Camilla Lackberg - The Preacher

‘Albert Thernblad?’

‘Yes, that’s me. But I don’t need anything you’re selling.’

The man smiled. ‘No, I’m not selling anything. My name is Patrik Hedström, and I’m with the police. I wonder if I might come in for a moment?’

Albert said nothing but stepped aside to let him in. He led the way out to the veranda and showed the policeman to a place on the sofa. He hadn’t asked what this was about. He didn’t need to. He had been waiting for this visit for more than twenty years.

‘What amazing plants. It certainly takes a green thumb.’ Patrik gave a nervous laugh.

Albert said nothing as he regarded Patrik with his gentle eyes. He understood that it wasn’t easy for this policeman to bring him the news, but he needn’t have worried. After all these years of waiting, it was good to find out the truth at last. He had already done his grieving.

‘Well, the thing is, we’ve found your daughter.’ Patrik cleared his throat and started over. ‘We’ve found your daughter, and we can confirm that she was murdered.’

Albert merely nodded. At the same time he felt a peace of mind. Finally he could lay her to rest. Have a grave to visit. He would bury her next to Linnea.

‘Where did you find her?’

‘In the King’s Cleft.’

‘The King’s Cleft?’ Albert frowned. ‘If she was buried there, why wasn’t she discovered sooner? So many people go there, after all.’

Patrik told him about the German tourist who was murdered, and that they had presumably found Siv as well. They believed that someone had moved Mona and Siv there at night, but that they had been buried somewhere else all these years.

Albert didn’t go into town much any more, so unlike the rest of Fjällbacka he hadn’t heard about the murder of the young German woman. The first thing he felt when he heard about her fate was a lurch in his stomach. Somewhere someone was going to experience the same pain that he and Linnea had felt. Somewhere a father and a mother would never see their daughter again. That overshadowed the news about Mona. Compared with the dead girl’s family he was lucky. For him the grief had grown blunt and dull. But they had many years ahead of them before they reached that point, and his heart ached for them.

‘Do you know who did this?’

‘No, unfortunately, we don’t. But we’re going to do everything in our power to find out.’

‘Do you know if it’s the same person?’

Patrik hung his head. ‘No, we don’t even know that for sure, not as things stand right now. There are certain similarities, but that’s all I can say at this point.’

He looked uneasily at the old man sitting before him. ‘Is there anyone you’d like me to call? Someone who could come and keep you company?’

Albert’s smile was kind and fatherly. ‘No, there’s no one.’

‘Should I ring and hear whether the pastor can come over?’

Again the same kind smile. ‘No thank you, I don’t need a pastor. Don’t trouble yourself. I’ve lived through this day over and over again in my thoughts, so it doesn’t come as a shock. I just want to sit here in peace among my plants. I have everything I need. I may be old, but I’m tough.’

He placed his hand over Patrik’s, as if he were the one offering consolation. And perhaps he was.

‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to show you a few pictures of Mona and tell you a little about her. So that you’ll understand how she was when she was alive.’

Without hesitation the younger man nodded, and Albert hobbled out to fetch the old albums. For about an hour he showed Patrik photographs and told him about his daughter. It was the best hour he had spent in a long time, and he realized that it had been far too long since he’d allowed himself to retreat into memory.

When they said goodbye at the door, he pressed one of the photos into Patrik’s hand. It showed Mona on her fifth birthday, with a big cake and five candles in front of her and a smile stretching from ear to ear. She was delightfully sweet, with blonde locks and eyes that glittered with the joy of life. It was important for him that the police have this picture in their mind’s eye as they searched for his daughter’s murderer.

After the policeman had left, Albert sat down on the veranda again. He closed his eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of the flowers. Then he fell asleep and dreamed about a long, bright tunnel where Mona and Linnea were waiting for him like shadows at the end. He thought he saw them waving.

The door to Gabriel’s office flew open with a bang. Solveig stormed in, and behind her he saw Laine come running, her hands fluttering helplessly.

‘You shit! You fucking dick!’

He grimaced automatically at the choice of words. He had always found it extremely embarrassing when people showed strong feelings around him, and he had no patience for such language.

‘What’s going on? Solveig, I really think you should calm down and not speak to me that way.’

Too late he realized that the critical tone of voice, which came so naturally to him, only made things worse. She seemed about to fly at his throat, and for safety’s sake he retreated behind his desk.

‘Calm down? Are you telling me to calm down, you fucking prick? You limp dick!’

He could see that she was enjoying seeing him flinch at each sexual epithet. Behind her Laine was turning more and more pale.

Solveig lowered her voice a bit, but the tone was even more venomous. ‘What is it, Gabriel? Why do you look so dejected? You used to like it when I whispered dirty words in your ear. It used to turn you on. Do you remember, Gabriel?’ Now Solveig was hissing the words as she approached his desk.

‘There’s no reason to rehash the past. Do you have something to tell me, or are you just drunk and disagreeable as always?’

‘Do I have something to tell you? Yes, you can bet your arse I do. I was down in Fjällbacka and you know what? They’ve found Mona and Siv.’

Gabriel gave a start. Shock was written all over his face.

‘They’ve found the girls? Where?’

Solveig leaned over the desk, supporting her weight on her hands so that her face was only a couple of inches from Gabriel’s.

‘In the King’s Cleft. Along with a young German girl who was murdered. And they think it’s the same killer. So for shame, Gabriel Hult. Shame on you, accusing your brother, your own flesh and blood. And he had to bear the blame in people’s eyes, despite the fact there was never a shred of evidence against him. It was all the pointing and whispering behind his back that broke him. But maybe you knew that was how things would go. You knew that he was weak. That he was sensitive. He couldn’t deal with the shame and hanged himself. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was exactly what you had counted on when you called the police. You never could stand the fact that Ephraim loved him more.’

Solveig jabbed him so hard in the chest that he lurched backwards with each blow. By now he was standing with his back to the window seat and couldn’t get any farther away from her. He was trapped. With his eyes he tried to signal Laine to do something about this unpleasant situation, but as usual she just stood there and stared, completely at a loss.

‘My Johannes was always more loved than you, by everyone. And you couldn’t stand it, could you?’ She didn’t wait for an answer to her assertions masked as questions. She just continued her diatribe. ‘Even when Ephraim cut Johannes out of his will, he still loved him more. You got the estate and the money, but you could never win your father’s love. Despite the fact that you were the one who worked the farm while Johannes lived a carefree life. And then when he stole your fiancée, that was the last straw, wasn’t it? Was that when you began to hate him, Gabriel? Was that when you started to hate your brother? Sure, it may have been unfair, but you still had no right to do what you did. You destroyed Johannes’s life, and mine and the children’s too, for that matter. Don’t you think I know what the boys are up to? And it’s all your fault, Gabriel Hult. Finally people are going to see that Johannes didn’t do what they’ve been whispering about all these years. Finally the boys and I will be able to walk with our heads held high again.’