Buried Angels (38 page)

John nodded. ‘I assume Josef will be there.’

‘What if somebody were to see you and take your picture with him? What do you think would happen if that got into the papers? Imagine what your supporters would say. You would be compromised – maybe even forced to resign. We can’t let that happen, not when we’re so close.’

John gazed out across the harbour, trying to avoid meeting Liv’s eye. She knew nothing. How could he tell her about the darkness, the cold fear that erased all racial boundaries? Back then, at that time and place, it had been a matter of survival. Whether he liked it or not, he and Josef were linked for all eternity. There was no way he could explain that to Liv.

‘I have to go,’ he said, using a tone of voice that made it clear the discussion was over. Liv knew better than to argue, but she kept on muttering to herself. John smiled and looked at his wife, at her lovely face and her expression, which revealed an iron will. He loved her, and they had shared so much, but the darkness was something he could share only with those who had been there too.

For the first time in all these years they would meet again. It would be the last time. The task he had before him was too important, and he would have to put a stop to the past. What happened in 1974 may have risen to the surface, but it could just as easily vanish again, if only they could all agree. It was best to keep old secrets in the darkness where they were created.

The only person he was concerned about was Sebastian. Even back then Sebastian had enjoyed his superior position, and he might present a problem. But if reasoning with him didn’t work, there were always other methods at his disposal.

Patrik took a deep breath. Annika was doing her best to make the final preparations for the press conference, which had even drawn a few journalists from Göteborg. Some of them would file reports with the national newspapers, so tomorrow the story would appear in all the major publications. Patrik knew from experience that from now on the investigation would be a circus, and in the midst of it all would be Mellberg, playing the ringmaster. That was something else Patrik had witnessed before. Mellberg hadn’t been able to hide his glee when he heard that they’d been forced to call a press conference. Right now he was probably in the bathroom, tending to his comb-over.

In addition to the usual nerves about fielding questions without giving away too much, Patrik was wondering how to limit the damage that Mellberg was likely to do. At the same time, he was grateful that this story hadn’t exploded in the media a couple of days earlier. Nothing that happened in Fjällbacka escaped the attention of the locals, so it was pure luck that no one had tipped off the media about the goings on in Valö prior to this. But their luck had now run out, and it would be impossible for the police to keep a lid on the story.

A cautious knock on the door roused him from his gloomy reveries. The door opened, and Gösta came in. Without waiting for an invitation, he sat down on the visitor’s chair in front of Patrik’s desk.

‘So, the hyenas are all here,’ said Gösta mournfully. He was staring down at his hands as he twiddled his thumbs nervously.

‘They’re only doing their job,’ said Patrik, despite the fact he’d been having similar thoughts. There was no point viewing the reporters as adversaries. Occasionally the media could even prove useful.

‘How’d it go in Göteborg?’ asked Gösta, still without meeting Patrik’s eye.

‘Okay. It turned out Ebba hadn’t told her parents about the arson or the shooting.’

Gösta looked up. ‘Why not?’

‘I think she didn’t want to worry them. I suspect that they threw themselves at the phone as soon as we left. Her mother was all for heading straight out to Valö.’

‘Maybe that’s not a bad idea. It would be better if someone could persuade Ebba and Tobias to stay away until we’ve solved the case.’

Patrik nodded. ‘I wouldn’t have hung on a minute longer than necessary if someone had tried to kill me out there – not just once but twice.’

‘People are strange.’

‘Yes. Well, at least Ebba has nice parents.’

‘So they seemed pleasant?’

‘Yes, I think she’s had a good life with them. She also seems to have an excellent relationship with her siblings. And it’s a decent neighbourhood. Older houses with lots of rose bushes.’

‘That does sound like a good place to grow up.’

‘But we didn’t come up with any sort of lead as to who might have sent those cards.’

‘So they didn’t keep any of them?’

‘No, they threw them all out. But they were only birthday greetings, nothing threatening, not like the card that just arrived. And they were clearly postmarked Göteborg.’

‘Odd.’ Gösta was again studying his thumbs.

‘What’s even more odd is that someone deposited money in a bank account for Ebba every month until she turned eighteen.’

‘What? Anonymously?’

‘Exactly. So if we can track down where the money came from, maybe we’ll get somewhere. At least, I hope so. It’s conceivable that the same person sent the cards. But I’ve got to go now.’ Patrik got up. ‘Was there anything particular you wanted?’

After a moment’s silence Gösta cleared his throat and looked up at Patrik.

‘No, nothing else. Nothing at all.’

‘Okay.’ Patrik opened the door and had just stepped into the hallway when Gösta called him back.

‘Patrik?’

‘Yes, what is it? The press conference starts in one minute.’

Another moment of silence.

‘Nothing. Forget it,’ said Gösta.

‘Okay.’

Patrik headed for the meeting room at the end of the corridor with a nagging feeling that he should have stopped and tried to coax Gösta into telling him what he’d wanted to say.

Then he stepped into the room and quickly forgot about everything except the task in hand. All eyes turned to him. Mellberg was already standing at the front of the room, smiling broadly. At least one person in the station was ready to meet the press.

Josef ended the call. His legs gave way and he slowly sat down with his back against the wall. He stared at the floral wallpaper that had decorated the hallway ever since they’d bought the house. Rebecka had wanted to change it, but Josef could never understand why they should spend the money when the wallpaper was still in good condition. Why change something that didn’t need changing? They should be grateful to have a roof over their heads and food on the table. There were far more important things in life than wallpaper.

Now Josef had lost the most important thing of all, and to his surprise, he found himself unable to stop staring at the wallpaper. It was hideous, and he wondered whether he should have listened to Rebecka and allowed her to have it replaced. Should he have listened to her more in general?

It was as if for the first time he was seeing himself from the outside. A small and arrogant man. A man who had believed that dreams could come true, and that he was meant to achieve greatness. Instead, here he sat, revealed as the naive fool that he was, and he had only himself to blame. Ever since he had become cloaked in darkness, ever since the humiliation had hardened his heart, he had succeeded in convincing himself that he would someday obtain redress. Of course that would never happen. Evil was more powerful. It had been part of his parents’ life, and although they had never spoken of it, he knew that it had forced them to commit ungodly acts. He too was infected with evil, but in his hubris, he had believed that God had presented him with an opportunity to be cleansed.

Josef began pounding the back of his head against the wall. At first lightly, then harder and harder. It felt wonderful, and all of a sudden he was reminded that there and then he had found a way to get past the pain. For his parents there had been no solace in the fact that they shared their suffering with others; the same was true for him. It had merely made the shame greater. He too had stubbornly believed that he could free himself if only the penance was sufficiently great.

He wondered what Rebecka and the children would say if they knew, if everything were revealed. Leon wanted all of them to meet; he wanted to revive the suffering that ought to have remained forgotten. When he phoned last night, fear had nearly paralysed Josef. Now the threat was about to become real, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. Today it no longer seemed important. It was all too late. he was as powerless now as he’d been back then, and he had no strength left to fight. Nor would it serve any purpose. From the very beginning, the dream had existed only in his own mind. Above all else, he reproached himself for not having realized that.

Dagmar wept, but her sorrow was mixed with joy. Finally she had reached Hermann. For a while she had despaired. The money that she got from Laura had been enough to bring her only part of the way, and far too much had disappeared when thirst overcame her. She hardly remembered some of those days, but each time she’d climbed back on her feet and carried on. Her Hermann was waiting.

She knew quite well that he was not buried at the estate of Karinhall. An unpleasant individual had gleefully told her as much on one of the many train journeys when she explained where she was headed. But it made no difference where his body was buried. She had read the articles and seen the pictures. It was here he belonged. It was here that his soul would be found.

Carin Göring was also here. Even after her death, that odious bitch had retained her hold on Hermann. Dagmar clenched her fists in her coat pockets, breathing hard as she gazed out across the fields. This had been his domain, but now it was all destroyed. She felt the tears well up in her eyes again. How could this have happened? The estate lay in ruins, and the garden, which at one time must have been so beautiful, was now overgrown and abandoned. The leafy woods that surrounded the fields were encroaching with each passing day.

She had walked for several hours to get here. From Berlin she’d hitched a ride and then proceeded on foot to the wooded area north of the city, which she’d read was the location of Karinhall. It had been difficult to persuade anyone to offer her a ride. People had stared with suspicion at her tattered appearance, and she didn’t speak a word of German, but she had simply repeated ‘Karinhall’ until an elderly man had reluctantly allowed her to get into his car. When the road divided, he had waved his hand to indicate that he was headed in one direction while she should go in the other. So she got out of his car and walked the rest of the way. Her feet began to hurt, but she kept on going. The only thing she wanted was to be close to Hermann.

Then she had wandered through the ruins. The two sentry boxes at the entrance bore witness to how grand the buildings must once have been. Here and there Dagmar saw the remnants of walls and decorative stones, making it easy for her to imagine the past magnificence of the estate. If it hadn’t been for Carin, this place would have been named for Dagmar.

Hatred and grief overwhelmed her, and she fell sobbing to her knees. She recalled that lovely summer night when she had felt Hermann’s breath on her skin, when he had covered her body with kisses. That was the night when she had both received and lost everything at the same time. Hermann’s life would have been so much better if he had chosen her. She would have taken care of him and not, like Carin, allowed him to become the human wreckage that she’d seen in the hospital. She would have been strong enough for both of them.

Dagmar picked up a fistful of soil and let it slowly trickle out between her fingers. The sun was hot on the back of her neck, and in the distance she heard the howling of the wild dogs. Nearby a broken statue lay toppled on the ground. The nose and one arm were missing, and the eyes of stone gazed unseeing up at the sky. Suddenly she realized how tired she was. Her skin felt hot under the sun, and she wanted to find some shade where she could rest. It had been a long journey, filled with intense yearning, and she needed to lie down and close her eyes for a short time. She looked around for some shade. Next to a staircase which now led nowhere, a thick pillar had fallen so that it was leaning against the top step, and beneath was a patch of blessed shadow.

She was too tired to stand up, so she crawled across the uneven ground to the staircase, curled up as much as she could, and lay down in the cramped space with a sigh of relief, closing her eyes. Ever since that night in June, she had been on her way to him. To Hermann. Now she needed to rest.

The press conference had been over for a couple of hours, and they were now gathered in the kitchen. Ernst, who had quietly stayed in Mellberg’s office, had now been released and was stretched out, as usual, at his master’s feet.

‘So that went well, didn’t it?’ said Mellberg with a satisfied smile. ‘Shouldn’t you be going home to rest, Paula?’ He spoke so loudly that Patrik jumped in his chair.

Paula glared at him. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll decide for myself when I need to rest.’