Åke Edwardson - Frozen Tracks

Hand control over to the child and let the child decide who is going to be described. Let the child decide on the scenario. It’s important that the interviewer makes it clear that he or she doesn’t know what happened.

He would try to break down Simon’s reluctance to tell.

He must give the boy time.

He suddenly felt the need to make a note, but resisted it. He hadn’t said anything about making notes before the interview started. It would only distract Simon now, perhaps spoil something.

“Tell me about the car, Simon.”

Simon turned to Billy again. He whispered something that Winter couldn’t hear.

Now it’s time for Billy. Winter said Billy’s name and then Simon’s. Simon looked up.

“Have you told Billy about the car?” Winter asked.

Simon nodded.

“Do you think he could tell me about it?”

Simon leaned down over Billy again, and Winter waited while the pair of them discussed the matter.

“Billy wants to hear the question,” said Simon.

“I want Billy to tell me what you told him about the car,” said Winter.

“You have to ask,” said Simon.

“Was the car next to the train?”

“Simon says it was in the woods,” said Simon. His tone of voice was darker. The shift was barely noticeable, as if he had left his own body and moved into Billy’s little brown one, which he had now lifted up to face level and was holding out like an overdemonstrative ventriloquist. Winter felt a shudder, and another. I’ve used cuddly toys before, but this is different, he thought. He looked at Barbara Waggoner. She looked scared stiff.

“Tell me about the car, Billy,” said Winter.

Simon held Billy in front of his face, then lowered the teddy a little bit.

“It was a big car in some big, big woods,” chanted Simon in his changed voice, as if he were about to tell a fairy story, or a ghost story. “The boy went into the big woods and the car drove through the woods.”

Simon was looking at Winter now, not at his mother, not at the camera, and not at Billy. Winter stayed motionless. Barbara Waggoner tried not to move.

“The mister had some candies and there were candies in the car,” said Billy. “Brrrrrrmmm, brrrrrrrm, the car drove off with candies!”

Billy paused. Simon looked up.

“Billy rode in the car,” said Simon.

Winter nodded.

“Yes, so he said.”

“No, no, Billy didn’t ride in the car!” said Simon. He looked at Winter, then at his mom.

“No, no,

Billy rode in the train. Billy rode in the car!”

“Did Billy ride in the train and the car as well?” asked Winter.

“No, no.”

Simon shuffled restlessly on the chair. They were getting close to the incident.

“There was a Billy that rode in the car?” said Winter.

“Yes, yes!”

“But it wasn’t your Billy? The Billy who’s sitting here?”

“No, no!”

“Was it a teddy who rode in the car?” Winter asked.

“No!”

“What was it?”

“Billy, Billy. Billy Boy!” Simon was almost shouting now, in yet another voice, almost croaking. “Billy Billy Boy!”

“Did the mister have a Billy?” asked Winter.

Simon picked up his teddy again, returned to the teddy bear’s voice: “The mister had Rotty on the mirror.”

“Rotty?” asked Winter.

Simon lowered the teddy, and croaked: “Rotty, Rotty! Billy Boy, Billy Boy!”

Pretty Rotty, Winter thought. Pretty Polly.

“Did the mister have a parrot?”

Simon put the teddy bear in front of his face again and said:

“Yes, yes. Billy Rotty!”

Rotty on the mirror. The man had a parrot hanging from his mirror. A bird hanging from his rearview mirror.

Jesus, we’re on our way.

ANETA DJANALI HAD GOTTEN THOSE RESPONSIBLE TO FURNISH the interrogation room with armchairs children could creep onto, in warm colors. Everything that Ellen Sköld might regard as a toy had been taken away. The girl’s interest had to be concentrated on Djanali.

Aneta entered the room first. Now she was holding the remote control-Ellen had already familiarized herself with the camera.

Lena Sköld was waiting outside. Djanali wanted to try that first. We’ll see how long the girl can sit still.

Ellen was cheerful and inquisitive. Djanali watched her trying out various sitting and lying positions on the armchair.

This is not a traumatized child. I must try to bear that in mind when the questions are asked and the answers given. If they are.

They chatted for a while. Ellen played with her fingers as she answered Djanali’s questions. Or rather, commented on them, it seemed to the detective inspector.

“Your mom told me that it was your birthday a month ago, Ellen.”

The girl nodded, up and down, up and down, but said nothing.

“How old are you now?”

“Four,” said Ellen, holding up a bunch of fingers.

“Wow,” said Djanali.

Ellen nodded again, forcefully.

“Did you have a fun birthday party?” asked Djanali.

“Yes!”

“Tell me about it!”

Ellen looked as if she wanted to talk about it but couldn’t choose between all the fun things that had happened on her birthday.

“Dad came,” she said, when Djanali was on the point of asking a follow-up question. “Dad came and brought some presents.”

Djanali thought about the single mother on the chair in the corridor. Lena Sköld had sole custody, she knew that. Even so there was an absent father who came to his four-year-old daughter’s birthday party with presents. Not all children with a single parent were so lucky. The children are just as single as their parents, she thought.

“What presents did you get?”

“From Dad?” asked the girl.

“Yes,” said Djanali. This girl is bright, she thought.

“I got a doll called Victoria. And I got a car that the doll can ride in.” She gave Djanali a meaningful look. “ Victoria has a driver’s license. Really.” She looked at the door, next to the camera. “Mom doesn’t have a driver’s license.” She looked at Djanali. “Do you have a driver’s license?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t have a driver’s license.”

“It’s mostly grown-ups who have a driver’s license,” said Djanali.

The girl nodded. Djanali could picture her in a front seat with a grown-up who had a driver’s license. Did the girl have Victoria with her in the car? Did they have any information about that? Victoria wasn’t with her now. But if Victoria had in fact been in the car as well, she might have seen something Ellen hadn’t seen. Victoria had a driver’s license, after all.

“Do you like riding in cars, Ellen?”

Ellen shook her head and her expression seemed to tense-barely noticeable, but even so. I must check the recording afterward, Djanali thought.

“Do you and your mom have a car, Ellen?”

“No. My mom doesn’t have a driver’s license. I said that.”

“Yes, you did say that. I forgot. So in your house it’s only Victoria who has a car and a driver’s license, is that right?”

The girl nodded, up and down, up and down.

“Where’s Victoria now?”

“She’s sick,” said Ellen.

“Oh, dear.”

“Mom and me are going to buy some medicine for her.”

“What’s the matter with her?”

“I think she has a cold,” said Ellen, looking worried for a moment.

“Has the doctor taken a look at her?”

She nodded.

“Was it a nice doctor?” asked Djanali.

“It was me!” shouted Ellen, and giggled.

Djanali looked at her and nodded. She looked at the eye of the camera that might be seeing everything. She wondered how long Lena Sköld would be able to wait outside. Victoria had to have her medicine. Christmas would be here soon. It was the day before the day now. She hadn’t bought all her presents, nothing yet for Hannes and Magda, although she had bought two CDs for Fredrik, Richard Buckner and Kasey Chambers, because that’s what Fredrik had wanted, among other things. She had written a wish list herself. She would have a Christmas meal on Christmas Eve, Swedish style, with the Halders family, or what was left of it; she might even try the super-Nordic tradition of “dipping in the pot” (she’d never tried dipping bread into the stock from the Christmas ham before) and hoped to avoid having to listen to jokes from Fredrik apologizing for not having camel meat and tapioca pudding, today of all days. She would open presents piled under the Christmas tree.