her when number 10 was back in his place.

‘So you’ve seen them again now: their faces, how they moved, their posture and so on. I need to know if you recognise any one of them.’

Lisa didn’t look at him. She couldn’t.

‘No.’

‘Nobody?’

‘Nobody.’

Sven took a step closer and tried to meet her evasive eyes.

‘Are you quite certain? Positive that none of these men was the one you observed before he killed Hilding Oldйus, your brother ?’

He looked at the woman in front of him. Her reaction surprised him. The death of her brother did not seem to sadden her. Instead it seemed to make her angry, or something akin to that.

‘You’re thinking about sisterly love, aren’t you? I did love him once, the Hilding I grew up with. But not the one who died yesterday. That was Hilding the heroin addict. I hated him and hated the person he forced me to become.’

She swallowed. Everything she felt inside, the rage and hatred and fear and panic. She tried to swallow it all.

‘Anyway, I repeat, I don’t recognise any of the men in there.’

‘You haven’t seen any of them before?’

‘No, I haven’t.’

‘You are absolutely certain?’

The lawyer, who had come into the room last, spoke up for the first time. He was a man in his forties, dressed formally in suit and tie. His voice was edgy, almost upset.

‘That is surely enough, Inspector. The witness has stated quite clearly that she doesn’t recognise anyone, still you keep pressurising her.’

‘Not at all. There is a discrepancy between Dr Öhrström’s response today and her previous witness statement.’

‘You’re using undue pressure.’

The lawyer came closer to Sven.

‘And now I must insist that you let Mr Lang go. At once. You can’t hold him.’

Sven took the lawyer’s arm and led him towards the door.

‘I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I know the rules, don’t worry, but we still have some things to discuss.’

Once the lawyer had been ushered out of the room, Sven checked that the door was properly closed. Lisa had turned towards the viewing window, staring at it, into the empty room behind.

‘I don’t understand.’

Sven went over to the window and stood between her and the empty room.

‘I don’t understand. Do you remember our interview yesterday?’

Lisa’s neck blushed, her eyes pleaded.

‘Yes.’

‘Then you also recall what you said?’

‘Yes.’

‘You identified the man on photograph thirty-two. I told you that his name was Jochum Lang. You said, several times, that you were certain that he was the man who had injured and killed Hilding Oldйus. I know it and you know it, which is why I fail to understand why, when you see him directly in front of you today, you come nowhere near even a tentative identification.’

She didn’t answer, just shook her head and looked fixedly at the floor.

‘Have you been threatened?’

He waited for her reply. It didn’t come.

‘That’s how he usually operates. He silences people with threats. It allows him to carry on maltreating people at will.’

Sven was still trying to meet her eyes, still waiting.

Finally she looked up. She wanted to avoid this, but she stood her ground.

‘I’m sorry, Inspector. I really am sorry. Please understand – I have a niece and a nephew. I love them dearly.’

She cleared her throat.

‘You do understand, don’t you?’

The morning traffic had died down and it had been easy to cross the city centre. The motorway was clear and the journey took about half an hour this time. Suddenly he was there, for the second time in less than twelve hours.

Lena was happy to see him.

She came outside, stood on the steps waiting and then gave him a hug. Ewert was not used to physical contact and his first instinct was to back away, but he didn’t. They needed it, both of them.

She went in to get a jacket as the air was chilly, even though the rain had stopped. It was that kind of summer, no real warmth.

For almost twenty minutes they walked together in silence, deep in thought, following the path across the fields towards the Norsborg reservoirs. Then she asked again who that woman was. The girl who had shot Bengt, the one who had lain beside him on the floor.

Ewert asked her if it was important and she nodded. She wanted to know, but couldn’t bear to explain. He stood still, telling her about the first time he had seen Lydia Grajauskas, inside a flat with an electronic lock, where she had been beaten senseless, with great red, swollen welts all over her back.

She listened, walked on a little, then asked another question.

‘What did she look like?’

‘How do you mean? When she was dead?’

‘No, before that. I want a picture of who she was. She has taken the rest of our life together, Ewert. I know that you, of all people, can understand that. I watched the news for as long as I could bear. Then as soon as I woke up this morning I looked through both the morning papers, but there are no pictures of her. Maybe there aren’t any anywhere. Or maybe what she looked like doesn’t matter to anyone else. Maybe what people need is to know what she did, how she ended up.’